Moralia in Job 258

Ibid. — 'And I heard a voice as of a gentle breeze.' 65. The voice of the Holy Spirit is both a gentle breeze and a vehement spirit. — For what is designated by the voice of the gentle breeze but the knowledge of the Holy Spirit, who, proceeding from the Father and receiving of that which is the Son's, is poured tenderly into the frailty of our knowledge? Yet the same, coming upon the apostles, is shown through an outward sound as through a vehement wind, when it is said: 'And suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind' (Acts ii, 2). For the Holy Spirit, when He insinuates Himself into the frailty of human knowledge, is expressed both by the sound of a vehement wind and by the voice of a gentle breeze; because, indeed, in His coming He is both vehement and gentle:

gentle, because He tempers the knowledge of Himself to our senses, so far as it can in any way be known; vehement, because, however much He tempers it, yet by His coming He disturbs the blindness of our infirmity by enlightening it. For by His illumination He touches us gently, but shakes our poverty mightily. 66. It is a gentle breeze because it opens itself here to the saints, however little. In contemplation, whatever the mind is fully able to behold is not God. The voice of God, therefore, is heard as of a gentle breeze, because to His contemplators, still placed in this life, the Godhead by no means insinuates itself as it is, but shows its own brightness tenderly to the bleared eyes of our mind.

This is well signified by the very receiving of the Law, when it is said that Moses ascended, and the Lord descended upon the mountain (Exod. xxiv, 1). (Vet. XXVI.) For the mountain is our very contemplation, into which we ascend, that we may be raised up to see those things which are beyond our infirmity. But into this the Lord descends, because to us, though profiting much, He opens but a little of Himself to our senses; if indeed one may say 'a little' or 'anything' of Him who, remaining ever one and the same, cannot be understood in parts, and yet is said to be shared by His faithful, though in His substance no part whatever is admitted.

But because we cannot express Him in perfect speech, hindered as it were by the weakness of infancy, by the little measure of our humanity we somehow echo Him back with stammering. But that even when raised up in great contemplation, we attain something subtle of the knowledge of eternity, is shown by the words of sacred history, when the noble prophet Elias is taught concerning the knowledge of God. To him, when the Lord promised that He would pass by before him, saying: 'Behold, the Lord passes; a great and strong wind, overthrowing the mountains and shattering the rocks before the Lord'—forthwith it added: 'The Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, the Lord was not in the fire;'

'and after the fire a whistling of a thin breeze' (1 Kings xix, 11, 12). For the wind before the Lord overthrows the mountains and shatters the rocks; because the dread which rushes in at His coming both casts down the loftiness of our heart and melts its hardness. But the Lord is said not to be in the wind of the earthquake and in the fire, while it is not denied that He is in the whistling of the thin breeze; because, indeed, when the mind is suspended in the sublimity of contemplation, whatever it is able perfectly to behold is not God: but when it beholds something subtle, this is what it hears of the incomprehensible substance of eternity. For we perceive it as it were a whistling of a thin breeze, when in a sudden contemplation we subtly taste the savor of the uncircumscribed truth.

Then, therefore, is that true which we know of God, when we feel that we cannot fully know anything of Him. Whence it is well subjoined there: 'And when Elias had heard this, he covered his face with his mantle, and going forth stood in the entrance of the cave' (Ibid.). After the whistling of the thin breeze, the prophet covers his face with his mantle, because in that most subtle contemplation of truth he recognizes with how great an ignorance man is covered. For to draw the mantle over the face is, lest the mind dare to seek things higher, to veil it out of the consideration of its own infirmity; so that it may by no means open the eyes of its understanding rashly beyond itself, but reverently close them to that which it is not able to apprehend.

He who does this is described as having stood in the entrance of the cave. For what is our cave but this dwelling of corruption, in which we are still held fast by the oldness of our nature? But when we begin to perceive something of the knowledge of the Godhead, we stand, as it were, already in the entrance of our cave. For because we cannot go forth perfectly, yet yearning after the knowledge of truth, we already catch something of the breeze of liberty. To stand at the entrance of the cave, therefore, is—the obstacle of our corruption being repressed—to begin to go forth unto the knowledge of truth.

Whence also, when the cloud descended upon the tabernacle, the Israelites, beholding it from afar, are recorded to have stood in the entrances of their tents (Exod. xxxiii, 9); because they who in some measure behold the coming of the Godhead go forth, as it were, already out of the dwelling of the flesh. Because, therefore, the human mind, with however great a strength it may strain itself, scarcely knows the outermost things from the innermost, it is rightly said here: 'And I heard a voice as of a gentle breeze.' But since, when the divine knowledge shows us at least a little of itself, it perfectly teaches us the ignorance of our infirmity, let him who heard the voice of the gentle breeze tell what he learned from this very hearing. There follows: