L. ON THOSE WHO UNBECOMINGLY DISPUTE ABOUT THE LAW. V. On the Arians, that it is not lawful always and publicly to dispute about God. (R = codex Reginensis 141, 9th–10th cent. O = codex Oxoniensis Laud. Misc. 276, 9th cent. C = codex Augiensis CXVIII, 9th–10th cent. V = codex Vindobonensis 759, 11th cent. v = editio princeps, Strassburg 1508.) 1. Our discourse is for those who are clever in speech, and I shall begin from the Scriptures. Behold, I am against you, says he, O insolent one. For there are certain who itch in their ears and in their tongue — and now, as I see, even in their hand — who, by profane novelties of words and by questions and objections of false knowledge, stir up battles of words to no profit.
For thus does Paul name everything that is superfluous and curious in words, since he himself is the preacher and champion of the abridged word. These men, therefore, of whom our discourse treats — and chiefly the Arians — would that, just as they have a tongue both voluble and vehement, so too they would use right and approvable words, and would take a little time also over the works of the commandments of God! Then perhaps there would be fewer sophists in words, and they would stir up fewer controversies over the simplicity of the Scriptures. 2.
For, abandoning all the other ways of piety, they look and gaze toward this one thing only: whether they may perchance entangle one in questions, or how they may dissolve things said simply and faithfully — just as sometimes happens in an athletic contest, where in the play of wrestling the aim is not so much at the prize as that the display of the wrestler's skill and art may snatch to itself the favour of the spectators. So these men too, catching at the applause of their hearers, make the streets and the public places resound with their disputes, and fill every banquet and every festivity — and even mournings, if they have entered them — with questions and contentions, so that even a solemnity loses its festivity and joy, and a mourning lacks consolation.
But having entered even the assemblies of women, to whom indeed simplicity ought to be native and inborn, by the importunate and rapid motions of their words they strip them of all modesty and the flower of shame. Since, therefore, these things are so, and this evil advances intolerably, and that great mystery of our religion is reduced to a certain craftiness and an artifice of words, we ask at least this much, that whoever he be who has given himself over to such workshops of contentions may yield to us in this — that they may not receive with disdain the fact that we are moved by a fatherly affection toward them, while we render an account of these matters one by one; and that they may restrain their tongue for a little while, if indeed they can, and grant us their hearing only.
For from this, I ask you, what harm will you suffer? For either we have spoken in the ear of the hearers and our discourse has found its fruit, namely your salvation — since indeed he who sows the word sows in every heart, but it bears fruit only from that soil which is fertile and good — or, if our discourse has brought forth nothing worthy to move you, you will depart despising us, taking from this even greater matter for contradicting us and despising the things which we assert.
I do not wish, therefore, that you should wonder if I seem to you to bring forth some strange discourse, one that is against both your custom and your law — you who promise either to know all things or to teach them, with a magnificent and lofty promise, not to say an intemperate and shameless one — lest perhaps you be grieved. 3. It is not for all, O most prudent men, to dispute about God; it is not for all to discuss the divine nature. Not so cheap is the word of sacred Scripture that it should lie open to the common, untrained mob and to little men still creeping along the ground. I will add this too: that not always, nor all things, nor to all, nor by all, are these things to be brought forth; but there is both a when, and to whom, and how far.
It is not, therefore, for all to deal with such matters, but for those who have consumed their talent and industry in the disciplines of contemplation and knowledge, and for those who know, with bodies and matter set aside, to discern incorporeal and spiritual things — and above all it belongs to those who are now purged both in soul and body, or at the least, who are certainly being purged. But he who is less pure, how does he dare to touch what is pure? Since indeed weak eyes do not look upon the rays of the sun with impunity.
Therefore only thus can we perceive something concerning such matters: if we keep leisure and quietude, and restrain ourselves from all the allurements of bodily matter that disturb us from without; if our mind stands firm apart from all the sedition of desires and thoughts. But with impure and filthy motions, how do we mingle holy and pure things? It is just as if one were to mingle sweet odours with the stenches of mire and pour nectar into dung. We ought therefore first of all to be at leisure and to know God; and when we have received the time of judging righteousness, then also shall we judge what it is right to think concerning God. But to whom are these things to be brought forth or imparted?
