Works (City of God, On the Trinity, etc.) 31 part 1/2

We have said elsewhere that in that Trinity those things are properly said, pertaining distinctly to the several persons, which are said relatively to one another—as Father and Son, and the Gift of both, the Holy Spirit; for the Father is not the Trinity, nor the Son the Trinity, nor is the Trinity the Gift. But those things which are said of each with respect to Himself are not said in the plural as three, but as one, namely the Trinity itself: as God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit; and good the Father, good the Son, good the Holy Spirit; and almighty the Father, almighty the Son, almighty the Holy Spirit; and yet not three gods, nor three goods, nor three almighties, but one God, good, almighty, the Trinity itself—and whatever else is said of each singly, not relatively to one another but with respect to Himself.

For these things are said according to essence, because in Him to be is the same as to be great, to be good, to be wise, and whatever else is said of each person singly with respect to Himself, or of the Trinity itself. And therefore three persons or three substances are said, not that any diversity of essence should be understood, but only that some one word might be given in answer when it is asked what the three are, or what the three things are. And there is so great an equality in that Trinity that not only is the Father not greater than the Son as regards the divinity, but neither are the Father and the Son together anything greater than the Holy Spirit; nor is any single person of the three anything less than the Trinity itself.

These things have been said; and if they are repeated by frequent turning over, they become more familiarly known. But some measure must also be applied, and God must be entreated with most devout piety, that He may open the understanding and take away the eagerness for contention, so that the essence of truth may be discerned by the mind without any mass, without any mutability. Now therefore, insofar as the wonderfully merciful Creator Himself assists, let us attend to these things which we have now treated in an inward manner more than the earlier ones, though they are the same, keeping that rule: that what has not yet shone forth to our understanding be not let go from the firmness of faith.

[I 2] For we say that in this Trinity two or three persons are not anything greater than one of them—which carnal habit does not grasp, for no other reason than that it perceives, as it can, the true things that are created, but cannot behold the very Truth by which they are created; for if it could, in no way would this bodily light be more manifest than what we have said. In the substance of truth indeed—since it alone truly is—nothing is greater unless it is more truly. But whatever is intelligible and unchangeable is not more true one than another, since it is equally unchangeably eternal; nor is what is there called great, great from any other source than from that by which it truly is.

Wherefore, where greatness itself is truth, whatever has more of greatness must needs have more of truth; therefore whatever has not more of truth has not more of greatness either. Further, whatever has more of truth is assuredly truer, just as that is greater which has more of greatness; this therefore is greater there which is truer. But the Father and the Son together are not truer than the Father singly or the Son singly. Therefore both together are not anything greater than either of them singly. And since the Holy Spirit also equally truly is, neither are the Father and the Son together anything greater than He, because neither are they truer.

Likewise the Father and the Holy Spirit together, since in truth they do not surpass the Son—for they are not truer—neither do they surpass Him in greatness. And so the Son and the Holy Spirit together are as great a thing as the Father alone, because they as truly are. Thus also the Trinity itself is as great a thing as each single person there; for that is not greater there which is not truer, where Truth itself is greatness—because in the essence of truth, to be true is the same as to be, and to be is the same as to be great; therefore to be great is the same as to be true. What therefore is there equally true must needs be equally great. [II 3] But in bodies

it can come about that this gold is as truly gold as that, yet this is greater than that, because there greatness is not the same as truth, and it is one thing for it to be gold, another to be great. So too in the nature of the soul: according to which it is called a great soul, it is not according to this called a true soul; for even one who is not great-souled has a true soul, since the essence of body and of soul is not the essence of truth itself, as is the Trinity, the one God, alone, great, true, truthful, Truth. If we try to think of Him, as far as He permits and grants, let no contact or embrace through spaces of place be conceived, as of three bodies, no framework of joining, as the fables tell of the three-bodied Geryon;

but whatever occurs to the mind such that it would be greater in three than in single ones, and less in one than in two, let it be rejected without any doubt; for thus everything corporeal is rejected. But in spiritual things, let not everything mutable that occurs be thought to be God. For it is no small part of knowledge, when from this depth we breathe up toward that height, if before we can know what God is, we can already know what He is not. For certainly He is neither earth nor heaven, nor as it were earth and heaven; nor any such thing as we see in heaven; nor anything of the sort which we do not see and which perhaps is in heaven.

