On Noah 1–29

We undertake to set out the life, character, and deeds of holy Noah, and also the loftiness of his mind, if we can. For since philosophy itself has said that nothing is more difficult than to grasp the inner self of a man, how much more difficult is it to know the mind of a just man? Indeed, since the Lord God reserved him for renewing the seed of mankind, to be a seedbed of righteousness, it is fitting that we too should describe him for the imitation of all, and should rest in him from all the anxiety of this world, which we endure daily through various disturbances. It is shameful to outlive one's children; it is wearisome, when we hear of so many adversities befalling those dearest to us, to go on enjoying this light. Who is so brave that he can bear patiently either undergoing the various waves and storms of the churches themselves, whether present, or taking them to heart? And therefore we too had to seek this rest, so that while we consider holy Noah with closer attention, we too may be refreshed, just as every kind of creature rested in him from its works and its sorrow.

Hence he is called Noah, which in Latin means 'just' or 'rest.' Indeed his parents also said: 'This one will make us rest from our works and from sorrow and from the earth, which the Lord God cursed.' If you think this should be referred to what actually happened, since the flood took place in his time, it would seem that not rest but destruction was brought upon men, not a remission of evils but a heap of miseries. But if you consider the mind of the just man, you will notice that righteousness alone is the thing which, born for others rather than for itself, seeks not what is useful to itself but what is useful to all. Righteousness makes us rest from the works of iniquity; righteousness calls us back from sorrow, because when we do what is just we fear nothing, in the security of a pure conscience, and we do not suffer heavy pain; for nothing causes greater pain than the guilt of sin. Let us rest also from every care of earthly life, which troubles our body and soul with frequent pains and wears our life away.

Three sons were born to him: Shem, Ham, Japheth. These names signify good and (bad) and (indifferent), so that he seems to have possessed goodness by the gift of nature, and never to have lacked the temptations of evils, and to have abounded in indifferent things, that is, … as in a kind of furniture of the virtues. Why he placed the bad in the middle has an evident reason: the good of nature is present in all, and nature does not cast men into the light like shipwrecked sailors, but also supports them with strength, so that they are not overwhelmed by the temptations of wickedness nor give way as weaklings; and it fortifies and clothes them as with certain coverings of indifferent things, which are safety, good health, beauty, energy, wealth, glory, and nobility of birth, so that, fortified by this dowry, they may guard the goodness of nature and shut that evil in, so that it cannot harm, and strangle it as if enclosed. Do we not see a kind of battle line of the virtues drawn up for combat, with the weaker in the middle and the stronger right and left, as on the wings, through whom the whole line receives its strength?

Hence a certain Greek poet also says: 'and he drove the bad into the middle,' that is, he put the bad in the middle. In the same way nature, like a good general under God's command, knowing that we are born for the battles of this world, has placed the good things it has in the first rank, the things that hinder in the second, and the things that help in the third, so that the enemy, shut in as it were in the middle, may be overwhelmed by doubled forces wherever it turns, lest it wear down each of them in evenly matched battles and find a way to escape from its natural confinement and spread itself more widely.

But since this is the order when they are born, whereas when they beget, Japheth is written in first place and Ham in third, lest anyone think we have said something contrary to what comes later, the reason for that passage too must be explained. The good, which is as it were in a certain nobility of nature, goes first; the bad follows. For contrary thoughts of the mind arise afterward. As long as these are shut up inside, as it were, and do not sprout like plants, they are held in a kind of fold of the good mind so that they do not come forth. For as long as evil is in the will and not in entelechy, that is, in act and effect, the goodness of the mind, like a helmsman or a charioteer, restrains and reins in the wickedness that tries to break out. But when it has boiled up and broken out into a sore, then, so that it cannot creep farther and infect what lies near, a just providence takes over, lest the indifferent, which people commonly call the second good, should give way, being unable any longer to resist the evil now at the boil. And so, lest the evil pour out its harmful poison more widely and infect very many by begetting corruptions, the first good, which is good by nature, changes its order as it changes its place, so as to bring help to a hard-pressed wing and take on that part of the line which is struggling most; for a warrior's courage is needed in the more difficult places, just as a good guard is present more often where the walls are weaker. And so that no part may be without a defender, while that good supports the parts that are giving way, the indifferent then takes the higher place, as though the more perfect good had assigned that part to it; for nothing is more perfect than virtue. Indifferent things do not have the strength of firm virtue, but they increase and spread its grace. Hence he was called Japheth, which in Latin signifies 'breadth.'

Nor did holy Noah alone abound in begetting sons; the whole race poured itself out in generation especially at that time. This does not seem to be said idly. For since the flood was to follow, it must not be thought that the grace of fruitfulness was lacking to that generation which the floods swallowed up, so that the abundance of the human race may be ascribed to divine grace, and the flood that followed to our iniquities, who by our sins turn away the Lord's mercy. So too in later times you will find that the barrenness that was to come upon Egypt was preceded by as many years of fruitfulness. For it is a principle of virtue to begin with kindnesses and to sow grace beforehand. Hence David also says: 'I will sing of mercy and judgment to you, O Lord.' The grace of kindness comes first; the censure of sober discipline follows. It is God's doing, then, that good things are sent first; 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 wisdom, then, and he has discipline too, as Scripture also says of Bezalel, who was commanded by a divine oracle to make the sacred tabernacle, that he was filled with the spirit of understanding and discipline. This Spirit, then, is given to men but does not remain. The reason why he does not remain is stated: because they are flesh; for the nature of the flesh resists discipline, since it obeys pleasure. Indeed of the Lord Jesus alone it is written: 'He on whom you see the Spirit descending from heaven and remaining on him, this is he who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.' For he remained in him whom no hindrances of fleshly corruption drew back from keeping the order of incorrupt and unmixed discipline, him whose flesh did not see corruption. Through the one Lord Jesus, therefore, salvation is declared to be coming to the nations; he alone could not have been righteous, since the whole generation went astray, unless, being born of a virgin, he had been in no way held by the law of a guilty generation. 'Behold,' he says, 'I was conceived in iniquities, and in sins my mother bore me' — so says one who was thought righteous above the rest. Whom then could I now call righteous, except one free of these bonds, whom the bonds of our common nature do not hold? All have been under sin from Adam; death reigned over all. Let the only righteous one come into the sight of God, of whom it may be said, no longer with a qualification, 'He did not sin with his lips,' but: 'He committed no sin.'

'Now there were giants on the earth in those days.' The author of divine Scripture does not want those giants to be taken, in the manner of the poets, as sons of the earth, but asserts that they were begotten of angels and women, and he calls them by this name because he wishes to express the size of their bodies. Let us consider whether men who give themselves to the care of their flesh but have no care for the soul may not be like the giants, just as those who, according to the poets' fable, sprang from the earth are said to have held the gods above in contempt, relying on the bulk of their bodies. Or are they to be thought any different who, though they consist of soul and body, turn away from the vigor of the mind, than which the soul has nothing more precious, and show themselves imitators of this flesh, as heirs of their mother's dullness? And so they labor in vain, laying claim to heaven with proud prayers while brooding over earthly works; by choosing what is inferior and despising fellowship with what is superior, they become liable, as it were, for voluntary sins and are condemned with greater severity.

Scripture often calls the angels sons of God, because souls are begotten of no man. So God did not disdain to call faithful men his sons. As, then, men of approved life are called sons of God, so we, on the authority of the Scriptures, call those whose works are fleshly sons of the flesh. 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 blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God. Therefore you have afterward that the Lord was angry, because although he considered, that is, knew, that man, placed in the region of the earth and bearing flesh, could not be without sin — for the earth is a kind of place of temptations, and the flesh an enticement to corruption — yet, since they had a mind capable of reason and strength of soul poured into the body, they rushed without any reflection into a fall from which they would not call themselves back. For God does not think as men do, so that some new opinion should occur to him, nor is he angry as one subject to change; but these things are read so that the bitterness of our sins may be expressed, which deserved to offend the Godhead, as though guilt had grown so far that even God, who by nature is moved neither by anger nor by hatred nor by any passion, seemed provoked to wrath.