First, to those who have turned the pursuits of their whole life to this, and from whom discourse about God is not required as one among the rest — after the circus, after the theatres, after those songs too in which they have delighted, after the care of the belly and of those things which are below the belly; by whom even this is reckoned a matter of delight, if a contention be stirred up about divine things, that they may take pleasure in the strife of controversies. But concerning what things are we to dispute, and how far?
Concerning those things which it is possible to apprehend, and as far as the hearer's strength and capacity receives, lest perhaps, just as an excess of sound injures the hearing and an abundance of food corrupts the over-distended bowels, so too the mind, receiving the food of the word beyond its measure, either fall stunned or be racked by being too distended. In short, observe, if you will, those who strive to lift burdens beyond their strength; or, when the earth is overwhelmed by excessive and immense rains, how pernicious is whatever is more than measure. So therefore must it be considered that one weighed down by the burden of the word may, by that very excess, undergo danger even to his common and natural understanding. 4.
And I do not say this because we ought not always to remember God — lest perhaps again from another side there rise up against us those who are quick to bend to a perverse interpretation things said simply. We ought always to remember God, even more frequently than we breathe; and if it were possible to say or to do nothing other than this, nothing else ought to be done, since I too commend meditating in the law of the Lord day and night, as the Scriptures teach, and at evening and at night and at noonday to recount and to bless the Lord at all times, and, as Moses says, lying in bed and rising up and walking on a journey. And whatever else it may be that a man does, it is always profitable to keep God and the memory of God fixed in the breast.
I do not, therefore, forbid always to have the memory of God; but I do not advise disputing about God always and out of season. Yet not even in this do I forbid the things which are pious, but the things which are out of season; I do not prohibit teaching, but I cut back immoderation. Does not even a surfeit and excess of honey provoke vomiting? And what is sweeter than honey? But there is a time for everything, as it seems to Solomon, and to me. For a good thing becomes not good, if it be not done well. Or is it not out of season to seek flowers in winter, and quite unfitting that a woman should be adorned with manly ornaments, or that a feminine necklace should be fitted to a man? It is absurd both to thrust geometry upon a mourner and to defile a banquet with weepings. All these things, therefore, require their own fitting time:
and are we the only ones who do not recognize the fitness of times — we among whom the fitness of all things ought especially to be guarded? 5. By no means, I beg you, O friends and brethren — for I still call you brethren, although you are unwilling to keep anything brotherly toward us — let us not so deliberate about the greatest matters, nor, as fervent and restless horses are wont to do, with our charioteer, that is, the fear of God, wantonly and insolently shaken off, let us stray far from the appointed bounds of the goal-posts; but rather let us philosophize within the lines marked out for us, and let us not turn back again into Egypt, nor be led away to the Assyrians, nor sing the Lord's song in a strange land — that is, in every ear that is foreign and hostile to our religion.
For these men, when they have diligently heard and retained what is ours, straightway strive to kindle huge conflagrations from our sparks, which are caught up even to heaven by hidden and self-driving blasts, and they make for us those lofty Babylonian flames that lick all around whatever is in their circuit. Since indeed they derive no confidence from their own dogmas, they snatch at ours, if perchance they may find anything weak or fragile — not so much by its own nature as by the slackness of him who asserts it — and thereupon, just as flies settle on wounds, so do they settle on any errors of ours or on fragile words. But let us not be ignorant of our own selves any further, nor refuse to inquire what is becoming in such matters.
Even if it is impossible for us to be of one mind once contentiousness has been driven out, let it at least be lawful to ratify this common covenant: that we not profane the holy mysteries before the public, that we not handle holy things in an unholy manner, and that those things which we have received through an ineffable sacrament we not plunge into profane ears and polluted consciences, nor make more honorable those who worship images and venerate idols — those who, serving shameful mysteries and fables, would more readily yield up their own blood for the things they think to be mysteries than betray a word of them to those who have not been initiated into such things.
