On the Trinity

Whoever reads what we are about to discuss concerning the Trinity ought first to know that our pen is on guard against the false charges of those who despise the beginning of faith and are deceived by an untimely and perverse love of reason. Some of them try to carry over to incorporeal and spiritual things what they have learned of bodily things, whether by experience through the bodily senses, or by the natural quickness of human talent and diligence, or with the help of technical skill, so that they wish to measure and conceive of the former by the latter. There are others again who think of God, if they think at all, according to the nature or the feelings of the human mind; and from this error, when they argue about God, they fasten distorted and deceptive rules upon their speech. There is yet another class of men, those who strive indeed to rise above the whole creation, which is certainly changeable, so as to lift their attention to the unchangeable substance which is God; but, weighed down by the burden of mortality, since they both wish to seem to know what they do not know and cannot know what they wish to know, they shut off from themselves the paths of understanding by too boldly affirming the presumptions of their own opinions, choosing rather not to correct their perverse view than to change one they have defended. And this indeed is the disease of all the three classes I have set out: of those, namely, who think of God according to the body; of those who think of him according to a spiritual creature, such as the soul is; and of those who think of him neither according to the body nor according to a spiritual creature, and yet hold false opinions about God, being the further from the truth in that what they think is found neither in body, nor in a made and created spirit, nor in the Creator himself. For he who supposes God to be, for example, white or red is mistaken; yet these things are found in body. Again, he who supposes God now to forget and now to remember, or anything of this kind, is nonetheless in error; yet these things are found in the mind. But he who thinks that God is of such power that he begot himself errs the more, because not only is God not so, but neither is any spiritual or bodily creature: for there is no thing whatever that begets itself so as to exist. So, in order that the human mind might be cleansed of falsehoods of this kind, holy Scripture, suiting itself to little ones, has avoided words from no class of things, so that by them, as if by steps, our understanding, nourished as it were, might rise to divine and lofty things. For it has used words taken from bodily things when speaking of God, as when it says, "Protect me in the shelter of your wings." And from the spiritual creature it has transferred many expressions, to signify what is not so in fact but needed to be said so; such as, "I am a jealous God"; and, "I repent that I made man." But from things that do not exist at all it has drawn no terms with which to frame figures of speech or to weave riddles. Hence those who are shut out from the truth by that third kind of error, by suspecting of God what can be found neither in him nor in any creature, vanish into a more pernicious emptiness. For with things that are found in the creature divine Scripture is accustomed to fashion something like the amusements of children, so that the feelings of the weak might be moved, as it were step by step according to their small measure, to seek higher things and abandon lower ones. But what is said properly of God and is found in no creature divine Scripture rarely sets down; such as what was said to Moses, "I am who I am"; and, "He who is has sent me to you." For since both body and mind are said in some way to be, Scripture would certainly not have said this unless it wished it to be understood in a certain proper sense. So too what the Apostle says, "who alone has immortality": since the soul also is said to be, and is, in a certain way immortal, he would not say "alone has" unless true immortality were unchangeableness, which no creature can have, since it belongs to the Creator alone. James says this too: "Every best gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no change nor shadow of movement." So too David: "You will change them, and they will be changed; but you are the same." Therefore it is difficult to behold and fully know the substance of God, which makes changeable things without any change in itself, and creates temporal things without any temporal movement of its own. And so the cleansing of our mind is necessary, by which that ineffable reality may be ineffably seen; not yet possessing this cleansing, we are nourished by faith and led along certain more bearable paths, so that we may be made fit and able to grasp it. Hence the Apostle says that in Christ indeed all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge are hidden; yet to those who, though already reborn by his grace, were still carnal and soulish, like little ones in Christ, he commended him not from the divine power in which he is equal to the Father, but from the human weakness from which he was crucified. For he says: "For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified." Then he continues: "And I was with you in weakness and fear and much trembling." And a little later he says to them: "And I, brothers, could not speak to you as spiritual, but as carnal. As little ones in Christ I gave you milk to drink, not solid food; for you were not yet able, and even now you are not able." When this is said to some people, they grow angry and think it is said to insult them; and very often they prefer to believe that those from whom they hear it have nothing to say, rather than that they themselves cannot grasp what those have said. And sometimes we offer them a reason, not the one they ask for when they inquire about God, since they are not able to take it in, and perhaps we are not able either to grasp it or to set it forth, but one by which it may be shown to them how unfit and unsuited they are to perceive what they demand. But because they do not hear what they want, they think either that we are acting cunningly to hide our ignorance, or maliciously because we begrudge them knowledge; and so they go away indignant and upset.

Therefore, with the help of the Lord our God, we will undertake, as far as we can, to give the very account they demand: that the Trinity is the one, only, and true God, and how rightly the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit are said, believed, and understood to be of one and the same substance or essence; so that they may not be mocked, as it were, by our excuses, but may find by experience both that this is the highest good, which is seen by the most cleansed minds, and that it cannot be seen and grasped by them because the eye of the human mind is too weak to be fixed on so surpassing a light unless it is nourished and invigorated through the righteousness of faith. But first it must be shown, according to the authority of the holy Scriptures, whether the faith is so. Then, if God wills and helps, we will perhaps serve these talkative reasoners, who are more puffed up than capable and therefore suffer from a more dangerous disease, so that they may find something they cannot doubt, and for that reason, where they have been unable to find something, may complain of their own minds rather than of the truth itself or of our arguments; and so, if they have any love or fear toward God, they may return to the beginning and order of faith, now perceiving how wholesomely the medicine of the faithful has been established in the holy Church, so that godliness, faithfully kept, may heal the weak mind for the perception of unchangeable truth, lest disordered rashness hurl it into the opinion of harmful falsehood. Nor shall I be reluctant to inquire wherever I hesitate, nor ashamed to learn wherever I err.

Accordingly, whoever reads this, where he is equally certain, let him go on with me; where he equally hesitates, let him inquire with me; where he recognizes his own error, let him return to me; where he recognizes mine, let him call me back. So let us enter together on the way of love, making for him of whom it is said, "Seek his face always." And I would make this pious and safe agreement, before the Lord our God, with all who read what I write, in all my writings, and above all in these, where the unity of the Trinity, of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, is sought; for nowhere is error more dangerous, nor is anything sought with more labor, nor anything found with more profit. Whoever, then, says when he reads, "This is not well said, because I do not understand it," finds fault with my expression, not with the faith; and perhaps it could indeed have been said more plainly; yet no man has ever spoken so as to be understood by everyone in everything. Let him, then, who is displeased by this in my discourse see whether he understands others who have dealt with such matters and questions when he does not understand me; and if so, let him put down my book, or even throw it away if he likes, and spend his effort and time on those he understands. Yet let him not think that I ought therefore to have kept silent, because I could not express myself as readily and clearly as those he understands. For not everything that everyone writes comes into everyone's hands; and it may be that some who are able to understand even these writings of ours do not find those plainer books, and at least come upon these. And so it is useful that several books should be written by several authors, in different styles but not with a different faith, even on the same questions, so that the matter itself may reach as many as possible, some in this way and others in that. But if the one who complains that he has not understood these things has never been able to understand anything carefully and acutely argued on such matters, let him deal with himself by prayers and study so that he may make progress, not with me by complaints and abuse so that I may fall silent. But whoever, reading this, says, "I understand what has been said, but it has not been said truly," let him assert his own view, if he pleases, and refute mine if he can. If he does this with love and truth, and takes care to make it known to me as well (if I remain in this life), I shall have reaped the richest fruit of this labor. And if he cannot make it known to me, he will have done a service, with my good will and pleasure, to those to whom he can. I, however, meditate on the law of the Lord, if not day and night, at least in such small portions of time as I can; and I bind my meditations with the pen so that they may not slip away through forgetfulness, hoping in the mercy of God that he will make me persevere in all the truths that are certain to me; and if I think otherwise in anything, he himself will reveal that to me as well, whether by hidden inspirations and admonitions, or by his own plain words, or by conversations with the brothers. This I pray for, and this trust and desire of mine I keep with him who is well able to guard what he has given and to give back what he has promised. I suppose indeed that some slower readers will think, in some places in my books, that I held what I did not hold, or did not hold what I did hold. Who does not know that their error ought not to be laid to my charge, if, following me as it were but not grasping me, they have strayed into some falsehood while I am forced to pick my way through certain dense and dark places? For no one could rightly attribute to the holy authorities of the divine books themselves the many and various errors of the heretics, since they all try to defend their false and deceptive opinions from the same Scriptures. The law of Christ, that is, love, plainly admonishes me and commands me with a most gentle command that, when men think that I have held something false in my books which I did not hold, and that same falsehood displeases one and pleases another, I should prefer to be blamed by the one who blames the falsehood rather than praised by the one who praises it. For by the former, although I am not rightly blamed, since I did not hold it, yet the error itself is rightly censured; but by the latter neither am I rightly praised, being thought to have held what the truth censures, nor is the opinion itself that the truth censures. So in the name of the Lord let us take up the work we have undertaken.

All the catholic interpreters of the divine books of the Old and New Testaments whom I have been able to read, who wrote before me on the Trinity, which is God, intended to teach according to the Scriptures that the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, in the inseparable equality of one and the same substance, imply a divine unity; and therefore they are not three gods but one God, although the Father has begotten the Son, and so the Son is not he who is the Father; and the Son is begotten of the Father, and so the Father is not he who is the Son; and the Holy Spirit is neither the Father nor the Son, but only the Spirit of the Father and of the Son, himself also coequal with the Father and the Son and belonging to the unity of the Trinity. Yet it was not that same Trinity that was born of the Virgin Mary, crucified and buried under Pontius Pilate, rose again on the third day, and ascended into heaven, but only the Son. Nor was it that same Trinity that descended in the form of a dove upon Jesus when he was baptized, or that on the day of Pentecost, after the Lord's ascension, when a sound came from heaven as of a mighty wind rushing, sat upon each one of them in divided tongues as of fire, but only the Holy Spirit. Nor was it that same Trinity that said from heaven, "You are my Son," whether when he was baptized by John, or on the mountain when the three disciples were with him, or when the voice sounded saying, "I have both glorified it, and will glorify it again"; but it was only the voice of the Father, addressed to the Son; although the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, as they are inseparable, so also work inseparably. This is also my faith, since this is the catholic faith.

But some are troubled by this faith when they hear that the Father is God, and the Son is God, and the Holy Spirit is God, and yet this Trinity is not three gods but one God; and they ask how they are to understand it, especially when it is said that the Trinity works inseparably in everything that God works, and yet that a certain voice of the Father sounded which is not the voice of the Son; that only the Son was born in the flesh, suffered, rose again, and ascended into heaven; and that only the Holy Spirit came in the form of a dove. They want to understand how the Trinity made that voice which was the Father's alone; how the same Trinity created that flesh in which the Son alone was born of the Virgin; and how that very Trinity produced that form of a dove in which the Holy Spirit alone appeared. Otherwise, they say, the Trinity does not work inseparably, but the Father does some things, the Son others, and the Holy Spirit others; or if they do some things together and some without one another, then the Trinity is no longer inseparable. It also troubles them how the Holy Spirit is in the Trinity, whom neither the Father nor the Son nor both have begotten, though he is the Spirit both of the Father and of the Son. Since, then, people ask these things and weary us with them, let us, if our weakness has any wisdom on this from the gift of God, explain it to them as we can, and let us not travel with consuming envy. If we say that we are not accustomed to think about such matters at all, we lie; but if we confess that these things dwell in our thoughts, because we are carried away by the love of searching out the truth, they demand by the right of love that we show them what we have been able to think out on the matter: not as though I had already attained, or were already perfect (for if the apostle Paul did not think he had attained, how much less do I, lying far below his feet?), but according to my small measure, if I forget what lies behind and stretch forward to what lies ahead, and press on according to my aim toward the prize of the upward call. How much of that way I have traveled, and where I have arrived, from which the rest of the course to the end remains for me, I am asked to disclose by those whom free love compels me to serve. And it must be, and God will grant it, that in ministering to them what they may read I too may make progress, and that in desiring to answer those who ask, I too may find what I was seeking. So I have undertaken these things, at the command and with the help of the Lord our God, not so much to discuss with authority what is known, as to come to know it by discussing it with reverence.

Those who have said that our Lord Jesus Christ is not God, or not true God, or not one and the only God with the Father, or not truly immortal because changeable, have been refuted by the most evident and harmonious voice of the divine testimonies. From these come the words: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." For it is plain that by the Word of God we understand the only Son of God, of whom he says afterward, "And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us," on account of the birth of his incarnation, which took place in time from the Virgin. And in this passage he declares not only that he is God but also that he is of the same substance as the Father; for after saying, "And the Word was God," he says, "He was in the beginning with God; all things were made through him, and without him nothing was made." For by "all things" he means only those things that were made, that is, the whole creation. Hence it clearly appears that he through whom all things were made was not himself made. And if he was not made, he is not a creature; and if he is not a creature, he is of the same substance as the Father. For every substance that is not God is a creature, and every substance that is not a creature is God. And if the Son is not of the same substance as the Father, then he is a made substance; if he is a made substance, then not all things were made through him; but all things were made through him; therefore he is of one and the same substance with the Father. And so he is not only God, but also true God. The same John says this most plainly in his Epistle: "We know that the Son of God has come and has given us understanding, so that we may know the true God, and be in his true Son Jesus Christ. This is the true God and eternal life." From this it is also understood, in consequence, that the apostle Paul said "who alone has immortality" not only of the Father but of the one and only God, which is the Trinity itself. For eternal life itself is not mortal through any changeableness; and therefore the Son of God, because he is eternal life, is himself also understood together with the Father where it is said, "who alone has immortality." For we too, made partakers of his eternal life, are made immortal in our small measure. But the eternal life of which we are made partakers is one thing; we who by partaking of it shall live forever are another. For even if he had said, "whom at the proper time the blessed Father and only Sovereign, the King of kings and Lord of lords, will reveal, who alone has immortality," not even so would the Son have to be understood as separated from this. For when the Son himself, speaking elsewhere with the voice of Wisdom (for he is himself the Wisdom of God), says, "I alone have compassed the circuit of heaven," he did not separate the Father from himself. How much less, then, is it necessary that what is said, "who alone has immortality," be understood of the Father only, apart from the Son, since it is said thus: "that you keep the commandment without stain, without reproach, until the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, which the blessed and only Sovereign will show at the proper time, the King of kings and Lord of lords, who alone has immortality and dwells in light unapproachable, whom no man has seen or can see; to whom be honor and glory for ever and ever. Amen." In these words neither the Father is named specifically, nor the Son, nor the Holy Spirit; but "the blessed and only Sovereign, the King of kings and Lord of lords," which is the one, only, and true God, the Trinity itself. Unless perhaps what follows will disturb this understanding, because he said, "whom no man has seen or can see," although this too is taken as belonging to Christ according to his divinity, which the Jews did not see, though they saw and crucified his flesh. But the divinity cannot in any way be seen by human sight; it is seen by that sight by which those who see are no longer men but beyond men. Rightly, then, God the Trinity himself is understood to be "the blessed and only Sovereign," who shows the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ at the proper time. For "alone has immortality" is said in the same way as it is said, "who alone does wonders." I should like to know of whom they take this to be said. If of the Father only, how then is it true what the Son himself says, "For whatever the Father does, the Son also does likewise"? Is there anything among wonders more wonderful than to raise and give life to the dead? Yet the same Son says, "As the Father raises the dead and gives them life, so also the Son gives life to whom he will." How, then, does the Father alone do wonders, since these words allow us to understand neither the Father only nor the Son only, but certainly the one only true God, that is, the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit? Again, when the same apostle says, "For us there is one God, the Father, from whom are all things, and we in him; and one Lord Jesus Christ, through whom are all things, and we through him," who would doubt that he means all things that were created, as John does with "All things were made through him"? I ask, therefore, of whom he speaks in another place: "For from him and through him and in him are all things: to him be glory for ever and ever. Amen." For if of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, so that each phrase is assigned to each person, "from him" from the Father, "through him" through the Son, "in him" in the Holy Spirit, then it is plain that the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit are one God, since he added in the singular, "to him be glory for ever and ever." For where he began this thought, he does not say, "O the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge" of the Father, or of the Son, or of the Holy Spirit, but "of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments, and how inscrutable his ways! For who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been his counselor? Or who has first given to him, that it should be repaid to him? For from him and through him and in him are all things: to him be glory for ever and ever. Amen." But if they want this to be understood of the Father only, how then are all things through the Father, as is said here, and all things through the Son, as where he says to the Corinthians, "and one Lord Jesus Christ, through whom are all things," and as in the Gospel of John, "All things were made through him"? For if some things were made through the Father and others through the Son, then not all things were made through the Father, nor all through the Son. But if all things were made through the Father and all through the Son, then the same things were made through the Father as through the Son. The Son, therefore, is equal to the Father, and the working of the Father and the Son is inseparable. For if the Father made even the Son, whom the Son himself did not make, then not all things were made through the Son; but all things were made through the Son; therefore he himself was not made, so that with the Father he might make all things that were made. And yet the Apostle has not kept silent even about the word itself, but has said most plainly, "who, being in the form of God, did not think it robbery to be equal to God," here calling the Father "God" in the proper sense, as elsewhere, "and the head of Christ is God." Likewise testimonies have also been gathered concerning the Holy Spirit, which those who discussed these matters before us have used more fully, showing that he too is God and not a creature. And if he is not a creature, he is not only God (for men too have been called gods), but also true God. He is therefore wholly equal to the Father and the Son, and consubstantial and coeternal in the unity of the Trinity. But it is made especially clear that the Holy Spirit is not a creature by the passage where we are commanded to serve not the creature but the Creator: not in the way in which we are commanded to serve one another through love, which in Greek is douleuein, but in the way in which God alone is served, which in Greek is latreuein. Hence those who show to images the service that is owed to God are called idolaters. For it is according to this service that it is said, "You shall worship the Lord your God, and him only shall you serve." For this is found even more distinctly in the Greek Scripture, which has latreuseis. Now if we are forbidden to serve the creature with such service, since it is said, "You shall worship the Lord your God, and him only shall you serve" (which is why the Apostle also condemns those who worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator), then the Holy Spirit is certainly not a creature, to whom such service is shown by all the saints, as the Apostle says, "For we are the circumcision, who serve the Spirit of God," which in the Greek is latreuontes. For many Latin manuscripts also have it thus, "who serve the Spirit of God," and all the Greek ones, or nearly all. But in some Latin copies we find not "we serve the Spirit of God" but "we serve God in the spirit." But those who err on this point and refuse to yield to the weightier authority, do they find a variant in the manuscripts here too: "Do you not know that your bodies are the temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God?" And what is more insane and more sacrilegious than for anyone to dare to say that the members of Christ are the temple of a creature which, according to them, is lesser than Christ? For in another place he says, "Your bodies are members of Christ." But if what are members of Christ are the temple of the Holy Spirit, the Holy Spirit is not a creature; for to whom we offer our body as a temple, to him we must owe that service with which God alone is to be served, which in Greek is called latreia. Hence he says in consequence, "Glorify God, therefore, in your body."

By these and similar testimonies of the divine Scriptures, which, as I said, our predecessors used more abundantly in overcoming such false charges or errors of the heretics, the unity and equality of the Trinity is commended to our faith. But because many things in the holy books are said, on account of the incarnation of the Word of God, which took place for the restoring of our salvation so that the man Christ Jesus might be the mediator between God and men, in such a way as to signify that the Father is greater than the Son, or even to show it most plainly, men have gone astray, examining or looking at the whole course of the Scriptures with too little care, and they have tried to transfer what is said of Christ Jesus according to the man to his substance, which was everlasting before the incarnation and is everlasting. And they say that the Son is less than the Father because it is written that the Lord himself said, "The Father is greater than I." But the truth shows that in this way the Son is less even than himself. For how was he not made less even than himself, who emptied himself, taking the form of a servant? For he did not so take the form of a servant as to lose the form of God, in which he was equal to the Father. If, then, the form of a servant was so taken that the form of God was not lost, since in the form of a servant and in the form of God he is the same only-begotten Son of God the Father, in the form of God equal to the Father, in the form of a servant the mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, who does not understand that in the form of God he is greater even than himself, and in the form of a servant less even than himself? Not without reason, therefore, does Scripture say both: that the Son is equal to the Father, and that the Father is greater than the Son. The former is understood on account of the form of God, the latter on account of the form of a servant, without any confusion. And this rule for resolving this question throughout all the holy Scriptures is drawn from one passage of the Epistle of the apostle Paul, where this distinction is commended more plainly. For he says: "Who, being in the form of God, did not think it robbery to be equal to God; but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, made in the likeness of men, and found in fashion as a man." The Son of God, therefore, is equal to God the Father by nature, less by fashion. For in the form of a servant which he took he is less than the Father; but in the form of God, in which he was even before he took this one, he is equal to the Father. In the form of God he is the Word through whom all things were made; but in the form of a servant he was made of a woman, made under the Law, to redeem those who were under the Law. Accordingly, in the form of God he made man; in the form of a servant he was made man. For if the Father alone, without the Son, had made man, it would not have been written, "Let us make man in our image and likeness." Therefore, because the form of God took the form of a servant, each is God and each is man: but each is God on account of God who takes, and each is man on account of the man who is taken. For by that taking up neither of them was turned and changed into the other: neither was the divinity changed into the creature so as to cease to be divinity, nor the creature into the divinity so as to cease to be creature.

