We undertake to set forth the life, the character, the deeds of holy Noah, and to explain, if we can, the loftiness of his mind as well. For since philosophy itself has said that nothing is more difficult than to comprehend the inner depths of a man, how much more difficult is it to come to know the mind of a righteous man? Indeed, since the Lord God reserved him to renew the seed of mankind, that he might be a seedbed of righteousness, it is fitting that we too should portray him for the imitation of all, and rest in him from all the anxiety of this world, which we daily endure amid diverse agitations. It is a thing of shame, a weariness, to outlive one's children. When we hear of so many adversities befalling those dearest to us, to feed upon this light is irksome:
Who is so strong that he could patiently bear to undergo or take to heart the diverse waves and tempests of the very churches, whether present or impending? And so this rest had to be sought by us as well, that while we contemplate holy Noah with greater attention, we too might be refreshed — even as the whole race rested in him from its labors and sorrow. Whence too he is called Noah, which in Latin is rendered 'righteous' or 'rest.' And so his parents said: 'This one shall make us rest from our works and from sorrow and from the earth which the Lord God has cursed.' Yet if you should think this must be referred to the things that came to pass — since the flood occurred under him — it would seem that not rest but destruction was brought upon men, and not a remission of evils but a heaping up of miseries.
But if you consider the mind of the righteous man, you will perceive that righteousness alone, being born for others rather than for itself, seeks not what is profitable to itself but what is profitable to all. This it is that makes us rest from the works of iniquity; this recalls us from sorrow, because while we do the things that are just, we fear nothing in the security of a pure conscience, we suffer no grievous grief — for there is nothing that is of greater grief than the guilt of fault. Let us rest also from every care of earthly conversation, which harasses our body and soul with frequent pains and wears away our life. To this man, then, were born three sons: Shem, Ham, and Japheth.
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These names signify 'good,' 'evil,' and 'indifferent,' so that he may appear both to have possessed goodness by the grace of nature, and by no means to have lacked the temptations of evils, and to have abounded in things indifferent — that is, as it were in a furniture of virtues.
But for what reason he placed evil in the middle, the reason is evident: because the good of nature is innate in all, and does not cast them, as it were shipwrecked, into the light, but also props them up with strength, so that they may not be overwhelmed by the temptations of malice nor sink down as though feeble; and it fortifies and clothes them, as with certain indifferent coverings — which are health, sound vigor, beauty, energy, riches, glory, distinction of birth — so that, fortified by this endowment, they may guard the goodness of nature and shut in that evil, lest it be able to harm, and, as it were imprisoned, may strangle it. Do we not discern, as it were, a certain battle-line of the virtues drawn up for combat, so that the weaker stand in the center, and on the right and left, as on the wings, the stronger, through whom the whole line receives its strength?
Whence too a certain Greek poet says: 'κακοὺς δ' εἰς μέσσον ἔλασσεν' — that is, 'but he drove the bad into the middle.' So therefore nature also, like a good general acting at God's command — nature which knows that we are born for the battles of this world — sets the goods it has in the first rank, the things that hinder in the second, the things that help in the third, so that the enemy, shut up as it were in the middle, wherever he turns himself may be overwhelmed by doubled forces, lest, fighting them one by one as though on equal terms, he should wear them out and have the means of escaping from the natural straits and of spreading himself more widely.
But since, in the order in which they are begotten this is the arrangement, whereas in the order in which they beget Japheth is written in the first place and Ham in the third, therefore — lest anyone suppose we have spoken things contrary to what comes later — the reason of that passage too must be explained. The good indeed, being as it were in a certain nobility of nature, goes before, but evil follows. For there are contrary thoughts of the mind, which doubtless arise afterward. As long as these are, as it were, shut up within and do not sprout up like blades of grass, they are cherished in a certain bosom of the good mind, lest they come forth.
For as long as evil is in the will, not in entelechy — that is, in act and effect — the goodness of the governing mind, after the manner of a charioteer, restrains and reins in the malice that is trying to break forth; but when it has boiled over and burst into an ulcer, lest it be able to creep more widely and contaminate what is adjacent, then just providence steps in, lest that 'indifferent' thing, which is commonly called a secondary good, should as it were give way from its place, when it can no longer resist the now seething evil. And so, lest evil pour forth its noxious venom more widely and infect many things by breeding corruptions, that first good, which is by nature good, while it changes place, changes its order, so that it may bring aid as it were to a struggling flank and take up in the battle-line that part which labors more;
for the warrior's valor is needed in the more difficult places, just as the presence of a good guard is more frequent there where the walls are weaker. And lest any part be without a defender, while that good supports the more inclined positions, then that indifferent thing takes up the higher place, as though the more perfect good were assigning that part to it; for nothing is more perfect than virtue. But indifferent things do not have the strength of robust virtue; they only increase and diffuse its grace. Whence he is called Japheth, which in Latin signifies 'breadth.' Nor did holy Noah abound only in the begetting of sons, but the whole human race poured itself forth most abundantly especially at that time. Which does not seem to be without purpose.
For with the flood about to follow, the grace of fruitfulness ought not to be thought to have been wanting to that generation which the floods swallowed up — so that the abundance of the human race may be ascribed to divine grace, while the flood that followed may be charged to our iniquities, we who by our sins turn away the Lord's mercy. So too in later events you will find that the coming sterility of Egypt was preceded by just as many years of fruitfulness. For it is the chief part of virtue to begin with benefits and to sow grace beforehand. Whence David also says: 'Mercy and judgment I will sing to you, O Lord.' The grace of benefit goes before; the censure of sober discipline follows. It is therefore a divine thing that good things are sent in advance; it is ours that they are changed.
God himself declares this, saying: 'My spirit shall not remain in men, because they are flesh.' The Holy Spirit is the Spirit of wisdom, the Spirit of knowledge. He has therefore wisdom, he has also discipline — just as concerning Bezalel, who was commanded by the divine oracle to make the sacred tabernacle, Scripture says that 'he was filled with the spirit of prudence and discipline.' This Spirit, then, is given to men, but does not remain. And for what reason it does not remain, the cause is disclosed: because they are flesh; for the nature of the flesh resists discipline, since it submits to pleasure. Finally, of the Lord Jesus alone it is written: 'Upon whom you shall see the Spirit descending from heaven and remaining upon him, this is he who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.'
For the Spirit remained in him whom no hindrances of carnal corruption called back, so that he should hold the order of an uncorrupted and unmixed discipline — he whose flesh saw no corruption. Through the one Lord Jesus, therefore, salvation to come to the nations is declared — he who alone could not but be righteous, when every generation went astray, except that, being born of a Virgin, he was by no means held by the privilege of a guilty descent. 'Behold,' says he, 'I was conceived in iniquities, and in sins did my mother bring me forth' — so says one who was reckoned righteous beyond the rest. Whom then should I call already righteous, save him who is free of these bonds, whom the bonds of common nature do not hold? All are under sin from Adam; over all death reigned.
Let the one righteous man come into the sight of God, of whom it is now said, not with an exception, 'He did not sin with his lips,' but, 'He did no sin.' 'Now there were giants on the earth in those days.' The author of divine Scripture does not, after the manner of the poets, wish those giants to be seen as sons of earth, but asserts that they were begotten of angels and women, whom he calls by this name, wishing to express the great size of their bodies. And let us consider whether perhaps men are like the giants who study the cultivation of their own flesh, but take no care for the soul — like those who, according to the poetic fable, sprung from the earth and relying on the mass of their bodies, are said to have held the gods above in contempt.
Or are those to be judged unlike them who, though composed of soul and body, turn away from the vigor of the mind — than which the soul has nothing more precious — and show themselves to be imitators of this flesh, as it were heirs of a maternal dullness? And so they labor in vain, usurping heaven with proud vows and brooding over earthly works; who, by the choice of the lower and the contempt of the higher fellowship, are condemned with the heavier severity, as men liable to voluntary sins. Scripture very often calls angels 'sons of God,' because their souls are begotten of no man. And so God did not disdain to call faithful men his sons.
As therefore the men of approved life are called sons of God, so those whose works are carnal we call sons of the flesh, on the authority of the Scriptures. For John the Evangelist says that, 'as many as received the Lord Jesus, to them he gave power to become sons of God, to those who believe in his name, who were born not of bloods, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.'
Therefore you afterward have it that the Lord was angry, since — although he considered, that is, knew, that a man placed in the region of earth and bearing flesh could not be without sin (for the earth is, as it were, a certain place of temptations, and the flesh is an enticement to corruption) — nevertheless, since they had a mind capable of reason and a power of the soul infused into the body, they rushed without any consideration into a fall, from which they were unwilling to recall themselves. For God does not deliberate as men do.
as though some new resolution should come upon him, nor is he angered as though changeable; rather these things are read so that the bitterness of our sins may be expressed, which has deserved to give offense to the Godhead — as if guilt had grown to such a pitch that even God, who is by nature moved neither by anger nor hatred nor any passion, should seem provoked to wrath. He threatened besides that he would blot out man. 'From man,' he says, 'to cattle, and from the reptiles even to the birds, I will blot out.' What harm had the irrational creatures done? But because those creatures had been made for man's sake, surely once he was blotted out for whose sake they had been made, it followed that they too should be blotted out, since there was no one who would make use of them.
But in a deeper sense this is made manifest: that man is mind, which is capable of reason; for man is defined as a living, mortal, rational animal. Therefore, the principal part being extinguished, all sense likewise is extinguished, in that nothing of what remains survives unto salvation, when the foundation of salvation — virtue — has failed. But to the condemnation of the rest and the expression of the divine piety, it is said that Noah found grace before God. At the same time it is shown that another's offense does not overshadow a righteous man, when he himself is reserved as the seedbed of the whole race — he who is praised not for the nobility of his descent but for the merit of his righteousness and perfection.
For the lineage of a man of proved worth is a stock of virtues, since, just as the race of men is men, so the race of souls is the virtues. For indeed the families of men are ennobled by the splendor of their birth, but of souls grace is glorified by the splendor of virtue. 'Now the earth was corrupt before God and filled,' he says, 'with iniquity.' The cause of the earth's corruption is manifest, in that the iniquity of men had corrupted the earth. Whence the Lord God also says: 'The time of every man has come before me, because the earth is filled with their iniquities.' The time, indeed, of all men is in the sight of God and in his will.
For it is not, as the common saying goes, some fatal decree that is alleged here; yet I think this is said in a special sense, because in his Gospel the Lord, about to redeem the human race by the passion of his body and to cleanse it by his blood and by the sacrament of baptism, says: 'Father, the hour is come, glorify your Son, that the Son also may glorify you.' Therefore, because in the flood, through Noah's ark, the remnants of the human race were preserved as a seedbed of future restoration and renewal, he premised here: 'The time of every man has come, because the earth is filled with their iniquities.' This in figure; but in truth he says: 'The remnants are saved through the love of grace.' And therefore the Apostle cries out, saying: 'Sin abounded, that grace might more abound.'
'All flesh,' he says, 'had corrupted its way.' Here he put 'flesh' for the earthly man, in whom the enticement of the flesh had corrupted his way. If he had understood what a gift he had received from God, he would surely not have suffered the flesh to obstruct the virtues of the soul. And so the flesh was the cause of the soul's corruption as well — the flesh, which is, as it were, a certain region and seat of pleasure, from which, as from a fountain, the rivers of concupiscences and of evil passions burst forth and flood widely abroad. By these the rowing-tackle of the soul, as it were, is sunk, the helmsman having been thrown overboard, when the mind itself, overcome as though by certain storms and squalls, gives way from its place. And he beautifully says that man corrupted the way of his own nature.
For his way was in paradise, on that path of blessednesses, in that flower of virtues, in that incorruptible grace — a way which he defiled with earthly footsteps. Others have the reading: 'his way,' that is, God's way. This he is wont to declare by the word 'of the Lord.' But now I think we must speak of the ark of Noah itself, which, if anyone should wish to consider it more attentively, he will find that in its construction there is described the figure of the human body. For what is it that God says: 'Make for yourself an ark of squared timbers'? We surely call that 'squared' which stands well together in all its parts and is consistent with itself. And so both God is established as the author of our body and the fashioner of its nature, and the work itself is signified by these words to be perfect.
But that the members of man are squared, the reasoning is evident. If you consider the chest of a man, you consider the belly, of equal measure in length and breadth — except when, the belly distended with pleasures and feasting, the natural measure is exceeded. Again, who would not perceive by the very sight that the feet and hands, the arms and thighs and legs are fourfold? Yet most of them, even if not of the same length or breadth, nevertheless preserve a certain proportion, so that in these too a fitting measure and ratio concur: the length being more extended than the breadth, the breadth more than the height. And just as the timber of the ark has a triple dimension.
Inasmuch as he prescribed that a length of three hundred cubits and a breadth of fifty cubits and a height of thirty cubits should be observed, so also in our body there is a greatest, a middle, and a least dimension: the greatest according to length, the middle according to breadth, the least according to height; yet the whole body, woven together out of its several members, appears squared. For indeed it is even the usage that we call those men 'square-built' whom we judge neither enormous in tallness nor robust in a sturdy quality of body. What, too, that he means by saying, 'You shall make nests in the ark,' seems by no means to be passed over in silence.
For I think it was said in keeping with nature, in that our whole body is woven together like a nest, so that the vital spirit may penetrate all the parts of the inward organs and pour itself from our principal part through the several limbs. Our eyes are, as it were, certain nests, into which sight inserts itself. The hollows of our ears are nests, through which hearing pours itself in and casts itself down as into a deep pit. The nostril is a nest, which draws odor to itself. The fourth nest, greater than the rest, is the opening of the mouth, in which taste is nourished until it grows full, and from which the voice flies forth; in which the tongue lies hidden, which, like an instrument of the voice, modulates its sounds with skillful sweetness and, though itself irrational, produces a rational voice.
A nest is the skull; a nest is that membrane which fosters the brain and holds it shut within itself. Nests are the organs of the lungs and the heart. The nest of our spirit — that is, of the spirit which we draw in and by which we are nourished in this life — is the lung; but the nest of the blood and of the spirit is the heart. For it has two chambers: one by which it receives the blood as it were in a certain bosom and transfuses it into the veins; the other by which, watered from that upper chamber, it conducts it into the arteries in a continuous flow. The stronger bones too have nests; for they are hollowed out within, and in those cavities is the marrow. In the softer inward organs themselves are the nests of desire or of grief. And if anyone should consider other things, he will find still more nests in this fabric of the human body.