He threatened, moreover, that he would destroy man. 'From man,' he says, 'to beast, and from creeping things to birds, I will destroy.' What harm had the irrational creatures done? But since they had been made for man's sake, when he for whose sake they were made was destroyed, it followed that they too should be destroyed, since there was no one to use them. In a deeper sense this is made clear: man is mind, which is capable of reason; for man is defined as a living, mortal, rational animal. When the ruling part is extinguished, all sense is extinguished with it, because nothing is left for salvation once virtue, the foundation of salvation, has failed. But to the condemnation of the rest and to show the divine kindness, Noah is said to have found grace with God. At the same time it is shown that the offense of others does not overshadow a just man, since he is preserved as the seedbed of the whole race, he who is praised not for nobility of birth but for the merit of righteousness and perfection. For the lineage of an approved man is a pedigree of virtues, because as the race of men is men, so the race of souls is virtues. Indeed families of men are ennobled by the splendor of their birth, but the grace of souls is made glorious by the splendor of virtue.

'The earth was corrupted before God,' he says, 'and was filled with injustice.' The cause of the earth's corruption is plain: men's injustice corrupted the earth. Hence the Lord God also said: 'The time of every man has come before me, because the earth is filled with its iniquities.' The time of all men is indeed in God's sight and in his will. For it is not, as people commonly say, a decree of fate that is being put forward; but I think it was said here in a special sense, because in his gospel the Lord, who was to redeem the human race by the passion of his body and to cleanse it by his blood and the sacrament of baptism, says: 'Father, the hour has come; glorify the Son, so that the Son also may glorify you.' Since then in the flood the remnant of the human race was saved through Noah's ark as a seedbed for future restoration and renewal, he therefore said beforehand here: 'The time of every man has come, because the earth is filled with its iniquities.' This is in figure; but in truth he says: 'A remnant has been saved through the love of grace.' And therefore the apostle cries out, saying:

'Sin abounded, so that grace might abound still more.' 'All flesh,' he says, 'had corrupted its way.' Here he put 'flesh' for earthly man, in whom the enticement of the flesh had corrupted his way. Had he understood what gift he had received from God, he would surely not have allowed the flesh to obstruct the virtues of the soul. And so the flesh was the cause of the corruption of the soul as well; it is a kind of region and dwelling-place of pleasure, from which, as from a spring, burst out the rivers of lusts and evil passions and overflow far and wide. In them the soul's oarage, as it were, is sunk when the helmsman has been thrown overboard, when the mind itself, overcome as by storms and gales, gives way from its post. And he says well that man corrupted the way of his nature. For his way was in paradise, in that path of blessedness, in that flower of virtues, in that incorruptible grace; and this way he defiled with earthly footprints. Others read: 'his way,' that is, God's. This is how he is accustomed to signify the word of the Lord.

But now I think something must be said of Noah's ark itself. Anyone who is willing to consider it closely will find the figure of the human body sketched out in its construction. For what does God mean when he says: 'Make yourself an ark of squared timbers'? We call 'square,' surely, what is well proportioned in all its parts and in harmony with itself. So God is shown to be the author of our body and the maker of our nature, and these words signify that the work itself is perfect. That the members of man are 'square' is plainly reasonable. Consider a man's chest, consider his belly: they are of equal measure in length and breadth, unless the natural measure is exceeded when the belly is stretched by pleasures and banquets. Then who does not notice at a glance that feet and hands, arms, thighs, and legs are each divided into four? And though most of them are not of the same length or breadth, still they keep a certain proportion, so that in them too a fitting measure and ratio come together: the length, he says, greater than the breadth, the breadth than the height. And just as the timber of the ark has three dimensions — since he prescribed that a length of three hundred cubits, a breadth of fifty <cubits>, and a height of thirty cubits be kept — so in our body too there is a greatest, a middle, and a least dimension: the greatest in length, the middle in breadth, the least in height; yet the whole body, woven together out of its several members, appears square. Indeed in common speech we call men 'square' whom we judge to be neither monstrous in height and are strong in the build of their body.

Nor should we pass over in silence what he means by saying: 'You shall make nests in the ark.' I think this was said with regard to nature, because our whole body is woven together like a nest, so that the vital breath penetrates every part of the inner organs and spreads itself from our ruling part through each of the limbs. Our eyes are nests of a sort, into which sight settles. The hollows of our ears are nests, through which hearing pours itself in and drops as into a deep pit. The nostrils are a nest, which draws smell to itself. A fourth nest, larger than the rest, is the opening of the mouth, in which taste is nourished until it grows up and from which the voice flies out; in it the tongue lies hidden, which like an instrument of the voice modulates its sounds with skilled sweetness, and though it is itself irrational, expresses a rational voice. The skull is a nest; that membrane which warms the brain and holds it within itself is a nest. The lungs and the heart are nests. The lung is the nest of our breath, that is, of the breath we draw and by which we are nourished in this life; the heart is the nest of blood and breath. For it has two chambers: one in which it receives the blood as in a kind of fold and passes it into the veins, the other by which, watered from the upper one, it leads it in a continual flow into the arteries. The stronger bones also have nests, for they are hollow inside, and in their cavities is the marrow. In the softer inner organs themselves are the nests of desire or of pain. And if anyone considers other parts, he will find still more nests in this fabric of the human body. Hence I think that the psalmist too spoke not only mystically but also with regard to nature when he said: 'For the sparrow has found itself a house, and the turtledove a nest for itself, where it may lay its young.' For now in this body there is a nest of chastity where there used to be a nest of irrational desire; and where lust once nursed misshapen offspring, there now grows up the inheritance of comely chastity.

'You shall smear it with pitch,' he says. The human body consists of many bones and sinews and other parts. So, joined together outside and inside in a fitting structure, it holds together and is maintained by its own constitution, which the Greeks call hexis, so that the spirit poured into it and shut within, or the spiritual substance that works within, does not wander off, held fast as by double bonds, but is kept in a fitting and harmonious unity and a firm connection. Therefore the ark is ordered to be bound with pitch, for pitch is by nature strongly binding. Hence in Greek it is called asphaltos, from asphaleia, that is, 'safety,' because it joins what is separated and binds it with an indissoluble bond, so that you would think it held together by a natural unity. For this reason the ark is bound with pitch inside and outside, so that this connection may not easily be broken.

Elsewhere, however, that is, in Exodus, that ark which is in the holy place, the image that imitates the intelligible world, is overlaid with gold inside and outside. For as gold is more precious than pitch, so the ark in the holy place is more excellent than this one. Indeed here he simply put 'timbers,' but there timbers indeed, yet he specified incorruptible ones, signifying the merits of the saints. He added there too that its carrying poles were immovable, because the station of the saints is stable and firm, since under the guidance of virtue they have followed the path of an approved life, avoiding the company of corruption. But this ark, being in the flood, was driven this way and that with uncertain motion, because the state of sinners is unstable and their life, liable to corruption in a kind of flood of overflowing passions, wanders in inconstant error.

Nor should we pass over the fact that, after saying: 'And you shall make the ark 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 you shall finish it in a cubit at the top,' so that to the rest of the body, which was squared in a grace and comeliness of fitting measure, he might join the human head like a royal citadel. From it all the senses are transmitted to the other parts of the body, and above all the eyes, placed there by providence like scouts and guardians of our nature, survey from above almost the whole state of our city. And the mind itself, set there according to the opinion of very many, and especially of Solomon, who says: 'The eyes of the wise man are in his head,' gathers to itself a council of the virtues as in an imperial hall, so that, surrounded by that retinue, it is itself better protected and, as from a kind of inner sanctuary, imparts the governance of the whole body to the one who beholds, <and knows how> to give answers, through which we can not only look back upon ourselves and see what is before our feet, but also gaze upon the secrets of heaven itself with the deep gaze of wisdom. There, then, is the sum of our salvation, there its grace; from there comes protection, from there too the beauty acquired by the whole body, which blooms first in the face; for it is fitting that the royal hall should have greater splendor, for as its use is greater, so is its brilliance.

