The same.—'And everlasting horror dwelleth there.' A description of the punishments of hell.—In the torments of this life, fear has pain, but pain has not fear, because dread by no means torments the mind once it has already begun to suffer what it feared. But hell both the shadow of death darkens, and everlasting horror inhabits, because those given over to its fires both feel pain in their torments, and in the anguish of pain are struck by an ever-throbbing terror, so that they both endure what they fear, and again dread without ceasing what they endure. For of these it is written: 'Their worm shall not die, and their fire shall not be quenched' (Isaiah lxvi, 24). Here the flame that kindles gives light;
there, as we taught above in the words of the Psalmist, the fire that torments darkens. Here fear is lost, when what was feared has already begun to be endured; there both pain rends and terror straitens. In a dreadful manner, therefore, there will then be for the reprobate pain together with dread, flame together with darkness. Thus, thus indeed ought the weight of the supreme equity to be felt by the damned, so that they who, while they lived, in no way feared to differ from the will of their Creator, in their eventual destruction may find even their very torments at variance with their own qualities, to the end that by the very means whereby they assail themselves they may increase their torture, and being felt manifoldly as they come forth in varied ways.
These torments nevertheless both torture beyond their strength those plunged into them, and, quenching in them the very support of life, preserve them, so that in this manner an end may punish life; to the end that torture may ever live without end, because it both hastens to its end through torments, and, ever failing, yet endures without end. There comes therefore to the wretched death without death, an end without end, a failing without failing, because death lives, and the end ever begins, and the failing knows not how to fail. Since therefore death both destroys and does not extinguish, pain tortures yet in no wise puts dread to flight, flame burns yet by no means scatters the darkness—as far as can be gathered by the knowledge of the present life, the torments have no order, since they do not in all respects hold their own quality.
'There the fire denies its light for consolation, but keeps it for torment.'—Although there the fire both does not shine unto consolation, and yet, that it may torment the more, does shine unto something. For the reprobate, by the illuminating flame, shall behold with them in torment their followers, for love of whom they sinned, to the end that they who had loved these men's life carnally against the precepts of the Creator, may be afflicted by their very destruction unto the increase of their own damnation. This assuredly we gather from the testimony of the Gospel (Luke)
(xvi, 23), in which, as Truth declares, that rich man whose lot it was to descend to the torments of the eternal burning is described as remembering his five brethren, for whose instruction he begged of Abraham that they might be sent, lest a like punishment should one day torture them when they came thither. He therefore who, to the heaping-up of his own pain, remembered his absent kinsmen, it stands beyond doubt that a little later he was able to see them also present, unto the increase of his torment. And what wonder if he beholds even the reprobate burning with him, who, to the heaping-up of his own pain, beheld Lazarus, whom he had despised, in Abraham's bosom?
He therefore, to whom, that his punishment might grow, even a chosen man appeared, why should it not be believed that he can also see in torment those very ones whom he had loved against God? From which it is gathered that those whom the reprobate now love inordinately, they shall then, by a wondrous order of judgment, behold with them in torments, so that the fleshly kinship set before its author may aggravate the pain of his own punishment, being condemned before his eyes by a like vengeance. And so it is to be believed that the fire which torments in darkness keeps its light for torment. But if we cannot prove this by testimonies in its own express statement, it remains, therefore, that we teach it from the contrary.
'That fire can have light and darkness at the same time.'—For three children of the Hebrew nation, by the command of the Chaldean king, when the furnace fires were kindled, were cast in with hands and feet bound: yet when the same king, moved with pity, examined them in the burning of the furnace, he beheld them walking about with garments unharmed. Wherein it is plainly gathered that, by the wondrous dispensation of the Creator, the quality of the fire, tempered into a diverse power, both did not touch the garments and burned the bonds, and for the holy men both grew cold as to the inflicting of torment and blazed unto the ministry of loosing. As therefore for the elect the fire knew how to burn for solace, and yet knew not how to burn for punishment;
so on the contrary the flame of hell for the reprobate both by no means shines unto the grace of consolation, and yet shines unto punishment; so that to the eyes of the damned the fire of torment both glows with no brightness, and, unto the heaping-up of pain, shows how their beloved ones are tortured. And what wonder if we believe the fire of hell to have at once the torment of darkness and of light, when by experience we know that even the flame of torches shines darkly? Then shall the devouring flame burn those whom carnal pleasure now defiles; then shall the boundlessly gaping pit of hell devour those whom empty pride now exalts; and they who here, by whatever vice, fulfilled the will of the crafty persuader, then, together with their leader, as reprobates arrive at the torments.
'One punishment enfolds the reprobate angels and men. The wicked one is the sepulchre of the devil.'—And although the nature of angels and of men is far dissimilar, yet one punishment enfolds those whom one guilt in crime binds. This the prophet well and briefly suggests, who says: 'There is Assur and all his multitude, and round about him his sepulchres' (Ezekiel xxxii, 22). For who is expressed by the name of Assur, the proud king, but that ancient enemy falling through pride, who, because he drags many unto guilt, descends with all his multitude to the barriers of hell? But sepulchres cover the dead. And who else endured death more bitterly than he who, despising his Creator, forsook life?