Nor if you increase in the imagination of thought the light of the sun as much as you can—whether that it be greater or that it be brighter, a thousandfold or innumerably—is this God either. Nor as the angels are conceived, pure spirits breathing into the heavenly bodies and changing and turning them at the will by which they serve God—not even if all of them, being thousands of thousands, gathered into one should become one, is God any such thing. Nor if you should think of those same spirits without bodies—which indeed is most difficult for carnal thought. Behold, see if you can, O soul weighed down by the body that is corrupted and burdened by earthly thoughts many and various; behold, see if you can: God is truth. For this is written:

'For God is light'—not as these eyes see, but as the heart sees when it hears, 'He is truth.' Do not ask what truth is; for at once the mists of bodily images and the clouds of phantasms will oppose themselves and will disturb that serenity which shone forth to you at the first flash when I said, 'truth.' Behold, in that very first flash by which, as with a lightning-stroke, you are grazed when 'truth' is said, remain if you can; but you cannot. You slip back into those accustomed and earthly things. By what weight, I ask, do you slip back but by the birdlime of the desire for contracted filth and by the errors of your wandering? [III 4] Behold again, see if you can.

You surely love nothing but the good: for the earth is good with the height of its mountains, the temperate slope of its hills, and the levelness of its plains; and a farm is good, pleasant and fertile; and a house is good, with its parts arranged proportionally, and spacious and full of light; and animals are good, as animated bodies; and the air is good, mild and healthful; and food is good, sweet and suited to health; and health is good, without pains and weariness; and a man's face is good, evenly proportioned, cheerful in expression, and brightly coloured; and the soul of a friend is good, in the sweetness of agreement and the fidelity of love; and a just man is good; and riches are good, because they readily provide; and the sky is good, with its sun and moon and stars; and the angels are good, in their holy obedience; and speech is good, sweetly teaching and fittingly moving the hearer; and a song is good, melodious in its rhythms and weighty in its sentiments.

Why more and more? This good and that good. Take away this and that, and behold the good itself if you can; so you will see God, good not by another good, but the good of every good. For among all these goods—whether those I have mentioned, or others that are perceived or thought of—we would not say, when we judge truly, that one is better than another, unless there were impressed upon us a notion of the good itself, according to which we both approve something and prefer one thing to another. So must God be loved: not this good and that good, but the good itself; for the good to be sought is the good of the soul—not one over which it may flit about in judging, but one to which it may cleave in loving; and what is this but God? Not a good soul, nor a good angel, nor a good sky, but the good good.

For thus perhaps it is more easily perceived what I mean to say. For when I hear, for example, what is said, 'a good soul,' as there are two words, so from these words I understand two things: one whereby it is a soul, another whereby it is good. And indeed, that it might be a soul, it did nothing itself; for there was not yet one who could act that it might be. But that it may be a good soul, I see that it must be done by the will—not because the very thing whereby it is a soul is nothing of good (for whence is it already said, and most truly said, to be better than the body?), but for this reason it is not yet called a good soul, because there remains for it an act of the will whereby it may be more excellent. If it neglect this, it is justly blamed, and rightly is said to be not a good soul;

for it differs from one who does this; and since he is praiseworthy, assuredly this one who does not do it is blameworthy. But when it does this with zeal and becomes a good soul, it cannot attain this unless it turn itself toward something which it is not itself. And toward what does it turn itself that it may become a good soul, but toward the good, when it loves and desires and attains this? And if it turn itself away again from this and become not good, then by the very fact that it has turned itself away from the good, unless that good from which it turned away should remain in itself, there would be nothing to which it might again turn itself, should it wish to amend. Wherefore there would be no mutable goods, unless there were the immutable Good.

So when you hear 'this good' and 'that good'—which can at other times be called even not good—if you were able, apart from those things which are good by participation in the good, to behold the good itself by whose participation they are good (for at the same time you also understand the good itself when you hear 'this' or 'that good'); if therefore you were able, with those things withdrawn, to behold the good through itself, you would have beheld God. And if you cleave to Him in love, you will straightway be made blessed. But let it be a shame that, when other things are not loved except because they are good, by cleaving to them one should not love the very good from which they are good.