Whence I think that he in the Psalm said, not only mystically but also naturally: 'For the sparrow has found herself a house, and the turtledove a nest for herself, where she may lay her young.' For there is now in this body a nest of chastity, where there was a nest of irrational concupiscence. But where formerly lust nurtured misshapen offspring, there now the inheritance of comely chastity grows up. 'You shall smear it,' he says, 'with bitumen.' The human body consists of many bones and sinews and the rest besides.
And so, both outside and inside, joined together by a fitting framework, it cleaves to itself and is held by its own constitution — which the Greeks call 'habitude' — so that the spirit shut up within, which is infused, or the spiritual substance which works within, being as it were bound by twin fetters, may not wander abroad, but be confined to a fitting and harmonious unity and a strong interconnection. Therefore the ark is bidden to be bound fast with bitumen; for bitumen is of a nature powerful for binding. Whence in Greek it is called 'asphalt,' from 'safety' — that is, from security — because it joins together what is disjoined and binds it with an indissoluble knot, so that you would think the things came together by a natural unity. For this reason the ark is bound fast with bitumen within and without, lest that interconnection be easily broken.
But elsewhere — that is, in Exodus — that ark also is overlaid with gold within and without, the ark which is in the holy place, an imitative image of the intelligible world. For just as gold is more precious than bitumen, so that ark which is in the holy place is more excellent than this one. Here, then, he simply set down 'timbers,' but there indeed he specified timbers, yet incorruptible ones, declaring the merits of the saints. There too he added that the carrying-poles were to be immovable, because the station of the saints is stable and firm, since they followed the path of a praiseworthy life under the guidance of virtue, shunning the fellowships of corruption.
But this ark, inasmuch as it was driven hither and thither by an uncertain motion in the flood, because the condition of sinners is unstable, and their life, liable to corruption by a certain flood of overflowing passions, wanders about with an inconstant straying. Nor is this to be passed over: that when he had said, 'And you shall make an ark of three hundred cubits in length and fifty cubits in breadth and thirty cubits in height,' he added:
Gathering it together, you shall make the ark and shall finish it to a cubit at the top, so that to the rest of the body it might join, as a fitting adornment, the head of man squared with proportion suited to itself—like a royal citadel; and from this head, while all the senses were poured forth to the other parts of the body, the eyes above all, set as it were like watchmen and guardians appointed by nature with foresight, might survey from on high almost the whole condition of our city. And the mind itself, lodged there according to the opinion of very many, and chiefly of Solomon, who says:
'The eyes of the wise man are in his head'—as though in an imperial hall it gathers to itself a council of virtues, so that, surrounded by such a retinue, it may itself be more securely fortified, and as from some inner sanctuary may impart governance to the whole body, watching over it, and may know how to deliver responses, by which we are able not only to look back upon ourselves, nor only to see what lies before our feet, but even to gaze with the deep contemplation of wisdom upon the very secrets of heaven. There, then, is the whole sum of our salvation; there is grace; thence comes protection; thence too beauty is acquired for the whole body, which first blossoms in the countenance. For it is fitting that the splendor of the royal hall be more excellent, since in it, as the use is greater, so is the brilliance.
For if you consider one by one the things that in man's form appear arranged for some use—as the eyes for seeing, the ears for hearing, the nostrils for smelling, the mouth for speaking—they so serve their function that they furnish beauty as well. How disfigured are the faces of the blind! And what wonder if a man's countenance without eyes is unsightly, when the very heaven without the sun has not its own beauty? We pass our days dismally without the sun; nights without the moon do not please us; for these are, as it were, certain eyes of the world. Take away the light of the stars, and there is in heaven itself a certain disfigurement of blindness.
The very lashes, which fringe the orb of the eyes and are stretched out like a kind of vanguard, lest the pupil be harmed by any filth or cloud of dust, themselves also intercept anything that might be brought against it which could injure the eye; if they fail through inflammation, how unsightly that is; if the eyelid is drawn too tight; if the eyebrows are shaved away—those brows which gleam like the appearance of precious necklaces, as though inwoven with gems. Of the ears too the use is as necessary as the appearance is comely; and if anyone should mutilate them, he will bring disfigurement upon the whole face. In these nature so wrought her work that the very windings of the cavities, curved with wondrous foresight, brought much utility, lest sound suddenly strike the secret chambers of the head.
In short, we often see many people thrown into confusion by a sudden clamor, and, struck with alarm, terrified by the sound of some voice or uproar. The very wax that is generated within those same windings binds the hearing as with a kind of glue. Likewise, if any sound's impact be too violent, it is broken and slowed, so that, being announced beforehand, it rather soothes than, coming unawares, shakes the inner parts. Little worms too, if they attempt to penetrate the ear, are held fast by a kind of birdlime of wax. Flat noses seem contrary to nature; but if they were cut away, how could life subsist when the passage of breathing was removed? In what manner the face of a beast is reckoned rather than the countenance of a man!
With how welcome a covering do the hairs of the head clothe the head, like certain attendants of a royal court, lest the air harm the brain, or rain strike it, or the sun scorch it. Yet nature so renders them that, according to sex, they please either longer or cut short; and according to age, and for the most part according to the quality of the season and the year. In old men gray hair is welcome, in boys it is monstrous; in summer it delights to be cropped closer, in winter more indulgently; to women the hair is an ornament, to men a disgrace. In short, the Apostle expressed this more plainly, saying: 'Does not nature itself teach you that, if a man have long hair, it is a shame to him; but if a woman have long hair, it is a glory to her?'
What shall I say of that very royal gate itself—the mouth—through which the courtly words come forth, certain indices of our mind and intermediaries of the soul? What of the very row of the teeth, which by their own work indeed furnish strength to the whole body, and are besides the modulators of the voice itself? Of these, if any one fall out, the voice limps. These things we have said about the head at greater length, because it was fitting that all the senses be placed at the summit, whence all the offices might be distributed through the remaining parts. But next to our head, behind, is the neck; on the right and left are the arms, which guard the imperial citadel like a faithful watch; and lastly, in us those parts are the stronger which are nearer the head—these are the more excellent.
The breast too is, as it were, a certain sanctuary of wisdom; and the stomach is, as the physicians say, a kind of witness and confidant of the head's secrets, a partner of its sympathy, to which the head transfuses all its own affairs, whether wholesome or adverse. The sides, the buttocks, the thighs, and the legs signify by their very appearance the breadth of measure, as does the tread of the feet, which, although they seem rather slender, yet become broader when we walk. Beautifully, moreover, He added: 'You shall make a door on the side,' declaring that part of the body through which we are wont to discharge the superfluities of food, so that He might surround with more abundant honor those parts of the body which we deem more ignoble. This Scripture expressed far more gracefully than Socrates is read to have said in the book of Plato.
For since either Socrates himself, or Plato—who was in Egypt—could have read this in the writings of Moses, or have learned it from those who had read them, moved by the comely device, he thought that a door had been opened to him, so that he might proclaim the design of our Maker, praising Him in this, that it best suited propriety to turn away from sight, toward the rear, certain ducts and outlets of our channels, lest in the cleansings of the belly our gaze be offended. But the Apostle says: 'Those members of the body which seem to be the weaker are necessary,' with one simple word surpassing the descriptions of philosophy; and 'those members of the body which we think to be more ignoble,'
'we bestow on these more abundant honor; and our uncomely parts have more abundant comeliness.' For it is chiefly there that the proof of our sobriety and temperance is recognized; for gluttons are either distended by surfeits even to peril, or for the most part collapse when their bowels are emptied out. This too the Apostle beautifully applied to the members of the Church. For what are our uncomely and superfluous things, if not extravagance, if not wantonness?
And if anyone, ensnared by these in the time of youth, should, when he has advanced to a more mature age, come to baptism, renounce his former ways, put off his prior manners, lay aside his sins, be buried together with the Lord Jesus, and have the world crucified to him and himself to the world—is he not, being granted the remission of sins, possessed of a more abundant comeliness than that catechumen whose life was reckoned more innocent? And to use the example of the Apostle himself: he was a Jew, he was a persecutor; called to the grace of Christ, he began to be an apostle. And because more was forgiven him, he began to love more, to labor more abundantly than all the apostles, made a vessel of election, sent as the teacher of the Gentiles.
Did he not also obtain a richer and more honorable glory than very many of the apostles themselves—he who before was both dishonorable and inglorious, when he persecuted the Church of God? This poor and feeble one in the Church has himself redeemed you by his prayers. And, to open up greater mysteries: what is so ignoble as the Gentile people? Poor, inasmuch as it had no oracles of God; feeble and lame in both feet, since it had believed neither in the Law nor in the Gospel; yet, being called, it believed, and being baptized, received grace. Therefore, because more was forgiven it, it loves more. The people of the Jews remained, lame indeed in one foot, although it limps even in the Law itself.
And so he who was held most glorious lost everything—the wonderful Counselor, the prudent Architect, and the wise Hearer; while he who was ignoble, having gained everything by the title of faith, glories in the trophy of the martyrs and the fellowship of the angels. Therefore Plato applied what brilliance of speech he could; but the Apostle, who had the Spirit of God, revealed the mystery. Enough has been said about the door, since those who were behind have become first. Now let us inquire into this: what is the meaning of what the Lord said: 'You shall make the lower parts of the ark with two chambers and with three chambers'? By saying 'the lower parts,' indeed, we perceive that He beautifully willed us to understand that the receptacles of food are to be reckoned in a lower place—that is, those bowels which work up the food received.
For food is corruptible, and what is corruptible is not to be compared with the higher things, but with the lower. Likewise, because the food is carried downward—of which a small portion profits the strength of the body and its nourishment, while the remaining part is led off to be purged from the belly, since there are intestines through which the superfluities of food descend—our Maker so arranged it that they should be not extended straight from the stomach to the bottom, but folded in and bent back, whereby the use of our life might be prolonged. For if the intestines of man, which receive and lead off the food, were extended straight, it would at once pass through without any delay, and it would be necessary for us to be perpetually hungry, perpetually feasting, or, when the substance of nourishment failed, to faint on the spot.
But now, in that folding and winding of the intestines, twofold and threefold, the food lingers, and as it descends little by little it furnishes strength, infuses juice into the body, sustains satiety, defers the appetite for eating; and there is neither a sudden outpouring and abrupt evacuation, nor an insatiable appetite, nor an unappeasable craving for feasting. For first there would be want and hunger; then from these would follow continual eating without intermission. But what is more unsightly than always to be devoted to the belly, which, when it is filled, must be emptied, and when it is emptied, must be filled? What third thing remains except death intermingled amid the very foods and feasts?
For how could they prolong their life any longer, eating and hungering at once, drinking and thirsting, and, before they were filled, emptying out all that they had taken in, and straightway hungering? But now, while the food descends little by little, natural providence tempers hunger and indigestion. For first, in the stomach—which most people call the upper belly—the food is worked up; then it is cooked in the liver and digested by its heat. Its juice is distributed to certain portions of the bowels, from which the whole body grows strong. To this the growth of the young bears sufficient witness, and the perseverance of the old.
The remainder of the food flows down into the belly—which we all call the belly without addition, and which most people call the lower belly—from which there must necessarily be excrement, which, having descended already full of corruption, is discharged through that door on the side. Although these things appear so skillfully arranged by natural ordinance according to God's precept, yet, unless a measure of eating and acting be kept by us, a deluge is generated, as it were, from overflowing passions, and a certain ruin of the whole body; for intemperance kindles lust, generates indigestion, creates corruption.
And so either they are strained by internal hardness and shaken with pains, or, through the undigested moisture of foods and the harshness of indigestion, a certain inner lining of the intestines is scraped away, since their lining is asserted to be twofold, like the appearance of paper: one outer, which the experts—or those who have examined more curiously—call continuous, directed from top to bottom; the other inner, attached as it were to the sides, whence they say it is not wholly dissolved when it is scraped; for if the inner were continuous, its tearing would be incurable. There, through the slowness of the junctions, the remnants of foods adhere; and if these junctions be dissolved, the half-eaten foods pass through and the drinks flow down. This is the deluge of man.
Whence it seems to me that, through the figure of this ark, God willed to instruct us how we may be safe from this special deluge. For corruption is the cause of the deluge. When it has crept in, the waters are opened, all the fountains of desires bubble up, so that the whole body is submerged in so great and so deep a flood of vices. For there is nothing that so subjects man to wretched servitude as lust and cravings of this sort, which press down the wretched conscience under a certain heavy yoke of crimes, so that it cannot lift itself up, inasmuch as it has lost the liberty of innocence. The greatest remedy, therefore, against this deluge is that you set the just man before you and choose him as the executor of the heavenly commandment.
Who is the just man in us, if not the vigor of the mind, which encloses within this ark every kind of living creature that is upon the earth? Restrain, therefore, you too, all your irrational passions, and subject all your senses to the mind, and accustom them to the commands of the spirit. Do not allow your cravings to fly forth abroad, nor your lust to go out among the crowd; and through the rational mind you will be able to free even your irrational and unclean sins from all peril of the deluge. 'All things,' He says, 'that are on the earth shall die.' What, indeed, had the dumb living creatures done amiss? For what cause are they subjected to punishment, which have no sense of sinning?
But just as in war, when the commander is slain by the enemy, his army dies with him and all its military strength is shattered, so it seemed not to depart from justice that, when man perished—to whom the Lord God had given a certain royal authority over every kind of living creature, that he might preside with imperial authority over all the birds, wild beasts, and animals—therefore even the cattle and whatever irrational animals there were should die together with him. In short, whenever there is a pestilence through the corruption of a tract of the heavens, the dread plague first contaminates those creatures that are irrational, and chiefly infects dogs, horses, oxen, and those that seem to associate with men; thus the force of disease implicates the human race as well.
This, then, is the first cause of the just claim, as I judge. The second is this: that no one accuses nature for asking why the remaining members of our body die when the head alone is removed, since we see many survive when their hands and feet are amputated. But the prerogative of the other members is not the same as that of the head; and therefore, when the head is cut off—whence our senses go forth into the rest of the body—all the members die together as well; nor in this is the providence of the Maker found wanting, nor the frailty of human substance refuted. Similarly, then, let no one now find fault, because man is the head and a certain principal of the other animals, at whose death it ought not to seem strange if the other living creatures die together with him.
The third is this: that the creatures lacking reason were generated not for their own sake, but for man's sake; for they were commanded to be for man's cause, that the human condition might excel by their subjection. In short, the prophet attributed this to the grace of man, saying: 'You have subjected all things under his feet, all sheep and oxen, and moreover the beasts of the field, the birds of the air and the fishes of the sea'—since all those things are for his sake: some for utility, some for the sake of delight, some for pleasure. It was consequent, therefore, that when man was blotted out from the face of the earth, for whose sake they were made, those things too should be blotted out in a like destruction. These things according to the simple exposition of the reading.