As for what the Apostle says, "But when all things have been subjected to him, then the Son himself will also be subjected to him who subjected all things to him": either it was said so that no one might think that the human fashion of Christ, which was taken from the human creature, would afterward be changed into the divinity itself, or, to put it more precisely, into the deity, which is not a creature but is the unity of the Trinity, an incorporeal, unchangeable nature, consubstantial and coeternal with itself. Or if anyone contends, as some have held, that "the Son himself will also be subjected to him who subjected all things to him" was said in such a way that he believes this subjection to be a future change and conversion of the creature into the very substance or essence of the Creator, that is, that what had been the substance of a creature will become the substance of the Creator, he certainly grants at least this, about which there is no doubt: that this had not yet happened when the Lord said, "The Father is greater than I." For he said this not only before he ascended into heaven but even before he suffered and rose from the dead. And those who think that the human nature in him is to be changed and converted into the substance of the deity, and that "then the Son himself will also be subjected to him who subjected all things to him" was said as if it were said, "then the Son of Man himself, and the human nature taken by the Word of God, will be changed into the nature of him who subjected all things to him," think that this will happen when, after the day of judgment, he hands over the kingdom to God the Father. And therefore even according to that opinion the Father is still greater than the form of a servant which was taken from the Virgin. And if some affirm even this, that the man Christ Jesus has already been changed into the substance of God, they certainly cannot deny that the nature of man still remained when, before his passion, he said, "For the Father is greater than I." Hence there is no hesitation that this was said in the sense that the Father is greater than the form of a servant, though in the form of God the Son is equal to him. Nor, when he hears what the Apostle says, "But when he says that all things have been subjected to him, it is plain that he is excepted who subjected all things to him," let anyone think that it is to be understood of the Father in such a way that he subjected all things to the Son so that the Son did not himself subject all things to himself. The Apostle shows this to the Philippians when he says: "But our citizenship is in heaven, from which we also await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform the body of our lowliness to be conformed to the body of his glory, according to his working, by which he is able even to subject all things to himself." For the working of the Father and the Son is inseparable. Otherwise neither did the Father himself subject all things to himself, but the Son subjected them to him, who hands over the kingdom to him and abolishes every principality and every authority and power. For these things are said of the Son: "When he hands over," he says, "the kingdom to God the Father, when he has abolished every principality and every authority and power." For he who abolishes is the one who subjects. Nor let us suppose that Christ will hand over the kingdom to God the Father in such a way as to take it away from himself. For some empty talkers have believed even this. For when it is said, "he hands over the kingdom to God the Father," he himself is not separated, since together with the Father he is one God. But those who are careless about the divine Scriptures and eager for disputes are misled by the word that is used, "until." For it continues thus: "For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet," as if, when he has put them there, he will not reign. Nor do they understand that this is said in the same way as this: "His heart is established; he will not be moved until he sees his desire upon his enemies." For when he has seen it, he will not then be moved. What, then, is "when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father"? As though God the Father did not have the kingdom now? But because the mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, is going to bring all the righteous, in whom he now reigns as they live by faith, to sight, which the same apostle calls the vision "face to face," it is said, "when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father," as if it were said, "when he has brought those who believe to the contemplation of God the Father." So when he says, "All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him," the Father will then be revealed by the Son when he has abolished every principality and every authority and power; that is, so that the dispensation of likenesses through angelic principalities and authorities and powers will no longer be necessary. Speaking in their person, not unfittingly, it is understood to be said to the bride in the Song of Songs, "We will make you likenesses of gold with studs of silver, while the king is on his couch"; that is, while Christ is in his hidden place, because "your life is hidden with Christ in God; when Christ, your life, appears, then you too will appear with him in glory." Before this happens, "we see now through a mirror in a riddle," that is, in likenesses, "but then face to face." For this contemplation is promised to us as the end of all actions and the eternal fulfillment of joys. For "we are children of God, and it has not yet appeared what we shall be; we know that when he appears we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is." For what he said to his servant Moses, "I am who I am. This you shall say to the children of Israel: He who is has sent me to you," this we shall contemplate when we live forever. For so he says: "And this is eternal life, that they may know you, the one true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent." This will happen when the Lord has come and has brought to light the hidden things of darkness, when the darkness of this mortality and corruption has passed away. Then will be our morning, of which it is said in the Psalm, "In the morning I will stand before you and will contemplate." Of this contemplation I understand it to be said, "when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father"; that is, when the mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, has brought the righteous, in whom he now reigns as they live by faith, to the contemplation of God the Father. If I am foolish here, let someone wiser correct me; to me it seems nothing else. For we shall seek nothing else when we have come to the contemplation of him, which is not ours now, so long as our joy is in hope. "But hope that is seen is not hope; for who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience," while the king is on his couch. Then will come what is written: "You will fill me with joy with your countenance." Nothing further will be sought beyond that joy, because there will be nothing further to seek. For the Father will be shown to us, and it will be enough for us. Philip had understood this well, so that he said to the Lord, "Show us the Father, and it is enough for us"; but he had not yet understood that he could have said the same thing in this way too: "Lord, show us yourself, and it is enough for us." For in order that he might understand this, the Lord answered him, "Have I been with you so long, and you have not known me? Philip, he who has seen me has seen the Father too." But because he wished him to live by faith before he could see that, he went on to say, "Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me?" For "as long as we are in the body we are away from the Lord; for we walk by faith, not by sight." For contemplation is the reward of faith, and for that reward hearts are cleansed by faith, as it is written, "cleansing their hearts by faith." And that hearts are cleansed for that contemplation is proved above all by that saying, "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." And because this is eternal life, God says in the Psalm, "With length of days I will fill him, and I will show him my salvation." Whether, then, we hear "Show us the Son" or hear "Show us the Father," it amounts to the same, because neither can be shown without the other. For they are one, as he himself says: "I and the Father are one." Finally, because of this very inseparability, it is sometimes enough to name either the Father alone or the Son alone as the one who will fill us with joy with his countenance. Nor is the Spirit of both, that is, the Spirit of the Father and of the Son, separated from this. This Holy Spirit is properly called "the Spirit of truth, whom this world cannot receive." For this is our full joy, beyond which there is none: to enjoy God the Trinity, in whose image we were made. For this reason Scripture sometimes speaks of the Holy Spirit as if he alone were sufficient for our blessedness; and he alone is sufficient for this reason, that he cannot be separated from the Father and the Son; just as the Father alone is sufficient because he cannot be separated from the Son and the Holy Spirit, and the Son alone is sufficient for this reason, that he cannot be separated from the Father and the Holy Spirit. For what does he mean when he says, "If you love me, keep my commandments; and I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever, the Spirit of truth, whom this world cannot receive," that is, the lovers of the world? For "the soulish man does not perceive the things of the Spirit of God." But it may still seem that "And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate" was said as though the Son alone were not sufficient. But in that other place it is said of the Spirit as if he alone were wholly sufficient: "When that Spirit of truth comes, he will teach you all truth." Is the Son, then, separated from this, as though he himself did not teach all truth, or as though the Holy Spirit fulfilled what the Son was less able to teach? Let them say, then, if they please, that the Holy Spirit is greater than the Son, whom they usually call less than he. Or, because it is not said, "He alone," or "No one but he will teach you all truth," do they therefore allow the Son to be believed to teach together with him? Then the Apostle has separated the Son from knowing the things that are God's, where he says, "So also no one knows the things of God except the Spirit of God," so that these perverse people could now say on this basis that no one teaches even the Son the things of God except the Holy Spirit, as the greater teaches the lesser; to whom the Son himself attributes so much as to say, "Because I have said these things to you, sorrow has filled your heart. But I tell you the truth: it is to your advantage that I go away; for if I do not go away, the Advocate will not come to you."

But he said this not because of any inequality between the Word of God and the Holy Spirit, but as though the presence of the Son of Man with them would be a hindrance to the coming of him who was not less, because he did not empty himself, taking the form of a servant, as the Son did. It was necessary, therefore, that the form of a servant should be taken away from their eyes, since, looking at it, they thought that Christ was only what they saw. Hence also what he says: "If you loved me, you would surely rejoice that I am going to the Father, because the Father is greater than I"; that is, "It is necessary for me to go to the Father for this reason, that while you see me thus, you judge from what you see that I am less than the Father, and so, occupied with the creature and the fashion I have taken, you do not understand the equality I have with the Father." Hence also this: "Do not touch me; for I have not yet ascended to the Father." For touch makes, as it were, an end of knowing. And therefore he did not want the heart's attention to him to end in him in such a way that only what was seen should be thought to be he. But the ascension to the Father was to be seen as he is equal to the Father, so that there might be the end of the vision which is enough for us. Sometimes again it is said of the Son alone that he is sufficient, and the whole reward of our love and desire is promised in the vision of him. For so he says: "He who has my commandments and keeps them, he it is who loves me. And he who loves me will be loved by my Father; and I will love him and will show myself to him." Here, because he did not say, "I will show him the Father too," did he therefore separate the Father? But because it is true that "I and the Father are one," when the Father is shown, the Son, who is in him, is shown too; and when the Son is shown, the Father, who is in him, is shown too. Therefore, just as when he says, "And I will show myself to him," it is understood that he shows the Father too, so also in what is said, "when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father," it is understood that he does not take it away from himself. For when he brings believers to the contemplation of God the Father, he will surely bring them to the contemplation of himself, he who said, "And I will show myself to him." And so, consistently, when Judas said to him, "Lord, how is it that you are going to show yourself to us and not to this world?" Jesus answered and said to him: "If anyone loves me, he will keep my word; and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our dwelling with him." See how he not only shows himself to the one by whom he is loved, since he comes to him together with the Father and makes his dwelling with him. Or will it perhaps be thought that, when the Father and the Son make their dwelling in the one who loves them, the Holy Spirit is shut out from this dwelling? What, then, is it that he says above about the Holy Spirit: "whom this world cannot receive, because it does not see him; you know him, because he remains with you and is in you"? He is not, then, separated from this dwelling, of whom it is said, "he remains with you and is in you." Unless perhaps someone is so absurd as to suppose that when the Father and the Son come to make their dwelling with the one who loves them, the Holy Spirit will depart from there and, as it were, make room for greater ones. But Scripture meets this carnal thought; for a little earlier he says, "And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever." He will not, then, depart when the Father and the Son come, but will be in the same dwelling with them forever; for neither does he come without them, nor they without him. But for the sake of making the Trinity known, some things are said separately, with each person named on his own; yet they are not understood with the others separated from them, because of the unity of the same Trinity and the one substance and deity of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.

So our Lord Jesus Christ will hand over the kingdom to God the Father, without separating himself or the Holy Spirit from it, when he brings believers to the contemplation of God, where is the end of all good actions, everlasting rest, and joy that will never be taken from us. For he signifies this when he says: "I will see you again, and your heart will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you." Mary, sitting at the Lord's feet and intent on his word, foreshadowed a likeness of this joy: at rest, that is, from all action and intent on the truth in a certain way of which this life is capable, by which, however, she prefigured what is to be forever. For while her sister Martha was busy with the action of necessity, which, though good and useful, is yet to pass away when rest has succeeded it, she herself was resting in the word of the Lord. And so, when Martha complained that her sister was not helping her, the Lord answered: "Mary has chosen the best part, which will not be taken away from her." He did not call what Martha was doing a bad part; but he called this one the best, which will not be taken away. For the part that consists in ministering to need will be taken away when need itself has passed. For the reward of a good work that will pass away is a rest that will remain. In that contemplation, therefore, God will be all in all, because nothing other than he will be sought from him, but it will be enough to be enlightened by him alone and to enjoy him fully. And so he in whom the Spirit intercedes with groanings that cannot be uttered says, "One thing I have asked of the Lord, this will I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, that I may contemplate the delight of the Lord." For we shall contemplate God, the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, when the mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, has handed over the kingdom to God the Father, so that our mediator and priest, the Son of God and Son of Man, no longer intercedes for us; but he himself also, insofar as he is a priest, having taken the form of a servant for our sake, is subjected to him who subjected all things to him and to whom he subjected all things; so that insofar as he is God he has us subjected together with him, and insofar as he is priest he is subjected to him together with us. Therefore, since the Son is both God and man, the man is rather another substance in the Son than the Son is in the Father; just as the flesh of my soul is another substance in relation to my soul, though in one man, more than the soul of another man is in relation to my soul. When, then, he has handed over the kingdom to God the Father, that is, when he has brought those who believe and live by faith, for whom the mediator now intercedes, to the contemplation for whose attainment we sigh and groan, and when the labor and groaning have passed away, he will no longer intercede for us, the kingdom having been handed over to God the Father. Signifying this, he says: "I have said these things to you in likenesses; the hour will come when I will no longer speak to you in likenesses, but will tell you plainly of the Father"; that is, there will no longer be likenesses when the vision is face to face. For this is what he means by "but will tell you plainly of the Father," as if he said, "I will show you the Father plainly." For he says "I will tell" because he is his Word. For he goes on to say: "In that day you will ask in my name, and I do not say to you that I will ask the Father; for the Father himself loves you, because you have loved me and have believed that I came out from God. I came out from the Father and came into this world; again I am leaving the world and going to the Father." What is "I came out from the Father" but "I appeared not in the form in which I am equal to the Father, but otherwise, that is, as less, in the creature I took"? And what is "I came into this world" but "I showed the form of a servant, which I took when I emptied myself, even to the eyes of sinners who love this world"? And what is "Again I am leaving the world" but "I am taking away from the sight of the lovers of the world what they have seen"? And what is "I am going to the Father" but "I am teaching my faithful to understand me as I am equal to the Father"? Those who believe this will be counted worthy to be brought from faith to sight, that is, to the vision itself, and in bringing them there he is said to hand over the kingdom to God the Father. For his faithful, whom he redeemed with his blood, for whom he now intercedes, are called his kingdom; but then, making them cleave to himself there where he is equal to the Father, he will no longer ask the Father for them. "For the Father himself," he says, "loves you." For he asks by reason of that in which he is less than the Father; but by reason of that in which he is equal, he hears prayer together with the Father. Hence he certainly does not separate himself from what he said, "For the Father himself loves you"; but he makes it understood according to what I recalled above and have sufficiently shown: that very often each person in the Trinity is named in such a way that the others are understood there too. So, then, "For the Father himself loves you" is said in such a way that the Son and the Holy Spirit are understood as well: not that he does not love us now, he who did not spare his own Son but handed him over for us all; but God loves us as we shall be, not as we are. For such as he loves, such he keeps forever; and this will be when he who now intercedes for us has handed over the kingdom to God the Father, so that he no longer asks the Father, because the Father himself loves us. And by what merit, except that of faith, by which we believe before we see what is promised? For through it we shall come to sight, so that he may love us as such as he loves us that we may be, not such as he hates because we are, and exhorts and enables us not to wish to be so forever.

Therefore, once this rule for understanding the Scriptures about the Son of God is known, so that we distinguish what in them sounds according to the form of God, in which he is equal to the Father, and what according to the form of a servant which he took, in which he is less than the Father, we shall not be troubled by statements of the holy books that seem contrary and in conflict with one another. For according to the form of God both the Son and the Holy Spirit are equal to the Father, because neither of them is a creature, as we have already shown; but according to the form of a servant the Son is less than the Father, because he himself said, "The Father is greater than I"; he is less than himself, because it is said of him, "He emptied himself"; he is less than the Holy Spirit, because he himself says, "Whoever speaks blasphemy against the Son of Man, it will be forgiven him; but whoever speaks against the Holy Spirit, it will not be forgiven him." And it was in the Spirit that he worked mighty deeds, saying, "If I cast out demons by the Spirit of God, surely the kingdom of God has come upon you." And in Isaiah, in the reading which he himself read aloud in the synagogue and showed, without a trace of doubt, to be fulfilled in himself, he says, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me; he has sent me to preach good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the captives," and the rest; and for doing these things he says that he was sent for this reason, that the Spirit of the Lord is upon him. According to the form of God, all things were made through him; according to the form of a servant, he himself was made of a woman, made under the Law. According to the form of God, he and the Father are one; according to the form of a servant, he did not come to do his own will but the will of him who sent him. According to the form of God, "as the Father has life in himself, so he has granted the Son also to have life in himself"; according to the form of a servant, his soul is sorrowful even to death, and "Father," he says, "if it is possible, let this cup pass from me." According to the form of God, he is the true God and eternal life; according to the form of a servant, he became obedient to death, even death on a cross. According to the form of God, all things that the Father has are his, and "All mine are yours," he says, "and yours are mine"; according to the form of a servant, the teaching is not his own but that of him who sent him.

["But of that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven nor the Son, but only the Father" (Mark 13:32).] For he is ignorant of this in that he makes others ignorant of it; that is, he did not know it in such a way as to show it to the disciples at that time; as it was said to Abraham, "Now I know that you fear God," that is, "Now I have made you know it," because in that trial Abraham, being tested, came to know himself. For he was certainly going to tell this too to the disciples at the right time; speaking of that future as though it were past, he says, "I no longer call you servants, but friends. For the servant does not know the will of his master; but I have called you friends, because all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you"; which he had not yet done, but because he was certainly going to do it, he spoke as if he had already done it. For he says to them, "I have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now." Among these is understood also "the day and the hour." For the Apostle too says, "For I decided to know nothing among you except Christ Jesus, and him crucified." For he was speaking to those who could not grasp higher things about the deity of Christ. To them he also says a little later, "I could not speak to you as spiritual, but as carnal." Among them, then, he did not know what they could not know through him; and he said that he knew only what it was fitting for them to know through him. In short, he knew among the perfect what he did not know among little ones; for there he says, "We speak wisdom among the perfect." For by that manner of speaking a person is said not to know what he hides, by which a ditch that is hidden is called blind. For the Scriptures use no manner of speaking that is not found in human usage, since they certainly speak to human beings. According to the form of God it is said, "Before all the hills he begot me," that is, before all the heights of created things; and, "Before the morning star I begot you," that is, before all times and temporal things. But according to the form of a servant it is said, "The Lord created me in the beginning of his ways." For according to the form of God he said, "I am the truth"; and according to the form of a servant, "I am the way." For because he himself, the firstborn from the dead, made a way for his Church to the kingdom of God, to eternal life, being its head unto the immortality even of the body, therefore he was created in the beginning of the ways of God for his works. For according to the form of God he is the beginning, who also speaks to us, the beginning in which God made heaven and earth; but according to the form of a servant, "a bridegroom coming out of his chamber." According to the form of God, "the firstborn of every creature, and he is before all things, and in him all things hold together"; according to the form of a servant, "he is the head of the body, the Church." According to the form of God, he is the Lord of glory. From this it is plain that he himself glorifies his saints. For "those whom he predestined he also called; and those whom he called he also justified; and those whom he justified he also glorified." For of him it is said that he justifies the ungodly; of him it is said that he is just and the justifier. If, then, those whom he justified he also glorified, he who justifies also glorifies, he who is, as I said, the Lord of glory. Yet according to the form of a servant, when the disciples were busy about their own glorification, he answered: "To sit at my right hand or at my left is not mine to give you, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared by my Father." But what has been prepared by his Father has also been prepared by the Son himself, because he and the Father are one. For we have already shown, by many modes of divine speech, that in this Trinity what belongs to all is said even of each, because of the inseparable working of one and the same substance. So too he says of the Holy Spirit, "When I go, I will send him to you." He did not say, "We will send," but spoke as though the Son alone were to send him and not the Father; whereas in another place he says, "These things I have spoken to you while remaining with you; but the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will make all things plain to you." Here again it is said as though the Son were not to send him too, but only the Father. As with these, then, so also with what he says, "but for those for whom it has been prepared by my Father": he wished it to be understood that he, together with the Father, prepares seats of glory for whom he wills. But someone says: "There, when he was speaking of the Holy Spirit, he said that he would send him without denying that the Father would send him; and in the other place he spoke of the Father without denying that he himself would send him; but here he says openly, 'It is not mine to give,' and so went on to say that these things had been prepared by the Father." But this is what we laid down beforehand: that it was said according to the form of a servant, so that we should understand "It is not mine to give" as if it were said, "It is not in human power to give this," so that it may be understood that he gives it by that in which, as God, he is equal to the Father. "It is not mine," he says, "to give," that is, "I do not give these things by human power, but they are for those for whom it has been prepared by my Father; but now understand that if all that the Father has is mine, this too is certainly mine, and I have prepared these things together with the Father." For I also ask how it is said, "If anyone does not hear my words, I will not judge him." For perhaps he said, "I will not judge him," here in the same way as there, "It is not mine to give." But what follows here? "For I did not come to judge the world," he says, "but to save the world." Then he adds and says, "He who despises me and does not receive my words has one who judges him." Here we would now understand the Father, had he not added and said, "The word that I have spoken will itself judge him on the last day." What then? Will neither the Son judge now, since he said, "I will not judge him," nor the Father, but the word which the Son has spoken? Rather, hear further what follows: "For I," he says, "have not spoken from myself, but the Father who sent me has himself given me a commandment, what I should say and what I should speak; and I know that his commandment is eternal life. What I speak, therefore, I speak just as the Father has told me." If, then, the Son does not judge, but the word which the Son has spoken, and if the word which the Son has spoken judges for this reason, that the Son has not spoken from himself, but the Father who sent him gave him a commandment what he should say and what he should speak, then surely the Father judges, whose word it is that the Son has spoken; and the Word of the Father is himself the very Son. For the commandment of the Father is not one thing and the Word of the Father another; for he has called it both word and commandment. Let us see, then, whether by saying, "I have not spoken from myself," he perhaps wished this to be understood: "I was not born from myself." For if he speaks the Word of the Father, he speaks himself, since he is himself the Word of the Father. For he very often says, "The Father has given me," by which he wishes it to be understood that the Father begot him: not that he gave something to one already existing and not having it, but that to have given him to have is to have begotten him to be. For the Son of God, the only-begotten through whom all things were made, before the incarnation and before he took the creature, is not, as a creature is, one thing and has another; but he is the very thing that he has. This is said more plainly, if anyone is able to grasp it, in that place where he says, "As the Father has life in himself, so he has granted the Son to have life in himself." For he did not give him, as one already existing and not having life, to have life in himself, since by the very fact that he is, he is life. This, then, is "he has granted the Son to have life in himself": he begot the Son to be unchangeable life, which is eternal life. Since, then, the Word of God is the Son of God, and the Son of God is true God and eternal life, as John says in his Epistle, what else do we recognize here too, when the Lord says, "The word that I have spoken will itself judge him on the last day," and says that this word is the Father's word and the Father's commandment, and that commandment itself eternal life? "And I know," he says, "that his commandment is eternal life." I ask, therefore, how we are to understand "I will not judge, but the word that I have spoken will judge," which from what follows appears to be said as if he said, "I will not judge, but the Word of the Father will judge." But the Word of the Father is the Son of God himself. Are we, then, to understand it thus: "I will not judge, but I will judge"? How can this be true except in this way: "I, that is, will not judge by human power, because I am the Son of Man; but I will judge by the power of the Word, because I am the Son of God"? Or if "I will not judge, but I will judge" seem contrary and conflicting, what shall we say of that place where he says, "My teaching is not mine"? How is it mine, how not mine? For he did not say, "This teaching is not mine," but "My teaching is not mine": the same that he called his own he called not his own. How is this true unless he called it his own in one respect and not his own in another: his own according to the form of God, not his own according to the form of a servant? For when he says, "It is not mine, but his who sent me," he makes us go back to the Word itself. For the teaching of the Father is the Word of the Father, who is the only Son. What also does this mean: "He who believes in me does not believe in me"? How in him, how not in him? How can a saying so contrary and opposed to itself be understood, "He who believes in me," he says, "does not believe in me, but in him who sent me," unless you understand it thus: "He who believes in me does not believe in what he sees," so that our hope may not be in a creature, but in him who took the creature in which he might appear to human eyes, and so cleanse hearts by faith to contemplate him as equal to the Father? And so, in directing the attention of believers to the Father and saying, "does not believe in me, but in him who sent me," he certainly did not wish to be separated from the Father, that is, from him who sent him, but that he should be believed in just as the Father, to whom he is equal. He says this openly in another place: "Believe in God, believe also in me"; that is, "As you believe in God, so also in me, because I and the Father are one God." Just as here, then, he seemed to take men's faith away from himself and transfer it to the Father, saying, "does not believe in me, but in him who sent me," though he certainly did not separate himself from him, so also with what he says, "It is not mine to give, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared by my Father," I think it is clear in what respect each is to be taken. Such too is "I will not judge," though he himself is to judge the living and the dead; but because he will not judge by human power, he goes back to the deity and so lifts up the hearts of men, for whose raising up he came down.

Yet unless the same one were the Son of Man on account of the form of a servant which he took, who is the Son of God on account of the form of God in which he is, the apostle Paul would not say of the rulers of this age, "For if they had known, they would never have crucified the Lord of glory." For he was crucified in the form of a servant, and yet it was the Lord of glory who was crucified. For such was that taking up, which made God man and man God. Yet what is said on account of what, and what is said according to what, the prudent, diligent, and devout reader understands with the Lord's help. For see, we have said that according to that by which he is God he glorifies his own, that is, according to that by which he is the Lord of glory; and yet the Lord of glory was crucified, because God too is rightly said to have been crucified, not by the power of the divinity but by the weakness of the flesh. In the same way we say that according to that by which he is God he judges, that is, by divine power, not by human; and yet the man himself will judge, just as the Lord of glory was crucified. For so he says plainly: "When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then all nations will be gathered before him," and the rest that is foretold in that place about the coming judgment, up to the final sentence. And the Jews, those of them, that is, who persevere in malice and are to be punished in that judgment, "will look on him whom they pierced," as it is written elsewhere. For since both the good and the wicked will see the judge of the living and the dead, without doubt the wicked will not be able to see him except according to the form by which he is the Son of Man; yet in the brightness in which he will judge, not in the lowliness in which he was judged. But that form of God, in which he is equal to the Father, the ungodly will without doubt not see. For they are not pure in heart; and "blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." And that vision is face to face, which is promised to the righteous as the highest reward; and it will take place when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father, in which he wishes the vision of his own form also to be understood, the whole creation being subjected to God, including the very creature in which the Son of God was made the Son of Man. For according to this the Son himself will then be subjected to him who subjected all things to him, so that God may be all in all. Otherwise, if the Son of God as judge, in the form in which he is equal to the Father, will appear even to the ungodly when he is to judge, what is it that he promises as something great to the one who loves him, saying, "And I will love him and will show myself to him"? Therefore the Son of Man will judge, yet not by human power but by that by which he is the Son of God; and again the Son of God will judge, yet not appearing in that form in which he is God equal to the Father, but in that by which he is the Son of Man. And so both can be said: "The Son of Man will judge" and "The Son of Man will not judge": the Son of Man will judge, so that what he says may be true, "When the Son of Man comes, then all nations will be gathered before him"; and the Son of Man will not judge, so that what he says may be true, "I will not judge," and "I do not seek my own glory; there is one who seeks it and judges." For in this respect, that in the judgment not the form of God but the form of the Son of Man will appear, not even the Father himself will judge; for in this respect it is said, "The Father judges no one, but has given all judgment to the Son." Whether this is said in the manner of that expression we recalled above, where he says, "So he has granted the Son to have life in himself," to signify that he so begot the Son; or in the manner of that of which the Apostle speaks, saying, "Therefore he raised him up and gave him the name that is above every name." For this is said of the Son of Man, according to which the Son of God was raised from the dead. For he who in the form of God is equal to the Father, from the time he emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, in that very form of a servant both acts, and suffers, and receives what the Apostle goes on to set out in order: "He humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross; therefore God also exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of those in heaven, on earth, and under the earth, and every tongue confess that the Lord Jesus Christ is in the glory of God the Father." Whether, then, "has given all judgment to the Son" is said according to the former or according to the latter expression is clear enough from this: that if it were said in the sense in which it is said, "He has granted the Son to have life in himself," it would certainly not be said, "The Father judges no one." For in this respect, that the Father begot the Son equal to himself, he judges together with him. It is said, therefore, in this respect: that in the judgment not the form of God but the form of the Son of Man will appear. Not that he who has given all judgment to the Son will not judge, since the Son says of him, "There is one who seeks it and judges"; but "The Father judges no one, but has given all judgment to the Son" is said as if it were said, "No one will see the Father in the judgment of the living and the dead, but all will see the Son"; because he is also the Son of Man, so that he can be seen even by the ungodly, since they too will look on him whom they pierced. Lest we seem to conjecture this rather than to show it plainly, let us bring forward a certain and clear statement of the same Lord, by which we may show that this was the very reason he said, "The Father judges no one, but has given all judgment to the Son": because the judge will appear in the form of the Son of Man, which form is not the Father's but the Son's, and not that form of the Son in which he is equal to the Father, but that in which he is less than the Father, so that in the judgment he may be visible to both good and wicked. For a little later he says: "Truly I say to you, he who hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life, and does not come into judgment, but passes from death to life." This eternal life is that vision which does not belong to the wicked. Then it follows: "Truly, truly I say to you, the hour is coming, and now is, when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live." And this is proper to the godly, who so hear of his incarnation as to believe that he is the Son of God; that is, they so accept him, made for their sake less than the Father in the form of a servant, as to believe that he is equal to the Father in the form of God. And so it follows, and commending this very point he says: "For as the Father has life in himself, so he has granted the Son also to have life in himself." Then he comes to the vision of his brightness, in which he will come to judgment; and this vision will be common to the ungodly and the righteous. For it follows and he says: "And he has given him authority to execute judgment also, because he is the Son of Man." I think nothing is plainer. For because he is the Son of God, equal to the Father, he does not receive this authority to execute judgment, but has it with the Father in secret; but he receives it so that the good and the wicked may see him judging, because he is the Son of Man. For the sight of the Son of Man will be shown to the wicked too; but the sight of the form of God only to the pure in heart, for they shall see God; that is, only to the godly, to whose love he promises this very thing, that he will show himself to them. And so see what follows: "Do not marvel at this," he says. What does he forbid us to marvel at, except that at which everyone who does not understand does in fact marvel, that he should say the Father gave him authority to execute judgment also for this reason, that he is the Son of Man, when one might rather have expected him to say, "because he is the Son of God"? But since the wicked cannot see the Son of God according to that in which, in the form of God, he is equal to the Father, and yet it is necessary that both the righteous and the wicked should see the judge of the living and the dead when they are judged before him, "Do not marvel at this," he says, "for the hour is coming in which all who are in the tombs will hear his voice, and will come out, those who have done good to the resurrection of life, but those who have done evil to the resurrection of judgment." For this purpose, then, it was necessary that he should receive that authority for this reason, that he is the Son of Man, so that all who rise might see him in the form in which he can be seen by all, but some to condemnation, others to eternal life. And what is eternal life but that vision which is not granted to the ungodly? "That they may know you," he says, "the one true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent." And how know Jesus Christ himself, except as the one true God who will show himself to them, not as he will show himself, in the form of the Son of Man, even to those who are to be punished? According to that vision he is good, the vision in which God appears to the pure in heart; for "How good is the God of Israel to the upright in heart!" But when the wicked see the judge, he will not seem good to them, because they will not rejoice in heart toward him, but then "all the tribes of the earth will mourn," that is, in the number of all the wicked and unbelieving. For this reason too, to the man who had called him "good teacher" and asked his advice on gaining eternal life, he answered: "Why do you ask me about the good? No one is good but God alone"; although in another place the Lord himself calls a man good: "A good man," he says, "brings forth good things out of the good treasure of his heart, and an evil man brings forth evil things out of the evil treasure of his heart." But because that man was seeking eternal life, and eternal life is in that contemplation in which God is seen not to punishment but to everlasting joy, and he did not understand with whom he was speaking, thinking him only a son of man, he says, "Why do you ask me about the good?" that is: "Why do you ask this form that you see about the good, and call me, according to what you see, good teacher? This is the form of the Son of Man; this form was taken; this form will appear in the judgment, not only to the righteous but also to the ungodly; and the sight of this form will not be for the good of those who do evil. But there is a sight of my form in which, when I was in it, I did not think it robbery to be equal to God, but emptied myself in order to take this one." That one God, then, the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, who will not appear except to the joy that will not be taken from the righteous, for which future joy he sighs who says, "One thing I have asked of the Lord, this will I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, that I may contemplate the delight of the Lord"; that one God, then, alone is good, for this reason, that no one sees him to grief and lamentation, but only to salvation and true joy. "If you understand me according to that form, I am good; but if only according to this one, why do you ask me about the good?" if you are among those who "will look on him whom they pierced"; and that very sight will be an evil to them, because it will be a punishment. That the Lord said "Why do you ask me about the good? No one is good but God alone" in this sense is probable from the proofs I have recalled: because that vision of God, in which we shall contemplate the unchangeable substance of God, invisible to human eyes, which is promised to the saints alone; which the apostle Paul calls "face to face"; of which the apostle John says, "We shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is"; of which it is said, "One thing I have asked of the Lord, that I may contemplate the delight of the Lord"; of which the Lord himself says, "And I will love him and will show myself to him"; for the sake of which alone we cleanse our hearts by faith, that we may be blessed, the pure in heart, for they shall see God; and whatever else has been said of that vision, which anyone who turns the eye of love to seeking it finds scattered most abundantly through all the Scriptures; that vision alone is our highest good, for the sake of attaining which we are commanded to do whatever we rightly do. But that sight of the Son of Man which has been foretold, when all nations will be gathered before him and will say to him, "Lord, when did we see you hungry and thirsty?" and the rest, will neither be a good to the ungodly, who will be sent into the eternal fire, nor will it be the highest good for the righteous. For he still calls them to the kingdom that has been prepared for them from the foundation of the world. For as he will say to the former, "Go into the eternal fire," so to the latter, "Come, blessed of my Father, take possession of the kingdom prepared for you." And as the former will go into eternal burning, so the righteous into eternal life. And what is eternal life but "that they may know you," he says, "the one true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent"? But by then in that brightness of which he says to the Father, "which I had with you before the world was." For then he will hand over the kingdom to God the Father, so that the good servant may enter into the joy of his Lord, and he will hide those whom God possesses in the hiding place of his face from the disturbance of men, that is, of those who will then be disturbed on hearing that sentence. The righteous man will not fear that evil hearing, if only he is protected in the tabernacle, that is, in the right faith of the catholic Church, from the contradiction of tongues, that is, from the false charges of heretics. But if there is another understanding of the Lord's words when he says, "Why do you ask me about the good? No one is good but God alone," provided only that it is not believed on that account that the substance of the Father is of greater goodness than that of the Son, according to which he is the Word through whom all things were made, and it in no way departs from sound doctrine, let us use it without anxiety, and not one only but as many as can be found. For the heretics are the more forcibly refuted the more ways out lie open for escaping their snares. But let us now seek what still remains to be considered from another beginning.

Prologue. When people seek God and, as far as the weakness of human nature allows, direct their minds to understanding the Trinity, they experience laborious difficulties, whether in the very effort of the mind's eye trying to look upon light unapproachable, or in the manifold and varied speech of the sacred writings, in which, it seems to me, the soul is simply worn down so that, glorified by the grace of Christ, it may grow sweet. When, all ambiguity having been shaken off, they have arrived at something certain, they ought most readily to pardon those who err in investigating so great a secret. But there are two things that are most hard to bear in human error: presumption before the truth is clear, and, once it has become clear, the defense of the falsehood presumed. If God, as I pray and hope, defends me from these two faults, which are most hostile to the discovery of truth and to the handling of the divine and holy books, and fortifies me with the shield of his good will and the grace of his mercy, I will not be slow to inquire into the substance of God, whether through his Scripture or through his creation. Both of these are set before us to be contemplated for this purpose, that he himself may be sought and he himself loved who both inspired the one and created the other. Nor shall I be afraid to put forward my opinion, in which I shall rather love to be examined by the upright than fear to be bitten by the perverse. For most beautiful and most modest love gladly receives the dove's eye; but the dog's tooth either most cautious humility avoids or most solid truth blunts. And I shall rather wish to be blamed by anyone at all than to be praised either by one who errs or by one who flatters. For no critic is to be feared by a lover of truth. For the one who will criticize is either an enemy or a friend. If an enemy insults, he must be borne; but a friend, if he errs, must be taught; if he teaches, he must be listened to. But one who praises, if he errs, confirms error, and if he flatters, entices into error. "Let the righteous man correct me in mercy and reprove me; but let not the oil of the sinner anoint my head."

Therefore, although we hold most firmly concerning our Lord Jesus Christ the rule, as it were canonical, which is spread through the Scriptures and has been demonstrated by learned catholic interpreters of those same Scriptures, of how the Son of God is understood to be both equal to the Father according to the form of God in which he is, and less than the Father according to the form of a servant which he took (in which form he is found less not only than the Father but also than the Holy Spirit, and not only so, but even than himself, not than himself as he was, but than himself as he is, because by taking the form of a servant he did not lose the form of God, as the testimonies of the Scriptures recalled in the previous book have taught), yet there are certain things in the divine words so placed that it is ambiguous to which rule they should rather be referred: whether to that by which we understand the Son as less in the creature he took, or to that by which we understand that the Son is not indeed less but equal to the Father, yet that he is from him, God from God, light from light. For we call the Son God from God, but the Father only God, not from God. Hence it is plain that the Son has another from whom he is and to whom he is Son, while the Father has not a Son from whom he is, but only one to whom he is Father. For every son is from his father what he is, and is son to his father; but no father is from his son what he is, but is father to his son. Some things, then, are so set down in the Scriptures about the Father and the Son as to indicate the unity and equality of substance, such as "I and the Father are one," and "Being in the form of God, he did not think it robbery to be equal to God," and whatever others are of this kind. But some are set down so as to show the Son as less on account of the form of a servant, that is, on account of the creature of changeable human substance that he took, such as his saying, "For the Father is greater than I," and "The Father judges no one, but has given all judgment to the Son." For a little later he goes on to say, "And he has given him authority to execute judgment also, because he is the Son of Man." And again some are set down so that he is shown neither less nor equal, but it is only intimated that he is from the Father, as is this: "As the Father has life in himself, so he has granted the Son to have life in himself"; and this: "For the Son can do nothing of himself, except what he sees the Father doing." If we take this to be said because the Son is less in the form taken from the creature, it will follow that the Father first walked on the waters, or opened the eyes of some other man born blind with spittle and clay, and did the other things that the Son did when he appeared among men in the flesh, so that he could do them who said that the Son can do nothing of himself except what he sees the Father doing. But who, even if out of his mind, would think so? It remains, then, that these things are said because the life of the Son is unchangeable like that of the Father, and yet is from the Father; and the working of the Father and the Son is inseparable, yet the Son's so working is from him from whom he himself is, that is, from the Father; and the Son so sees the Father that by the very fact that he sees him he is the Son. For to him to be from the Father, that is, to be born of the Father, is nothing other than to see the Father; nor is seeing him working anything other than working equally with him. But he works not of himself, because he is not of himself. And therefore whatever things he sees the Father doing, the Son also does the same things likewise, because he is from the Father. For he does not do other things likewise, as a painter paints other pictures in the way he sees others painted by someone else; nor the same things in a different way, as the body forms the same letters that the mind has thought; but "whatever the Father does," he says, "the Son also does the same things likewise." He said both "the same things" and "likewise"; and therefore the working of the Father and the Son is inseparable and equal, but it is from the Father to the Son. That is why the Son can do nothing of himself except what he sees the Father doing. From this rule, then, by which the Scriptures so speak as to wish to show not that one is less than another but only who is from whom, some have conceived the idea that the Son was being called less. But certain of our own people, less learned and very little instructed in these matters, are troubled when they try to take these things according to the form of a servant and the right understanding does not follow. To prevent this, this rule must be held, by which it is intimated not that the Son is less but that he is from the Father; by which words not his inequality but his birth is shown.

There are, then, as I had begun to say, certain things in the holy books so placed that it is ambiguous to which they should be referred: whether to the fact that the Son is less on account of the creature he took, or to the fact that, though equal, it is indicated that he is from the Father. And it seems to me that if it is ambiguous in such a way that it cannot be unravelled and decided, it can be understood without danger according to either rule; such as his saying, "My teaching is not mine, but his who sent me." For it can be taken according to the form of a servant, as we have already treated it in the previous book, and according to the form of God, in which he is so equal to the Father that he is nonetheless from the Father. For in the form of God, just as the Son is not one thing and his life another, but the Son is life itself, so the Son is not one thing and his teaching another, but the Son is teaching itself. And therefore, just as what is said, "he has granted the Son life," is understood as nothing other than "he begot the Son, who is life," so also when it is said, "he has given the Son teaching," it is rightly understood as "he begot the Son, who is teaching"; so that what is said, "My teaching is not mine, but his who sent me," may be understood as if it were said, "I am not from myself, but from him who sent me."

For of the Holy Spirit too, of whom it is not said, "He emptied himself, taking the form of a servant," the Lord himself nonetheless says: "But when that Spirit of truth comes, he will teach you all truth. For he will not speak of himself, but whatever he hears he will speak, and he will announce to you the things that are to come. He will glorify me, because he will receive of mine and announce it to you." After these words, had he not immediately gone on to say, "All things that the Father has are mine; that is why I said, 'He will receive of mine and announce it to you,'" it might perhaps have been believed that the Holy Spirit was born of Christ as Christ was of the Father. For of himself he had said, "My teaching is not mine, but his who sent me"; and of the Holy Spirit, "For he will not speak of himself, but whatever he hears he will speak," and "because he will receive of mine and announce it to you." But since he gave the reason why he said, "he will receive of mine" (for he says, "All things that the Father has are mine; that is why I said, 'He will receive of mine'"), it remains that the Holy Spirit too is understood to have from the Father, as the Son does. How, except according to what we said above: "But when the Paraclete comes, whom I will send you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who proceeds from the Father, he will bear witness about me"? It is by proceeding from the Father, then, that he is said not to speak of himself. And just as it does not follow that the Son is less because he said, "The Son can do nothing of himself, except what he sees the Father doing" (for he did not say this according to the form of a servant but according to the form of God, as we have already shown, and these words indicate not that he is less but that he is from the Father), so it does not follow from this that the Holy Spirit is less, because it is said of him, "For he will not speak of himself, but whatever he hears he will speak"; for this is said according to the fact that he proceeds from the Father. But since both the Son is from the Father and the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father, why both are not called sons, nor both begotten, but the one is the only-begotten Son and the other the Holy Spirit, neither son nor begotten (since if begotten, then certainly a son), we shall discuss in another place, if God grants it and as far as he grants it.

Here, however, let those wake up, if they can, who have thought that this too supports them, as if it showed that the Father is greater than the Son, because the Son said, "Father, glorify me." See, the Holy Spirit also glorifies him: is he too, then, greater than he? Moreover, if the Holy Spirit glorifies the Son because he will receive of the Son's, and he will receive of his because all things that the Father has are his, it is plain that when the Holy Spirit glorifies the Son, the Father glorifies the Son. From this it is known that all things that the Father has belong not only to the Son but also to the Holy Spirit, since the Holy Spirit is able to glorify the Son, whom the Father glorifies. But if he who glorifies is greater than him whom he glorifies, let them allow that those who glorify one another are equal. And it is written that the Son also glorifies the Father: "I have glorified you on earth," he says. Let them indeed beware lest the Holy Spirit be thought greater than both, because he glorifies the Son whom the Father glorifies, while it is not written that he himself is glorified either by the Father or by the Son.