Also that fact that the soul, merely because it is a soul—even though not yet good in that manner in which it turns itself to the immutable Good, but, as I said, merely a soul—when it so pleases us that we prefer it even to all bodily light (when we understand rightly), does not please us in itself, but in that Art by which it was made. For thence it is approved as made, where it is seen to have been fitting to be made. This is Truth and the simple Good; for it is nothing other than the good itself, and thereby also the highest good. For a good cannot be diminished or increased except that which is good from another good. To this therefore the soul turns itself that it may be good—the very One from whom it has it that it is a soul.

Then therefore the will agrees with nature, so that the soul is perfected in good, when that Good is loved by a turning of the will, from which comes also that which is not lost even by a turning away of the will. For by turning itself away from the highest Good, the soul loses being a good soul; yet it does not lose being a soul, since this too is already a good better than the body. This therefore the will loses, which the will attains; for there already was a soul that might wish to be turned toward that from which it was; but one that might wish to be, before it was, did not yet exist.

And this is our good: where we see whether it ought to have been or ought to be, whatever we comprehend to have been bound to be or bound to be; and where we see that it could not have been unless it had been bound to be, even that of which we do not comprehend in what manner it was bound to be. This good therefore is not placed far from every one of us: 'For in Him we live and move and are.' [IV 6] But by love we must stand toward Him and cleave to Him, that being present we may enjoy Him from whom we are, in whose absence we could not even exist. For while we yet walk by faith, not by sight, we do not yet indeed see God, as the same one says, 'face to face.' Yet unless we love Him even now, we shall never see Him. But who loves what he does not know? For a thing can be known and not loved;

but whether what is not known can be loved, this I ask; for if it cannot, no one loves God before he knows Him. And what is it to know God but to behold Him with the mind and firmly to perceive Him? For He is not a body, to be sought out with the eyes of flesh. But even before we are able to behold and perceive God as He can be beheld and perceived—which is granted to the pure in heart, for 'Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God'—unless He be loved by faith, the heart cannot be purified so as to be fit and suited for seeing Him. For where are those three, for whose sake all the contrivances of the divine books rise up to be built in the soul—faith, hope, charity—except in a soul believing what it does not yet see, and hoping for and loving what it believes?

Therefore even what is not known is loved, yet in that it is believed. But assuredly caution must be taken lest the believing soul feign to itself, as though it were, something which is not, and hope for and love what is false. If this happen, there will not be 'charity from a pure heart and a good conscience and faith unfeigned,' which is the end of the commandment, as the same Apostle says. But it is necessary, when we believe certain bodily things read or heard which we have not seen, that the soul feign to itself something in the lineaments and forms of bodies as it may occur to the one thinking—which is either not true, or even if it be true (which can very rarely happen), yet it profits nothing that we hold this by faith, but only some other useful thing which is conveyed through it.

For who among those reading or hearing the things that the Apostle Paul wrote, or the things that were written about him, does not feign in his mind both the face of the Apostle himself and of all whose names are there mentioned? And since, among so great a multitude of men to whom those letters are known, one thinks the lineaments and figure of those bodies one way, another another, it is surely uncertain who thinks more nearly and more like the truth. Nor is our faith there occupied with what facial appearance of body those men had, but only with this: that by the grace of God they so lived and did those things which that Scripture testifies. This it is useful to believe, and not to be despaired of, and to be sought after.

For even the face of the Lord's own flesh is varied and feigned by the diversity of innumerable thoughts, though it was one, whatever it was. Nor in our faith which we have concerning the Lord Jesus Christ is that wholesome which the soul feigns to itself, far otherwise perhaps than the reality is, but rather that which we think according to the species of man; for we hold as it were fixed by rule a knowledge of human nature, according to which whatever such thing we behold, we straightway recognize to be a man, or the form of a man. [V] According to this knowledge our thought is informed when we believe that for our sake God was made man, as an example of humility and to demonstrate the love of God toward us.

For this it profits us to believe and to hold in the heart firmly and unshaken: that the humility by which God was born of a woman and led by mortals through so great insults to death is the supreme medicine by which the swelling of our pride might be healed, and a deep sacrament by which the bond of sin might be loosed. So too the power of His miracles and of His resurrection itself, since we know what omnipotence is, we believe of the omnipotent God; and we think of deeds of this kind according to the species and genera of things, either implanted by nature or gathered by experience, so that our faith be not feigned. For neither do we know the face of the Virgin Mary, of whom, untouched by man and uncorrupted even in the very childbearing, He was wondrously born;

nor with what lineaments of limbs Lazarus was; nor have we seen Bethany, nor the tomb and that stone which He commanded to be removed when He raised him; nor the new monument hewn in the rock whence He Himself rose; nor the Mount of Olives whence He ascended into heaven; nor do we at all know—we who have not seen these things—whether they are as we think them; nay rather we judge it more probable that they are not so. For when the same face of some place or man or any body should meet our eyes as met the mind when, before we saw it, we thought of it, we are moved by no small marvel—so rarely and almost never does it happen;

and yet we believe these things most firmly, because we think according to the special and general knowledge which is certain to us. For we believe that the Lord Jesus Christ was born of a virgin who was called Mary. But what a virgin is, and what it is to be born, and what a proper name is—these we do not believe but altogether know. But whether that was the face of Mary which met the mind when we speak or recall these things, we neither know at all nor believe. And so here, with faith safe, one may say: 'Perhaps she had such a face, perhaps not such.' But 'Perhaps Christ was born of a virgin'—no one, with Christian faith safe, would say.

Wherefore, since we desire to understand, as far as is granted, the eternity and equality and unity of the Trinity, but before we understand we must believe, and we must watch lest our faith be feigned. For that same Trinity is to be enjoyed that we may live blessedly; but if we believe something false about it, our hope will be vain and our charity not chaste. How then do we by believing love that Trinity which we do not know? Is it according to the special or general knowledge according to which we love the Apostle Paul? Who, even if he was not of the face which meets us when we think about him—and this we utterly do not know—yet we know what a man is.

For, that we go not far afield, this we are; and it is manifest that he too was this, and that his soul, coupled to a body, lived mortally. This therefore we believe of him, which we find in ourselves according to the species or genus by which all human nature is alike comprehended. What then do we know of that excellence of the Trinity, either specially or generally, as though there were many such trinities, some of which we have experienced, so that by the rule of likeness impressed—whether special or general knowledge—we might believe that one also to be such, and thus love the thing which we believe and do not yet know, from the parity of a thing which we do know? But this is by no means so.

Or is it as we love in the Lord Jesus Christ the fact that He rose from the dead—although we have seen no one ever rise thence—that so we can by believing love the Trinity, which we do not see and the like of which we have never seen? But what it is to live and what it is to die we surely know, because we both live and have at some time seen the dead and the dying, and have experienced it. But what else is it to rise again but to come to life again, that is, to return from death to life? When therefore we say and believe that there is a Trinity, we know what a Trinity is, because we know what three things are; but this we do not love. For that we readily have where we wish, to omit other examples, even by flashing three fingers. Or do we rather love not that all trinity, but that the Trinity is God?

This therefore we love in the Trinity: that it is God. But no other God have we seen or known, because there is one God, He alone whom we have not yet seen and whom by believing we love. But from what likeness or comparison of known things we may believe, so as to love a God not yet known—this is the question. [VI 9] Return therefore with me, and let us consider why we love the Apostle. Is it because of the human species which we hold as most well-known, in that we believe him to have been a man? By no means; otherwise now there is not one whom we love, since that man now is not—for his soul is separated from his body. But that which we love in him we believe to live even now; for we love a just soul.

From what general or special rule, then, save that we know both what a soul is and what a just man is? And that we know what a soul is, we not incongruously say we know for this reason: that we ourselves also have a soul; for we never saw it with the eyes, nor did we perceive a general or special notion from the likeness of many seen souls, but rather, as I said, because we ourselves too have one. For what is so intimately known and perceives that it itself is, as that whereby all other things too are perceived, that is, the soul itself? For even the movements of bodies, by which we perceive that others besides ourselves live, we recognize from our own likeness, because we too so move the body by living, as we observe those bodies to be moved.