But a loftier and deeper interpretation adds this: that when the soul is bent down by the heavy mass of passions and is, as it were, submerged by the surge of diverse cravings, all earthly thoughts and concupiscences rush headlong, because every sinner becomes the more insolent the graver the crimes he has committed. For by habit and practice wickedness is increased, and audacity is nourished by impunity. He therefore withdraws from all regard for honor, and in him all earthly things die through the bitterness of deadly sin, which destroys the sinner with a true and perpetual death; for no one dies more grievously than he who lives in sin.
In him each of the passions dies; sight dies, which announces sin, which gazes at a deceitful woman, which is captivated by another's beauty of countenance, which the eyes of a harlot have bound, which the look of a fornicating woman has ensnared. Does he not seem to die who has pressed upon himself the dart of lust, who has rushed of his own accord into the pit of death? Hearing too dies, when it reports crimes, when it announces the speech of a soliciting adulterer, when it instills into souls the words of a harlot, who seduces the young man with much flattery of speech and binds him with the snares of her lips. The voice dies in silence, if it does not confess to God; it dies in much speaking, because it is written for you: 'In much speaking you shall not escape sin.'
It dies through wrath, when it transgresses the measure of vengeance; finally, every sense dies, if it be a minister of iniquity. And therefore, because all earthly things die in the deluge, but the just man alone abides forever, it is said to him: 'I will establish my covenant with you,' because he is the heir of divine grace, he the possessor of the heavenly inheritance, the partaker of the most blessed goods. And men indeed, when they die, are wont to transcribe their patrimony by testament, nor does the inheritance pass while the testator lives; but God, since He is everlasting, transfuses to the just the inheritance of the divine substance, and, Himself lacking nothing, bestows His own without any loss of the gift, since the partners of His own goods are no burden to Him.
And He enjoys the more that which we use. In short, the Lord Jesus, though He was rich, became poor, that by His poverty we might be enriched—He who consummated both testaments by His own blood, that He might make us coheirs of His life and heirs of His death, whereby we might have both the fellowship of His life and the benefit of His death. Moreover, He bestowed much on the just man by saying, 'I will establish my covenant with you,' inasmuch as the rational and faithful man is himself the testament of God. For he is the inheritance of God, he the possession, in whom is the virtue of the divine testament, in whom the fruit of judgment, in whom the inheritance of the promise, of whom David said: 'Behold, the inheritance of the Lord are sons, the reward, the fruit of the womb.'
But now, the exposition of the deeper mystery being preserved, let us proceed to the rest. 'Enter,' He says, 'you and all your house into the ark, for I have seen you just in this generation.' Manifestly the faith of the prophetic sentence is established also in this place, because the fool is foolish to himself alone, but he who plunders gains for himself and for very many. And so by the merit of just Noah his house too is preserved in the deluge. Thus those who sail on the sea, and the army in war, if to the former the skill of the helmsman be not lacking, and to the latter the prudence of the commander, are safe from peril by another's help.
But because a good army belongs to a good commander, therefore in this too we understand that the praise of the just man is not passed over, who so established his house that it shone with the fellowship of virtue, and his kindred deservedly found salvation. Nor is it a contradiction that afterward either the son or the wife gave offense. The just man was sleeping when the son erred. The woman too, as being of the more fragile sex, troubled by the mass of peril, who would believe that the whole world was perishing by the divine conflagration—what wonder if she could not follow her husband, when the just man himself, warned by the angels, barely escaped? And what wonder if error creeps upon a man, or his attention relaxes? Accuse him, then, because even the just man was made drunk. But these things I judge are to be reserved for their own place. Now let us consider what remains. For He beautifully said:
'Because I have seen you just in this generation.' Many seem just to men, few to God: it is one thing to men, another to God—to men according to the outward appearance of life, to God according to the purity of soul and the truth of virtue; men approve what is outside, God examines what is within. But thoughtfully He added, 'in this generation,' so that He might neither condemn the earlier nor exclude the later, and might rightly establish that the deluge was made by the destruction of that generation which had no fellowship of equity. These things according to the letter. But the loftier sense calls us to suppose that this vigor of the mind is in the soul, and the soul in the body, as the father of the family is in his house. For what the mind is in the soul, this the soul is in the body. If the mind is safe,
the house is safe, the soul is safe; if the soul is unharmed, the flesh is unharmed. For the sober mind restrains all the passions, governs the senses, rules the speech. And therefore the Lord well says to the just man: 'Enter you,' that is: enter into your very self, into your mind, into the principal part of your soul. There is salvation, there is the helm; outside is the deluge, outside is the peril. But if you are within, you are also safe outside, because where the mind is mistress of itself, the thoughts are good, the actions are good. For if no vice overshadows the mind, the thoughts are sincere. If chastity be your zeal, if temperance be in your heart, no flame of lust burns hot, no ulcers of sickness creep forth; for the sobriety of the mind is the medicine of the body.
Now let us consider on what principle He commands to be brought into the ark, of the clean beasts seven and seven, male and female, but of the unclean two and two, that seed may be nourished upon all the earth. And, as I judge, He asserts that the clean number is the hebdomad (seven), because the seventh number is clean and sacred; for it is mingled with none nor generated by another. And therefore it is called a virgin, because it generates nothing of itself, and deservedly, as being free and exempt from maternal and womanish coupling and birth; and although the hebdomad be named by a feminine word, it has the grace of a virile sanctification; for 'every male that opens the womb shall be called holy to the Lord,' that is, holy. And in the prophet you have: 'She fled and bore a male,' that is, a holy one.
But the second number is not full, because it is divided; and what is not full is held to be empty. The seventh number, however, is full, because the hebdomad is like the decad, and similar to that first one, because the alpha is in the likeness of Him who is forever, from whom flow forth and are moved the virtues that are in every kind. These are the natural meanings. But to speak of the moral ones: there is no doubt that the irrational part of our soul is divided into the five senses and speech and the generative faculty, which by nature seem to be feminine, because our senses creep quickly into material and worldly things. Whence it is clear that they have a substance of a softer nature.
But to the educated and diligent man all things are clean, because the wisdom and virtue of the disciplined man transfuses a virile firmness into these. Therefore, by the judgment of the prudent and the purpose of him who governs, they are transferred from the quality of the inferior sex into a stronger substance. For valid and fixed is the resolve of the wise man, not changeable like that of the senseless and the fool, who wavers with uncertain counsel, like the wicked man, who chooses not what is true and just, but what is convenient or useful to himself, cutting it off from the true, separating it from the just. For justice is a singular good, contemplated by itself, by its own worth alone; but iniquity, being as it were divided, brings forth now bent by hatred, now by gain, and confounds the things that ought to be kept distinct.
For the fool, like the moon, is changed, and, disfigured by the variegated and shifting variety of his humors, stains his own soul into the appearance of a leprous body by a foul contagion, often mingling wholesome thoughts with harmful ones. But perhaps, because you perceive that both clean and unclean living creatures are commanded to be brought into the ark, it may rightly move you, since I said that unseemly disputes ought not to be mingled with honorable ones. Nor do I deny that there are indeed certain seeds and, as it were, beginnings of irrational—yet clean—motions in our soul, and of those that are not clean.
For the nature of man is capable of contraries, so that into it there is an entrance both for malice and for virtue; and deservedly, at the beginning of this book, which is Genesis, you have read of the knowledge of good and evil through the appearance of the tree in the midst of paradise. Of this tree of the knowledge of good and evil it was commanded that it was not to be tasted, because our mind, in which is cognition and discipline, receives the notion of good and evil.
And so the Maker of nature, just as He reserved living creatures for the propagating or even repairing of the species, that the whole earth might be filled with the seed of living creatures, so also He did not think that the earthly substance of our body should be left empty of passions of this sort, as of unclean animals, which, when it is glutted with delights and luxury as with a kind of deluge, fluctuates with the aforesaid passions. But when each one, by sobriety and continence, has emptied out the deluge of overflowing passions and has laid bare a certain dryness of the soul, he begins to give life to his own body and to the purity of the soul, whose governance is wisdom.
It is also worth inquiring with diligence what the cause is why, after Noah entered the ark and brought in the living creatures, the deluge came to pass after seven days. For it does not seem idle that neither more nor fewer days were interposed, but just as many as there were in the constitution of the world. For in six days the world was made, and on the seventh day God rested from His works. By which sign He declared that He Himself was the author both of the world and of the deluge. The world He founded because of His goodness; the deluge He made by the merit of our sins. Men, then, were admonished even by the number of days in which the world was founded, that they ought to have reconciled their Founder not by tears and prayer alone, but by the correction of their morals.
Therefore the Lord gave space for repentance, willing rather to pardon than to punish, that He might compel those held in suspense by the terror of the impending deluge to ask for pardon, whereby, while they dread the peril of future death, they might renounce impiety and injustice. The second point is that from this too we may gather the clemency of the Lord, who is merciful beyond measure, because the offense of many years, contracted from the constitution of the world even to the end, He willed to remit in a few days, if they had repented. For God is forgetful of sin, a rewarder of virtue, as He Himself says in the prophet: 'I am, I am He who blots out iniquities and will not remember them. But you, be mindful, and let us be judged; declare your iniquities, that you may be justified.'
For when He has perceived that the true virtue of the soul has been poured back, He attributes such honor to it that He not only grants pardon of former sins, but also imparts grace and justifications. He waited, therefore, even until the seventh day—the very day on which He rested from His operation—so that, if anything more were demanded, correction might follow, and He might rest from His indignation. This too was a matter of care not to pass over: that He said the deluge was made in forty days, and added forty nights. For we know that day is called that which the sun, illuminating the earth, marks out; night, that which the surrounding darkness divides off from the brightness of day; and for the most part day is so signified by us that we do not comprehend the night, but for the most part so that we include it.
For in signifying a month of thirty days we signify also the nights. Hence, since it would have been enough for Moses to have said that the flood lasted forty days, the question is asked why he added 'and forty nights' as well. And some have understood it thus.
Those who lived before us did so in order to show that by the flood there came the destruction of both men and women: they referred the day to the man, who is purer and like the light, and the night to the woman, who is described as created while the man slept; likewise because the man came first, as if the author, who stirs up the strength of the woman and rouses her to childbearing, more conspicuous in his public activity, while she is more obscure, as though shut within domestic walls and close to the night, brought forth in the second place, and formed in her creation from the rib of the man, owing her favour to the one above her, subject also to the privilege of the greater number, and to be likened to material things by her function of bearing children.
Now the number is consonant in both as regards the peril, because the sins too are consonant, and rightly the spans of time do not differ, because the deserts of the transgressions do not differ. Many also inquire not slightly by what reason the flood lasted forty days. And we can say that the material number was assigned to the more sorrowful things, that is, to the creation that was to be destroyed, but the week to the constitution of the whole world, that is, to the more joyful things. But perhaps it is relevant that the Law too was given in forty days. So many days Moses observed on Mount Sinai and tarried there, when he received the precepts of the Law.
Rightly, therefore, the precepts for the avoidance of sins are given in the same number by which the guilt was paid off in punishment, that we may recognize that in the same span of life in which a punishable fault can be committed, praise ought to be won by correction. Whence now no longer are forty days prescribed for punishment, but for life, that by this number, through fastings and more frequent prayers, we may lighten the penalties of our sins, and, intent upon the precepts of the Law with devotion and faith, may correct our error. And so through the Lord's resurrection the fortieth day is now held to be no longer the last, but the first, and from there life is reckoned, where before the count was reckoned unto death, unto the consummation of the world and the destruction of the human race.
'And I will blot out,' He says, 'every uprising of flesh from the face of the earth.' O beauty of heavenly words, if anyone should examine them with the becoming understanding of a devout mind! God is indignant at our sins, yet He does not forget His mercy: He threatens punishment, but He has not permitted destruction: He tempers vengeance, He calls back severity. He says He will blot out the flesh, not from the earth, but from the face of the earth. He shakes off the flower, He preserves the roots: He allows the strength of human substance to remain in the depths, though it labour on the surface; within it endures impassible, and is preserved free from harm for the replacement of those who are not liable to guilt.
Beautifully, moreover, He set down 'I will blot out,' as it were the small marks of letters, which are blotted out without harm to the books and without diminution of the tablets. The ink is blotted out, but the wood remains. The elements are blotted out, that better ones may generally be written; the ink is removed, the substance is not destroyed. 'I will blot out,' He says, 'the corruption of the flesh, that I may write incorruption. I will blot out the resurrection of flesh from the face of the earth, that I may write those who rise again among the heavenly. I will blot out from the book of earth, that I may write in the book of life.' Let them be blotted out, my Lord, Lord, let the elements of iron be quickly blotted out, that the elements of Christ may be written. Let the earthly resurrection be abolished, that the heavenly grace may overflow. Come, Moses, prepare your lap, receive the Law, take up the characters, which now the wretched...
Let it not blot out the divine skins. Take up the tablets which the Lord may set up forever. Would that you yourself may not break them! Yet my own fault had taken these away from me, had not the Lord restored them. Rightly indeed, Moses, were you indignant, lest those should possess the divine privileges who did not render obedience; but I think that you broke them not against me, but against the Jews. You broke them for the Jews, you received them back for me. The first were broken, that the latter might remain. You broke them in the breasts of the Jews; for what did it profit that they should hold the tablets, whose precepts they could not hold? Behold, they say they hold the second tablets, but they do not hold them. They say they read the divine characters, but they do not read them. Moses says that the tablets were written by the finger of God:
They do not read the finger of God, they read the iron. They see the ink, they do not see the Spirit of God: but the Church knows not the ink, it knows the Spirit. And therefore Paul knew how to write not with ink, but with the Spirit of the living God. O sacrilegious and foolish people of the Jews! A man writes by the Spirit of God, even a man nurtured under the Law, and they would have it that God wrote with ink, not with the Spirit. Therefore, to return to what is above, God blots out the resurrection of flesh as it were the writing of letters. By which it is declared that He blotted out the superfluous birth of men because of its impiety under the figure of letters, but preserved the substance and the conversation of the human race as it were by the permanence of the tablets, that from it the remaining seed might sprout forth.
To this meaning it seems also to accord that He says: 'I will blot out every uprising of flesh.' Now to resurrection, by the common usage of nature, purgation seems to be contrary, because by purgation the rankness of growth is cut back and repressed. Yet everything that is purged loses its appearance, preserves its substance, and is made better. The Lord therefore by the purgation of the flood repressed the bodily use and the conversation of that generation, which had degenerated from the comeliness of nature and from the beauty of the gift received. This is according to the letter. But as for what pertains to the higher sense, the figure of the flood is a type of the purgation of our soul. And so, when our mind [from bodily...]