But let us consider whether — just as a man's robe, the laughter of his teeth, and the gait of his feet display, from his very moderation and temperance, certain marks of the man's own dignity — so too the utterance of a word and the restraint of silence may give some sign of our religion and learning, since indeed, among the other titles and virtues which it is lawful for men to ascribe to God, we also name Him 'the Word.' Now then, if it is our purpose to contend, let our very contention at least be lawful. Why does the profane hearer listen to talk of the begetting of God, of creation, of God brought forth from things that do not exist, of the cutting and splitting and dissolving of substance? Why do we call the judges of our words our accusers and our enemies?
Why do we hand our swords over to the enemy? How do you suppose they hear such words, and with what mind, with what understanding — those who praise adulteries, who hallow the defilement of boys and every kind of vice, who can perceive and understand nothing whatever beyond the body, who but a little while ago set up for themselves as gods those very beings whom they had known by their baseness and crimes? Will not such men understand all these things carnally, basely, and ignorantly? Will they not judge our things as they are wont to judge their own, and weigh our matters with the same disposition and sense with which they receive the begettings of their gods and the procreations of their sons? Do we not, when they utter such words, both deride and attack them?
And how shall we persuade them to accept what is ours, if they see strife stirred up among us again over these very same things? This is what this contention among us gains for us; this is what this struggle over the Word gains for us — the Word set forth otherwise than pleases the Word itself. In a certain way we suffer what madmen suffer, who set fire to their own houses with their own hands, or slay their own sons, or drive away their parents, supposing them to be strangers. Since therefore we have destroyed those things that are alien to the religion of the Word of God, and have cast back into the herd of swine the manifold legion which was also hurled headlong into the deep, let us now consider what pertains to ourselves.
This then is what I think must first be considered: what is this so great contention over mere words? What is this itch of the tongue, this so great impatience? What is it that, with hands tied and bound, we bring forth as our weapons the works of the tongue alone? The zeal of charity grows cold; of chastity, virginity, and mercy there is either none, or, if there be some in certain persons, it is either rare or feebly flourishing.
There is not so great a care for singing psalms, for vigils, for prayers, no zeal for weeping in supplications, none to humble the body with fasts, none to ascend to God through intent prayer — none to refuse to join worse things with better, I mean mire with spirit; we keep no meditation on death within our life, we are not kindled to master our vices, mindful of our heavenly kinship — none to conquer rage or to curb wrath, none to cast down arrogance or to drive off irrational sadness, none to bridle lust, none to cut away the excess of laughter, the wantonness of the eyes, the intemperance of hearing, the immoderation of speech, none to beat back the vanity of thoughts, whether those which the enemy suggests to us or those which he himself takes from us — by which, as Scripture says, he introduces death through the bodily senses as through windows.
But on the contrary, to all these vices we grant freedom to roam wherever they will and however they will not, while in disputations and questions alone we seem to ourselves to keep our guard. And indeed, O loquacious dialectician, I will ask you a little something; answer me, as He said who spoke to Job through the whirlwind and the cloud. Are there not many mansions with God? I suppose you do not deny what is written. What then? Will it be necessary that all of these be filled, or that some be filled while others are not, so that they remain empty and seem to have been prepared in vain? I know that you will grant that all must be filled; for you will confess that nothing was made by God in vain. But this very thing which we call a 'mansion' — what do you think it must be understood to be?
Is it not the rest and glory which is laid up for the blessed? You will grant, I think, that it is nothing else. If, then, this is certain, it follows that we should inquire whether there is something that procures these same mansions for each one of us. Beyond doubt it must be so. What then will that be which calls each one to the various mansions? Is it not the diversity of deeds and of purpose, according to the measure of each one's faith carried through in this light — which the divine Scripture is also accustomed to call 'ways'? What then? Must we make our journey through all these ways, or through some of them? If indeed it were possible, to enter through them all would be blessed; but if not, then through as many as one can, through several; or at least through some;
and if not even that, then to walk rightly and faultlessly through at least one. If, then, you hear that there is one way, and that this very way is narrow, what do you think is being indicated? Must not the one way be understood as standing for the unity of the virtues? For virtue is one, even though it may seem to be divided into many. And it is called narrow because of its labors, and because it is not ready at hand for the many. What then, dearest one?