But, refuted on these points, they turn to this, saying: "He who sends is greater than he who is sent. Therefore the Father is greater than the Son, because the Son constantly recalls that he was sent by the Father; and he is greater than the Holy Spirit too, because Jesus said of him, 'whom the Father will send in my name.' And the Holy Spirit is less than both, because both the Father sends him, as we have recalled, and the Son, when he says, 'But if I go away, I will send him to you.'" In this question I first ask from where and to where the Son was sent. "I came out from the Father," he says, "and came into this world." To come out from the Father and come into this world, then, is to be sent. What, then, is it that the same evangelist says of him: "He was in this world, and the world was made through him, and the world did not know him"? Then he adds, "He came to his own." He was certainly sent to where he came; but if he was sent into this world because he came out from the Father and came into this world, and he was in this world, then he was sent to where he was. For also what is written in the prophet, that God says, "I fill heaven and earth": if it is said of the Son (for some wish it to be understood that he himself spoke either to the prophets or in the prophets), to where was he sent except to where he was? For he who says, "I fill heaven and earth," was everywhere. But if it is said of the Father, where could he be without his Word and without his Wisdom, which "reaches mightily from end to end and orders all things sweetly"? But neither could he be anywhere without his Spirit. So if God is everywhere, his Spirit too is everywhere. The Holy Spirit too, then, was sent to where he was. For he too who found no place to go from the face of God, and says, "If I ascend into heaven, you are there; if I descend into hell, you are present," wishing God to be understood as present everywhere, named his Spirit first. For he speaks thus: "Where shall I go from your Spirit? And where shall I flee from your face?" Therefore, if both the Son and the Holy Spirit are sent to where they were, we must ask how this sending is to be understood, whether of the Son or of the Holy Spirit. For the Father alone is nowhere read of as sent. And of the Son the Apostle writes thus: "But when the fullness of time came, God sent his Son, made of a woman, made under the Law, to redeem those who were under the Law." "He sent," he says, "his Son, made of a woman." What catholic does not know that by this name he wished to signify not the loss of virginity but the difference of sex, after the Hebrew manner of speaking? So when he says, "God sent his Son, made of a woman," he shows clearly enough that the Son was sent by the very fact that he was made of a woman. Insofar, then, as he was born of God, he was in this world; but insofar as he was born of Mary, he came, sent, into this world. Accordingly he could not be sent by the Father without the Holy Spirit: not only because it is understood that when the Father sent him, that is, made him of a woman, he certainly did not make him without his Spirit, but also because it is said most plainly and openly in the Gospel to the Virgin Mary when she asked the angel, "How will this be?": "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you"; and Matthew says, "She was found to be with child of the Holy Spirit." And in the prophet Isaiah, too, Christ himself is understood to say of his future coming, "And now the Lord has sent me, and his Spirit." Perhaps someone may press us to say that the Son was sent by himself as well, since that conception and birth from Mary is the work of the Trinity, by whose creating all things are created. "And how then," he says, "did the Father send him, if he sent himself?" To him I answer first by asking him to tell me, if he can, how the Father sanctified him, if he sanctified himself? For the same Lord says both: "Whom the Father," he says, "sanctified and sent into the world, do you say, 'You are blaspheming,' because I said, 'I am the Son of God'?" And in another place he says: "And for them I sanctify myself." Again I ask how the Father handed him over, if he handed himself over? For the apostle Paul says both: "He who did not spare his own Son," he says, "but handed him over for us all"; and elsewhere he says of the Savior himself, "who loved me and handed himself over for me." He will answer, I think, if he thinks rightly about these things, that there is one will of the Father and the Son and an inseparable working. Let him understand in the same way that the incarnation and birth from the Virgin, in which the Son is understood to have been sent, was done inseparably by one and the same working of the Father and the Son, the Holy Spirit certainly not being separated from it, of whom it is plainly said, "She was found to be with child of the Holy Spirit." For if we ask in this way, perhaps what we are saying will appear more clearly: How did God send his Son? Did he command him to come, and did he come in obedience to the one commanding? Or did he ask him, or only advise him? But whichever of these it was, it was certainly done by a word; and the Word of God is the Son of God himself. Therefore, since the Father sent him by a word, it was done by the Father and his Word that he was sent. Therefore the same Son was sent by the Father and the Son, because the Son himself is the Word of the Father. For who would clothe himself in so sacrilegious an opinion as to think that a temporal word was made by the Father so that the eternal Son might be sent and appear in the flesh in time? But surely in the very Word of God, which was in the beginning with God and was God, in the very Wisdom of God, that is, there was, without time, the time at which that Wisdom ought to appear in the flesh. So, since without any beginning of time the Word was in the beginning, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God, there was without any time in the Word himself the time at which the Word would become flesh and dwell among us. When this fullness of time had come, God sent his Son, made of a woman, that is, made in time, so that the incarnate Word might appear to men; and in the Word himself it was, without time, in what time this should be done. For the order of times is without time in the eternal Wisdom of God. So, since this was done by the Father and the Son, that the Son should appear in the flesh, he who appeared in that flesh is fittingly said to have been sent, and he who did not appear in it to have sent. For the things that are done outwardly before bodily eyes come into being from the inner preparation of the spiritual nature, and therefore they are fittingly said to be sent. Moreover, that form of the man who was taken is the person of the Son, not also of the Father. Therefore the invisible Father, together with the Son, who with him is invisible, is said to have sent the Son by making him visible. If the Son had become visible in such a way as to cease to be invisible with the Father, that is, if the invisible substance of the Word had been changed and turned, passing over into a visible creature, then the Son would be understood to have been sent by the Father in such a way that he would be found only sent, not also sending together with the Father. But since the form of a servant was so taken that the form of God remained unchangeable, it is plain that what appeared in the Son was done by the Father and the Son, who did not appear; that is, that the same Son, made visible, was sent by the invisible Father together with the invisible Son. Why, then, does he say, "And I have not come of myself"? This is said according to the form of a servant, according to which it is said, "I judge no one." If, then, he is said to be sent insofar as he appeared outwardly in a bodily creature, who inwardly in his spiritual nature is always hidden from the eyes of mortals, it is now easy to understand why the Holy Spirit too is said to be sent. For a certain form of creature was made in time in which the Holy Spirit might be shown visibly, whether when he descended upon the Lord himself in bodily form like a dove, or when, ten days after his ascension, on the day of Pentecost, there came suddenly from heaven a sound as of a mighty wind rushing, and there appeared to them divided tongues as of fire, which also rested on each one of them. This working, visibly expressed and offered to mortal eyes, was called the sending of the Holy Spirit: not that his very substance might appear, in which he too is invisible and unchangeable, like the Father and the Son, but that human hearts, moved by outward sights, might be turned from the temporal manifestation of him who comes to the hidden eternity of him who is always present.

And it is nowhere written that God the Father is greater than the Holy Spirit, or the Holy Spirit less than God the Father, for this reason: the creature in which the Holy Spirit appeared was not taken up in the way in which the Son of Man was taken up, the form in which the person of the Word of God himself was presented; not so that he might have the Word of God, as other holy and wise men have, but above his fellows; not, certainly, in that he had the Word more fully, so as to be of more excellent wisdom than the rest, but in that he was the Word himself. For the Word in flesh is one thing, the Word flesh another; that is, the Word in a man is one thing, the Word man another. For "flesh" is put for "man" where he says, "The Word became flesh"; as also in this: "And all flesh shall see the salvation of God together." For not without soul or without mind; but "all flesh" is said as if it were said "every man." The creature, then, in which the Holy Spirit appeared was not taken up in the way in which that flesh and that human form from the Virgin Mary was taken up. For the Spirit did not beatify the dove, or that wind, or that fire, and join it to himself and to his person in unity and union forever. Nor, on the other hand, is the nature of the Holy Spirit changeable and convertible, so that these things were not made from the creature, but he himself was changeably turned into this and that, as water into ice. But these things appeared as they ought to appear at the fitting time, the creature serving the Creator, and, at the bidding of him who remains unchangeable in himself, being changed and turned in order to signify and show him, as it was fitting that he should be signified and shown to mortals. Accordingly, although that dove is called the Spirit, and of that fire, when it was said, "There appeared to them divided tongues as of fire, which rested on each one of them, and they began to speak in tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance," this was said to show that the Spirit was manifested by that fire as by the dove; yet we cannot say that the Holy Spirit is both God and a dove, or both God and fire, in the way we say that the Son is both God and man; nor in the way we call the Son the Lamb of God, not only because John the Baptist says, "Behold the Lamb of God," but also because John the evangelist sees the Lamb that was slain in the Apocalypse. For that prophetic vision was not presented to bodily eyes through bodily forms, but in the spirit through spiritual images of bodies. But that dove and that fire, whoever saw them saw with their eyes. Although it can be debated about the fire whether it was seen with the eyes or in the spirit, because of the words used. For it does not say, "They saw divided tongues as of fire," but "There appeared to them." And we do not usually say "It appeared to me" in the same sense in which we say "I saw." And in those spiritual visions of bodily images it is usual to say both "It appeared to me" and "I saw"; but in those things that are shown to the eyes in a distinct bodily form, it is not usual to say "It appeared to me," but "I saw." So there can be a question about that fire, how it was seen: whether inwardly in the spirit as though outwardly, or truly outwardly before the eyes of the flesh. But of that dove, which is said to have descended in bodily form, no one has ever doubted that it was seen with the eyes. Nor can we call the Spirit a dove or fire in the way in which we call the Son a rock (for it is written, "And the rock was Christ"). For that rock already existed in creation, and by way of its function it was called by the name of Christ, whom it signified; like that stone which Jacob, having placed it at his head, also took up with anointing to signify the Lord; as Isaac was Christ when he carried the wood for his own sacrifice. A certain signifying action was added to these things, which already existed; but they did not, like that dove and fire, suddenly come into being only to signify these things. These seem to me more like the flame that appeared to Moses in the bush, and that pillar which the people followed in the desert, and the lightnings and thunders that occurred when the Law was given on the mountain. For the bodily appearance of those things came into being for this purpose, to signify something and pass away.

It is on account of these bodily forms, then, which came into being in time to signify him and to show him as was fitting for human senses, that the Holy Spirit too is said to be sent; yet he is not said to be less than the Father, as the Son is on account of the form of a servant, because that form of a servant clung to him in the unity of person, whereas those bodily appearances appeared for a time to show what was needed, and afterward ceased to be. Why, then, is the Father not also said to be sent through those bodily appearances, the fire of the bush, the pillar of cloud or of fire, the lightnings on the mountain, and whatever such things appeared then, when, as we learn from the testimony of Scripture, he spoke face to face with the fathers, if it was he himself who was shown through those modes and forms of the creature, bodily expressed and presented to human sight? But if it was the Son who was shown through them, why is he said to be sent so long afterward, when he was made of a woman, as the Apostle says, "But when the fullness of time came, God sent his Son, made of a woman," since he was being sent before too, when he appeared to the fathers through those changeable forms of the creature? Or if he could not rightly be said to be sent except when the Word became flesh, why is the Holy Spirit said to be sent, of whom no such incorporation took place? But if through those visible things that are commended in the Law and the Prophets neither the Father nor the Son but the Holy Spirit was shown, why is he too now said to be sent, when he was being sent in those ways before as well? In the perplexity of this question, with the Lord's help, we must first ask whether it was the Father, or the Son, or the Holy Spirit; or sometimes the Father, sometimes the Son, sometimes the Holy Spirit; or, without any distinction of persons, as God is called one and only, that is, the Trinity itself, that appeared to the fathers through those forms of the creature. Then, whichever of these is found or seen to be so, whether a creature was formed only for this work, in which God might be shown to human sight as he then judged fitting; or whether angels, who already existed, were sent in such a way as to speak in the person of God, taking a bodily appearance from bodily creation for the use of their ministry, as each case required, or changing and turning their own body, to which they are not subject but which they rule as subject to them, into whatever appearances they wished, suited and fit for their actions, according to the power given them by the Creator. Finally we shall see what we had set out to ask: whether the Son and the Holy Spirit were sent before as well; and if they were sent, what difference there is between that sending and the one we read of in the Gospel; or whether neither of them was sent except when either the Son was made of the Virgin Mary or the Holy Spirit appeared in visible form, whether in the dove or in the fiery tongues.

Let us set aside, then, those who have thought, in too carnal a way, that the nature of the Word of God and the Wisdom, which, "remaining in itself, renews all things," whom we call the only Son of God, is not only changeable but even visible. For they have brought a very gross heart to the inquiry into divine things, with more boldness than reverence. For the soul, since it is a spiritual substance, and since it too was made, and could not have been made through any other than him through whom all things were made and without whom nothing was made, although it is changeable, is still not visible; yet this is what they have believed of the Word himself and the very Wisdom of God, through whom the soul was made, although it is not only invisible, as the soul also is, but also unchangeable, which the soul is not. For that same unchangeableness of Wisdom was recalled when it was said, "Remaining in itself, it renews all things." And these people, trying to prop up the ruin of their error, as it were, with testimonies of the divine Scriptures, bring in a saying of the apostle Paul, and take what is said of the one only God, in whom the Trinity itself is understood, to be said only of the Father, not also of the Son and the Holy Spirit: "Now to the King of the ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory for ever and ever"; and that other one, "The blessed and only Sovereign, the King of kings and Lord of lords, who alone has immortality and dwells in light unapproachable, whom no man has seen or can see." How these are to be understood I think we have already discussed sufficiently.

But those who want these texts to be taken not of the Son nor of the Holy Spirit but only of the Father say that the Son was visible not only through the flesh taken from the Virgin but also before that, through himself. "For he himself," they say, "appeared to the eyes of the fathers." If you say to them, "Then, as the Son is visible through himself, so let him also be mortal through himself, so that you may establish that 'who alone has immortality' is to be understood only of the Father, as you wish; for if the Son is mortal on account of the flesh he took, allow him on account of it also to be visible," they answer that it is not on account of the flesh that they call the Son mortal, but that, as he was visible before, so he was also mortal before. For if they say that the Son is mortal on account of the flesh, then the Father without the Son does not alone have immortality, since his Word too, through whom all things were made, has immortality. For he did not lose his immortality because he took mortal flesh, since not even the human soul could suffer this, to die with the body, as the Lord himself says, "Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul." Or else the Holy Spirit too took flesh; about whom they will certainly be troubled, if the Son is mortal on account of the flesh, as to how they are to accept that the Father alone, without the Son and without the Holy Spirit, has immortality, since the Holy Spirit did not take flesh. If he does not have immortality, then the Son is not mortal on account of the flesh; but if the Holy Spirit has immortality, then "who alone has immortality" is not said of the Father only. Hence they think they can prove that the Son was mortal through himself even before the incarnation, because changeableness itself is not unfittingly called mortality, according to which the soul too is said to die: not because it is changed and turned into a body or into some other substance, but whatever in its own substance is now otherwise than it was is found to be mortal in that it has ceased to be what it was. "Because, then," they say, "before the Son of God was born of the Virgin Mary he appeared to our fathers, not in one and the same appearance but in many forms, now in one way and now in another, he is both visible through himself, since, before he took flesh, his substance was perceptible to mortal eyes, and mortal, insofar as he is changeable; and so too the Holy Spirit, who appeared at one time as a dove, at another as fire. Hence," they say, "it is not the Trinity, but singly and properly the Father alone, to whom what is said is fitting: 'to the immortal, invisible, only God,' and 'who alone has immortality and dwells in light unapproachable, whom no man has seen or can see.'" Setting these people aside, then, who have not been able to know even that the substance of the soul is invisible, so that it was far from them to know that the substance of the one and only God, that is, of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, remains not only invisible but also unchangeable, and therefore abides in true and genuine immortality, let us, who say that God, neither the Father nor the Son nor the Holy Spirit, never appeared to bodily eyes except through a bodily creature subject to his power, inquire in catholic peace and with peaceable zeal, ready to be corrected if we are rebuked in a brotherly and right way, ready even if we are bitten by an enemy who nonetheless speaks the truth, whether God appeared to our fathers before Christ came in the flesh without distinction of persons, or some person of the Trinity, or the persons one by one, as it were in turn.

And first, as regards what is written in Genesis, that God spoke with the man whom he had formed from clay: if we treat these things, setting aside the figurative meaning, so as to hold faith in the event even according to the letter, God seems to have spoken then with the man in the appearance of a man. This is not indeed stated expressly in the book, but the context of the reading suggests it, above all where it is written that Adam heard the voice of God walking in paradise in the evening and hid himself in the midst of the trees that were in paradise, and when God said, "Adam, where are you?" answered, "I heard your voice, and I hid myself from your face, because I am naked." For I do not see how such a walking and conversation of God can be understood according to the letter except in human appearance. For it cannot be said that only a voice was made where God is said to have walked, or that he who was walking in a place was not visible, since Adam too says that he hid himself from the face of God. Who, then, was he? The Father, or the Son, or the Holy Spirit? Or was it altogether God without distinction, the Trinity itself, speaking to the man in the form of a man? The connection of the Scripture itself is nowhere felt to pass from person to person; but he seems to speak to the first man who said, "Let there be light," and "Let there be a firmament," and the rest through each of those days; and we usually take him to be God the Father, saying that whatever he wished to make should be made. For he made all things through his Word, and we know, according to the right rule of faith, that his Word is his only Son. If, then, God the Father spoke to the first man, and he himself was walking in paradise in the evening, and it was from his face that the sinner hid himself in the midst of the trees of paradise, why should he not be understood also to have appeared to Abraham and Moses, and to whom he wished and as he wished, through a changeable and visible creature subject to him, while he himself remains, in himself and in his substance, by which he is unchangeable and invisible? But it could be that the Scripture passed secretly from person to person, and that after relating that the Father said, "Let there be light," and the other things that he is recorded to have made through the Word, it was now indicating that the Son was speaking to the first man, not explaining this openly but intimating it to be understood by those who could. Whoever, then, has the strength to penetrate this secret with the eye of the mind, so that it appears clearly to him either that the Father too can appear to human eyes through a visible creature, or that only the Son and the Holy Spirit can, let him proceed to search into these things, and if he can, to express them in words and treat them. Yet the matter, as far as this testimony of Scripture where God spoke with man is concerned, is, I think, hidden; for it does not evidently appear even whether Adam was accustomed to see God with bodily eyes, especially since it is a great question what kind of eyes were opened to them when they tasted the forbidden food; for before they tasted, these were closed. Yet I would not rashly say that, if that Scripture implies that paradise was a certain bodily place, God could in no way have walked there except in some bodily form. For it can be said that only voices were made, which the man heard without seeing any form; nor, because it is written, "Adam hid himself from the face of God," does it follow at once that he was accustomed to see his face. For what if he himself could not indeed see, but feared to be seen by him whose voice he had heard and whose presence, as he walked, he had felt? For Cain too said to God, "I will hide myself from your face," and we are not therefore compelled to admit that he was accustomed to behold the face of God with bodily eyes in some visible form, though he had heard the voice questioning him about his crime and speaking with him. But what kind of speech God then sounded in the outward ears of men, especially when speaking to the first man, is both hard to find and not what we have undertaken in this discussion. Yet if only voices and sounds were made, by which a certain perceptible presence of God was given to those first human beings, I do not know why I should not understand there the person of God the Father, since his person is shown both in that voice when Jesus appeared shining on the mountain before three disciples, and in that one when the dove descended on him after his baptism, and in that one where he cried to the Father about his glorification and was answered, "I have both glorified it, and will glorify it again." Not that the voice could be made without the work of the Son and the Holy Spirit (for the Trinity works inseparably), but that the voice was made which would show the person of the Father alone; just as the Trinity worked that human form from the Virgin Mary, yet it is the person of the Son alone; for the invisible Trinity worked the visible person of the Son alone. Nor does anything prevent us from understanding those voices made to Adam as not only made by the Trinity but also as showing the person of that same Trinity. For there we are compelled to take it as the Father's alone where it is said, "This is my beloved Son." For Jesus cannot be believed or understood to be the son of the Holy Spirit too, or his own son. And where it sounded, "I have both glorified it, and will glorify it again," we confess only the person of the Father. For it is an answer to that saying of the Lord in which he had said, "Father, glorify your Son," which he could say only to God the Father, not also to the Holy Spirit, whose son he was not. But here, where it is written, "And the Lord God said to Adam," nothing can be said why the Trinity itself should not be understood. Likewise also what is written, "And the Lord said to Abraham: Go out from your land, and from your kindred, and from your father's house": it is not plain whether only a voice was made to the ears of Abraham or something also appeared to his eyes. A little later, however, it is said somewhat more openly, "And the Lord appeared to Abraham and said to him: To your seed I will give this land." But neither there is it stated in what appearance the Lord appeared to him, or whether it was the Father, or the Son, or the Holy Spirit who appeared to him. Unless perhaps they think it was the Son who appeared to Abraham because it is not written, "God appeared to him," but "the Lord appeared to him." For the Son seems to be called Lord in a proper sense, as the Apostle says, "For although there are those who are called gods, whether in heaven or on earth, as there are many gods and many lords, yet for us there is one God, the Father, from whom are all things, and we in him; and one Lord Jesus Christ, through whom are all things, and we through him." But since God the Father too is found called Lord in many places, as in this, "The Lord said to me: You are my Son, today I have begotten you," and in this, "The Lord said to my Lord: Sit at my right hand"; and since the Holy Spirit too is found called Lord, where the Apostle says, "Now the Lord is the Spirit" (and lest anyone should think that the Son was meant, and called spirit on account of his incorporeal substance, he went on to add, "And where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom," and no one will doubt that the Spirit of the Lord is the Holy Spirit), neither here, then, does it evidently appear whether it was some person of the Trinity or God himself, the Trinity, of whom as one God it is said, "You shall worship the Lord your God, and him only shall you serve," who appeared to Abraham. But under the oak of Mamre he saw three men, whom he invited, received as guests, and served as they ate. Yet Scripture began to narrate that event in such a way as not to say, "Three men appeared to him," but "The Lord appeared to him." And then, explaining in consequence how the Lord appeared to him, it adds the narrative of the three men, whom Abraham invites in the plural to receive them as guests, and afterward addresses in the singular as one; and as one he promises him a son by Sarah, the one whom Scripture calls Lord, as at the beginning of the same narrative: "The Lord appeared," it says, "to Abraham." So he invites them, washes their feet, and escorts them as they leave, as men; but he speaks as with the Lord God, whether when a son is promised to him or when the impending destruction of Sodom is made known to him.

This passage of Scripture demands no small or passing consideration. For if one man had appeared, then those who say that the Son was visible through his own substance even before he was born of the Virgin would cry out that it was he and no other. "For of the Father," they say, "it is said, 'to the invisible, only God.'" And yet I could still ask how, before he took flesh, he was "found in fashion as a man," since his feet were washed and he ate a human meal. How could this happen while he was still in the form of God, not thinking it robbery to be equal to God? For had he already emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, made in the likeness of men and found in fashion as a man, when we know when he did this, namely by the Virgin's childbearing? How, then, before he had done this, did he appear to Abraham as one man? Or was that form not real? I could ask these things if one man had appeared to Abraham and he were believed to be the Son of God. But since three men were seen, and none of them is said to be greater than the others in form, or age, or power, why should we not take it that here the equality of the Trinity was visibly intimated through a visible creature, and in three persons one and the same substance? For lest anyone should think that one of the three was intimated in this way to be greater, and that he was to be understood as the Lord, the Son of God, and the other two as his angels, because, though three were seen, Abraham there speaks to one Lord, holy Scripture did not fail to meet such future thoughts and opinions by contradicting them, when a little later it says that two angels came to Lot, in whom that righteous man too, who deserved to be delivered from the burning of Sodom, speaks to one Lord. For so the Scripture goes on, saying: "And the Lord went away when he had finished speaking to Abraham, and Abraham returned to his place."

Here we must consider more attentively what I have set out to show. Abraham was certainly speaking with three, and he called him Lord in the singular. Someone may say: "He recognized one of the three as Lord, and the other two as his angels." What, then, does the Scripture mean when it goes on to say, "And the Lord went away when he had finished speaking to Abraham, and Abraham returned to his place; and the two angels came to Sodom in the evening"? Had that one, perhaps, who was recognized as Lord among the three, gone away, and sent the two angels who were with him to destroy Sodom? Let us look, then, at what follows. "The two angels," it says, "came to Sodom in the evening. And Lot was sitting at the gate of Sodom. And when Lot saw them, he rose up to meet them and bowed down with his face to the ground and said: Behold, my lords, turn aside into your servant's house." Here it is plain both that there were two angels, and that they were invited as guests in the plural, and that they were honorably called lords, when perhaps they were thought to be men. But again it is puzzling: for unless they were recognized as angels of God, Lot would not bow down with his face to the ground. Why, then, are both lodging and food offered to them as to those in need of such human kindness? But whatever lies hidden here, let us now pursue what we have undertaken. Two appear; both are called angels; they are invited in the plural; he speaks with them as with two, in the plural, until they leave Sodom. Then the Scripture goes on and says: "And it came to pass, when they had brought them out, that they said: Save your life; do not look back, and do not stop in all this region; go to the mountain, and there you will be saved, lest you be overtaken. And Lot said to them: I pray, Lord, since your servant has found mercy before you," and so on. What is this, that he said to them, "I pray, Lord," if he who was the Lord had already departed and sent the angels? Why is it said, "I pray, Lord," and not "I pray, lords"? Or if he wished to address one of them, why does the Scripture say, "And Lot said to them: I pray, Lord, since your servant has found mercy before you"? Do we here too understand two persons in the plural number, but, when the same two are addressed as one, one Lord God of one substance? But what two persons do we understand here? The Father and the Son, or the Father and the Holy Spirit, or the Son and the Holy Spirit? Perhaps the last I mentioned is more fitting. For they said that they had been sent, which we say of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. For nowhere in the Scriptures do we come across the Father as sent.

But when Moses was sent to lead the people of Israel out of Egypt, it is written that the Lord appeared to him thus: "He was feeding the sheep of Jethro his father-in-law, the priest of Midian, and he drove the sheep into the desert and came to the mountain of God, Horeb. And the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a flame of fire out of the bush. And he saw that fire was burning in the bush, but the bush was not consumed. And Moses said: I will go and see this sight, which I have seen so great, that the bush is not consumed. So when the Lord saw that he came to see, the Lord called him out of the bush, saying: I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob." Here too he is first called the angel of the Lord, then God. Is an angel, then, the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob? It can rightly be understood, then, as the Savior himself, of whom the Apostle says: "Whose are the fathers, and from whom is Christ according to the flesh, who is God over all, blessed for ever." He, then, who is God over all, blessed for ever, is not absurdly understood here too to be the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. But why was he first called the angel of the Lord, when he appeared out of the bush in a flame of fire? Was it because he was one of many angels, but by a dispensation bore the person of his Lord? Or had something of the creature been taken up that would appear visibly for the business at hand, and from which voices might be uttered perceptibly, by which the presence of the Lord might be shown, through a subject creature, even to the bodily senses of man, as was fitting? For if he was one of the angels, who could easily affirm whether the person of the Son was laid on him to announce, or of the Holy Spirit, or of God the Father, or of the Trinity itself altogether, which is the one and only God, so that he should say, "I am the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob"? For we cannot say that the Son of God is the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, and that the Father is not; nor will anyone dare to deny that the Holy Spirit, or the Trinity itself, which we believe and understand to be one God, is the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. For he who is not God is not the God of those fathers. Moreover, if not only the Father is God, as even all the heretics grant, but also the Son, which, whether they like it or not, they are compelled to confess, since the Apostle says, "who is God over all, blessed for ever," and also the Holy Spirit, since the same Apostle says, "Glorify God, therefore, in your body," having said above, "Do you not know that your bodies are the temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God?"; and these three are one God, as catholic soundness believes: then it is not clear enough which person in the Trinity that angel bore, and whether he bore some one person or the Trinity itself, if he was one of the rest of the angels. But if a creature was taken up for the use of the matter at hand, which might both appear to human eyes and sound in human ears, and be called the angel of the Lord, and Lord, and God, then God cannot here be understood as the Father, but either the Son or the Holy Spirit. Although I do not recall that the Holy Spirit is anywhere called an angel, yet it could be understood from his work; for it is said of him, "He will announce to you the things that are to come"; and "angel" in Greek is certainly rendered in Latin as "messenger." But of the Lord Jesus Christ we read most plainly in the prophet that he is called "the Angel of great counsel"; while both the Holy Spirit and the Son of God are God and Lord of the angels.

Again, at the exodus of the children of Israel from Egypt it is written: "And God went before them, by day in a pillar of cloud, and showed them the way, and by night in a pillar of fire; and the pillar of cloud did not fail by day, nor the pillar of fire by night, before the people." Who would doubt here too that God appeared to the eyes of mortals through a subject creature, and that a bodily one, not through his own substance? But whether it was the Father, or the Son, or the Holy Spirit, or the Trinity itself, the one God, likewise does not appear. Nor is this distinguished there, I think, where it is written: "And the majesty of the Lord appeared in the cloud, and the Lord spoke to Moses, saying: I have heard the murmuring of the children of Israel," and so on.

And now as to the clouds, and voices, and lightnings, and trumpet, and smoke on Mount Sinai, when it was said: "And Mount Sinai was all smoking, because God had descended upon it in fire, and the smoke went up like the smoke of a furnace, and all the people were greatly confounded in mind; and the voices of the trumpet went forth very loudly; Moses spoke, and God answered him with a voice." And a little later, after the giving of the Law in ten commandments, it is said in consequence: "And all the people saw the voices, and the torches, and the voices of the trumpet, and the mountain smoking." And a little later: "And all the people," it says, "stood afar off; but Moses went into the dark cloud where God was, and the Lord said to Moses," and so on. What shall I say of this, except that no one is so senseless as to believe that the smoke, the fire, the clouds, and the dark cloud, and anything of this kind, are the substance of the Word and Wisdom of God, which is Christ, or of the Holy Spirit? For of God the Father not even the Arians ever dared to say this. All those things, then, were made by the creature serving the Creator, and presented to the human senses according to a fitting dispensation. Unless perhaps, because it is said, "But Moses went into the dark cloud where God was," carnal thinking will suppose that the dark cloud was seen by the people, but that within the dark cloud Moses saw with the eyes of the flesh the Son of God, whom raving heretics want to have been seen in his own substance. Let Moses indeed have seen him with eyes of flesh, if not only the Wisdom of God, which is Christ, but even the wisdom of any man, of any kind of wise man at all, can be seen with eyes of flesh! Or, because it is written of the elders of Israel that they saw the place where the God of Israel had stood, and that under his feet was as it were a work of sapphire stone, and as the appearance of the firmament of heaven, are we therefore to believe that the Word and Wisdom of God, which reaches mightily from end to end and orders all things sweetly, stood by its own substance in a space of earthly place; and that the Word of God, through whom all things were made, is so changeable that it now contracts itself and now stretches itself out? (May the Lord cleanse the hearts of his faithful from such thoughts!) But through a subject creature, as we have often said, all these visible and perceptible things are shown, to signify the invisible and intelligible God, not only the Father but also the Son and the Holy Spirit, from whom are all things, through whom are all things, in whom are all things; although "the invisible things of God, from the creation of the world, are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and divinity." But as regards what we have now undertaken, I do not see, even on Mount Sinai, how it appears through all those things that were shown terrifyingly to the senses of mortals whether it was God the Trinity, or the Father, or the Son, or the Holy Spirit who properly spoke. Yet if it is allowed to conjecture something from this modestly and hesitantly, without rashness of assertion, if one person of the Trinity can be understood, why should we not rather understand the Holy Spirit, since the Law itself which was given there is said to have been written on tablets of stone with the finger of God, by which name we know that the Holy Spirit is signified in the Gospel? And fifty days are counted from the slaying of the lamb and the celebration of the Passover until the day on which these things began to happen on Mount Sinai; just as after the Lord's passion fifty days are counted from his resurrection, and the Holy Spirit came, promised by the Son of God. And at his very coming, which we read of in the Acts of the Apostles, fire appeared in the dividing of tongues, which also rested on each one of them; which agrees with Exodus, where it is written, "And Mount Sinai was all smoking, because God descended upon it in fire," and somewhat later, "The appearance of the majesty of the Lord," it says, "was like burning fire on the top of the mountain before the children of Israel." Or if these things were done because neither the Father nor the Son could be presented there in the manner in which the Law itself was to be written without the Holy Spirit, then we know that God appeared there, not through his substance, which remains invisible and unchangeable, but through that appearance of the creature; but, as far as the capacity of my understanding goes, we do not see some person of the Trinity marked by any proper sign.

There is also something by which many are usually troubled: that it is written, "And the Lord spoke to Moses face to face, as a man speaks to his friend," while a little later the same Moses says, "If, then, I have found favor before you, show me yourself plainly, that I may see you, that I may find favor before you, and that I may know that this nation is your people"; and a little later again Moses said to the Lord, "Show me your majesty." What is this? In all the things that were done above, God was thought to be seen through his substance, which is why the Son of God was believed by wretched men to be visible not through a creature but through himself; and Moses' going into the dark cloud seemed to have been for this purpose, that a cloudy darkness should be shown to the eyes of the people while he, within, heard the words of God as though contemplating his face; and so it is said, "The Lord spoke to Moses face to face, as a man speaks to his friend." And see, the same man says, "If I have found favor before you, show me yourself plainly." He certainly knew what he was seeing bodily, and he was seeking the true vision of God spiritually. For that speech which took place in voices was so tempered as if it were a friend speaking to a friend. But who sees God the Father with bodily eyes? And who sees with bodily eyes the Word that was in the beginning, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God, through whom all things were made? And who sees with bodily eyes the Spirit of wisdom? And what is "Show me yourself plainly, that I may see you," except "Show me your substance"? If Moses had not said this, the fools who think that through the things said or done above the substance of God was visible to his eyes might be borne with somehow; but since it is shown most plainly here that this was not granted even to him who desired it, who would dare to say that through similar forms, which had appeared visibly to him too, not a creature serving God but the very thing that God is appeared to the eyes of any mortal? And there is also what the Lord afterward says to Moses: "You cannot see my face and live; for man shall not see my face and live. And the Lord said: Behold, there is a place by me, and you shall stand upon the rock, as soon as my majesty passes by; and I will put you in a lookout of the rock, and I will cover you with my hand until I pass by; and I will take away my hand, and then you will see my back parts; for my face will not appear to you."

This is usually understood, not unfittingly, as a prefiguring in the person of our Lord Jesus Christ, so that his back parts are taken to be his flesh, in which he was born of the Virgin, and died, and rose again; whether they are called back parts on account of the posteriority of mortality, or because he deigned to take it near the end of the age, that is, later; while his face is that form of God in which he did not think it robbery to be equal to God the Father, which certainly no one can see and live: whether because after this life, in which we are away from the Lord and where the body that is corrupted weighs down the soul, we shall see face to face, as the Apostle says (for of this life it is said in the Psalms, "Surely every living man is altogether vanity," and again, "For no living man shall be justified before you"; in which life also, according to John, "it has not yet appeared what we shall be. But we know," he says, "that when he appears we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is"; which he certainly wished to be understood of after this life, when we have paid the debt of death and received the promise of the resurrection); or because even now, insofar as we understand spiritually the Wisdom of God through which all things were made, so far do we die to carnal affections, so that, counting this world dead to us, we too die to this world and say what the Apostle says, "The world has been crucified to me, and I to the world." For of this death he also said, "If you have died with Christ, why do you still decide, as though living, about this world?" Not without reason, then, will no one be able to see the face, that is, the very manifestation of the Wisdom of God, and live. For this is the beauty for whose contemplation everyone sighs who aspires to love God with all his heart, and with all his soul, and with all his mind; and to whose contemplation he who loves his neighbor as himself also builds up his neighbor as far as he can; on which two commandments the whole Law and the Prophets depend. This is signified also in Moses himself. For when, out of the love of God with which he chiefly burned, he had said, "If I have found favor in your sight, show me yourself plainly, that I may find favor before you," he at once added, out of the love of neighbor too, "and that I may know that this nation is your people." That, then, is the beauty which ravishes every rational soul with desire for it, the more ardent the purer it is, and the purer the more it rises to spiritual things, and the more it rises to spiritual things the more it dies to carnal ones. But while we are away from the Lord and walk by faith, not by sight, we ought to see the back parts of Christ, that is, his flesh, by that very faith; that is, standing on the solid foundation of faith, which the rock signifies, and looking at it from such a most safe lookout, namely in the catholic Church, of which it is said, "And upon this rock I will build my Church." For the more surely we love the face of Christ that we desire to see, the more we recognize in his back parts how much Christ first loved us. But in that flesh it is faith in his resurrection that saves and justifies: "For if you believe in your heart," he says, "that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved"; and again, "Who was handed over," he says, "for our offenses, and rose again for our justification." And so the reward of our faith is the resurrection of the Lord's body. For even his enemies believe that that flesh died on the cross of the passion, but they do not believe that it rose again. Believing this most firmly, we look upon it as from the solidity of the rock; from which with sure hope we await the adoption, the redemption of our body, because we hope for this in the members of Christ, which we ourselves are, which by soundness of faith we know to be perfected in him as in our head. Hence he does not want his back parts to be seen except when he has passed by, so that his resurrection may be believed. For Pascha is said to be a Hebrew word, which is translated "passing over." Hence John the evangelist too says, "Before the feast of the Pascha, Jesus, knowing that his hour had come that he should pass from this world to the Father." But those who believe this, yet believe it not in the Catholic Church but in some schism or heresy, do not see the Lord's back parts from the place that is by him. For what does the Lord mean when he says, "Behold, there is a place by me, and you shall stand upon the rock"? What earthly place is by the Lord, unless that is by him which reaches him spiritually? For what place is not by the Lord, who reaches mightily from end to end and orders all things sweetly, and of whom it is said, "Heaven is his throne, and the earth the footstool of his feet," and who said, "What house will you build for me? Or what is the place of my rest? Has not my hand made all these things?" But clearly the place by him, in which one stands upon the rock, is understood to be the catholic Church itself, where he who believes in his resurrection sees savingly the Pascha of the Lord, that is, the passing over of the Lord, and his back parts, that is, his body. "And you shall stand," he says, "upon the rock, as soon as my majesty passes by." For in truth, as soon as the majesty of the Lord passed by in the glorification of the Lord, by which, rising again, he ascended to the Father, we were made firm upon the rock. And Peter himself was then made firm, so that he preached with confidence him whom, before he was made firm, he had denied three times out of fear; already indeed placed by predestination in the lookout of the rock, but still with the Lord's hand laid over him so that he should not see. For he was going to see his back parts, and he had not yet passed by, that is, from death to life; he had not yet been glorified by the resurrection. For as to what follows in Exodus, where it says, "I will cover you with my hand until I pass by, and I will take away my hand, and then you will see my back parts": many Israelites, of whom Moses was then a figure, believed in him after the Lord's resurrection, as if now seeing his back parts, his hand having been removed from their eyes. Hence the evangelist also recalls this prophecy of Isaiah: "Make the heart of this people fat, and stop their ears, and make their eyes heavy." Finally, in the Psalm it is not absurdly understood to be said in their person, "For day and night your hand was heavy upon me." By day perhaps, when he was doing manifest miracles and was not recognized by them; but by night, when he was dying in his passion, when they thought more surely that he had been destroyed and extinguished like any man. But since, when he had passed by so that his back parts might be seen, they were pierced with the sorrow of repentance as the apostle Peter preached to them that the Christ had to suffer and rise again, so that there came to pass in the baptized what is said at the head of that Psalm, "Blessed are those whose iniquities are forgiven and whose sins are covered"; therefore, after it had been said, "Your hand was heavy upon me," as if the Lord were passing by, so as now to remove his hand and his back parts to be seen, there follows the voice of one grieving and confessing and receiving the forgiveness of sins from faith in the Lord's resurrection: "I was turned," he says, "in my distress, while the thorn was fixed in me. I acknowledged my sin, and my unrighteousness I did not cover. I said, I will declare my unrighteousness against myself to the Lord; and you forgave the ungodliness of my heart." For we ought not to be wrapped in such a cloud of the flesh as to think that the face of the Lord is invisible but his back visible, since in the form of a servant both appeared visibly; but in the form of God far be it that any such thing be thought; far be it that the Word of God and the Wisdom of God should have a face on one side and a back on the other, like a human body, or be changed at all in any appearance or motion, whether in place or in time. Therefore, if in those voices that were made in Exodus, and in all those bodily manifestations, the Lord Jesus Christ was shown, or sometimes Christ, as consideration of this passage persuades, and sometimes the Holy Spirit, as what we said above suggests, it does not follow from this that God the Father never appeared to the fathers in any such form. For many such appearances took place in those times without the Father, or the Son, or the Holy Spirit being evidently named and designated in them, yet with certain indications present through some very probable significations, so that it would be too rash to say that God the Father never appeared to the fathers or the prophets through any visible forms. For that opinion was produced by those who could not understand in the unity of the Trinity what is said, "Now to the King of the ages, immortal, invisible, the only God," and "whom no man has seen or can see"; which by sound faith is understood of that highest and supremely divine and unchangeable substance itself, where the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit are one and only God. But those visions were made through a changeable creature subject to the unchangeable God, showing God not as he properly is, but by way of signification, as the causes and times of things required.

And yet I do not know how these people understand that the Ancient of Days appeared to Daniel, from whom the Son of Man, which he deigned to be for our sake, is understood to have received the kingdom; from him, namely, who says to him in the Psalms, "You are my Son, today I have begotten you; ask of me, and I will give you the nations as your inheritance," and who has put all things under his feet. If, then, both the Father giving the kingdom and the Son receiving it appeared to Daniel in bodily form, how do these people say that the Father was never seen by the prophets, and that therefore he alone ought to be understood as invisible, whom no man has seen or can see? For Daniel narrated thus: "I beheld," he says, "until thrones were set, and the Ancient of Days sat; and his clothing was white as snow, and the hair of his head like pure wool; his throne was a flame of fire, his wheels burning fire, and a river of fire flowed before him. And a thousand thousands served him, and ten thousand times ten thousand stood before him. And he set the judgment, and the books were opened," and so on. And a little later: "I beheld," he says, "in the vision of the night, and behold, with the clouds of heaven there was one coming like a son of man, and he came even to the Ancient of Days and was brought before him. And to him was given dominion and honor and the kingdom; and all peoples, tribes, and tongues shall serve him. His power is an everlasting power, which shall not pass away, and his kingdom shall not be corrupted." See, the Father giving and the Son receiving an everlasting kingdom, and both are in the sight of the prophet in visible form. It is not unfitting, then, to believe that God the Father too was accustomed to appear to mortals in this way. Unless perhaps someone will say that the Father is not visible because he appeared in the sight of one dreaming, but that the Son and the Holy Spirit are visible because Moses saw all those things awake. As though Moses had seen the Word and Wisdom of God with carnal eyes, or as though even the human spirit that gives life to this flesh could be seen, or even that bodily spirit which is called wind; how much less that Spirit of God which surpasses the minds of all men and angels by the ineffable excellence of the divine substance! Or would anyone be hurled into such an error as to dare to say that the Son and the Holy Spirit are visible even to men awake, but the Father only to men dreaming? How, then, do they take "whom no man has seen or can see" of the Father alone? Or when men sleep, are they not then men? Or can he who can form a likeness of a body to signify himself through the visions of dreamers not form the bodily creature itself to signify himself to the eyes of those awake, when his very substance, by which he is what he is, cannot be shown by any likeness of body to one asleep, nor by any bodily appearance to one awake? And this holds not only of the Father but also of the Son and the Holy Spirit. And certainly those who are moved by the visions of men awake to believe that not the Father but only the Son or the Holy Spirit appeared to the bodily sight of men (to pass over the great breadth of the holy pages and the so manifold understanding of them, from which no one of sound mind ought to affirm that the person of the Father was nowhere shown to the eyes of men awake through some bodily appearance; but to pass over this, as I said), what do they say of our father Abraham, to whom, certainly awake and serving, after Scripture had said by way of preface, "The Lord appeared to Abraham," not one or two but three men appeared, none of whom is said to have stood out above the others more loftily, none to have shone with more honor, none to have acted with more authority? Therefore, since in that threefold division of ours we set out first to ask whether it was the Father, or the Son, or the Holy Spirit; or sometimes the Father, sometimes the Son, sometimes the Holy Spirit; or without any distinction of persons, as God is called one and only, that is, the Trinity itself, that appeared to the fathers through those forms of the creature: having examined such passages of the holy Scriptures as we could, as far as seemed sufficient, nothing else, I think, is urged by a modest and cautious consideration of the divine mysteries than that we should not rashly say which person of the Trinity appeared to any of the fathers or prophets in some body or likeness of a body, except when the context of the reading supplies some probable indications. For the very nature, or substance, or essence, or by whatever other name that which God is is to be called, whatever it is, cannot be seen bodily; but it must be believed that through a subject creature not only the Son or the Holy Spirit but also the Father could give a signification of himself to mortal senses in bodily form or likeness. Since this is so, lest the length of this second volume should run on too immoderately, let us look at what remains in the books that follow.

Let those who wish believe that I would rather labor at reading than at dictating things to be read. But let those who do not wish to believe this, and are able and willing to make the trial, give me what may be read in answer either to my own inquiries or to the questions of others, which, on account of the role I bear in the service of Christ and the zeal with which I burn that our faith be defended against the error of carnal and soulish men, I must needs endure; and let them see how readily I would refrain from this labor, and with how much joy I could let my pen rest. But if what we have read on these matters either has not been sufficiently set forth in the Latin language, or is not to be found, or at least can be found by us only with difficulty, and we have not so much familiarity with the Greek language as to be found in any way fit to read and understand books on such matters in it (though from the few things of that kind of literature that have been translated for us, I do not doubt that it contains everything that we can usefully seek); and if I am not able to resist the brothers who demand, by the right by which I have been made their servant, that I serve their praiseworthy studies in Christ above all with my tongue and pen, the two horses of the chariot that love drives in me, and I myself confess that by writing I have learned many things I did not know: then this labor of mine ought not to seem superfluous to anyone idle or to anyone very learned, since it is necessary, in no small part, to many who are diligent and to many who are unlearned, among whom I count myself. Greatly supported and helped, then, by what we have already read that others have written on this subject, I have undertaken those things concerning the Trinity, the one supreme and supremely good God, which I think can be piously inquired into and discussed, with him exhorting me to inquire and helping me to discuss; so that, if there are no other writings of this kind, there may be something for those who wish and are able to have and read; and if there are already, then some may be found the more easily, the more such writings there can be. Indeed, while in all my writings I desire not only a devout reader but also a free corrector, I desire this most of all in these, where the very greatness of the question would that it could have as many discoverers as it has opponents! Yet just as I do not want my reader to be devoted to me, so I do not want my corrector to be devoted to himself. Let the one not love me more than the catholic faith; let the other not love himself more than the catholic truth. As I say to the one, "Do not defer to my writings as if they were the canonical Scriptures; but in those, when you have found what you did not believe, believe it without hesitation, while in these, what you did not hold as certain, do not hold firmly unless you have understood it to be certain"; so I say to the other, "Do not correct my writings from your own opinion or contentiousness, but from the divine reading or unshaken reason. If you grasp anything true in them, it is not mine by existing, but by understanding and loving it let it be both yours and mine; but if you convict anything false, it was mine by erring, but now by guarding against it let it be neither yours nor mine." Let this third book, then, take its beginning from where the second had reached. For when we had come to the point of wishing to show that the Son is not less than the Father because the one sent and the other was sent, nor the Holy Spirit less than both because he is read in the Gospel to have been sent by the one and by the other, we undertook to ask this: since the Son was sent to where he was, because he came into this world and was in this world, and since the Holy Spirit too was sent to where he himself was, since "the Spirit of the Lord has filled the whole world, and that which holds all things together has knowledge of the voice," whether the Lord was sent because he was born in the flesh from hiddenness and appeared, as if going out from the bosom of the Father, to the eyes of men in the form of a servant; and the Holy Spirit too for this reason, because he too was seen in bodily form as a dove and in divided tongues as of fire; so that for them to be sent was to proceed from spiritual secrecy into the sight of mortals in some bodily form; and since the Father did not do this, he is said only to have sent, not also to have been sent. Then it was asked why the Father too is not sometimes said to have been sent, if he himself was shown through those bodily appearances that appeared to the eyes of the ancients. But if the Son was shown then, why would he be said to be sent so long afterward, when the fullness of time came, that he should be born of a woman, since he was being sent before too, when he appeared bodily in those forms? Or if he could not rightly be said to be sent except when the Word became flesh, why is the Holy Spirit read to have been sent, of whom no such incarnation took place? But if through those ancient manifestations neither the Father nor the Son but the Holy Spirit was shown, why would he too now be said to be sent, when he was being sent in those ways before as well? Then we subdivided it, so that these things might be treated most carefully, and made the question threefold, one part of which has been unfolded in the second book; two remain, which I shall now proceed to discuss. For it has already been asked and treated that in those ancient bodily forms and visions it was not only the Father, nor only the Son, nor only the Holy Spirit that appeared, but either the Lord God without distinction, who is understood to be the Trinity itself, or any person of the Trinity whom the text of the reading might signify by the surrounding indications.

Now, then, let us first inquire into what comes next. For in that division the second place was given to this: whether a creature was formed only for this work, in which God might be shown to human sight as he then judged fitting; or whether angels, who already existed, were sent in such a way as to speak in the person of God, taking a bodily appearance from bodily creation for the use of their ministry, or changing and turning their own body, to which they are not subject but which they rule as subject to them, into whatever appearances they wished, suited and fit for their actions, according to the power given them by the Creator. When this part of the question has been treated, as far as the Lord grants, we must finally see what we had set out to inquire into: whether the Son and the Holy Spirit were sent before as well; and if so, what difference there is between that sending and the one we read of in the Gospel; or whether neither of them was sent except when either the Son was made of the Virgin Mary or the Holy Spirit appeared in visible form, whether in the dove or in fiery tongues. But I confess that it exceeds the powers of my attention whether the angels, while the spiritual quality of their body remains, working more hiddenly through it, take from the lower, more corpulent elements something which, fitted to themselves like a garment, they change and turn into any bodily appearances they please, even real ones, as real water was turned into real wine by the Lord; or whether they transform their own proper bodies into what they will, suited to what they are doing. But whichever of these it is, it does not concern the present question. And although, since I am a man, I cannot grasp these things by any experience, as the angels who do them can, and they know them better than I know how far my body is changed by the affection of my will, whether from what I have experienced in myself or from others, yet which of these I believe on the authority of the divine Scriptures there is no need to say now, lest I be forced to prove it and the discussion grow longer on a matter the present question does not need. What must now be seen is whether it was angels who then produced both those appearances of bodies seen by the eyes of men and those voices sounding in their ears, when the perceptible creature itself, serving the Creator at his bidding, was turned into what was needed for the time; as it is written in the book of Wisdom: "For the creation, serving you its maker, is strained to punish the unrighteous, and is relaxed to do good to those who trust in you. Therefore then too, transforming itself into all things, it served your grace that nourishes all, according to the will of those who longed for you." For the power of the will of God reaches through the spiritual creature even to the visible and perceptible effects of the bodily creature. For where does the wisdom of almighty God not work what it wills, which reaches mightily from end to end and orders all things sweetly?

But there is a natural order in the conversion and changeableness of bodies, which, although it too serves at the bidding of God, has lost the power to cause wonder through the constancy of custom: such are the things that change in heaven, on earth, and in the sea at very short or at least not long intervals of time, whether things being born, or perishing, or appearing now in one way and now in another. Other things, though they too come from that order, are less usual because of longer intervals of time. Although many are amazed at these, they have been understood by the investigators of this world, and the more often they are repeated in the course of generations and known by more people, the less wonderful they are. Such are eclipses of the luminaries, certain appearances of stars that occur rarely, earthquakes, monstrous births of living creatures, and anything of the kind; none of which happens except by the will of God, but to most people this does not appear. And so the vanity of the philosophers was free to attribute them to other causes as well: either true ones, but proximate, since they could not at all see the cause above all the others, that is, the will of God; or false ones, put forward not even from the investigation of bodily things and motions, but from their own suspicion and error. I will state something, if I can, by way of example, so that these things may be clearer. There is certainly in the human body a certain mass of flesh, a form and appearance, an order and distinction of members, and a balance of health. This body is ruled by a soul breathed into it, and that a rational one; and therefore, although changeable, it is one that can partake of that unchangeable Wisdom, so that its participation is "in the selfsame," as it is written in the Psalm of all the saints, of whom, as of living stones, that Jerusalem is built, our eternal mother in the heavens. For thus it is sung: "Jerusalem, which is built as a city, whose participation is in the selfsame." For "the selfsame" is understood in this place as that highest and unchangeable good which God is, and his wisdom and will. To him it is sung in another place: "You will change them, and they will be changed; but you are the selfsame."

Let us, then, picture in our minds a wise man of this kind, whose rational soul already partakes of the unchangeable and eternal truth, which he consults about all his actions, and does nothing at all that he has not known in it to be done, so that, subject to it and obeying it, he acts rightly. Suppose this man, having consulted the highest reason of divine justice, which he hears in secret with the ear of his heart, and at its command, wearies his body with labor in some duty of mercy and contracts an illness; and the physicians being consulted, one says that the cause of the disease is dryness of the body, another an excess of moisture. One of them would be stating the true cause, the other would be mistaken; but both would be pronouncing on the proximate causes, that is, bodily ones. But if the cause of that dryness were sought, and found to be voluntary labor, we would now have come to a higher cause, which proceeded from the soul to affect the body that it rules. But not even this would be the first cause; for that was without doubt higher, in the unchangeable Wisdom itself, serving which in love, and obeying it ineffably as it commanded, the soul of the wise man had undertaken the voluntary labor. So nothing but the will of God would most truly be found to be the first cause of that illness. Now suppose that in this dutiful and pious labor the wise man had employed helpers working with him in the good work, yet not serving God with the same will, but desiring to obtain the reward of their carnal desires or to avoid carnal inconveniences; suppose he had also employed beasts of burden, if the management of completing that work required it, which beasts would of course be irrational animals, and would not move their limbs under the loads because they were thinking anything about that good work, but from the natural appetite for their own pleasure and avoidance of trouble; finally, suppose he had employed even bodies lacking all sense, which were necessary for that work, namely grain, wine, oil, clothing, money, a book, and anything of this kind. In all these bodies, then, engaged in that work, whether animate or inanimate, whatever was moved, worn down, restored, destroyed, re-formed, or changed by being affected in one way or another in places and times, would there be any other cause of all these visible and changeable effects than that invisible and unchangeable will of God, using all things through the righteous soul as the seat of Wisdom, both wicked souls and irrational ones, and finally bodies, whether those inspired and animated by them or those lacking all sense, since it first used that good and holy soul itself, which it had subjected to itself for pious and religious obedience?

What we have set out, then, by way of example, about one wise man, though still bearing a mortal body and seeing in part, may be thought of a household where there is a fellowship of such men, or of a city, or even of the whole world, if the government and direction of human affairs were in the hands of the wise, who are holily and perfectly subject to God. But because this is not yet so (for we must first be exercised mortally in this pilgrimage, and be instructed under the scourge through the powers of meekness and patience), let us think of that very homeland above and in heaven, from which we are on pilgrimage. For there the will of God, "who makes his angels spirits and his ministers a burning fire," presiding as in a lofty, holy, and secret seat among spirits joined in the highest peace and friendship and fused into one will by a certain spiritual fire of love, as in his house and in his temple, pours itself out from there through all things by certain most orderly motions of the creature, first spiritual, then bodily, and uses all things according to the unchangeable judgment of its decree, whether incorporeal or bodily things, whether rational or irrational spirits, whether good by his grace or evil by their own will. But just as grosser and lower bodies are ruled in a certain order by subtler and more powerful ones, so all bodies are ruled by the spirit of life, and the irrational spirit of life by the rational spirit of life, and the rational spirit of life that is a deserter and sinner by the rational spirit of life that is pious and righteous, and that by God himself; and so the whole creation by its Creator, from whom and through whom and in whom it was also founded and established. And therefore the will of God is the first and highest cause of all bodily appearances and motions. For nothing happens visibly and perceptibly that is not either commanded or permitted from the inner, invisible, and intelligible court of the supreme Ruler, according to the ineffable justice of rewards and punishments, of graces and retributions, in this vast and immeasurable commonwealth, as it were, of the whole creation. If, then, the apostle Paul, though he still bore the burden of the body which is corrupted and weighs down the soul, though he still saw in part and in a riddle, desiring to depart and be with Christ, and groaning within himself, awaiting the adoption, the redemption of his body, could nevertheless preach the Lord Jesus Christ by signifying him, in one way by his tongue, in another by a letter, in another by the sacrament of his body and blood (for we call neither his tongue, nor the parchment, nor the ink, nor the meaningful sounds uttered by the tongue, nor the signs of letters written on skins, the body and blood of Christ, but only that which, taken from the fruits of the earth and consecrated by mystic prayer, we receive in due rite for our spiritual salvation in memory of the Lord's passion for us; and although it is brought to that visible form by the hands of men, it is not sanctified so as to be so great a sacrament except by the Spirit of God working invisibly, since God works all these things that are done in that work through bodily motions, moving first the invisible things of the ministers, whether the souls of men or the services of hidden spirits subject to him): what wonder is it if in the creation of heaven and earth, sea and air too, God makes whatever perceptible and visible things he wills, to signify and show himself in them, as he himself knows to be fitting, without his very substance, by which he is, appearing, which is altogether unchangeable and more sublime, more inwardly and secretly, than all the spirits he has created?

For by the divine power that governs the whole spiritual and bodily creation, the waters of the sea are called up on certain days of every year and poured out upon the face of the earth. But when this happened at the prayer of holy Elijah, because so continuous and so long a fair season had gone before that men were perishing of hunger, and at the very hour when that servant of God prayed the air itself had shown no signs of the coming rain in any moist appearance, the divine power appeared in such great and such swift showers that followed, by which that miracle was given and dispensed. So God works the ordinary lightnings and thunders; but because on Mount Sinai they occurred in an unusual way, and those voices were not uttered with confused noise, but it appeared by most certain indications that certain signs were being given by them, they were miracles. Who draws the moisture through the root of the vine to the cluster and makes wine, if not God, who gives the increase even when man plants and waters? But when, at the Lord's bidding, water was turned into wine with unusual speed, the divine power was declared, even fools admitting it. Who clothes the trees with leaf and flower in due season, if not God? But when the rod of Aaron the priest blossomed, divinity in a way conversed with doubting humanity. And certainly earthy matter is common to the generating and forming of all trees and of the flesh of all animals; and who makes them, if not he who said that the earth should bring them forth, and who rules and moves by that same word of his what he has created? But when he turned that same matter from the rod of Moses into the flesh of a serpent, immediately and quickly, it was a miracle, a change, indeed, of a changeable thing, but still an unusual change. And who gives life to every living thing that is born, if not he who gave life to that serpent too for the hour, as was needed?

And who gave back to the corpses their souls when the dead rose again, if not he who gives life to flesh in mothers' wombs, so that those who are to die may be born? But when these things happen in a continuous stream, as it were, of things gliding away and flowing on, passing by the usual course from hiddenness into view and from view into hiddenness, they are called natural; but when they are brought before men with unusual changeableness to admonish them, they are called mighty works.

Here I see what may occur to weak thinking: why, namely, such miracles are done also by magic arts; for the magicians of Pharaoh likewise made serpents and other similar things. But this is more to be wondered at: how that power of the magicians, which could make serpents, failed altogether when it came to the tiniest flies. For the gnats are very small flies, by which, as the third plague, the proud people of the Egyptians were struck. There certainly the magicians, failing, said, "This is the finger of God." From this we are given to understand that not even the transgressing angels and powers of the air, thrust down from the dwelling of that lofty ethereal purity into this lowest darkness as into a prison of their own kind, through whom the magic arts can do whatever they can, have any power except as power is given them from above. And it is given either to deceive the deceitful, as it was given against the Egyptians and against the magicians themselves, so that in the seduction of those spirits they might seem worthy of admiration by whom these things were done, but worthy of condemnation by the truth of God; or to admonish the faithful not to desire to do any such thing as something great, which is why these things have also been recorded for us by the authority of Scripture; or to exercise, test, and make manifest the patience of the righteous. For it was by no small power of visible miracles that Job lost all that he had, both his children and the very health of his body.

Nor should it be thought on that account that this matter of visible things serves these transgressing angels at their bidding, but rather God, by whom this power is given, as far as he, unchangeable, judges in his lofty and spiritual seat. For even to wicked men condemned to the mines, water and fire and earth serve, so that they make of them what they wish, but only as far as is allowed. Nor indeed are those evil angels to be called creators, because through them the magicians, resisting the servant of God, made frogs and serpents; for they did not create them. For certain hidden seeds of all things that are born bodily and visibly lie concealed in these bodily elements of this world. For these things now visible to our eyes, in fruits and animals, are one thing; but those hidden seeds of these seeds are another, from which, at the Creator's command, the water brought forth the first swimming and flying creatures, and the earth the first shoots of their kind and the first animals of their kind. For they were not then brought forth into offspring of this kind in such a way that that power was used up in the things brought forth; but very often fitting occasions of combinations are lacking by which they may break forth and complete their kinds. See, a very small cutting is a seed; for, fittingly committed to the earth, it makes a tree. And a subtler seed of this cutting is some grain of the same kind, and so far it is visible to us. But the seed even of this grain, although we cannot see it with our eyes, we can still conjecture by reason; for unless there were some such power in these elements, there would not very often be born from the earth things that had not been sown there, nor so many animals, without any previous union of male and female, whether on land or in water, which nevertheless grow and by mating bear others, though they themselves arose from no mating parents. And certainly bees do not conceive the seeds of their young by mating, but gather them with their mouths as though scattered over the ground. For the creator of the invisible seeds is himself the creator of all things; since whatever things come forth to our eyes by being born receive the beginnings of their going forth from hidden seeds, and take the growth to their due size and the distinctions of their forms from original rules, as it were. Just as, therefore, we do not call parents the creators of men, nor farmers the creators of crops, although it is by their motions applied from outside that the power of God works inwardly to create these things, so it is not right to think that not only the evil but even the good angels are creators, if, by the subtlety of their perception and body, they know the seeds of these things, which are more hidden from us, and scatter them secretly through fitting combinations of the elements, and so provide occasions for things to be generated and for their growth to be quickened. But neither do the good do these things except as far as God commands, nor do the evil do them unjustly except as far as he justly permits. For the malice of the wicked has its will unjust; but it receives power only justly, whether for its own punishment or for that of others, either for the punishment of the wicked or for the praise of the good. And so the apostle Paul, distinguishing God, who creates and forms inwardly, from the works of the creature which are applied from outside, and taking a comparison from agriculture, says: "I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the increase." Just as, then, in our life itself no one but God can form our mind by justifying it, but men too can preach the Gospel outwardly, not only the good in truth but also the wicked in pretense, so God works the creation of visible things inwardly; but the outward operations, whether of good or evil, of angels or of men, or even of any animals, according to his command and the distributions of powers and the appetites for advantages that he has imparted, he applies to the nature of things, in which he creates all things, as farming is applied to the earth. Therefore I can no more say that the evil angels summoned by magic arts were the creators of the frogs and serpents than I can say that evil men are the creators of the crop that I see has sprung up through their labor. So neither was Jacob the creator of the colors in the flocks, because he set variegated rods for the mothers to look at as they drank at the time of conception. But neither were the animals themselves the creators of the variety of their offspring, because a many-colored image, impressed through the eyes from looking at the variegated rods, had clung to their soul, which could affect only the body animated by a spirit so affected, through the sympathy of their union, so that the tender beginnings of the offspring were sprinkled with it as far as color. For that they should be affected from one another in this way, the soul by the body or the body by the soul, is brought about by fitting reasons that live unchangeably in the highest wisdom of God itself, which no spaces of place contain; and while it is itself unchangeable, it forsakes none of those things that are changeably, because none of them was created except through it. For that from the flocks there should be born not rods but flocks was brought about by the unchangeable and invisible reason of the wisdom of God, through which all things were created; but that the color of the flocks conceived should take something from the variety of the rods was brought about by the soul of the pregnant animal, affected from outside through the eyes, and drawing inwardly within itself, in its small measure, the rule of forming, which it received from the inmost power of its Creator. But how great is the power of the soul to affect and change bodily matter (although it cannot be called the creator of the body, since every cause of changeable and perceptible substance, and all its measure and number and weight, by which it comes about that it both exists and is of this or that nature, arises from the intelligible and unchangeable life that is above all things and reaches even to the last and earthly things) is a long discussion, and not necessary now. But I thought the deed of Jacob concerning the flocks worth recalling so that it might be understood that, if the man who placed those rods so cannot be called the creator of the colors in the lambs and kids, nor the souls of the mothers themselves, which sprinkled the many-colored image conceived through the bodily eyes on the seeds conceived in the flesh, as far as nature allowed, much less can the evil angels, through whom the magicians of Pharaoh then did those things, be called creators of the frogs and serpents.

For it is one thing to found and govern the creation from the inmost and highest hinge of causes, and he who does this is God, the only creator; but it is another thing to apply some operation from outside, according to the powers and faculties distributed by him, so that what is created comes forth at this time or that, in this way or that. For all these things have already been created originally and primordially in a certain texture of the elements; but they come forth when they receive the opportunity. For as mothers are pregnant with offspring, so the world itself is pregnant with the causes of things that are born; and these are not created in it except by that highest essence, where nothing arises or dies, nothing begins or ceases to be. But to apply causes that come from outside, which, though they are not natural, are yet applied according to nature, so that the things contained hidden in the secret bosom of nature may break forth and be created outwardly, in a way, by unfolding the measures and numbers and weights they received in secret from him who has arranged all things in measure and number and weight: this not only evil angels but also evil men can do, as I showed above by the example of agriculture. But lest a different reasoning about animals should trouble anyone, since they have the spirit of life with the sense of seeking what accords with their nature and avoiding what is contrary, here too one may see how many men know from what herbs, or flesh, or juices or fluids of any things whatever, placed in this way, or buried in that, or crushed in this, or mixed in that, certain animals are usually born: who would be so mad as to dare to call himself their creator? What wonder, then, if, just as any most worthless man can know from what source this or that kind of worms and flies is born, so evil angels, by the subtlety of their perception, know in the more hidden seeds of the elements from what source frogs and serpents are born, and by applying these through certain and known opportunities of combination by hidden motions, cause them to be created, but do not create them? But men do not wonder at the things that are usually done by men. And if anyone perhaps wonders at the speed of the growth, that those animals were made so quickly, let him consider how such things too are brought about by men, according to the measure of human ability. For how does it come about that the same bodies breed worms more quickly in summer than in winter, more quickly in warmer than in colder places? But these things are applied by men with the more difficulty, the more they lack subtlety of senses and mobility of body in earthly and sluggish limbs. Hence, the easier it is for angels of whatever kind to draw together proximate causes from the elements, the more wonderful appears their speed in works of this kind. But he alone is creator who forms these things in the principal sense. Nor can anyone do this except him with whom are, first of all, the measures, numbers, and weights of all things that are; and he is the one creator God, from whose ineffable sovereignty it also comes about that what these angels could do if they were permitted, they cannot do because they are not permitted. For no other reason occurs why those who made frogs and serpents could not make the tiniest flies, except that a greater dominion was present, of God forbidding through the Holy Spirit; which even the magicians themselves confessed, saying, "This is the finger of God." But what they can do by nature and cannot do by prohibition, and what they are not allowed to do by the condition of their nature itself, it is difficult, or rather impossible, for man to find out, except through that gift of God which the Apostle recalls, saying, "To another the discerning of spirits." For we know that a man can walk, and cannot do even this if he is not permitted, but cannot fly even if he is permitted. So those angels too can do certain things if they are permitted by more powerful angels at the command of God; but certain things they cannot do even if they are permitted by them, because he does not permit it from whom they have such a measure of nature, and who, through his angels, very often does not permit even those things that he has granted them the ability to do. Leaving aside, then, those things that happen bodily in the order of nature in the most usual course of time, such as the risings and settings of the stars, the births and deaths of animals, the innumerable varieties of seeds and shoots, mists and clouds, snows and rains, lightnings and thunders, thunderbolts and hail, winds and fires, cold and heat, and all such things; leaving aside also those that are rare in the same order, such as eclipses of the luminaries, unusual appearances of stars, monsters, earthquakes, and the like; leaving aside, then, all these, of which indeed the first and highest cause is nothing but the will of God (which is why in the Psalm, when certain things of this kind had been mentioned, "fire, hail, snow, ice, stormy wind," lest anyone should believe that these are brought about either by chance, or by bodily causes only, or even by spiritual ones existing apart from the will of God, it at once added, "which do his word"):

but leaving these aside, as I had begun to say, there are those other things which, though made of the same bodily matter, are nevertheless brought before our senses by divine agency to announce something, and these are properly called miracles and signs; and not in everything that is announced to us by the Lord God is the person of God himself taken on. But when it is taken on, it is sometimes shown in an angel, sometimes in an appearance that is not what an angel is, though it is arranged and supplied through an angel. Again, when it is taken on in an appearance that is not what an angel is, sometimes the body itself already existed, and is taken up into some change to show this; sometimes it comes into being for this purpose, and when the thing is done it is taken away again. So also when men announce, sometimes they speak the words of God in their own person, as when it is prefaced, "The Lord said," or "Thus says the Lord," or something of the kind; but sometimes, prefacing nothing of the kind, they take on the very person of God, as in "I will give you understanding, and I will set you in the way in which you shall go." So not only in words but also in deeds the person of God is laid upon a prophet to be signified, so that he bears it in the ministry of prophecy; as he bore his person who divided his garment into twelve parts and gave ten of them to the servant of King Solomon, the future king of Israel. Sometimes also a thing that was not what the prophet was, and already existed among earthly things, was taken up into a signification of this kind, as Jacob, waking after seeing a dream, did with the stone which he had at his head as he slept. Sometimes the same appearance is made for this purpose, either to remain for a while, as that bronze serpent lifted up in the desert could, and as letters can; or to pass away when its ministry is done, as the bread made for this purpose is consumed in receiving the sacrament. But because these things are known to men, since they are done by men, they can receive honor as religious things, but cannot cause amazement as wonderful ones. And so those things that are done by angels are the more wonderful to us the more difficult and unknown they are; but to them they are known and easy, as their own actions. An angel speaks to a man in the person of God, saying, "I am the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob," after the Scripture had said beforehand, "The angel of the Lord appeared to him"; and a man too speaks in the person of the Lord, saying, "Hear, my people, and I will speak to you; Israel, and I will testify to you: I am God, your God." A rod was taken up for a signification and was changed into a serpent by angelic power; and though man lacks that power, a stone was nevertheless taken up by a man too for some such signification. Between the deed of an angel and the deed of a man there is a very great difference: the former is both to be wondered at and to be understood, the latter only to be understood. What is understood from both is perhaps one; but the things from which it is understood are different: as if the name of the Lord were written both in gold and in ink, the former is more precious, the latter cheaper, yet what is signified in both is the same. And although the serpent from Moses' rod signified the same as Jacob's stone, yet Jacob's stone signified something better than the serpents of the magicians. For as the anointing of the stone signified Christ in the flesh, in which he was anointed with the oil of gladness above his fellows, so the rod of Moses turned into a serpent signified Christ himself made obedient unto the death of the cross. Hence he says, "As Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life"; just as those who looked at that serpent lifted up in the desert did not perish from the bites of the serpents. For "our old man was crucified with him, so that the body of sin might be done away." For by the serpent is understood death, which was brought about by the serpent in paradise, by a manner of speaking that shows the effect by the cause. So the rod into a serpent, Christ into death; and the serpent back into a rod, Christ into the resurrection, whole with his body, which is the Church; which will be at the end of time, signified by the serpent's tail, which Moses held so that it would return into a rod. But the serpents of the magicians, like the dead of this world, unless, believing in Christ, they enter into his body as if devoured, will not be able to rise again in him. Jacob's stone, then, as I said, signified something better than the serpents of the magicians; but the deed of the magicians was much more wonderful. Yet these things do not prejudge the things to be understood, just as if the name of a man were written in gold and that of God in ink. How the angels made or took up those clouds and fires to signify what they were announcing, even if the Lord or the Holy Spirit was shown in those bodily forms, what man can know? Just as infants do not know what is placed on the altar and consumed when the celebration of devotion is completed, from what or how it is made, or from where it is taken up for religious use. And if they never learned by their own experience or that of others, and never saw that appearance of things except during the celebrations of the sacraments, when it is offered and given, and they were told by the weightiest authority whose body and blood it is, they would believe nothing else than that the Lord had appeared to the eyes of mortals altogether in that appearance, and that that liquid had flowed altogether from a side so pierced. But it is altogether useful for me to remember my own powers, and to admonish my brothers that they too remember theirs, lest human weakness go further than is safe. For how the angels do these things, or rather how God does these things through his angels, and how much he wishes them to be done even through evil angels, whether by allowing, or commanding, or compelling, from the hidden seat of his most high sovereignty, I can neither penetrate by the sharpness of the eyes, nor unravel by confidence in reason, nor grasp by the progress of the mind, so as to speak about everything that can be asked on these matters as certainly as if I were an angel, or a prophet, or an apostle. "For the thoughts of mortals are timid, and our foresight uncertain. For the body which is corrupted weighs down the soul, and the earthly dwelling presses down the mind that thinks many things. And we hardly guess the things that are on earth, and find with labor the things that are before us; but the things that are in heaven, who will search out?" But because it goes on to say, "But who will know your mind, unless you give wisdom and send your Holy Spirit from on high?", we do not indeed search out the things that are in heaven, in which kind of things both the angelic bodies, according to their proper dignity, and a certain bodily action of theirs are contained; yet according to the Spirit of God sent to us from on high, and his grace imparted to our minds, I dare to say confidently that neither God the Father, nor his Word, nor his Spirit, which is one God, is in any way changeable in that which he is, and which is the selfsame; and therefore much less is he visible. For there are some things which, though changeable, are not visible, such as our thoughts, memories, and wills, and every incorporeal creature; but there is nothing visible that is not changeable.

Therefore the substance, or, if it is better so called, the essence of God, in which, in our small measure, from however tiny a part, we understand the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, since it is in no way changeable, can in no way be visible in itself. Accordingly it is plain that all those things that were seen by the fathers, when God was presented to them according to his dispensation, suited to the times, were made through a creature. And though it is hidden from us how he did them with angels as his ministers, yet we say that they were done through angels, not from our own understanding, lest we seem to anyone to be wise beyond what is fitting; but we are wise unto sobriety, as God has apportioned to us the measure of faith, and we believe, and therefore we also speak. For there stands the authority of the divine Scriptures, from which our mind ought not to stray, nor, leaving the firm ground of the divine word, be hurled down the precipices of its own suspicions, where neither bodily sense guides nor the clear reason of truth shines. For it is written most plainly in the Epistle to the Hebrews, when the dispensation of the New Testament was being distinguished from the dispensation of the Old Testament according to what befitted the ages and times, that not only those visible things but also the word itself was made through angels. For it says thus: "But to which of the angels did he ever say, 'Sit at my right hand, until I make your enemies the footstool of your feet'? Are they not all ministering spirits, sent out to minister for the sake of those who will inherit salvation?" From this it shows that all those things were done not only through angels but also for our sake, that is, for the sake of the people of God, to whom the inheritance of eternal life is promised. As it is also written to the Corinthians: "All these things happened to them in figure; and they were written for our correction, upon whom the end of the ages has come." Then, showing in consequence and openly that the word was spoken then through angels but now through the Son, he says: "Therefore we must give more abundant heed to what we have heard, lest perhaps we drift away. For if the word spoken through angels was made firm, and every transgression and disobedience received a just recompense of reward, how shall we escape if we neglect so great a salvation?" And as if you were asking what salvation, to show that he was now speaking of the New Testament, that is, of the word spoken not through angels but through the Lord, he says: "Which, having first begun to be declared through the Lord, was confirmed to us by those who heard him, God bearing witness with signs and wonders and various mighty works and distributions of the Holy Spirit according to his will." But someone says: "Why, then, is it written, 'The Lord said to Moses,' and not rather, 'The angel said to Moses'?" Because when a herald pronounces the words of a judge, it is not written in the records, "The herald said," but "The judge said." So too when a holy prophet speaks, even if we say, "The prophet said," we wish nothing else to be understood than that the Lord said it. And if we say, "The Lord said," we do not remove the prophet, but point out who said it through him. And that Scripture indeed often discloses that it is an angel who is the Lord, at whose speaking it is repeatedly said, "The Lord said," as we have already shown. But because of those who, when Scripture names an angel there, want the Son of God himself to be understood in his own person, because he was called an angel by the prophet on account of announcing the will of the Father and his own, I wished to give a plainer testimony from this epistle, where it is not said "through an angel" but "through angels." For Stephen too, in the Acts of the Apostles, narrates these things in the same way in which they were written in the old books: "Brothers and fathers, hear," he says: "The God of glory appeared to our father Abraham when he was in Mesopotamia." But lest anyone should think that the God of glory then appeared to the eyes of any mortal by that which he is in himself, he says in what follows that an angel appeared to Moses. "Moses fled," he says, "at this word, and became a sojourner in the land of Midian, where he begot two sons. And when forty years were completed there, there appeared to him in the desert of Mount Sinai an angel of the Lord in a flame of fire in a bush. And Moses, seeing it, wondered at the sight. And as he drew near to look, the voice of the Lord came, saying: I am the God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. And Moses trembled and did not dare to look. And the Lord said to him: Loose the shoes from your feet," and so on. Here he certainly speaks of both an angel and the Lord, and the same as the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, as it is written in Genesis. Will anyone perhaps say that the Lord appeared to Moses through an angel, but to Abraham through himself? Let us not ask this of Stephen; let us question the very book from which Stephen related these things. For because it is written, "And the Lord God said to Abraham," and a little later, "And the Lord God appeared to Abraham," were these things therefore not done through angels? Since in another place it likewise says, "And God appeared to him by the oak of Mamre, as he sat at the door of his tent at noon," and yet it adds in consequence, "And lifting up his eyes he looked, and behold, three men were standing over him," of whom we have already spoken. For how will those who either refuse to rise from the words to understanding, or easily hurl themselves from understanding into the words, how will they be able to explain that God was seen in three men, unless they admit that they were angels, as what follows also teaches? Or, because it is not said, "An angel spoke to him," or "appeared," will they therefore dare to say that to Moses that vision and voice came through an angel, because it is so written, but that to Abraham, because no mention of an angel is made, God appeared and spoke through his own substance? What of the fact that even with Abraham there is no silence about an angel? For thus it reads, when his son was commanded to be sacrificed: "And it came to pass after these words that God tested Abraham and said to him: Abraham, Abraham. And he said: Here I am. And he said to him: Take your beloved son, whom you love, Isaac, and go into the high land, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains which I shall tell you." Certainly here God, not an angel, is mentioned. But a little later the Scripture runs thus: "And Abraham stretched out his hand and took the sword to kill his son. And the angel of the Lord called him from heaven and said to him: Abraham, Abraham. And he said: Here I am. And he said: Do not lay your hand on the boy, nor do anything to him." What is the answer to this? Will they say that God commanded Isaac to be killed and the angel forbade it; and further, that the father himself, against the command of God, who had commanded him to kill, obeyed the angel so as to spare? This interpretation is to be laughed at and thrown out. But the Scripture does not allow even so gross and abject a view any place, at once adding: "For now I know that you fear God, and have not spared your beloved son for my sake." What is "for my sake," except for the sake of him who had commanded him to be killed? Is, then, the God of Abraham the same as the angel, or rather is it God through an angel? Take what follows. Certainly here the angel is now expressed most plainly; yet see what is joined to it: "Abraham lifted up his eyes and saw, and behold, a ram was caught by its horns in a sabech tree; and Abraham went and took the ram and offered it as a burnt offering in place of Isaac his son. And Abraham called the name of that place, The Lord saw, so that they say today that on the mountain the Lord was seen." Just as a little before, what God said through the angel, "For now I know that you fear God," is not to be understood as though God then came to know, but that he brought it about that through God Abraham himself might know how much strength of heart he had to obey God even to the sacrifice of his only son, by that manner of speaking by which the effect is signified by the cause, as cold is called sluggish because it makes people sluggish: so that he was said to have known for this reason, that he had made Abraham himself know, from whom the firmness of his faith could have been hidden had it not been proved by such a test. So here too Abraham called the name of that place "The Lord saw," that is, made himself seen. For he at once goes on to say, "so that they say today that on the mountain the Lord was seen." See, the same angel is called the Lord: why, except because the Lord spoke through the angel? And now in what follows the angel speaks altogether prophetically, and plainly discloses that God speaks through the angel. "And the angel of the Lord," it says, "called Abraham a second time from heaven, saying: By myself I have sworn, says the Lord, because you have done this thing and have not spared your beloved son for my sake," and so on. Certainly the prophets too usually have these words, so that he through whom the Lord speaks says, "Thus says the Lord." Or does the Son of God say of the Father, "says the Lord," and is he himself that Angel of the Father? What then? Do they not see, as to those three men who appeared to Abraham after it had been said beforehand, "The Lord appeared to him," how hard they are pressed? Or, because they are called men, were they not angels? Let them read Daniel saying, "Behold, the man Gabriel." But why do we delay any longer to stop their mouths with another most evident and weighty proof, where it is said not "an angel" in the singular, nor "men" in the plural, but plainly "angels," through whom not just any word was spoken, but the Law itself is most plainly shown to have been given; which certainly none of the faithful doubts that God gave to Moses to bring the people of Israel under its yoke, but which was nonetheless given through angels? Stephen speaks thus: "Stiff-necked," he says, "and uncircumcised in heart and ears, you always resist the Holy Spirit, as your fathers did. Which of the prophets did your fathers not persecute? And they killed those who foretold the coming of the Righteous One, whose betrayers and murderers you have now become, who received the law by the ordinances of angels and did not keep it." What is plainer than this? What stronger, with such authority? The law was indeed given to that people by the ordinances of angels; but through it the coming of the Lord Jesus Christ was being arranged and foretold; and he himself, as the Word of God, was in a wonderful and ineffable way in the angels by whose ordinances the law itself was given. Hence he says in the Gospel, "If you believed Moses, you would believe me also; for he wrote of me." Through angels, then, the Lord was then speaking; through angels the Son of God, the future mediator between God and men from the seed of Abraham, was arranging his own coming, so that he might find those by whom he would be received, confessing themselves guilty, whom the law unfulfilled had made transgressors. Hence the Apostle too says to the Galatians: "Why then the law? It was set down for the sake of transgression, until the seed should come to whom the promise was made, ordained through angels in the hand of a Mediator"; that is, ordained through angels in his own hand. For he was not born by necessity of condition but by power. And that he calls not one of the angels mediator, but the Lord Jesus Christ himself, insofar as he deigned to become this, you have in another place: "One God," he says, "and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus." Hence that Passover in the slaying of the lamb; hence all those things that are figured of Christ, who was to come in the flesh and to suffer, and also to rise again, in the law that was given by the ordinances of angels; in which angels were certainly both the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit; and sometimes the Father, sometimes the Son, sometimes the Holy Spirit, sometimes God without any distinction of person, was figured through them, appearing indeed in visible and perceptible forms, yet through his creature, not through his substance, for the seeing of which hearts are cleansed through all these things that are seen by the eyes and heard by the ears. But now enough, I think, has been argued and shown, according to our capacity, of what we had undertaken to show in this book; and it has been established, both by probability of reason as far as a man, or rather as far as I, could, and by firmness of authority as far as the divine words of the holy Scriptures have disclosed it, that when God was said to appear to our ancient fathers before the incarnation of the Savior, those voices and bodily appearances were made through angels: whether they themselves spoke or did something in the person of God, as we have shown the prophets also usually did, or took from the creature what they themselves were not, in which God might be shown figuratively to men; which kind of signification, Scripture teaches by many examples, the prophets did not omit either. It remains, then, for us now to see, since both when the Lord was born of the Virgin, and when the Holy Spirit descended in bodily form like a dove, and when fiery tongues were seen with a sound from heaven on the day of Pentecost after the Lord's ascension, it was not the Word of God himself in his substance, in which he is equal and coeternal with the Father, nor the Spirit of the Father and the Son in his substance, in which he too is equal and coeternal with both, but certainly a creature, which could be formed and come into being in those ways, that appeared to bodily and mortal senses, what difference there is between those manifestations and these which are proper to the Son of God and the Holy Spirit, though they were made through a visible creature. This we shall more conveniently begin in another volume.

Prologue. The human race is accustomed to value highly the knowledge of earthly and heavenly things; and in this those are surely better who prefer to this knowledge the knowing of themselves. And more praiseworthy is the mind to which even its own weakness is known than one which, disregarding it, searches out the paths of the stars, even to know them, or holds them already known, while itself ignorant of the way by which it may enter into its own salvation and strength. But he who has already awakened toward God, stirred by the warmth of the Holy Spirit, and in love of him has become worthless in his own eyes, and wishing but not able to enter into him, and attending to himself as God gives him light, has found himself and has recognized that his own sickness cannot be tempered to God's purity, finds it sweet to weep and to beseech him to have mercy again and again until he puts off all his misery, and to pray with confidence, having already received the free pledge of salvation through God's only Savior and Enlightener of man. Such a one, so acting and so grieving, knowledge does not puff up, because love builds up; for he has preferred knowledge to knowledge: he has preferred to know his own weakness rather than to know the walls of the world, the foundations of the earth, and the heights of the heavens; and by adding this knowledge he has added sorrow, the sorrow of his pilgrimage, from longing for his homeland and for its founder, his blessed God. Among men of this kind, in the household of your Christ, O Lord my God, if I groan among your poor, grant me from your bread to answer men who do not hunger and thirst for righteousness but are satisfied and have abundance. But it is their own phantasm that has satisfied them, not your truth, which they repel and recoil from, and fall into their own vanity. I certainly feel how many fictions the human heart brings forth; and what is my heart but a human heart? But this I pray of the God of my heart, that I may pour out into these writings none of these fictions as solid truth, but that whatever may come into them through me may come from that source from which, though I have been cast away from the sight of his eyes and am trying to return from afar by the way which the divinity of his Only-begotten has paved with his humanity, the breath of his truth is sprinkled upon me. This truth I, though changeable, draw in insofar as I see nothing changeable in it: not in places and times, as bodies are; not in times alone and as it were places, as the thoughts of our spirits are; not in times alone and without any image of places, as certain reasonings of our minds are. For the essence of God, by which he is, has nothing at all changeable, neither in eternity, nor in truth, nor in will: for there truth is eternal, love is eternal; and there love is true, eternity is true; and there eternity is dear, truth is dear.

But since we have been exiled from unchangeable joy, and yet have not been cut off and broken away from it so as not to seek eternity, truth, and blessedness even in these changeable and temporal things (for we do not wish to die, nor to be deceived, nor to be troubled), visions suited to our pilgrimage have been sent to us from God, by which we might be reminded that what we seek is not here, but that we must return from this to that place on which, unless we depended on it, we would not seek these things here. And first we had to be persuaded how much God loved us, lest from despair we should not dare to be lifted up to him. But it had to be shown what kind of people he loved, lest, priding ourselves as it were on our merits, we should recoil the more from him and fail the more in our own strength. And so he dealt with us in such a way that we might make progress rather through his strength, and so the power of love might be perfected in the weakness of humility. This is signified in the Psalm where it says: "Setting apart a voluntary rain, O God, for your inheritance; and it was weakened, but you perfected it." For by "voluntary rain" he means nothing but grace, not paid for merits but given freely, which is why it is also called grace; for he gave it not because we were worthy but because he willed. Knowing this, we shall not trust in ourselves; and this is to be weakened. But he perfects us, who also said to the apostle Paul: "My grace is sufficient for you; for power is perfected in weakness." Man, therefore, had to be persuaded how much God loved us and what kind of people he loved: how much, lest we despair; what kind, lest we be proud. The Apostle explains this most necessary point thus: "But God commends his love toward us, in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us; much more, then, having now been justified by his blood, shall we be saved from wrath through him. For if, when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved by his life." And in another place: "What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not spare his own Son but handed him over for us all, how has he not also given us all things with him?" And what is announced to us as done was shown to the righteous of old as going to be done, so that through the same faith they too, humbled, might be weakened, and weakened, might be perfected. Because, then, the Word of God is one, through whom all things were made, which is the unchangeable truth, there all things are at once, in their principles and unchangeably; not only the things that now are in this whole creation, but also those that were and those that will be. But there they neither were nor will be, but only are; and all are life, and all are one, or rather it is one and one life. For all things were made through him in such a way that whatever was made in them is life in him, and was not made: because in the beginning the Word was not made, but "the Word was with God, and the Word was God, and all things were made through him"; nor would all things have been made through him unless he had been before all things and had not been made. And among the things that were made through him, even body, which is not life, would not have been made through him unless it had been life in him before it was made. For "what was made was already life in him," and not life of any kind whatever: for the soul too is the life of the body, but it too was made, because it is changeable; and through what was it made, if not through the unchangeable Word of God? For "all things were made through him, and without him nothing was made." "What was made," then, "was already life in him," and not life of any kind whatever, but "the life was the light of men": the light, that is, of rational minds, by which men differ from beasts and are therefore men. Not, then, bodily light, which is the light of flesh, whether it shines from heaven or is kindled by earthly fires; and not of human flesh only, but also of that of beasts, down to the tiniest worms. For all these see this light; but that life was the light of men, and is not placed far from each one of us; for in it "we live and move and have our being."

But the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it. Now the darkness is the foolish minds of men, blinded by depraved desire and unbelief. To cure and heal these, the Word, through whom all things were made, became flesh and dwelt among us. For our enlightenment is participation in the Word, that is, in that life which is the light of men. But for this participation we were altogether unfit and unsuited, because of the uncleanness of sins. We had, therefore, to be cleansed. Now the one cleansing of the wicked and the proud is the blood of the righteous one and the humility of God; so that, in order to contemplate God, which by nature we are not, we might be cleansed through him who became what by nature we are and what by sin we are not. For by nature we are not God; by nature we are men; by sin we are not righteous. God, therefore, having become a righteous man, interceded with God for sinful man. For the sinner does not fit with the righteous, but man fits with man. Joining to us, then, the likeness of his humanity, he took away the unlikeness of our iniquity; and having become a partaker of our mortality, he made us partakers of his divinity. For rightly the death of the sinner, coming from the necessity of condemnation, was undone by the death of the righteous one, coming from the will of mercy, while his single fits our double. For this fitting together, or agreement, or concord, or consonance, or whatever is more aptly said, which is as one to two, is of very great importance in every compacting, or, if it is better so called, in every fitting together of the creature. For I wished to speak of this fitting together, as it now occurs to me, which the Greeks call harmonia. Nor is this the place to show how much the consonance of the single to the double is worth, which is found in us most of all, and is so implanted in us by nature (by whom, certainly, if not by him who created us?) that not even the unskilled can fail to feel it, whether singing themselves or hearing others; for by it higher and lower voices are brought into concord, so that whoever departs from it offends vehemently not knowledge, which most people lack, but the very sense of our hearing. But to demonstrate this a long discourse is needed; yet it can be shown to the ears themselves by one who knows how, on a regular monochord.