...] has washed itself from the allurements of this world, in which it formerly delighted, by good thoughts it wipes away the old filth of desire, as it were absorbing with purer waters the bitterness of the previously turbid streams. 'And Noah did,' it says, 'all that the Lord God commanded him.' The just man receives commands, the slave commands as orders. He is reckoned in the place of a friend who does whatever he has undertaken to carry out; he who wavers in obedience is consigned to the burden of servitude. In short, the Lord Jesus too says in the Gospel: 'You are my friends, if you do what I command you. Now I will not call you slaves.' It is commanded, therefore, as to a friend; it is commanded to him who carries out what is commanded with strong charity and sober counsel. Nor did his judgment deceive the Lord.
The just man fulfilled all things, not a part, but all that were commanded him, and therefore he receives the testimony of divine Scripture. Nor should you think it superfluous that Scripture set together 'Lord' and 'God' — for both God is in the Lord and the Lord is in God —, but that you may understand the precept of the Father and of the Son to be common. Some, however, before us have interpreted it thus, that by saying 'Lord and God' in this place, He expressed a twofold power both of one who would avenge and of one who would pardon; and because here He first avenges upon sinners, therefore He said 'Lord' first, but because afterward, that the seed-plot of the just might be propagated, He shows indulgence, therefore He named 'God' afterward. In short, when about to make the world, He is called God: 'In the beginning God made heaven and earth. And God said: Let there be light.'
There is also this consideration, not perfunctory, that in the six-hundredth year of Noah, in the seventh month, on the twenty-seventh of the month, the flood came. That the seventh month was of the spring season is not doubted, when growing things increase, the field labours in birth, and the offspring of lands and of living creatures alike pours itself forth. Then therefore He made the flood, when the grief of those who were being punished in their abundance would be greater, then the vengeance more terrible, as though God were saying: 'Behold, by the grace of divine providence's generosity rich nature has brought forth all things, the earth has germinated all things for the use of men, the bountiful earth: crops of wheat are beheld, the fields are filled with barley, the tresses of the trees, the fruits to come, are clothed with blossoms:'
The earth is not lacking in its services, nor the beasts in their gifts, which are loosed in their accustomed births, so that nothing should be lacking to man: man alone is lacking to his own parts, he knows not his Author, from whom all things are ministered to him, he neglects his Creator. Man despises his Rewarder, while God has not despised His work. Let all things perish with man, for whose sake all things were born. Let man be consumed in his own riches, let him die with his own dowry.' The earth had in no way transgressed before man, it had erred in no fruits: in man alone it recognizes that it has degenerated, bearing thorns and thistles instead of fruits. That which alone is the wondrous gift, the principal part of the mind, has perished. Why then are all those things preserved?
Therefore the water is not poured out after the fruits have been gathered, lest the earth should feel a benefit rather than a flood. In short, among the Egyptians the Nile overflows in the spring season, though in a different month, so that the earth may soften for the casting of seeds and receive the seeds sent forth in a more gentle bosom, a more kindly lap. But that the flood comes in the six-hundredth year of Noah seems to show this, that on the sixth day Adam was created. The same number, that is, the one called 'even,' is preserved both in the author and in the restorer, because the source of the sixtieth and of the six-hundredth is the number six. And the same month is called both the first and the seventh.
But we ought rather to observe first that after the flood, in the spring season, the care of the fields to be tilled is renewed, and the offspring of the calm and fertile soil begins to come forth. By which it is signified that God would never have brought about the destruction of men in that number or that season — in which He made the beginning of things — unless He had been offended by monstrous transgressions. At the same time the reckoning of the season and of the number promises pardon, in that even when angered He is admonished by such preceding causes of His own benefits, so as not utterly to blot out the substance of those whom He Himself bestowed. 'And all the fountains of the abyss were broken up, and the cataracts of heaven were opened.'
Scripture fittingly expressed the force of the flood by saying that heaven and earth alike were stirred up, of which elements every beginning of this world consists. From every side, therefore, with the masses of waters flowing in, the enclosed race of men is pressed hard. This is according to the letter. But as for what pertains to the higher sense, by the symbol of heaven the human mind is signified, by the appellation of earth the body and the senses. Great therefore are the shipwrecks, when the whirlwind and storm of mind and body and of all the senses are mingled alike. Let us weigh the words carefully. Often the fraud of the mind and its deceit exercise their poison, yet the sobriety of the body and continence overshadow the wickedness of the mind.
Frequently the mind is slippery through the uncertainty of its faith and opinion, yet the flesh is free from delights and luxury, so that frugality excuses the error of the mind, as there are many among the heretics who are unwilling to put forward bodily continence in order that they may gain credence for their assertion by the testimony of sober flesh. Even though slippery in their understanding, yet inasmuch as they are somewhat less base, they are held to be somewhat more excusable.
But when the poisons of the mind and the contagions of bodily obscenity confound every sense and vigour, and the soul, slippery with uncertain motion, foul with the ink of malice, kindled with the fury of cruelty, is incited even to bodily outrages; when greedy desire too, impatient of modest means, is hurled into crime by the lust of luxury and the wantonness of squandering, in the craving to seize another's welfare — then there is a great flood, with all the passions rushing in alike; then folly, injustice, rashness, wickedness, and treachery seem to pour themselves out from the upper part, as it were the cataracts of the mind.
Thence there burst forth from the fountain of the earthly body lust, drunkenness, luxury, and finally the downfalls of various crimes, which utterly emasculate both the strength of the body and the vigour of the mind. 'And God shut the ark from without.' The discourse is manifest according to the letter. The ark had to be shut and securely fenced with a protection, lest the wandering streams of the flood should penetrate it. Nor is an interpretation of the higher sense incongruous, if we judge that the human body, which is figured by this ark that is described, fenced with skin, is defended from cold and heat, which the artificer God clothed for the protection of all the members with natural coverings and clad as it were with an enveloping garment, so that it should neither congeal with cold nor be dissolved by summer heat.
The water therefore overflowed and lifted the ark, and it was borne upon the top of the waters. Not without cause did the water overflow, when the cataracts of heaven were opened and the fountains of waters and the rivers were broken up from the earth. This was said with great emphasis. For where there is a bursting forth, there an irrevocable outpouring must of necessity be, nor is the downfall of huge streams easily restrained. Manifest, therefore, is what is written. But if you think it should be regarded more deeply, our flesh is agitated by diverse passions and fluctuates like a sea, by which it is tossed hither and thither as it were upon the waves of its own troubles, now by hunger, now by thirst, now by desire, now by joy, now by grief.
I think this too should not be passed over, that Scripture did not pass over how many cubits in number the water was above the earth; for it said that the water was fifteen cubits above the high mountains. The simple understanding is plain, but the allegory embraces the five senses, which are in our body like high mountains, which overshadow this flesh of passions and are often assailed by beasts and harried by their thickets and shades. Whence the Lord too, coming to His Church through the faith of the believing nations, came from Lebanon, as the prophet Habakkuk says: 'The Lord shall come from Lebanon, from a shady and dark mountain.' The Church too comes from Lebanon, as the Song of Songs has it. For thus we read:
'Come hither from Lebanon, my bride, come hither from Lebanon. You shall pass over and pass through, from the beginning of faith, from the dens of lions and the mountains of leopards' — which are the Gentile peoples. They who, as it were, suffered the grievous assaults of bestial passions, now stand eminent by the loftiness of faith and the sublimity of devotion. Through these mountains, therefore, Christ came, restraining by His evangelical disputations the fierce motions of this body, and destroying by His obedience and humility that loftiness of heart and the pride that exalts itself; and rightly they began to bear the fruits of meekness whom before the floods of grievous passions overwhelmed.
Concerning the number of cubits, some before us have judged thus, that the five senses have a threefold gathering, because sight sees the visible, and hearing hears the audible, and smell smells the smellable, and taste tastes the tasteable, and touch touches that which lies beneath the substance of touching. Therefore the five senses are reckoned threefold, or according to that saying: 'Write for yourself threefold.' I, however, think this more suitable, that I take the senses of the earthly, the animal, and the spiritual man, which those streams of the flood transcended. 'Then died all flesh that moved.' This is clear both according to the letter and properly and naturally expressed the corruption of the flesh by the token of the stormy commotion.
For commotion is not vicious except through the corruption of the affections; for the flesh moves the pleasures, and is itself moved by the pleasures, and such commotion creates corruption. The cause therefore of corruption is the commotion of this world, through which the soul of each one degenerates. For when vicious passions move the mind, corruption is generated; when the pursuits of the virtues are aroused, there is progress of discipline. 'Everything therefore that was on the dry land died': for those whom the wave of so great a flood had submerged could not but die. This is according to the writing and the sequence of words.
But if you seek the allegory, there is no doubt that, by the example of a drier piece of wood, which as soon as the fire begins to lick it is burned up, so the soul, unless it grows moist with the dew of the various virtues, watered as by a certain cup of wisdom and by the fountain of justice and the irrigation of chastity, blazes up with the fire of desires as though its vital root were dried out, or, struck by the flux of the flesh, falls down. Whence the soul ought always to feast on the thoughts of good works, that the mind, made drunk with the juice of prudence, may grow fat, whereby it may not easily yield to the injury of the bodily flood, and may not, enervated by the dry squalor of negligence, die.
And therefore the Lord admonishes us not to withdraw from the fountain of wisdom, to draw the cups of virtue, lest anyone be dried up by the sun of iniquity and be unable to endure the storm of persecution. For it is written: 'If they do these things in the green wood, what shall be done in the dry?' 'God blotted out,' it says, 'everything that was upon the face of the earth.' This is the evident explanation of the writing; but the allegory sets forth to us pride displayed, which exalts itself in this earthly and frail substance, and, unmindful of divine things, despising human things, deforms the very bearing and gait of the arrogant man. Such as Isaiah describes the daughters of Judah, flashing with the nods of their eyes and tossing themselves with high neck.
For there are such men, raising their eyebrows, with inflated heart, lifted chest, neck thrown back, who indeed graze the ground only with the traces of their feet, but balance their whole body, suspended on an empty poise; they advance forward in their step while reclining their crown backward; they gaze at heaven, but disdain the earth, as though pierced through with a pain of the neck, so that they cannot bend it. These, therefore, God blotted out of the book of life, saying: 'Everyone who exalts himself shall be humbled,' and does not let them cling among the merits of the saints by their fabrications to heavenly things. All those, therefore, who were outside the ark having been destroyed, Noah alone was left in the ark with those who were with him.
The simpler discourse does not need interpretation — the understanding runs together with the letter —; but the higher and inner signification shows the just man and lover of wisdom to have remained alone with his own, like a fruitful tree, when those things had been cut off which were wont to gnaw at its food, to overshadow its foliage, to choke the growth of its branches, as one exempt from irrational passions. But 'his own' are the pure deliberations of the spirit, which cling to virtue.
And well did he add that he remained in the ark, since it would seem scarcely credible that, with the bodily passions cut off, he was still dwelling in the body; in which, though he was now free from earthly contaminations, he yet still preserved, incorrupt though it was, the substance of the body, and as it were incorporeal he was borne up above the flood in the body, and was not absorbed, bearing indeed the body as one placed in the interior of the ark, but governing the body itself, unconquerable by passions, as it were incorporeal in the midst of so great commotions. 'The Lord remembered Noah and the beasts and the cattle,' as divine Scripture says. Many are moved as to why the writer did not say that God remembered also the wife and sons of Noah, when He remembered the beasts and the cattle.
But when he said that He remembered Noah, in the author and head of the house he comprehended the rest of his kindred. At the same time a certain agreement of the remaining kindred seems to be expressed. For indeed, when all are mutually dear to one another, the house is one; but when they disagree, they are separated and split into several houses. Where therefore there is charity, there by the name of the elder, on whom the rest depend, the whole house is signified; just as, if anyone says 'tree,' he certainly comprehends also the branches; if anyone names a 'branch,' he likewise embraces in one and the same word also the fruits that are on it.
Nor is it idle that he first said that God remembered Noah, then the beasts, afterward the cattle — that is, why he did not name after man those living creatures that are gentler, but the fiercer ones. In which the reason seems to be this, that those which were fiercer might be tamed by the nearness of either party. Which seems to be declared also in that poetic verse: 'and he drove the coward into the middle.' For hence the poet too borrowed the practice, so to arrange the disposition of an army about to fight that he would place the weaker in the middle, that they might be the more aided on either side by the stronger and take up the contest of both parties. In these things the sequence of the writing is made manifest.
But in the higher sense it is certain that the just man holds the thoughts of his heart in the middle, not in a part, and, as long as he plucks at this life, must of necessity hold in the body, as it were in that ark, the grievous beasts. For there is no mind, no soul, which does not also receive the wild motions of evil thoughts. And so the soul of the foolish man whets the bestial motions and fosters the poisons of serpents, but the vigour of the wise man mitigates and restrains them. 'And the Lord brought a wind upon the earth, and the water ceased.' I do not think this was said so that by the name of 'wind' we should understand a breeze. For a wind could not dry up the flood: otherwise, since the sea is daily agitated by winds, it would surely be emptied out.
For how would the sea not be emptied by the force of the winds, to which the flood would have yielded — spread over the whole globe even to the pillars of Hercules, as they say, and the great sea seething with the peaks of the high mountains covered? It is therefore not doubtful that that flood was repressed by the invisible power of the divine Spirit, by a heavenly operation, not by a blast. Whence it is written: 'All things wait upon thee, that thou mayest give them food in due season. When thou openest thy hand, all things shall be filled with goodness; but when thou turnest away thy face, they shall be troubled. Thou shalt take away their spirit, and they shall fail and be turned into their dust. Thou shalt send forth thy spirit, and they shall be created, and thou shalt renew the face of the earth.'
There is therefore a Spirit, to whose operation all things seem to yield, in whom is the very power of heaven, as it is written: 'By the word of the Lord the heavens were established, and by the spirit of his mouth all their power.' Which Spirit is the creator of all things, as Job too says: 'The divine Spirit who made me.' Now let us consider what it is that Scripture says: 'The fountains of waters were shut and the cataracts of heaven.' Nor do I think it obscure. For by these causes the flood is diminished, by which it grew. The fountains of waters had been broken up, the cataracts of heaven had been opened, that with the waters flowing in from every side the earth might be inundated. Those things had to be shut from which the origin of the flood flowed, that its abatement might begin.