When human hearts receive him thus dead, they without doubt become his sepulchres. But his sepulchres are round about him, because those in whose minds he now buries himself through evil desires, he afterwards joins to himself through torments. And since the reprobate now within themselves receive the malignant spirits by perpetrating unlawful things, then shall the sepulchres burn together with the dead. 'To foreknow the punishments of hell profits not, but to escape them.'—Behold, we have learned what punishment awaits the damned; and, the sacred word instructing us, how great is the fire in the damnation, how great the darkness in the fire, and how great the terror in the darkness, we in no wise doubt. But what does it profit to foreknow these things, if it does not happen to escape them?
With all our earnestness, therefore, we must take care that, while we receive the time of respite, by the zeal of living well we may flee the avenging torments of evils. Hence indeed it is said through Solomon: 'Whatsoever thy hand is able to do, do it earnestly, for neither work, nor reason, nor knowledge, nor wisdom shall be in the grave, whither thou hastenest' (Ecclesiastes ix, 10). Hence Isaiah says: 'Seek the Lord while he may be found, call upon him while he is near' (Isaiah lv, 6). Hence Paul says: 'Behold, now is the acceptable time, behold, now is the day of salvation' (2 Corinthians vi, 2). Hence again he says: 'While we have time, let us work good toward all' (Galatians vi, 10). 'The care of the flesh hinders the mind striving thereto.'
—But very often the mind girds itself for the way of rectitude, shakes off torpor; and is so carried away with desire for heavenly things, that almost nothing of it seems to have remained below. And yet when it is brought back to the care of the flesh, without which the way of the present life is in no wise fulfilled, this care holds it pressed down below, as though it had not yet touched anything of the highest. On hearing the words of the heavenly oracle, it is lifted up into love of the heavenly homeland; but, as the pursuit of the present life rises again, it is buried beneath the mound of earthly care; and in the soil of the heart the seed of heavenly hope by no means thrives, because the thorn of lowest thought grows dense. This thorn indeed Truth by Himself uproots with the hand of holy exhortation, saying:
'Be not solicitous for the morrow' (Matthew vi, 34). Against this also it is said through Paul: 'Make not provision for the flesh in its concupiscences' (Romans xiii, 14). But in these words indeed of the Leader and of the soldier we recognize that the mind is then pierced by a deadly wound from that care, when in it the equity of measure is not kept. 'These things are not to be cut away utterly, but to be moderated.'—For the care of the flesh is not utterly cut off from those yet living in mortal flesh, but is so tempered that it may serve the mind with discretion. For, since Truth forbids us to be solicitous for the morrow, He does not deny our having care in some measure for present things, though He forbids that care to be stretched out toward the time that follows.
And indeed Paul, when he does not allow the care of the flesh to be made in concupiscences, still without doubt concedes it in necessity. By the discretion of great governance, therefore, the care of the flesh must be bridled, so that it may serve and by no means rule, lest as a mistress it conquer the mind, but, subdued to the dominion of the mind, may minister as a handmaid, so that it be present when commanded, and at the beck of the heart, when repulsed, may spring away; so that it scarcely appear behind the back of holy thought, and never stand in opposition before the face of one thinking aright. This is well signified to us by the history of the sacred reading, when Abraham is recorded to have met three angels (Genesis xviii, 2, seq.).
For he himself ran out to meet them who were coming, outside the door, but Sara stood behind the door; because, forsooth, as the man and master of the spiritual house—namely our understanding—ought in the knowledge of the Trinity to pass beyond the barriers of the flesh, and to go out as through the door of the lowest dwelling; but the care of the flesh, like a woman, should not appear outside, and should blush to be seen ostentatiously, so that, as it were behind the back of the man under the discretion of the spirit, intent only on necessaries, it may in no wise know how to be shamelessly uncovered, but modestly to be moderated. Yet often, when it is told to presume nothing of itself, but to transfer itself wholly into the confidence of divine hope, it despises this, and, its striving ceasing, distrusts that the supports of life can be at hand for it.
Whence also this same Sara, hearing the promises of God, laughs, but laughing is rebuked, and rebuked is straightway made fruitful; and she who, flourishing in youth, could not be made fruitful, broken by the years of old age, her womb withering, conceived; because, when the care of the flesh has ceased to have confidence in itself, against hope it receives from the divine promise what it doubted it would have by human reasoning. Whence also fittingly he who is begotten is called Isaac, that is, 'laughter,' because, when it conceives the confidence of heavenly hope, what else does our mind bring forth than joy? Care must therefore be taken lest either the care of the flesh pass the bounds of necessity, or, in that which it pursues with moderation, presume of itself.
But often the mind is deceived, so that what it has desired voluptuously it suspects to be necessary, to the end that it may think whatever pleases it to be the due usefulness of life. And often, because the effect follows the provision, the mind is lifted up in confidence of itself. And when there is present to it what it sees to be lacking to others, by a silent thought it grows cheerful concerning the greatness of its own foresight; and it becomes so far from true foresight, in proportion as it is ignorant of the very pride which it suffers. Whence with an ever-watchful intention of guard it must be weighed both what we do in deed and what we turn over in heart, lest either, hindering the mind, earthly care multiply itself outwardly, or at least the thought within exalt itself concerning its own moderation;