If the division of the many ways, and again the contracting and gathering of the one, is such as we have described above, by what unskillfulness or intemperance then do we cramp ourselves into these straits, so that — as though set in utter destitution, having forsaken all the ways which the word of God teaches us — we press toward this one alone, and confine ourselves within this single one, which consists in disputation and in the mere debate of a word, and which, as it seems to me, is sought after not so much by zeal for wisdom and knowledge as by the vice of loquacity? Does not the blessed apostle Paul rebuke you concerning these things, who, after enumerating the spiritual graces, repeats and says: Are all apostles? Are all prophets? Are all teachers?
and the rest. Be you some exalted one, higher than the exalted, and ascend above the clouds, if you please, and behold things invisible and embrace things ineffable in speech; be taken up above Elijah, and above Moses see God face to face, if you can; be raised above Paul also to the heights of the third heaven: why then do you wish to fashion others as saints in a day? Why do you make theologians in a moment of time, to discourse on the divine nature, while they are still utterly ignorant of their own life — so that you suppose them to have received a doctrine inspired by you rather than worked out by lamplight, and you gather very many assemblies by the words of the unlearned? Why do you bind the weak with cobwebs, and draw them together as though about to bestow on them something of wisdom?
Why do you stir up a swarm of wasps against the faith? Why does dialectic believe that it adorns religion, when rather by dialectic religion is defiled? In a certain way that fabled Gigantomachy is now renewed for us, while against God war is waged on earth; and while every discourse is brought forth with a question, the tongue becomes a warrior, words are darts, speech is a sword, all day long without any end the battle is fought, and at times each side is laid low by mutual wounds. But if so great is the love of this war, if so great the zeal for the contest, if it delights to seize the triumphs of dialectical combat, let us cease, I pray, from civil wars: let us undertake foreign and hostile wars.
Let us do battle against the Pythagorean silences and destroy the Orphic beans. Let us refute that presumptuous maxim of the Pythagoreans concerning their master, 'He himself said it'; let us refute Plato's ideas, and the opinion of the soul's being transfused through diverse forms of bodies, which they call metempsychosis, and certain cycles of our souls' passing through diverse lives, and the recollections, and other things like these. Let us assail Epicurus, who does not perceive God and denies providence; let us speak against his atoms and against the pleasure which, contrary to the dignity of philosophy, he declares to be the highest good, and let us defeat it.
Let us refute Aristotle's narrow opinion concerning providence, and the faithless artifice of his words, and the reasonings which he set forth concerning the soul, and his doctrines, which are human rather than divine. Let us bend down the lofty eyebrow of the Stoics, and the cheap, gluttony-devoted, gutter-bred manner of the Cynics. Let us overthrow the vanity, full of ridiculous fables, of those who assert a multitude of gods, who offer sacrifices to images, who pour libations to evil and good demons. Let us be roused against those who marvel at divinations, at auspices, at auguries, at invocations of demons, and other such prodigies.
Let us sweat in struggle against those who weigh their lives by the motions or courses of the stars, who ascribe their own negligence and sloth to fate and the stars, and attribute the incomprehensible dispensation of divine providence to the chances of fortune, blind and playful, as they say. But if these things seem to you unworthy and trifling, against which to hurl the darts of your disputations — as having often been refuted by many and frequently struck down — and you prefer rather to exercise yourself among our own proper matters, I will prepare for you open fields of contest even in these. Dispute about the world or worlds, about matter; dispute about the soul, about rational natures, about the glory of the resurrection, about judgment, about retribution, about the sufferings of Christ.
For concerning these things, both to comprehend what is true will not be without profit, and to err in something carries no danger from God. And in this we shall receive grace — now indeed but small, according to our strength, but afterward even more perfect — in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory and power for ever and ever. Amen.