This the letter sounds; but the subtler interpretation expresses this, that the flood had flowed in by the soul's vice of the mind and of bodily luxury, so that malice was mingled with passion, and passion with malice. When the physician, the Word of God, enters for the visitation of the soul, which was labouring with a long-standing sickness through the wickedness of disputations and the bitterness of passions, the causes of the sickness had first to be cut off. For the beginning of medicine is to cut into the causes of languor, lest those things which harm should longer be ministered to the increase of the sickness. This the Law too teaches us. For when the leprosy has stood still, so that it no longer spreads, then it says that the standing-place and abode of the leprosy is clean; for whatever is moved contrary to nature is unclean.
This therefore is the health of the soul, this the soundness of the mind, that the overflow of error should cease, that guilt should be stopped, lest it creep onward. When the incitement to guilt and transgression has ceased, salvation is secure, and the unimpaired vigour of the soul pours itself back. 'And the ark rested,' it says, 'in the seventh month, on the twenty-seventh of the month.' Unless you attend carefully, even according to the letter the comprehension of this passage is difficult. And first of all it must be guarded against, lest the frequent repetition of the seventh month perturb anyone. For thus it is written: in the six-hundredth year, in the seventh month, on the twenty-seventh of the month the flood began; for a hundred and fifty days there was a pouring-in of the waters; the ark rested on the mountain in the seventh month, on the twenty-seventh of the month:
afterward by the mercy of God the waters began to diminish; in a hundred and fifty days the diminution of the waters was effected; afterward the tops of the mountains appeared; then after forty days holy Noah opened the door of the ark; the raven that was sent out did not return; the dove that was sent out returned empty; again after seven days the dove that was sent out returned with an olive branch; the third time, after seven days, the dove that was sent out did not return; then Noah perceived that all the water had receded. And thus the year is shown to be concluded in the seventh month, on the twenty-seventh of the month [and thus the year is shown to be concluded in the six-hundred-and-first year of Noah, in the second month, on the twenty-seventh of the month].
As for what pertains to the open explanation, in the same month and on the same day the level state of the earth is restored after the flood, by which it was corrupted when the inundation of the flood began. For in the spring season every field is green and the earth labours forth its fruits. Then the trees begin to bud, the fruits to germinate. Therefore the Lord reformed and restored the rich quality. In the second month, therefore, that is, in April — for the first month is March, in which the just man has his birth, when the equality of nights and days is reckoned, that is, on the eighth, as the Romans suppose, or, as others, on the fifth before the Kalends of April — in the second month, I say, that is, in April, on the twenty-seventh of the month, the flood began. Spring therefore is reckoned the beginning of the year, not the second.
...not according to the usage of the season, but according to the prerogative of nature, so that, because then the hope of the year begins and the fruit begins to show itself, then it should seem to be the beginning of the year. But the seventh month, according to the count, is that which is called September; for although the year may seem to begin from the month of September, as the usage of the present indictions shows — for then is the casting of seeds —, yet from spring, from which fuller grace begins to show itself, from that the origin of the year is derived; and therefore that which by another reckoning is thought to be the first, by a different estimation is held to be the seventh. Then therefore the ark rested, that is, in the seventh month, on the twenty-seventh of the month, upon the mountain of Ararat. From that the flood began to diminish.
At the same time consider that by the same numbers by which some things begin they are dissolved: as the flood began in the second month of the year, on the twenty-seventh of the month; for a hundred and fifty days the flood flowed in; for another hundred and fifty days the flood subsided; for forty days the excessive force seethed with heavenly rain and the bursting of the fountains; and when another forty days had elapsed, after the tops of the mountains were seen, in the eleventh month, on the first day of the month, holy Noah sent out the raven. Thus it is established that by the same number by which the flood was heaped up it was diminished. Whence Scripture teaches us that order is to be preserved. But what the door of the ark is, which the just man opened, has been said above according to the reasoning of the body.
According to the deeper interpretation, however, this must be said: that the senses of the body are reckoned as being like doors. For through these, as through doors, there enters into our mind, as it were, a certain apprehension of sensible things. Our mind, therefore, seems to look out through these senses, and especially through sight, which is judged to be more excellent than all the senses of the body, because it is akin to light; and gazing through it upon the heaven, the earth, the seas, the sun also, the moon and the stars with which the firmament is adorned, we understand that God is the Maker and Governor of the world, and we believe that without God as author and as founder of works so great these things could neither have come to be nor be able to subsist. Through this window, then, the just man first sent forth the raven.
The reason must be sought, and yet, as far as the letter is concerned, it is not hidden; for very many people regard the raven as a kind of herald of things to come, and they observe its cries and scrutinize its flights. But the deeper sense signifies that the mind of the just man, when it begins to purify itself, first drives away from itself the things that are dark and unclean and reckless—since all shamelessness and fault is dark, and feeds upon dead things like the raven—whereas virtue is near to the light, which shines forth by the purity and simplicity of the mind. And therefore fault is, as it were, sent out and put to flight and separated from innocence, so that nothing dark may remain in the mind of the just man.
Finally, the raven once gone forth does not return to the just man, because all fault is a fugitive from equity, nor does it seem to befit uprightness and justice. Indeed the unjust man believes he has escaped as if from bonds, when the just man has separated himself from his fellowship—from a kind of flood and from a familiar corruption—like the raven, which, when it nowhere found the dryness of the earth, did not return but remained. It must also be considered why Scripture did not say that the raven returned until the water dried from the earth, as though it returned afterward. But this is a manner of speech familiar to divine Scripture; for in the Gospel too you have it written of holy Mary that Joseph did not know her until she had borne her son—though assuredly he did not know her afterward either.
Next, what manner of expression is this, that Scripture should say 'until the water dried from the earth,' and not 'the earth from the water'? And indeed the usage of speech has been wont to have this also. Yet certain authors before us judged that, because a kind of immoderate force of the passions seems to be expressed by this turn of words, the soul is consumed by turbid and stormy passions, but, when they fail and as it were dry up, it resumes its virtue. The appearance of fault, therefore, does not return into the soul of the just man, leaving it as it were dry and dead, and one to which it can no longer do harm. Nor is that without meaning, that afterward the dove is sent out; for simplicity dissolves malice, and virtue dissolves fault.
Malice, therefore, loves the flood, but shuns the fellowship of the just mind, and remains as it were desolate and without any resting place, having no communion with virtue; whereas virtue returns, loving the company of the just, and being the more intimate with usefulness that is to be freely bestowed—virtue which brings what is salutary and warns against the things that will be harmful—just as the dove, when sent out, on seeing that the water had ceased, returned full of justice, to report to him by whom it had been sent what he ought still to beware of, and so afterward, by watching, might enjoy a better fruit.
But the fact that the dove, finding no rest for itself, returns to him, gave a clear sign through birds of this kind, how great a difference there is to be expressed between malice and virtue; since the raven, sent out earlier, when the flood seemed still to be somewhat overflowing, was seen to have found a place to settle. And surely the raven is not of such a kind as the other birds, which are accustomed to have their dwelling upon the waters.
Since, then, the raven seemed to have found where it might remain, but the dove did not find it, the clear reasoning is that by the deeper interpretation it is signified that malice is wont to mingle itself with the restless passions and desires by which the soul is corrupted, and to take delight as though in things kindred and familiar, and there to establish its lodging; whereas virtue, offended at the very first appearance of what it sees, hastened to return to the mind and soul of the just man, because there a most safe lodging had been set up for it, since elsewhere such virtue, like the dove, cannot find a most safe resting place. For amid the cunning of this world and the surging of worldly desires, simplicity is slow to find a harbor.
And so, just as virtue, having gone forth as it were for the sake of a visit, hastens after a little while to return to the best mind, and does not depart far from the just man, so also the just man and the zealot for virtue, when he has recognized that virtue is drawing near, opens wide the bosom of his mind. For what does it mean that Noah, a zealot for virtue, stretching out his hand, took the dove and brought it in to himself? Even though according to the letter this seems plain, yet you would not easily gather its meaning unless you knew the custom of the wise man, who employs virtue as it were as a scout, and seems to commit to it a certain prerogative of exploring the matters to be examined and managed. That virtue, therefore, weighs natures, so that if any of them seems suited to it, it can join its advancement to it.
For there is a certain common goodness of wisdom, both generous and lavish in usefulness, so that those natures which it perceives to be compliant to itself it associates with itself. But where it sees the nature of some persons to kick back against its purpose, it flies back and runs back as it were to a familiar lodging, which the wise and diligent man hastens to receive as though with a certain hand of the mind, opening his whole heart, by which he held it even when it was absent; for the wise man can never be deprived of his own proper virtue. Furthermore, what does it mean that he kept the dove seven other days and again sent it out, except that you should perceive that the good and best purpose of the wise man always strives to join others also to itself, to amend those who err, to correct those who wander?
If he observes someone shrinking back at the beginning, nevertheless he does not despair of the profit of changing and correcting him. For just as the good physician, even if it is not yet the time for the remedy, nonetheless first sends ahead a watchful eye of visitation, then does not neglect the vigils of a just expectation, and yielding for a little to the passions awaits the opportunity of healing, which, when it has been offered, he does not let pass without performing his office: so therefore the wise man too, by words and discourses, like a physician with his medicines, desires to cure the contrary passions.
And because in all things one must make use of the remedy of divine favor, therefore he waited seven days, in which the whole world is described as having been completed and rest provided for its Maker, so that from that Author of all things might be drawn a discipline for human activity. The dove, then, returned at evening, having a leaf of the olive and a branch in its mouth. Not idly did Scripture set down both the evening and its returning and its having a leaf of the olive and a little branch in its mouth—so that you should not think that virtue is fleeing from the profit to come, if it might gain any souls; nor again that you should suppose it to have been without light and hidden in some darkness, but rather that, gleaming with the brightness of day, it waited until the setting of day and so returned to him.
With whom even at evening it could not have darkness. The leaf, too, which it brought with it—even though it seems to have brought back that small leaf—signified some hope, though not great, of those who should repent of their error; for the leaf could not be without a shoot. Therefore, as of a correction beginning to sprout, it carried, though not great, yet some token—a leaf of the olive, on which tree the olive is produced, from which oil is made, by which this material light is fed and the obscurity of darkness is put to flight. And what is more familiar to virtue than light?
The leaf, therefore, and the little branch are a token of correction; but correction has as its root, as it were, penitence—a penitence which cannot sprout in the turbid, but in those who have already received the spiritual word. In the mouth, too, the little branch of the olive is seen to have been brought, not in vain, because virtue and wisdom have their brightness in speech, and at the very appearance its light shines forth, especially when it speaks peaceable things, since this branch too those who seek peace have been wont to carry before them.
It bore the little branch, because simplicity, by its purity and sincerity, pours into our ears certain seeds of usefulness; and the teaching of good virtue either rouses to diligence and invites to a reward, conscious to itself of good discipline, or implants in the sinner a desire of doing penance and following a new way of life. Moreover, how holy Noah came to know that the water had failed from the earth, as it is written, seems worth considering. First of all, according to the letter, because he could understand whether the leaf brought to him was dry or moist; and then, because the dove is not of such a kind as to be able to draw up fruits hidden beneath the water. But whether that leaf had sprouted before the flood or at the time of the flood must be considered by you.
If before the flood, the just man rejoiced that some fruit had been preserved from the old seed, and from it gathered a token of divine mercy—namely that the flood had now withdrawn, which mercy might show forth the fruit to which the floods could not have done harm. If the leaf was born at the time of the flood, the just man surely perceived that new seeds of heavenly mercy had budded forth, so that the roots of the trees were alive and, as though with the soul renewed, were sprouting their ancient offspring and returning to their accustomed births, the token of which the leaves sent ahead made manifest.
But he gathered this rather by a deeper interpretation: that the Lord our God, although offended by the bitter errors of our iniquity, nonetheless preserved for us some seed, even a slight one, of the virtue of our ancient lineage and homeland, lest the whole token of His work and of His creature regarding the human race should be wholly cut away. Whence Isaiah also says: 'Unless the Lord of Sabaoth had left us a seed, we would have become like Sodom and we would have been made like Gomorrah,' expressing, in the name of the one city, a sign of blindness, and in the name of the other, sterility. For thus the Chaldeans in their native tongue named Sodom and Gomorrah, signifying blindness and sterility.
And rightly, in this image of cities, the Lord cut away human vices rather than judged men to be punished. A third time the dove is sent out after seven days, and this same dove does not return. Whence let us consider, lest what we said above be found to be contradictory. If indeed in word the dove, but in deed virtue, did not return to the just man, then has the just man been deserted and defrauded of his gift? By no means. For never is a man of this kind sundered from virtue; nor, when he sends justice forth from his mouth and brings in a discourse of some virtue, does he strip himself of virtue and despoil himself of the equity that others are to imitate; but, in the stead of the sun, he illumines others when he sends forth the rays of his own light.
Fire indeed warms those who draw near, in such a way that it itself possesses the heat of its own nature. Does the light of day fail when it illumines the whole world with its brightness? It keeps its course unhindered and its nature undiminished. So too this virtue, in the image of the dove, while the flood was still seething—as a bird, indeed, upon the earth, but as virtue, amid the passions of men—returns to the just man, because in the breasts of the wicked virtue had not been able to find a place where it might cleave. And therefore, returning to that second lodging of its own, it cleaves and rests.
But truly, when the floods of the passions have died down, and very many have become eager to be sharers of the word they have heard and the teaching they have come to know, then the discipline of virtue begins to be no longer the patrimony of one man but a common good, and like a cup of wisdom it is drunk by very many who before, though thirsting, refused to drink—as now the floods seethe in the breasts of the Jews, and although the water of heavenly teaching overflows and the draught abounds, they think it ought not to be drunk. The Gospel is read, virtue goes forth from the heavenly word, the priest expounds it in the church; but lest perchance, placed alone within the ark, he cannot be heard, sometimes, having gone out of the church, where he meets a Jew, he admonishes him and brings forward an example from the heavenly Scriptures:
they close their ears, lest the fountain wash them even against their will and the moisture of the Lord's word besprinkle them. But if any have believed, they run to the fountain, they seek out the teaching, they long that the Gospel be instilled into them, nor are they satisfied with the constancy of their drinking. Thus they desire eagerly to be filled from the fountain of wisdom which before they were eager to flee. What fountain? Hear Him who says: 'If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink. He who believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, rivers of living water shall flow from his belly.' In the six hundred and first year of Noah's life, on the first day of the first month, Scripture says the water was diminished from the face of the earth; but in the second month, on the twenty-seventh day of the month, it records that the earth was dried.
What does that addition about the diminishing of the water mean, since the reckoning computed above seems to have closed out a year—a year which begins from the second month and proceeds on into the second month of the following year—unless perhaps we wish to take here a figure of the just man set forth: so that the first year was that in which the flood began, namely the first year after the six hundredth, and again the first year and the first month after the six hundredth year, when the water was diminished from the face of the earth, because the just man was first in virtue even in the generation of sinners (which was blotted out on account of its sins), and in the second generation, which began after the flood, he was first in order, because he was the first of the second generation. And rightly he had escaped first.
For rightly is honor paid to him who was both first of the earlier generation and the beginning of the later, who deserved both to escape from the former and to be propagated for the seedbed of the latter. For when others had perished, he alone, by the merit of an excellent life and the prerogative of virtue, rich before God, did not experience the corruption of malice; through him it came to pass that the whole body of the human race should neither seem to be abolished upon the earth nor be left cut off from the grace of God. 'And Noah,' it says, 'uncovered the roof of the ark.' Since we have taken the ark, as we interpreted above, for the image of the body, let us understand what it is to uncover the body—according, namely, to the deeper sense. For the rest, it is clear in what way the ark could be opened according to the letter.
What, then, is the roof of the human body, which was closed up in the flood, unless perhaps we take it to be pleasure? Pleasure which covered this our body and as it were veiled it through that error of Adam. And it is judged to be especially like a roof, because all sense is in the head; thence comes pleasure, which had the whole body subject to it.
But when the mind of the just man, sober and whole, kindled by desire of divine knowledge, wished to leap up and fly away into things on high from the corruption of the flood, it uncovered all the things that were a hindrance, and it laid bare again and unveiled the appearance of pleasure, which with a certain covering veiled the other parts of the body—so that it might not only free the body from the service of an ignoble mistress, but might also lay hold of the things that are incorporeal; for the things which are not seen are eternal. And therefore the just man, free from corruption and desirous of eternity, sought the Lord whom he did not see. But as for its saying the first or second month, and that it is a day of the spring season, you have it said elsewhere also: 'This month shall be for you the first among the days of the year.'
For he who is first in grace after the peril, this man rightly received the prerogative of the first month. But do not let it disturb you that we said above that the leaf found on the branch could have been produced after the flood, even though for the most part herbs are wont to sprout beneath the water. Yet, that every scruple may be removed, what great thing is it if, at God's command, on the one day on which the water was diminished, the earth straightway sprouted—since the same God is both the restorer and the founder of fruits, and was not forgetful of the use of His own work?
Finally, you have in the very beginning that He commanded that the earth should sprout the herb of pasture and the fruit-bearing tree with its fruit—'and straightway the earth put forth the herb of pasture having seed according to its kind, and the fruit-bearing tree'—and that was one single day, on which God commanded or made these things. Therefore God, not unmindful of His own benefit, but unmindful of our iniquity, restored His own work in the same measure of time in which He had begun it. And the Lord God said to Noah: 'Go forth from the ark, you and your wife and your sons.' And so, the water receding and the earth dried, Noah was able to go forth from the ark. But the just man arrogates nothing to himself; rather he commits himself wholly to the divine command.
And most of all, he who had entered by a heavenly oracle ought to await a heavenly response in order to go forth; for justice is modest, since iniquity is immodest, which usurps things not due and does not reverence its Author. Now let us ask by what reasoning, as long as they were entering the ark, this was the order of those entering: that he himself entered first and his sons, then his wife and the wives of his sons. But when they went out, the order was changed. For it is written: 'He himself went out, and his wife and his sons and the wives of his sons.' And the letter indeed signifies, in the entrance, abstinence from generation; in the going forth, the use of generation.
For then the father with the sons entered first, and the sons with their parent, and afterward his wife and the wives of his sons—that is, the sexes were not mingled at the entrance, but were mingled at the going forth. Openly, therefore, by the very order of entering, the just man utters a certain voice: that the time was not one of intercourse nor of delights, when destruction threatened all. Whence in the Gospel the Lord says, rebuking the fact that in the days of Noah they ate and drank, took wives and gave their daughters in marriage, and therefore on account of their intemperance the flood came upon them.
That time, therefore, was a time of mourning, not of gladness; and hence the just man took no delight in the fellowship of his wife, nor did the just sons seek conjugal union—for how unseemly it would be that, at the very time when the living were dying, those destined to perish should then be begotten! But afterward, rightly, when the flood had receded, the use and care of marriage succeeded for the seedbed of the rest. And so it is not men with men, but women with men, that go forth, so that the manly mingling among themselves should appear forbidden, but the union of man and woman, by the lawful lot of marriage, permitted.
But the deeper sense holds this: that, where there is peril, certain manly and stronger deliberations should cleave to the mind, and that the mind should as it were guard itself by a certain offspring of sons, so that against tempests and graver passions a certain manly battle-line might come to meet them. But when the peril has run its course, there is no hindrance if softer thoughts be joined to the stronger ones—not so that the stronger should be made effeminate by the softer, but so that the softer perceptions might be strengthened as it were by certain manly ones, since all our counsels are directed toward virtue, justice, integrity, and fortitude, and by a certain practice and seedbed of virtue the stronger counsels can be created and grow up.
It is not, therefore, useful, when there is some confusion of vices that occupies the mind, to sow certain thoughts and to generate and bring the mind to bear them. But when the desires have been pressed down and the mind has come to rest, then, a certain seedbed of deliberation having been received, virtues and good works can sprout. 'And Noah,' it says, 'built an altar to God.' For what reason, when above the Lord admonished what Noah should do and Noah did all things, did he now do this which he was not admonished to do? Perhaps the question is raised. But surely the Lord ought not, like a greedy man, to demand the recompense of grace; and the just man understood that the true rendering of thanks is one that is not commanded but offered. And so he suffered no delay.
For indeed the grateful virtue of the soul excludes the passion of hesitation; but he who, being a debtor of grace, waits for it to be exacted of him, is ungrateful. But the fact that it says he built 'to God,' and did not say 'to the Lord,' but 'to God'—according to the interpretation of the name, this rendering of thanks seems not to be compelled, as though to a master, but to be the virtue of the just man, compliant and grateful. As though he set apart for God what is of imperial authority, and named what is of benefit. 'And he took of the clean beasts and of the clean birds, and offered,' it says, 'holocausts.' The letter is plain, that we ought to offer those things which are uncontaminated, in which the affection of the offerer may shine forth; but the deeper interpretation holds this: that the clean beasts are seen to be the senses of the wise man, and the birds his understanding.
which are far more subtle and lighter. But now let us consider more diligently what it is that He says, that the Lord God, reflecting, said: 'I will not again curse the earth because of the works of men, since the heart of man is set diligently upon evil from his youth. Therefore I will not again strike all flesh, as I have done, all the days of the earth.' Even though He had taken vengeance upon the race of men, He had nonetheless recognized that the vengeance of the law avails toward fear and the knowledge of teaching rather than toward a change of nature—a nature which can be corrected in some, but cannot be changed in all.
The Lord, therefore, took vengeance that we might fear; He spared that we might be preserved; and He took vengeance once, for an example of fear; He spared for the rest, lest the bitterness of sin should always have dominion; and at the same time because, if anyone should desire to avenge sins too frequently, he is held to be harsh rather than censorious. And therefore God says: 'I will not again curse the earth because of the works of men'—that is, because He willed to declare His mercy concerning the whole of mankind, and yet ought not to bring a certain security and negligence upon human minds: He takes vengeance upon a few, He preserves the many. Then, when He says:
'I will not again,' He shows that He lightens the hardships of men rather than aggravates them, knowing that the sins of men cannot be utterly taken away—as in the proverb, that just as if anyone should wish to draw up water with a fine-meshed net, so is he who tries to take away malice from the breasts of men. 'I will not again,' He says, 'curse the earth because of the sins of men, since the perception of man remains diligently upon evil from his youth.' See how God signifies that we sin studiously, by saying that the perception of man remains diligently upon evil—by which saying He seems to signify that the heart of man is diligently inclined toward sins, and that in our governing faculty there is a slipperiness of sinning, and what is worse, that the zeal for it is not lacking.
For He says 'diligently,' as though we were anxious lest an immunity from fault should creep up on us. Then He did not say into one evil, but into many evils, and added 'from his youth'; for from that age malice grows, although elsewhere we have read that not even an infant of one day is without sin, but neither is infancy without sin on account of the infirmity of the body, while diligence and zeal in sinning begin from youth—so that the boy sins as though weak, the young man as though wicked, who studiously desires to commit sins and glories in his crimes; for among very many, innocence is held to be cowardice and fault is reckoned for praise. Thus young men have been wont to boast in luxury and in delights and in the inclinations of adulteries.
Fault, therefore, grows with the years. He declares, then, that the whole race of men is now not to be consumed, when He says: 'I will not again strike all flesh,' but vengeance is reserved in part. What that also is which He says—'seed and harvest, cold and heat, summer and spring, day and night shall not cease'—this, according to the letter, signifies that they will abide, abiding according to the Lord's institution and their own state in their seasons, the animals being incorrupt in the future, and all the woodlands. For when the seasons are corrupted, those things also are corrupted which are generated each in their own seasons. But if there is a confusion of seasons, how can those things which are generative remain, once confusion has been made?
Therefore it is the seasons that either corrupt or preserve, according as they themselves possess their proper quality. And for this reason the year is drawn from contraries—spring, autumn, summer, and winter. Just as the harmony of a song is seen to consist of low and high notes mingled together, so therefore this world too is held together from contraries: from air and earth, fire and water. Our bodies also preserve a certain order of nature by cold and heat, moisture and dryness. For if the natural order and measure is confounded, then destruction must necessarily follow. Therefore the Lord, the confusion of the flood being removed, promises that a fixed order of seasons shall be for the permanence of the world. But the deeper sense holds this: that by 'seed' we should understand the beginning, by 'harvest' we should understand the end.
In both there is the cause of salvation. The one without the other is incomplete, for it says: 'Where there is a beginning, an end is sought; nor can there be a beginning with the end taken away, and the end returns into the beginning.' Therefore he records that, so long as it is in this world, the human race will always recur to the same point: that, when the year begins, it may end; when it ends, it may begin; lest the world be dissolved in the midst of time. So too the mind, when it seems to begin something, let it strive on even to the end and seek the term of its work.
When it finishes some work, let it not as it were take holiday as though the work were consummated, but let it recur to other works and always exercise the increases of virtue, since indeed it sees that the earth is always recalled to its own fruits—diverse fruits which are born either in spring and summer, as in the regions of the East, or in summer and autumn, as in the regions of the West. At one time the seedbeds of the lands put forth their offspring, but at another time we gather the fruits of the trees. The fruits, therefore, are of two kinds, necessary and pleasurable: the necessary from the seeds of the lands, but the pleasurable from the fruits of the trees. And so our body, as it were in spring—that is, in 'ear' (éar)—is fed with natural food. For 'éar' in the Greek name is called 'ver' in the Latin.
And so Scripture took its example from the regions of the East, and especially from Egypt, through which the Hebrew passed. But the soul is nourished by pleasures—that is, by the fruits of wisdom—and to it, just as cold and heat are contrary to our body, so fear and anger appear hostile. Yet because it is in the body, it must of necessity have both anger and fear, nor can it be without these, by the necessity of bodily nature. And therefore the mind of the wise man dispenses just restraints, lest it mingle anger and fear and there arise a certain confusion and flood in his soul. And as for what it says, 'day and night,' by the day you understand the illuminating power, by the night you recognize the dark folly.
And so even in fear, as in cold, the illuminating power can be present. Likewise temperance can restrain anger, so that in fear a man is not utterly dissolved but is rather, through fear, directed toward works of virtue—for instance, if a persecutor presses upon him, so that you fear God the more and judge that eternal punishments are more to be shunned than present ones; and while you fear these, you are kindled toward glory, angered at faithlessness and at wickedness, and again, inflamed with anger, you temper your agitation by the fear of God. And the Lord blessed Noah and his sons, saying: Increase and multiply and fill the earth and have dominion over it.
And the fear and dread of you shall be upon all the beasts of the earth and upon all the birds of heaven and upon all things that move upon the earth and upon all the fishes of the sea. This prerogative of power over the other living creatures seems to be granted to man also in the earlier passages; but in that place where it says that God made man to the image of God, it adds: male and female he made them, and blessed them, saying: Increase and multiply and fill the earth and have dominion over it, and have power over the fishes of the sea and the birds and the beasts of the earth and the creeping things. This I have noted so that you may understand that a twofold generation of man is expressed: the one according to the image of God, the other according to the molding from the clay of the earth.
In short, that creation of man from the clay of the earth seems to have been made after the world, after God had rested from his works. In a manner, the molding of the earthen statue is brought forth late. There was no rain upon the earth, nor did man till the earth. Then God fashioned man from the mire of the earth and breathed into his face the breath of life, and man became a living soul. But that other man, who on the sixth day—as upon a perfect number, by which all the works of God were brought to completion—was established as it were by a perfect operation, was made according to the image of God. To him is also compared this man who in the flood was found righteous.
And therefore God set him above all earthly things, just as he had set that one made to the image of God, because both kept themselves free from earthly vices: the one who was so begotten that he owed nothing to earthly defilement, the other who had been approved in dangers and tested in sufferings, and found to be one who in confusion had not been subject to confusion. But a deeper sense holds that the righteous man is increased by the greatness and multitude of virtue and of doctrine, and fills the earth as though it were a heart, in which there might be a receptacle of things intelligible. Thus he allows nothing to be empty of wisdom which folly might invade.
He therefore has dominion over all earthly passions, and likewise over the bodily senses; he subdues the beasts also to himself by a certain terror and fear—those beasts in which a likeness of malice and of savagery seems to dwell. For all malice is fierce and wild: it is puffed up with a kind of airy swelling. Nor is it obscure that certain creeping things have a certain semblance of deadly passions, by which a kind of venom seems to be poured into the mind.
Over all these, then, the righteous man rules; with them he does not mingle himself, but restrains them—if his mind is led neither by delight nor by desire, is broken neither by sadness nor by fear, and does not run the course of this life as something slippery and fleeting through luxury and indulgence, but the wise man, through continence and temperance, banishes such passions from himself. Yet because Scripture immediately added: 'all creeping things that are alive shall be food for you,' lest perhaps it disturb you that we earlier spoke of venomous creeping things, know that some creeping things are venomous, others tame. Of the tame creeping things, then, understand these: though they do not all creep upon belly and breast like serpents, yet they have tiny feet, so that they seem rather to creep than to walk.