For when a living body is moved, no way is opened to our eyes for seeing the soul, a thing which cannot be seen with the eyes; but we perceive that there is something in that mass such as is in us for moving our own mass in like manner, which is life and soul. Nor, as it were, do they perceive that they live—not only themselves but even one another and each other, and us ourselves—nor do they see our souls, but from the movements of the body, and that at once and most easily by a kind of natural agreement. The soul, therefore, of anyone we know from our own, and from our own we believe in the one whom we do not know.

For we not only perceive the soul, but we can also know what the soul is by the consideration of ourselves; for we have a soul. But whence do we know what a just man is? For we had said that we love the Apostle for no other cause than that he is a just soul. We therefore know both what a just man is and what a soul is. But what a soul is, as was said, we know from ourselves; for a soul is in us. But whence do we know what a just man is, if we are not just? But if no one knows what a just man is except him who is just, then no one loves a just man except one who is just;

for he cannot love one whom he believes to be just for the very reason that he believes him to be just, if he is ignorant of what a just man is—according to what we demonstrated above, that no one loves what he believes and does not see except from some rule of knowledge, general or special. And by this, if no one loves a just man except one who is just, how will anyone who is not yet just wish to be just? For no one wishes to be what he does not love. But that he may be just who is not yet just, he surely wishes to be just; and that he may wish it, he loves the just man. Therefore even he who is not yet just loves the just man. But he cannot love the just man if he is ignorant of what a just man is. Accordingly, even he who is not yet just knows what a just man is. Where then does he know it?

Did he see it with his eyes, or any body that is just, as white or black, or square or round? Who would say this? But with his eyes he has seen nothing but bodies; whereas the just, in a man, is nothing but the soul, and when a man is called just, he is called so from the soul, not from the body. For there is a certain beauty of the soul, namely justice, by which many men are beautiful who are even distorted and deformed in body. But just as the soul is not seen with the eyes, so neither is its beauty. Where then does he know what a just man is, who is not yet just, and who, that he may be just, loves the just man? Do certain signs perhaps flash forth through the movement of the body, by which this or that man appears to be just? But whence does he know that those signs are signs of a just soul, being ignorant of what altogether a just man is? Therefore he does know it.

But where do we know what a just man is, even when we are not yet just? If outside ourselves, we know it in some body. But this is not a thing of the body. Therefore in ourselves we know what a just man is. For nowhere else do I find this, when I seek to utter it, than with myself; and if I ask another what a just man is, he seeks within himself what he should answer; and whoever could hence answer truly, found within himself what he should answer. And Carthage indeed, when I wish to utter it, I seek within myself that I may utter it, and within myself I find a fantasy-image of Carthage.

But I received it through the body, that is, through the sense of the body, since I was present there in body and saw it and perceived it by sense and retained it in memory, so that I might find within myself a word concerning it when I wished to speak of it. For that very fantasy-image of it in my memory is its word—not this three-syllabled sound when 'Carthage' is named, nor even the name itself silently thought through spaces of time, but that which I discern in my mind when I utter this trisyllable with my voice, or even before I utter it. So too Alexandria, when I wish to utter it, though I have never seen it, its phantasm is present with me.

For when I had heard from many, and had believed, that that city was great, as it could be described to me, I formed in my mind an image of it as best I could; and this is, within me, its word when I wish to speak it, before I utter with my voice the five syllables of its name, which is known to almost everyone. Yet if I could bring forth that image from my mind before the eyes of men who know Alexandria, surely either all would say, 'That is not it,' or, if they said, 'That is it,' I should marvel greatly; and gazing upon it in my mind, that is, upon the image as though it were its picture, I should nevertheless not know that it was the city itself, but should believe those who held it in memory from having seen it.

But it is not thus that I inquire what a just man is, nor thus that I find it, nor thus that I behold it when I express it, nor am I thus approved when I am heard, nor do I thus approve when I hear—as though I had seen some such thing with my eyes, or learned it through any bodily sense, or heard it from those who had so learned it. For when I say, and knowingly say, 'A just soul is one that by knowledge and reason renders in life and conduct to each his own,' I am not thinking of some absent thing, as of Carthage, nor imagining it as I can, as of Alexandria, whether it be so or not; but I discern something present, and I discern it within myself, even though I myself am not the thing I discern; and many, if they hear, will approve it.