For if you look at the several things in the human form that seem to have been made for some use — eyes for seeing, ears for hearing, nostrils for smelling, the mouth for speaking — they serve their uses in such a way as also to give beauty. How disfigured are the faces of the blind! And what wonder if a man's face is disfigured without eyes, when heaven itself has not its beauty without the sun? We spend gloomy days without the sun; nights without the moon do not please, for these are, as it were, the eyes of the world. Take away the lights of the stars, and there is a kind of disfigurement of blindness in heaven itself. The very hairs that fringe the orb of the eyes and are set out in front like a kind of battle line, lest the pupil be harmed by any dirt or cloud of dust — they also catch anything thrown in that could harm the eye — how unsightly it is if they fall out through inflammation, if the eyelid is contracted, if the eyebrows are shaved, which shine like precious necklaces, as though set with jewels!

So too with the ears: their use is necessary and their appearance comely, and if anyone cuts them off, he disfigures the whole face. In them nature has so worked out its craft that the very windings of their cavities, curved with wonderful foresight, bring great benefit, so that a sound does not suddenly strike the inner parts of the head. Indeed we often see many people dismayed by an unexpected blast and, stunned, terrified by the sound of some voice or uproar. The very wax that forms within these windings binds the hearing as with a kind of glue; at the same time, if the impact of a sound is too violent, it is broken and slowed, so that, being announced in advance, it soothes rather than shaking the inner parts by coming unexpectedly. Also, if little worms try to get into the ear, they are held fast by a kind of birdlime of wax.

Flat noses seem contrary to nature. And if the nostrils have been cut off, how can life go on when the passage for breathing has been removed? How much more the face of a beast than the countenance of a man it is thought to be!

How pleasing a covering the hairs of the head give it, like a body of guards around a royal hall, lest the wind harm the brain or the rain strike it or the sun scorch it! Yet nature so governs them that they please either longer or cut short according to sex, according to age, or often according to the time and season of the year. In the old, white hair is pleasing; in boys it is a portent. In summer we like to be shorn closely, in winter more loosely; long hair is an ornament to women, a disgrace to men. Indeed the apostle expressed this more plainly, saying: 'Does not nature itself teach you that if a man has long hair, it is a dishonor to him, but if a woman has hair, it is a glory to her?'

What shall I say of the royal gateway itself, through which go forth the courtly words, the informers of our mind and messengers of our soul? What of the very row of teeth, which not only supply strength to the whole body by their work, but are also the modulators of the voice itself?

If any of them falls out, the voice limps. We have spoken at greater length about the head because all the senses had to be placed at the top, from which all the duties would be distributed through the other parts. Next to our head behind is the neck; right and left are the arms, which guard the imperial citadel like a faithful garrison; indeed in us the parts nearer the head are stronger and more excellent. The chest too is like a kind of sanctuary of wisdom, and the stomach, as physicians say, is like a witness and confidant of the head's secrets and a partner in its suffering, to which it passes on all that is healthful or harmful to it. The sides, the buttocks, the thighs, and the legs show by their very appearance the measure of breadth, and so do the steps of the feet, which, though they seem rather narrow, become broader when we walk.

He added well: 'You shall make the door at the side,' signifying that part of the body through which we are accustomed to discharge the excess of our food, so that on the parts of the body we think less honorable he might bestow more abundant honor. Scripture expressed this much more gracefully than Socrates is read to have said it in a book of Plato. For since either Socrates himself or Plato, who was in Egypt, could have read this in the writings of Moses or learned it from those who had read them, he was struck by the fitness of the arrangement and thought a door had been opened to him to praise the design of our maker, commending him for having seen to it that decency was especially served, in that he turned the ducts and exits of our passages away to the back, so that our sight would not be offended in the purging of the belly. But the apostle, with one simple word, surpassed the descriptions of philosophy: 'The members of the body that seem to be weaker are necessary, and those members of the body which we think less honorable, on these we bestow more abundant honor, and our unseemly parts have more abundant seemliness.' For the sign of our sobriety and temperance is recognized chiefly there; gluttons are either distended with indigestion to the point of danger or very often loosened when their bowels are emptied.

The apostle also applied this well to the members of the church. For what are our unseemly and superfluous parts if not luxury, if not wantonness? If someone ensnared by them in the time of his youth comes to baptism when he has advanced to a riper age, renounces his former ways and puts off his former habits, lays down his sins, is buried together with the Lord Jesus, and the world is crucified to him and he to the world, has not he, having been granted the remission of sins, more abundant seemliness than that catechumen whose life was thought 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; he was made a vessel of election, sent as teacher of the gentiles. Did he not attain a richer and more honorable

glory than very many of the apostles themselves, he who before was both unseemly and inglorious when he persecuted the church of God? That poor and weak man in the church himself redeemed you by his prayers. And to open greater mysteries: what is so ignoble as the gentile people? It was poor, since it had no oracles of God; weak and lame in both feet, since it had believed neither in the law nor in the gospel; yet when called it believed, and when baptized it received grace. And so, because more was forgiven it, it loves more. The people of the Jews remained, though lame in one foot, and indeed it limps even in the law itself. And so that people, which was held most glorious, lost everything — the wonderful counselor, the prudent architect, and the wise hearer — while this people, which was ignoble, having gained everything by the title of faith and the trophy of the martyrs, glories in the fellowship of the angels. Plato, then, applied what elegance 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 been made first.

Now let us ask what the Lord meant by saying: 'You shall make the lower parts of the ark with two chambers and three chambers.' By saying 'lower parts' we observe that he wanted us to understand, fittingly, that the receptacles of food are to be counted in the lower place, that is, those organs which digest the food received. For food is corruptible, and what is corruptible is to be compared not with higher things but with lower. At the same time, since food is carried downward, and only a small portion of it benefits the strength and nourishment of the body, while the rest is led off to be purged by the bowel, because there are intestines through

which the excess of food descends, our maker so arranged them that they are not stretched straight from the stomach to the bottom, but winding and folded back, so that the use of our life might be prolonged. For if a man's intestines, which receive and lead the food down, were stretched straight, it would pass through at once without any delay, and we should have to be hungry continually and feast continually, or else, when the supply of food ceased, collapse on the spot. But as it is, in that folding and winding of the intestines into two and three chambers the food stays, and by descending gradually it supplies strength, pours its juice into the body, maintains satiety, and puts off the desire to eat; there is neither sudden outflow and abrupt evacuation, nor insatiable appetite, nor unappeasable lust for feasting. Otherwise, first there would be need and hunger; then from these would follow an unbroken continuation of eating. What is more unseemly than always to be devoted to the belly, which must be emptied when it is filled and filled when it is emptied? What third thing remains but death mingled among the very food and feasts? For how could they prolong their life for long, eating and hungry at the same time, drinking and thirsty, emptying everything they had taken before they were filled, and at once hungry again? But as it is, while the food descends little by little, natural providence tempers both hunger and indigestion. For first the food is worked up in the stomach, which many call the upper belly; then it is cooked in the liver and digested by its heat. Its juice is distributed to certain parts of the organs, from which the whole body gains strength; the growth of the young and the endurance of the old bear sufficient witness to this. The rest of the food flows down into the belly, which we all call simply the belly, and many the lower belly, from which the dung, which had descended already full of corruption, must be discharged through that door at the side.

Although these things appear so skillfully composed by the arrangement of nature at God's command, yet unless we keep measure in eating and in conduct, a flood is produced, as it were, by overflowing passions, and a kind of ruin of the whole body; for intemperance kindles lust, produces indigestion, and creates corruption. And so either the intestines are distended by an internal hardness and racked with pain, or, through the undigested moisture of the food and the harshness of indigestion, a certain inner lining of the intestines is scraped away. For their covering is said to be double, like a sheet of papyrus: one outer layer, which the experts, or those who have examined it more curiously, call continuous, running straight from top to bottom; the other inner, woven to the sides, as it were, so that, they say, it is not wholly dissolved when it is scraped; for if the inner layer were continuous, a tear in it would be incurable. There, they say, the remains of the food cling because of the delay at the joinings; and if the joinings are loosened, half-eaten food and liquids pass through and flow away.