Therefore take the unclean bodily passions as like the venomous creeping things, but the seemly ones as like the tame. For every affection that is apart from the enticement of base delight is indeed a passion, but a good passion. Softer desire and anger and fear—these are harmful passions of the soul; but harmless affections are good passions. And by these a certain use and ground of living is supplied to us; with the food of these we make use for the grace of life, with the banquets of these we are delighted. What too is the meaning of what it says: 'as the green herbs of fodder I have given you all things'? In which even those who understand it simply, so as not to weigh the careful examination of the discourse, do not seem to be opposed to us.
For there are those who think that the herbs seem to have been assigned to us as food by God's command, in order that we ought to use these rather than fleshly banquets. I myself would gladly assent to these, so that the use of herbs might grow ingrained in the human race toward greater frugality and temperance—were it not that I saw it could be objected to me by those who do not gladly accept this, that not all herbs are found suited to the food of men; and again, that not every kind of man is led by love of wisdom and continence, so as to be able to follow continence. And therefore what is a general precept we cannot divert to the small portion of a few men; for this precept is given to all men. And so let us consider what it said.
'As the green herbs of fodder,' it says, 'I have given you all things.' It did not say: I have given you all the herbs for food. Let those, then, who eat flesh use it as if it were herbs—not for distension nor for the fattening of the body, which the banquets of flesh are wont to produce.
But just as not all herbs are fit for the use of food, so likewise not every living creeping thing is suited to the use of feasting, since we ought to abstain from all venomous things—although luxury has advanced even to this point, that it consults its own delight rather than its peril, and in most cases, the part that is said to be naturally venomous having been cut away, it claims the remaining part for food, which, though not full of peril, is yet near to peril, and some taint must of necessity have spread itself into the juice of the whole flesh. Many too transfix stags and such swift animals with venomous arrows, and afterward, a certain part of the limbs having been cut away, they use the rest of the body for food.
But as for what pertains to the deeper sense—that is, the chief reason it was said—it is that the irrational passions ought to be so subject to the mind of the wise man as herbs to the countryman, and that he should so use them as creeping thoughts, as the farmer uses herbs which cannot do harm, yet have not the grace of stronger food. For a precept general and common to all does not enjoin the higher kinds of virtues, which belong to a few. But even if a man cannot furnish himself with the stronger banquets of virtue, let him nevertheless have passions of this sort, which do not harm but delight.
Therefore in the beginning holy Moses informed and instructed us concerning the inbreathing of the soul, lest we slip into the diverse opinions of the philosophers, who cannot agree even with themselves. For very many have held varied views, as Critias and his disciples, saying that the soul is blood—that soul, indeed, by which we live, which is sensible, not that soul which is reckoned to be the rational and intelligible soul of the inner man. Hippocrates, although he did not disapprove of Critias' talent nor refute his argument, yet did not assent to the opinion. Aristotle called it entelechy; others have wished it to be fire.
Let us therefore hold this distinction: that we separate out what is rational in the soul, whose substance is the divine spirit—as Scripture says, 'because he breathed into his face the breath of life'—and that there is in it a certain vital nourishment, by which this body is animated, and that there is also a part that takes delight. Of these soul-parts, then, the vital and the delightful, the substance is called blood by some, although Scripture too has said: 'the soul of all flesh is its blood.' Properly, then, it called the blood the soul of the flesh; for in the flesh there is delight and passion, not mind and reasoning. Yet if you attend carefully, this passage explains that one.
For when in this place it called blood the soul, it surely signified that the soul is one thing, blood another—so that the substance of the soul is the vital spirit, but that vital spirit by itself, without blood, does not afford the use of living, but is mingled with blood, since there are those things which are called arteries, as it were receptacles of spirit, which embrace not only pure air but also blood—yet by far a smaller portion of blood. For since the vessels are twofold—one the veins, which is called phleps in Greek, the other the arteries—the vein has more blood than spirit, that is, the phleps; the artery has less blood, far more spirit. Now the temperament varies according to the diversity of the nature of individual men.
But the deeper sense ought to delight you, which signifies that blood is therefore called the soul because blood is hot and fiery—as virtue is. Whoever, then, has been kindled with zeal for virtue and has taken up the vapor of praise, shuts out all the delights of the belly. Those thoughts, then, which are carnal and earthly, set as you are in the ardor of virtue, you will cast off as unfit for spiritual food. For he did not eat flesh—that is, he thought nothing earthly—who said: 'My food is to do the will of my Father who is in heaven,' breathing into men zeal for virtue and pouring in desire for the knowledge of God.
Therefore earthly and feeble thoughts are reckoned as it were unmanned and without the use of blood, just as that man is called unmanned who has lost most of his blood; for by the effusion of blood he grows cold. Whoever, then, is diligent for virtue puts away and casts off bodily foods, except insofar as he knows is enough for nature; but whoever is more negligent, having followed the slippery and watery course of this life, as if his footsteps were lost, falls down into the womb and the belly. And so, a stranger to the heavenly food, he desires those things which are earthly, being one who cannot say: 'But our conversation is in heaven.' And therefore, to summon us to hidden foods, the same one says:
Do not touch, do not handle, do not taste those things which by their very use tend to corruption, according to the precepts and doctrines of men—things which indeed have a show of wisdom in the observance of religion and in humility of heart, not in indulgence of the body, not in any honor unto the satisfying and pampering of the flesh. In short, the words that follow prove this to be the sense; for it says thus: 'For your blood and the blood of your souls I will require from all the beasts and from the hand of man.' He compared the wickedness of man to that of the beasts—nay, he even heaped up the iniquity of man beyond the savagery of beasts by saying: 'from the hand of a man's brother.' For beasts have nothing of nature in common with us; they are bound by no, as it were, fraternal right.
If they harm men, they harm them as strangers; they do not violate the rights of nature, they do not forget the affection of kinship. Therefore man sins more grievously who lies in wait against his brother, and therefore the Lord promised that he would avenge it more severely, saying: 'The blood of a man I will require from the hand of his brother.' Or is he not a brother whom a certain womb of rational nature has brought forth, and whom the generation of the same mother has joined to us? For one and the same nature is the mother of all men, and therefore we are all brothers, begotten of one and the same mother and bound by the same right of kinship.
And therefore the Lord called him a brother, even him from whom the blood of a brother is required; whereby he signifies that danger is rather to be feared from those who are joined to us by fraternal right. For from this source come the ambushes, from this source the more frequent perils are prepared for men; and, to take a particular instance, hatreds frequently grow up among particular brothers in the division of an inheritance. Then, if more has been conferred on one brother by the parents, the other brothers are the more indignant and try to take away by parricide the favor conferred by the parents. These are the wars more to be suspected—wars not of cities, but of single households. Those, therefore, the Lord includes in the judgment of vengeance, whom he knew would the more lie in wait against himself.
The third point is that he called him a brother in this respect—not that the parricide is worthy of the name of piety, but that he may be the more burdened by the appellation of piety, and that thence may arise an increase of the crime, whereby the heavenly vengeance may be more just. Therefore the Lord our God promises vengeance, that at least in this way he who has forgotten piety may be broken by fear, and may know that even if the murderer escapes men, he yet cannot escape the judgment of God, but is reserved for a greater and eternal punishment. But in a deeper sense we understand this: that we must beware not only of the ambushes of strangers, but also of our own—that is, of the thoughts that dwell within us; and then that we must guard ourselves not only against the malice of the mind, but also against our very words. And therefore it says:
'In much speaking you shall not escape sin.' Therefore this seems to be signified: that an account must be rendered to the Lord not only of our deed, but also of our speech, which is the more domestic. And therefore it must be considered the more diligently, lest by either word or deed we contract offense; for as with the mouth confession is made unto salvation, so with the mouth a fall is made unto death. 'Whoever sheds the blood of a man,' it says, 'for the blood of that man shall his own be shed.'
The expression did not err, but an emphasis of words was made, in that he who has shed the blood of a man shall himself be shed as it were like blood—which is to snatch from him the hope of posterity, because just as blood poured upon the earth is scattered here and there, so the soul of the impious is dissolved after the manner of bodily frailty; for it has been said also of the soul that its death is corruption, in that it is defrauded of the gift of heavenly grace, and, as it were dashed upon the rocks of malice, diminishes the body of its own soundness. It also troubles many that he said: 'To the image of God I made man,' and did not say: 'To my own image,' since he himself is God. But understand that there is both a Father and a Son.
And although all things were made through the Son, yet we read that the Father made all things, and made them through the Son, as it is written: 'You have made all things in wisdom.' Whether, then, the Father speaks, he made man to the image of the Word; or whether the Son speaks, he made man to the image of God the Father. And therefore he shows that the nature of man—that is, of rational man—is a certain familiar and household nature to God, according to which we were created to the image of God; and for this reason that it is not unavenged with God when he sees that against a creature so akin to himself something has been committed cruelly and impiously.
The reason, then, added for the vengeance brings it about that we first exclude the opinions of certain philosophers, who deny that God has care over men; and next, knowing that the prerogative of our vengeance remains with God, that we neither commit against others what must be avenged by divine judgment, nor ourselves dread death too vehemently, since we know that with God there is no contempt for an innocent man who is slain. 'There shall not be,' it says, 'a flood to corrupt the whole earth.' It seems doubtful whether 'there shall not be a flood' is to be understood as 'that a flood corrupt the earth'—for this floods are wont to do—or rather 'there shall not be such a flood as may corrupt the whole earth,' which the following words make clear, when it says that the whole earth shall not be corrupted;
for it shows that there will indeed be floods, but not such as that by them the whole earth could be corrupted. But the deeper sense holds this: that already the providence of the Lord will be at work for the future, lest there be so great a flood of bodily passions that the whole soul should perish. And indeed I do not dare to say that the Lord seems to determine that no one's soul can wholly perish. For what shall we say of the parricide? What too of the murderer, what of the adulterer, what of the transgressor? What parts of the soul do we reserve for them unto pardon?
Whence I rather judge this to be what the Lord our God provokes us to: that even if anyone has other, lighter passions, he should not utterly despair of the divine grace, nor distrust altogether that he will conquer; but even if he is given to luxury and cannot avoid the pursuit of luxury, let him nevertheless strive to refrain from adultery—let there be delight in feasting, not in debauchery. And even if there is, I know not who, some covetous man who has plundered the goods of others, cast out orphans, driven out widows, let him yet afterward, returning to repentance, restore what he took away. In short, Zacchaeus therefore merited pardon, because he promised not only that he would restore, but fourfold, to those from whom he had taken anything, and would give half of his patrimony also to the poor.
Let us also consider more diligently what is meant by what it says: 'I will set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be a sign of the eternal covenant between me and the earth. And it shall be, when I cover the earth with a cloud, my bow shall appear in the cloud, and I will remember my covenant.' For it does not, as most suppose, speak of that bow which men say there is, by which certain signs of rains are declared, in which diverse colors are figured as it were of the sun's rays, now glowing red, now shining with brighter light, whence the coming rain is signified, in that a certain inconstancy of fair weather is shown by that many-colored appearance. This bow some call the iris; but far be it that we should call this the bow of God.
For this bow, which is called the rainbow, is wont to be seen by day, but does not appear by night. Even during the day itself, if the air is overcast with foul clouds, not even thus is it seen, unless perhaps when the heavier clouds have begun to slacken. Therefore let us see whether—because the bow with which arrows are shot is now drawn taut, now loosened—Scripture may not seem to signify a certain stretching and slackening, through which neither are all things utterly broken by excessive stretching, but there is a certain measure and a certain examination of the divine power.
There is, therefore, an invisible power of God, which, under the figure of this bow that is stretched and slackened, governs by divine will, mercy, and power, so that it allows neither all things to be confounded by excessive loosening, nor to be torn apart by excessive bursting. He says it is set in the clouds for this reason, because then above all there is need of the help of divine providence, when the masses of clouds are driven together into storms and tempests. And therefore he says: 'I will set my bow in the cloud,' not 'I will set an arrow.' For the bow is the instrument for hurling the arrow; and so it is not the bow itself that wounds, but the arrow. And therefore the Lord sets in the clouds the bow rather than the arrow—that is, not that which wounds, but that which has the token of terror, while it is not wont to have the effect of a wound.
But on what ground, when above he had counted three sons of Noah—Shem, Ham, Japheth—does he in this place include the generation of only the middle son—that is, what it says: 'And Ham was the father of Canaan; these were the three sons of Noah'—and especially since those two were righteous, but this middle one unrighteous? The generation of the unrighteous one, then, is included before that of the righteous. For we cannot deny what is written, but his generation was added to heap up his own offense, because, although he had a son and was himself a father, he alone did not acknowledge his own father, who ought the more to have acknowledged him. And therefore he deserved to have a wicked son, because he had been wicked toward his father.
At the same time it signifies that from that Canaan came the Canaanites, who after many generations, being overcome by the righteous people, gave way into their possession. That Canaan, then, was the author of the Canaanites is manifest—he who was the son of this Ham, who showed himself impious toward his father. But the deeper sense is marked by the interpretation of the names. For Ham means 'heat,' Canaan 'their disturbance.' For whoever grows hot is straightway moved and perturbed; and therefore it is most evidently declared that he was not so much a human father of human beings, but an evil passion, the begetter of a wicked passion, which was alien to the father's character—that is, alien to the practice of virtue. 'And Noah, a man, began to be a husbandman of the earth.'
At first sight, indeed, Noah the righteous man seems to be compared to that Adam who was made from the earth, because of that one too it is written that, being cast out of paradise, he began to till the earth, and of this one likewise, that, having gone out from the ark, he became a husbandman. And in both there had, as it were, gone before a certain figure of the flood, because both Noah was after the flood, and Adam after the constitution of the world according to the molding of the body. For that the world might come to be, the water was gathered into one gathering, that the earth might appear, which before could not appear because of the confusion of the waters. Therefore, just as that first-born master is seen to have worked the earth, so too Noah, having gone out from the ark, was made the author of sowing and cultivation. These are thought to be similar:
But if you consider the words, which now express the force of a deeper sense, it is one thing to be a worker of the earth, another to be a husbandman; for the one performs the office as it were of a hireling, the other as it were of a head of a household. In short, Cain, who killed his brother, was a worker of the earth. And that you may know that to work the earth is more servile than free, his working is comprised under the curse of the parricide. For in short it is written: 'Because you shall work the earth, and it shall not increase its strength to give to you; groaning and trembling shall you be upon the earth.'
But the earth is our flesh, which the wicked man works but the good man cultivates: the one as though seeking a wage from the earth, the other as though receiving the fruits and the grace of discipline, so that he may make his field the more fruitful, and one able to answer to the cultivations of its lord and to show the indulgence of its tiller. But what else does the mere worker seek than only the food of his own body, being intent rather on the use of the belly and content to accomplish that one thing only which can profit him toward sustenance? But that other man is fed by the usefulness of the fruits. What fruits the righteous man has, you recognize: 'But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, goodness.'
The good husbandman, therefore, has continence, chastity, so that if any trees are quickly bent toward the earth and germinate too profusely, he may, as it were with the pruning-hook of his temperance, cut them back, so that they may cast off what is weak and germinate what is seemly. What is the reason that the righteous man first plants a vine, and not either wheat or barley? And whence comes a vine after the flood and the corruption of the earth? But of this we have spoken above also, that in the time of spring the roots even of corrupted vines could sprout. Whence I think that other point is to be resolved with greater care: that the righteous man seeks first the things that are of pleasure rather than those that are necessary.
For the necessary fruits are those of wheat and barley, without which we cannot live; but wine is a thing of pleasure, given for the sake of delight. And because he is righteous, he therefore claimed for himself the more that which was secondary rather than that which was primary. For he offered to God the necessary nourishments of living, which was... but wine is superfluous to men and not necessary. But perhaps you may say that without drink men can no more live than even without food. Is drink, then, necessary like food? I do not deny it. Was it surely appointed by the Lord as necessary for thirst? I do not contest it.
And therefore for necessary drink it was fitting to divert springs and rivers, which were certainly not made by the hand of man, but flowed by the command and operation of the Lord our God. And lest, because we have spoken of the operation of the Lord, you twist it back to that point—that the operation of Cain seems to have had curses—consider that it is not the operation that receives the name of the curse, but the fact that it is written 'to work the earth.' For he who works the earth is a hireling; but that one is not a hireling, but a lord, who says: 'My Father works until now, and I work.' Hear what such a worker works: 'My food is to do the will of my Father, who is in heaven.' 'And he drank,' it says, 'of the wine and was made drunk.' It did not say:
'He drank wine,' nor 'the righteous man drank up the wine,' but 'of the wine'—that is, he took a taste of a portion of it. It is the mark of a drunkard to swallow up all the wine, and of an intemperate man to empty out what he has taken; but the temperate man must use it by a lawful measure. And so there is a twofold kind of drunkenness: one which brings staggering to the body and trips up its footsteps and disturbs the senses; the other which warms the mind with the grace of virtue, and seems to turn away every weakness. Whence the apostle says: 'Use a little wine because of your frequent infirmities.'
For just as by this moderation in drinking wine is not unto weakness but unto health, and relieves every infirmity of the body, so too that excellent drunkenness shuts out every infirmity of the flesh—of which it is written: 'And your cup that makes drunk, how excellent it is.' What is this drunkenness? 'Be drunk,' it says, 'not with wine, in which is luxury, but be filled with the Spirit,' as the apostle said. According to the letter, then, it is a warning, and according to the deeper sense of the wise man, it is a praise. He is on his guard who, even if he is uncovered, is yet uncovered in his own house, where coverings are not lacking and certain veilings of drunkenness, so that he may know how to hide his own faults.
Bodily coverings, then, clothe the naked body, as do walls and roofs; but let us consider what the coverings of the soul may be. We shall discover these coverings, however, only if we examine its nakedness. Now the nakedness of the wise man is twofold. Our mind, therefore, is clothed in a twofold garment: either when it has unknowingly admitted a sin — for this is the nakedness, as it were, of a drunken mind, that it does not know what it is doing wrong, as one who, led into vice by a certain inebriation of ignorance, slips and falls — or, again, when, buried in the sleep of negligence and ignorance, it is unaware of its own error.
And when we have fallen into these — nay rather, when we have fallen into many sins even knowingly (for there is a certain natural inebriation of our own weakness, whereby we are carried into vice by the impulse of pleasure, as very many are kindled by youthful heat, or inflamed by luxury and delight, or seized by the greed of avarice) — assuredly let a remedy be sought for all these, that one should cover such weakness of his, first by a certain shame and modesty, so that, even though he be still placed on the slippery ground of wrongdoing, he may yet give a sign of amendment. For it makes a very great difference whether a man wishes to boast of his sins or to conceal them: in the one there is shameful impudence, in the other a tolerable modesty shows hope of future correction.
But there is another stripping bare of the soul, by which it casts off and puts away the burden, as it were, of the body, fleeing as from a certain tomb of the flesh. For the throat of such men is an open sepulchre, in which sepulchre the soul is, as it were, entombed, laden with delights and with the diverse passions of its lusts. It strips itself, therefore, from the earthly heaping-up, and escapes and pours out from the nets, as it were, that are spread about it — that soul which has stripped itself of every snare of the passions and turned away every foul appearance of earthly defilement, that it may behold the light of eternal beauty. I now ask why Scripture did not simply say, 'Ham saw the nakedness of his father,' but said, 'Ham, the father of Canaan, saw.' For surely Canaan had not yet been born.
Why then did it add the name of the son, except that the inheritance might be disfigured by the vice of its author, and the author be burdened by the wickedness of his son? And so both the father in the son and the son in the father are convicted, having a common partnership in folly, wickedness, and impiety as well. Nor could it come to pass that he should beget a good son who had himself stood forth as a worthless son to a good father, degenerate both in nature and in upbringing. This much according to the letter. But as for what pertains to the higher sense: all the basest of characters take delight in the errors of others — and not only in errors, but even in those things which seem to them to be evil, although they are not. For Noah did not perceive himself to be naked, since he was clothed in the garment of wisdom.
Finally, neither did Adam, placed in paradise, think himself naked, except after he had committed the error of transgression. And being covered over with the garment of wisdom and righteousness and of the heavenly commandments, when stripped bare by transgression he saw himself naked and thought he must be covered with leaves. Ham, then, laughs when he sees his father stripped bare. For every wicked man, since he is himself astray from discipline, takes the lapses of others not only as a solace for his own error — namely, that he has found partners in fault — but even rejoices with a wicked affection, as though he himself had thereby corrected his own offenses.
An evil mind, therefore, rejoices that something has befallen the wise man contrary to his purpose, although surely a lapse of the body ought not to be reckoned a vice, even if it be thought a lapse, unless the mind also inclines toward fault. In short, let errors of this kind be judged pardonable, not to be pursued with hatred, not to be held up to mockery; but an evil mind, as I have said, when it thinks the wise man has erred, judges that he must be insulted, the one whose character it deems contrary to its own, because its own sin is reproved by a certain silent testimony, as it were, of the wise man; and it rejoices in this — that to the righteous man neither his own learning has profited, nor his righteousness availed, nor have the things which pertain to the body had prosperous courses.
For these things are esteemed by the wicked as the highest goods, when they consist in riches or honour, which nevertheless confer no fruit toward the praise of virtue. Therefore the defenders of folly seem to grieve that the lover of virtue has been cheated of the gift of prosperity — they who think that every good is to be measured by temporal rather than by eternal things. What is the meaning of this, that Shem and Japheth laid a garment upon their shoulders and went backward and covered their naked father and did not see his nakedness? The letter has expressed a manifest affection of piety, in that the good sons took care not to see their father stripped of his garment, lest the reverence due to a father should be lessened even by the mere sight, since indeed piety is often offended even by a silent countenance.
Whence it is said that there was even an ancient custom at Rome, that sons should not enter the bath with their parents, and especially when they had reached manhood. But the higher sense is this: that the foolish man sees only present things, those that are before his eyes; he does not look to the future, he does not consider the past; but the wise man both recalls the past and considers the future. Every wise mind, therefore, walks backward — that is, it looks upon the past and is not hindered by any habitual usage of nature: it suffers nothing of its own deeds to be empty, nothing to be naked. It covers whatever has been done otherwise with a certain garment and grace, whether of present or of future work, so that it may pass over nothing unseemly and leave nothing unadorned.
Whence also the Apostle forgot the things that were behind and reached forth to the things that were before; but he forgot, that he might hide the wanderings of his persecution, that he might cover his former offenses and overshadow them with good works. For blessed indeed are they too whose sins are covered — that is, if they be covered with good deeds and concealed by the disciplines of virtue that follow. 'And Noah,' it says, 'became sober from the wine.' It is plain that men become sober from drunkenness with the intervention of sleep; but the mind is sober when it knows both the past and the future. Sober, therefore, was the mind of the righteous man even when he was thought to be drunk; for there is a glorious cup that makes the righteous drunk. But he was truly drunk who laughed at his father.
For because he considered neither the past grace of his begetting, nor the present reverence due his father, nor the future punishment of the injury done to his father, he was truly drunk, and what he thought he saw he did not see. There was in him a profound blindness, in that he could not see his father. For if he had seen his father, he would assuredly not have laughed; for a father is not to be laughed at, but to be reverenced. But far more was the foolish man unable to see the mind of the righteous. For how could he see, who supposed there to be in him the error of drunkenness, where there was the perfected exhalation of wisdom and of the other virtues? As it is written: 'For it is the breath of the power of God.'
For when is the mind more sober than then, when it so contemplates the nature of all things and the affairs of times present and to come, that no temporal tottering of drunkenness appears in it? I ask also for what reason, when before it had set Ham in the middle among the sons, it now makes him the younger. For thus it is written: 'Noah knew all that his younger son had done to him.' Did Scripture before lie in the order of the generation? Surely not. What then? Are contrary things now written? I think not. How then is it resolved, unless you take 'younger' not by age, not by time, but as rude in understanding and set in a certain infancy of intellect — one who has not drawn in the teaching of a more advanced age nor grasped the counsel of the aged?
For there are certain grey hairs of men's understanding. And therefore it says: 'When you come to the council of elders, close your mouth,' as another saying has it elsewhere: 'For you must learn before you speak.' Have your ears ready, therefore, that you may gain something from the counsels of the wise. The tongue is to be restrained, the hearing to be prepared. Blessing his son Shem, Noah said: 'Blessed be the Lord God of Shem, and let Canaan be his servant.' He called him both Lord and God, and especially the God of his son, whose name is Shem, because he is the God of the righteous — that is, the God of minds, not of valleys — who possess the grace of exalted virtue. Then, for what reason, when his son Ham had sinned, did he consign not him, but his son, to servitude?
And perhaps for this reason: that a father is more affected by the injuries of his son, especially those of which he himself stands as the guilty party and author, and is more vehemently grieved that the condemnation of his own sin has been paid by a son who was punished not so much by his own desert as by his father's; and then, because, since the son was a disciple of his father's teaching and an emulator of the worst thoughts, both used one body and the same mind and the same malice. Indifferently, therefore, the son pays the price either of his father's malice or of his own, since there is a common partnership in wickedness. What therefore he pays for his father's wickedness he doubtless also pays for his own, being guilty of his father's fault; or at any rate the penalty is prolonged the longer, when it extends even to the son and the affliction of the successor reaches into later times.
Much is set forth. This according to the letter. For the rest, it is not so much men as characters that are comprehended here, of which in both there is one nature. For Ham means 'heat,' Canaan means 'commotion' and 'unrest.' And he who is hot is assuredly unquiet and more agitated. In the two, therefore, there was one passion and one disposition. And so, when the one is condemned, both are condemned. Why then does holy Noah, blessing his son Japheth, say: 'May the Lord enlarge Japheth, and may he dwell in the houses of Shem, and may Canaan be his servant'? We have said above that Japheth signifies a good that is, as it were, indifferent. But indifference has a breadth, which lies in health, vigour, beauty, strength, riches, favour, nobility, friends, powers, and the rest.
But although these indifferent things are good, yet they have harmed very many who possessed them without wisdom and righteousness. For riches have made many men drunken, nobility and power have made them proud, beauty has made them lustful, by whose support they have corrupted the chastity of another's mind. Therefore the indifference of these things which we have named is according to the disposition of him who uses them, whose use is either governed by virtues, or else, without the governance of virtues, those things which can be for advantage begin to be for harm. Now, since Noah is said to have lived three hundred and fifty years after the flood, we by no means think this is to be passed over. For it is certain that in the three hundred the cross of Christ is signified, by whose figure the righteous man was delivered from the flood.
In the fifty is the jubilee, the number of remission, in which the Holy Spirit was sent from heaven, pouring grace into human hearts. The number of remission and grace being completed, therefore, the righteous man fulfilled the course of this life. Of the generation of Japheth it says: 'Rhodes and the other islands of the nations are his.' Not without reason is he called breadth, since his generation extended even into the other part of nature, that is, the maritime part. For truly, like breadth, he was not content with that which nature had prescribed for the use of men, that is, the possession of the land, but he even entered the sea and advanced as far as the islands. This according to the letter.
But according to the higher sense, it is because those things which are external, which are called goods — riches, powers, honours — are, as it were, diffused more widely, and the rich are not content only with those things which are in their hands and before their eyes, but spread their desires far and wide, while either a profit of moneys is sought from regions beyond, or honour from a greater number, or a more diffuse power, or lust. Now I ask for what reason Scripture has recorded that Cush was the elder son of that wicked Ham. There are two kinds of earth: one as it were sandy and dusty — nay, to speak more expressly, dust; the other kind of earth fruitful and fertile, that is, earth more solid and deep.
What then does the wicked man beget but dust, from which there can be no generation? And so the prophet compared the ungodly to dust, saying: 'Not so the ungodly, not so; but they are like the dust which the wind drives from the face of the earth,' because also according to the higher sense the soul of the ungodly is barren, being unable to generate useful fruits. For what reason does Cush also beget the giant Nimrod, who was a hunter before God? Whence it is said: 'Like Nimrod the mighty hunter before God.' What else, then, would dust and sand beget but an earthly man, since the ungodly puts earthly things before heavenly? For giants are introduced by the fable as having wished to fight against the things above, and they thought they must ascend to heavenly things by an earthly ascent.
But in the higher sense this is signified: that he who loves earthly pleasures and follows them and thinks that by these he can attain to the grace of God and that the heavenly kingdom is to be reached by errors of this kind, this man wars against heavenly things with a defiant disposition. Therefore it is in a proverb concerning him who shall have offended: 'Like Nimrod the mighty hunter before God.' But Nimrod by interpretation is called 'Ethiopian.' The colour of the Ethiopian signifies the darkness and squalor of the soul, which is contrary to the light, devoid of brightness, wrapped in darkness, liker to night than to day. Of a hunter, too, accustomed to the woods, his manner of life is among wild beasts and brutes.
The irrational man, therefore, mingles with irrational passions, and a hunter of this kind is wont to track out, and to gain possession of, and to delight in, those things which belong to a rustic and very hard malice. Finally, the beginning of Nimrod's kingdom was Babylon, that is, 'confusion,' because malice and power consist not in simplicity and purity, not in the distinction of virtue, but in the confusion of vices.