But what presses at present is to explain, as far as God grants, how the single of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ fits with our double and in a certain way harmonizes with it for our salvation. We certainly, as no Christian doubts, are dead both in soul and in body: in soul because of sin, in body because of the punishment of sin, and therefore in body too because of sin. And to both these parts of ours, that is, to soul and body, a medicine and resurrection were needed, so that what had been changed for the worse might be renewed for the better. Now the death of the soul is ungodliness, and the death of the body is corruptibility, through which also the departure of the soul from the body comes about. For as the soul dies when God forsakes it, so the body dies when the soul forsakes it; whence the former becomes foolish, the latter lifeless. For the soul is raised up through repentance, and in the body that is still mortal the renewal of life is begun by faith, by which one believes in him who justifies the ungodly; and it is increased and strengthened by good conduct from day to day, as the inner man is renewed more and more. But the body, as the outer man, the longer this life lasts, the more and more it is corrupted, whether by age, or disease, or various afflictions, until it comes to the last, which all call death. And its resurrection is deferred to the end, when our justification itself too will be perfected ineffably. For then we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is. But now, as long as the body that is corrupted weighs down the soul, and human life on earth is all temptation, no living man will be justified in his sight, in comparison with the righteousness by which we shall be made equal to the angels, and the glory that will be revealed in us. As for distinguishing the death of the soul from the death of the body, why should I recall more proofs, when the Lord in one saying of the Gospel has set out both deaths, easy for anyone to distinguish, where he says, "Let the dead bury their dead"? For a dead body was to be buried; but he wished its buriers to be understood as dead in soul through the ungodliness of unbelief, such as are raised when it is said, "Arise, you who sleep, and rise from the dead, and Christ will give you light." And the Apostle condemns a certain death, saying of a widow, "But she who lives in pleasures is dead while she lives." The soul, then, which is now godly, having been ungodly, is said, because of the righteousness of faith, to have come back to life from death and to live. But the body is said in a certain place in the Scriptures even to be dead, not only as going to die because of the departure of the soul that is to come, but because of the great weakness of flesh and blood, as the Apostle says: "The body indeed is dead because of sin, but the spirit is life because of righteousness." This life is brought about by faith, since "the righteous lives by faith." But what follows? "But if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit dwelling in you." To this double death of ours, then, our Savior applied his single one; and to bring about both our resurrections, he set before us and set forth in sacrament and example his one resurrection. For he was not a sinner or ungodly, so that he should need, as one dead in spirit, to be renewed in the inner man, and as it were be called back by repentance to the life of righteousness; but clothed in mortal flesh, and dying in it alone, rising in it alone, in it alone he harmonized with us for both, since in it there came about a sacrament of the inner man and an example of the outer. For as a sacrament of our inner man that cry was uttered, pertaining to the signifying of the death of our soul, not only in the Psalm but also on the cross: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" With this cry the Apostle agrees, saying: "Knowing that our old man was crucified together with him, so that the body of sin might be done away, that we should no longer serve sin." For by the crucifixion of the inner man are understood the sorrows of repentance and a certain wholesome torment of self-control, by which death the death of ungodliness is destroyed, in which God left us. And therefore by such a cross the body of sin is done away, so that we no longer present our members to sin as weapons of iniquity. For if the inner man too is renewed from day to day, surely it is old before it is renewed. For it is within that what the same Apostle says takes place: "Put off the old man and put on the new." Which he goes on to explain thus: "Wherefore, putting away lying, speak the truth." And where is lying put away if not within, so that he may dwell on the holy mountain of God who speaks the truth in his heart? But the resurrection of the Lord's body is shown to pertain to the sacrament of our inner resurrection where, after he had risen, he said to the woman: "Do not touch me; for I have not yet ascended to my Father." With this mystery the Apostle agrees, saying: "If, then, you have risen with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God; set your minds on the things that are above." For this is not to touch Christ unless he has ascended to the Father: not to think of Christ in a carnal way. And now the death of the Lord's flesh pertains to the example of the death of our outer man, because by such a passion above all he exhorted his servants not to fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Which is why the Apostle says: "That I may fill up what is lacking of the afflictions of Christ in my flesh." And the resurrection of the Lord's body is found to pertain to the example of the resurrection of our outer man, because he said to the disciples: "Handle me and see, for a spirit does not have flesh and bones, as you see that I have." And one of the disciples, even touching his scars, exclaimed, saying, "My Lord and my God!" And since the whole integrity of that flesh appeared, there was shown in it what he had said in exhorting his own: "Not a hair of your head shall perish." For why first "Do not touch me, for I have not yet ascended to my Father," and why is he touched by the disciples before he ascends to the Father, unless because there a sacrament of the inner man was being intimated, here an example of the outer was being offered? Or is anyone perhaps so absurd and so turned away from the truth as to dare to say that he was touched by men before he ascended, but by women when he had ascended? On account of this example of our future resurrection in the body, which went before in the Lord, the Apostle says: "Christ the firstfruits, then those who are Christ's." For in that place he was treating of the resurrection of the body, on account of which he also says, "He will transform the body of our lowliness, conformed to the body of his glory." The one death of our Savior, then, was for the salvation of our two deaths; and his one resurrection provided two resurrections for us, since his body, in both respects, that is, both in death and in resurrection, was ministered to us by a certain medicinal fitness, both as a sacrament of our inner man and as an example of the outer.

Now this ratio of the single to the double arises indeed from the number three, for one and two are three; but the whole of what I have said comes to six, for one and two and three make six. This number is called perfect because it is completed by its parts: for it has these three, a sixth, a third, and a half; and no other part that can be named as a fraction is found in it. Its sixth, then, is one; its third, two; its half, three. And one and two and three complete that same six. Holy Scripture commends its perfection to us, above all in that God finished his works in six days, and on the sixth day man was made in the image of God. And in the sixth age of the human race the Son of God came and became the son of man, to re-form us to the image of God. For that is the age now in progress, whether a thousand years are assigned to each age, or we trace in the divine writings memorable and notable junctures, as it were, of time: so that the first age is found from Adam to Noah, then the second to Abraham; and next, as the evangelist Matthew distinguished them, from Abraham to David, from David to the deportation to Babylon, and from there to the Virgin's childbearing. These three ages joined to those two make five. Accordingly the birth of the Lord began the sixth, which is now in progress until the hidden end of time. That this number six bears a certain figure of time we also recognize in that threefold division by which we reckon one time before the Law, another under the Law, a third under grace. In this time we have received the sacrament of renewal, so that at the end of time, renewed in every part by the resurrection of the flesh as well, we may be healed of all weakness, not only of the soul but also of the body. Hence that woman is understood as a type of the Church, healed and straightened by the Lord, whom infirmity had bent over, Satan binding her. For it is of such hidden enemies that the voice of the Psalm laments: "They have bowed down my soul." And this woman had been in her infirmity eighteen years, which is three times six. And the months of eighteen years are found in the number of the solid cube of six, which is six times six, and that six times. For nearby in the same passage of the Gospel is also that fig tree whose miserable barrenness the third year was exposing. But intercession was made for it so that it was spared that year, so that if it bore fruit, well; but if not, it would be cut down. For the three years also belong to that same threefold division, and the months of three years make the square of six, which is six times six. One year too, if twelve full months are considered, which thirty days complete (for the ancients observed such a month, which the circuit of the moon shows), is strong in the number six. For what six is worth in the first order of numbers, which consists of ones up to ten, sixty is worth in the second order, which consists of tens up to a hundred. The number sixty, then, in days, is a sixth part of the year. Accordingly six of the first row is multiplied, as it were, by the six of the second row, and six times sixty make three hundred and sixty days, which are twelve full months. But since, just as the circuit of the moon shows men the month, so the year is marked by the circuit of the sun, and five days and a quarter of a day remain for the sun to complete its course and close the year (for four quarters make one day, which must be intercalated when a four-year period has run out, which they call the bissextile, lest the order of times be disturbed), the number six is also very strong in those five days and a quarter, if we consider them. First, because, as it usually happens that the whole is reckoned from a part, they are no longer five days but rather six, if that quarter is taken as a day. Next, because in those five days there is a sixth part of a month; and the quarter itself has six hours. For a whole day, that is, with its night, is twenty-four hours, of which the fourth part, which is a quarter of a day, is found to be six hours. So in the course of the year the number six is very strong.

Not without reason, too, in the building of the Lord's body, in figure of which he said he would raise up in three days the temple destroyed by the Jews, the number six itself is understood as standing for a year. For they said: "Forty-six years this temple was in building." And forty-six times six makes two hundred and seventy-six. This number of days completes nine months and six days, which are counted as if ten months for women giving birth: not because all reach the sixth day after the ninth month, but because the very perfection of the Lord's body is found to have been brought to birth in so many days, as the authority of the Church, receiving it from the tradition of the elders, preserves. For he is believed to have been conceived on the eighth day before the Kalends of April, on which day he also suffered; so that to the new tomb in which he was buried, where none of the dead had been laid, either before or afterward, corresponds the Virgin's womb in which he was conceived, where none of mortals was sown. And he is reported to have been born on the eighth day before the Kalends of January. Counted from that day to this one, then, two hundred and seventy-six days are found, which contain the number six forty-six times. In this number of years the temple was built, because in this number of sixes the Lord's body was perfected, which, destroyed by the passion of death, he raised up in three days. For he spoke this of the temple of his body, as is declared by the most evident and strongest testimony of the Gospel, in which he says: "As Jonah was in the belly of the whale three days and three nights, so will the Son of Man be in the heart of the earth three days and three nights."

But that the three days themselves were not whole and full, Scripture is witness: the first day was counted as whole from its last part, and the third day from its first part, and it too as whole; but the middle one between them, that is, the second day, was absolutely whole, with its twenty-four hours, twelve of night and twelve of day. For he was crucified first by the cries of the Jews at the third hour, when it was the sixth day of the week. Then he was hung on the cross itself at the sixth hour, and gave up his spirit at the ninth hour. And he was buried when it was already evening, as the words of the Gospel run; which is understood as at the end of the day. Wherever, then, you begin, even if another explanation can be given of how it is not contrary to the Gospel of John to understand that he was hung on the wood at the third hour, you do not take in the whole first day. So it will be counted as whole from its last part, as the third is from its first part. For the night up to the dawn, at which the Lord's resurrection was made known, belongs to the third day; because God, who commanded light to shine out of darkness, so that through the grace of the New Testament and participation in the resurrection of Christ we might hear, "For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord," intimates to us in a certain way that the day takes its beginning from the night. For as the first days, on account of man's future fall, are reckoned from light to night, so these, on account of man's restoration, are reckoned from darkness to light. From the hour of death, then, to the dawn of the resurrection there are forty hours, counting the ninth hour itself. With this number agrees also his life on earth after the resurrection, in forty days. And this number is very frequent in the Scriptures to intimate the mystery of perfection in the fourfold world. For ten has a certain perfection, and ten multiplied by four makes forty. And from the evening of the burial to the dawn of the resurrection there are thirty-six hours, which is the square of six. And it is related to that ratio of the single to the double, in which is the greatest consonance of fitting together. For twelve agrees with twenty-four as single to double, and they make thirty-six: a whole night with a whole day and a whole night; and not without that sacrament I mentioned above. For not absurdly do we compare the spirit to the day and the body to the night. For the Lord's body in death and resurrection bore both a figure of our spirit and an example of our body. In this way too, then, that ratio of the single to the double appears in the thirty-six hours, when twelve are compared with twenty-four. And as for the reasons why these numbers are set down in the holy Scriptures, someone else may track down other reasons, whether reasons to be preferred to those I have given, or equally probable, or even more probable than these; yet no one will be so foolish and inept as to contend that they were set down in the Scriptures for nothing, and that there are no mystical reasons why these numbers are mentioned there. But those that I have given I have gathered either from the authority of the Church, handed down from the elders, or from the testimony of the divine Scriptures, or from the reasoning of numbers and likenesses. Against reason no sober man, against the Scriptures no Christian, against the Church no peaceable man, will hold an opinion.

This sacrament, this sacrifice, this priest, this God: before he came, sent, made of a woman, all the things that appeared sacredly and mystically to our fathers through angelic miracles, or that were done through the fathers themselves, were likenesses of him, so that the whole creation in a way spoke by deeds of the one who was to come, in whom would be the salvation of all who were to be restored from death. For because, recoiling and falling out of harmony through the iniquity of ungodliness, we had flowed away from the one true and highest God and had vanished into many things, torn apart through many things and clinging to many things, it was fitting, by the will and command of the merciful God, that the many things themselves should cry out together that the one was coming; and that the one, cried out by the many, should come; and that the many should bear witness that the one had come; and that, unburdened of the many, we should come to the one; and that, dead in soul through many sins, and going to die in the flesh because of sin, we should love the one who died in the flesh for us without sin; and that, believing in him raised up, and rising with him in spirit through faith, we should be justified in the one righteous one, made one; and that we should not despair of rising in the flesh itself, when we see that the one head has gone before us, the many members; in whom, now cleansed through faith and then made whole again through sight, and reconciled to God through the Mediator, we may cleave to the one, enjoy the one, and remain one.

So the Son of God himself, the Word of God, and the same mediator between God and men, the Son of Man, equal to the Father through the unity of divinity, and our partner through the taking up of humanity, interceding with the Father for us by that by which he was man, yet not keeping silent that as God he was one with the Father, speaks thus among other things: "I do not pray for these only," he says, "but also for those who will believe in me through their word, that they all may be one, as you, Father, are in me and I in you, that they also may be one in us, so that the world may believe that you sent me. And the glory which you gave me I have given them, that they may be one, as we also are one."

He did not say, "I and they are one," although, because he is the head of the Church and the Church is his body, he could have said, "I and they," not "are one thing" but "are one person," because the head and the body is one Christ. But, showing his divinity consubstantial with the Father (which is why he also says in another place, "I and the Father are one"), he wishes his own to be one in their own kind, that is, in the consubstantial equality of the same nature, but in him; because in themselves they could not be, separated from one another by different pleasures and desires and the uncleanness of sins. From these they are cleansed through the Mediator, so that they may be one in him: not only through the same nature by which all, from mortal men, are made equal to the angels, but also through the same most harmonious will, breathing together toward the same blessedness, fused in a certain way by the fire of love into one spirit. For this is the force of his saying, "that they may be one, as we also are one": that just as the Father and the Son are one not only by equality of substance but also by will, so also those between whom and God the Son is mediator may be one not only through being of the same nature but also through the same fellowship of love. Then he indicates the very fact that he is the Mediator through whom we are reconciled to God, thus: "I in them," he says, "and you in me, that they may be perfected in one."

This is true peace and a firm bond for us with our Creator, cleansed and reconciled through the Mediator of life, just as, stained and estranged, we had departed from him through the mediator of death. For as the proud devil led proud man to death, so the humble Christ led obedient man back to life; because as the one, lifted up, fell and cast down the one who consented, so the other, humbled, rose again and raised up the one who believes. For because the devil had not come to where he had led man (for he bore the death of the spirit in ungodliness, but had not undergone the death of the flesh, since he had not taken on its garment), he seemed to man a great prince among the legions of demons, through whom he exercises the kingdom of deceits. So he holds man in subjection, puffing him up the more through the vapor of pride, more eager for power than for righteousness, or through false philosophy, or ensnaring him through sacrilegious rites, in which also, by magical deceits, he casts down headlong the more curious and prouder souls, deceived and mocked; promising even a purification of the soul through what they call teletai, transforming himself into an angel of light by manifold contrivance, in lying signs and wonders.

For it is easy for the most wicked spirits to do many things through aerial bodies which souls weighed down by earthly bodies, even those of better disposition, wonder at. For if earthly bodies themselves, trained by certain arts and exercises, display such marvels to men in theatrical shows that those who have never seen such things scarcely believe them when told, what great thing is it for the devil and his angels to make from the bodily elements, through aerial bodies, things that the flesh wonders at; or even, by hidden inspirations, to contrive phantoms of images to mock the human senses, by which to deceive people awake or asleep, or to drive the frenzied into agitation? But just as it can happen that a man better in life and conduct watches the most wicked men walking on a rope or doing many incredible things by manifold motions of their bodies, and in no way desires to do such things, nor thinks them on that account to be preferred to himself, so a faithful and pious soul, not only if it sees the miracles of demons but even if it shudders at them through the frailty of the flesh, will not on that account either grieve that it cannot do such things or judge the demons better for this reason; especially since it is in the fellowship of the saints, who, whether men or good angels, have done things not at all deceptive and much greater, through the power of God, to whom all things are subject.

In no way, therefore, are souls cleansed and reconciled to God through sacrilegious likenesses and impious curiosities and magical consecrations; because the false mediator does not carry them across to higher things, but rather, besieging the way, shuts it off through the affections which he breathes into those of his company, the more malignant the prouder they are. These cannot nourish the wings of the virtues for flying upward, but rather heap up the weights of the vices for sinking down, the soul being about to fall the more heavily the more loftily it seems to itself to be raised. Therefore, as the Magi did, divinely warned, whom the star led to adore the lowliness of the Lord, so we too ought to return to our homeland not by the way we came, but by another way, which the humble king has taught, and which the proud king, adversary of the humble king, cannot besiege. For to us too, that we might adore the humble Christ, "the heavens have declared the glory of God," since "their sound has gone out into all the earth, and their words to the ends of the world." Our way to death was through sin in Adam. "For through one man sin entered into the world, and through sin death; and so it passed to all men, in whom all sinned." The mediator of this way was the devil, the persuader to sin and the one who hurls into death. For he too, to work our double death, brought his single one. For through ungodliness he died in spirit, but certainly he did not die in the flesh; yet to us he both persuaded ungodliness and through it brought it about that we deserved to come into the death of the flesh. The one, then, we sought by wicked persuasion; the other followed us by just condemnation. For this is why it is written, "God did not make death," because he himself was not the cause of death; but yet through his most just retribution death was inflicted on the sinner. Just as a judge inflicts punishment on a guilty man, yet the cause of the punishment is not the justice of the judge but the desert of the crime. Where, then, the mediator of death sent us but did not himself come, that is, to the death of the flesh, there the Lord our God inserted for us the medicine of correction, which the devil did not deserve, by a hidden and exceedingly secret ordering of divine and lofty justice. So, then, that "as through one man came death, so also through one man might come the resurrection of the dead" (because men avoided more what they could not avoid, the death of the flesh, than the death of the spirit, that is, the punishment more than the desert of punishment; for not to sin they either do not care about or care little about, but not to die, though it is not obtained, they strive for vehemently), the Mediator of life, showing how little death is to be feared, which through the human condition can no longer be escaped, but rather ungodliness, which can be guarded against through faith, met us at the end to which we had come, but not by the way by which we had come. For we came to death through sin; he, through righteousness; and therefore, while our death is the punishment of sin, his death was made a sacrifice for sin.

Therefore, since the spirit is set above the body, and the death of the spirit is to be forsaken by God, while the death of the body is to be forsaken by the spirit; and since this is the punishment in the death of the body, that the spirit, because it willingly forsook God, forsakes the body unwillingly, so that, since the spirit forsook God because it willed to, it forsakes the body even if it does not will to, and does not forsake it when it wills to, unless it inflicts on itself some violence by which the body itself is destroyed: the spirit of the Mediator showed how no punishment of sin brought him to the death of the flesh, because he did not forsake it unwillingly, but because he willed, when he willed, and how he willed. For, joined with the Word in unity, he says on this account: "I have power to lay down my life, and I have power to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of myself, and I take it up again." And those who were present marveled at this most of all, as the Gospel tells, when, after that cry in which he uttered the figure of our sin, he at once gave up his spirit. For those hung on the wood were tortured by a long death. Hence the legs of the robbers were broken, so that they might die at once and be taken down from the wood before the Sabbath. But that he was found already dead was a cause of wonder. We read that Pilate too marveled at this, when the body was asked of him for burial. That deceiver, then, who was the mediator of man to death, and falsely sets himself up as the way to life under the name of purification through sacrilegious rites and sacrifices, by which the proud are seduced, because he could have neither participation in our death nor a resurrection of his own, could indeed bring his single death to our double one; but a single resurrection, in which there would be both a sacrament of our renewal and an example of the awakening that will come at the end, he certainly could not. He, therefore, who, living in spirit, raised up his own dead flesh, the true Mediator of life, cast out that one, dead in spirit and the mediator of death, from the spirits of those who believe in him, so that he might not reign within, but assault from without, and yet not prevail. To him he himself also offered himself to be tempted, so that he might be the mediator for overcoming his temptations too, not only by help but also by example. But when that one, at first, striving to creep into the inner parts by every approach, had been driven out, after the baptism in the desert, every enticing temptation being finished, because, dead in spirit, he did not invade the one who was living in spirit, eager in whatever way for human death, he turned himself to bringing about the death he could, and was permitted against that which the living Mediator had received from us as mortal. And where he could do something, there he was defeated on every side; and from the point at which he received outwardly the power to kill the Lord's flesh, from there his inner power, by which he held us, was killed. For it came about that the bonds of many sins in many deaths were loosed through the one death of the one whom no sin had preceded. This death the Lord paid for us, though it was not owed, so that the deaths that were owed might not harm us. For he was not stripped of the flesh by the right of any power, but he stripped himself. For he who could not die if he did not will it, without doubt died because he willed; and therefore he made an example of the principalities and powers, triumphing over them confidently in himself. For by his death, the one most true sacrifice offered for us, he cleansed, abolished, and extinguished whatever guilt there was by which the principalities and powers rightfully held us to pay the penalty; and by his resurrection he called us, predestined, to new life, justified us when called, and glorified us when justified. So the devil, in the very death of the flesh, lost man, whom, seduced by his consent, he possessed as if by full right, and over whom he, himself not hedged in by any corruption of flesh and blood, lorded it through this frailty of a mortal body, as over one very needy and weak, and the prouder the richer and stronger he was as it were, as over one ragged and wretched. For where he had driven the falling sinner without following him, there he pursued and drove the descending Redeemer. So in the fellowship of death the Son of God deigned to become our friend, where, by not coming there, the enemy thought himself better and greater than we. For our Redeemer says: "Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." Therefore the devil believed himself superior even to the Lord, insofar as the Lord yielded to him in his sufferings; for of him too is understood what is read in the Psalm, "You made him a little lower than the angels"; so that, the unjust one acting against us as if by equal right, he himself, slain though innocent, might overcome him by most equitable right, and so take captive the captivity brought about because of sin, and free us from the captivity that was just because of sin, blotting out the bond of death by his just blood unjustly shed, and redeeming sinners to be justified. Hence the devil still mocks his own, to whom, as the false mediator, he sets himself up through his rites, as if they were to be cleansed, though rather to be entangled and drowned: because he very easily persuades the proud to laugh at and despise the death of Christ, from which the more foreign he is, the holier and more divine he is believed by them to be. Yet very few have remained with him, since the nations acknowledge and drink with pious humility the price paid for them, and in its confidence desert their enemy and run together to their Redeemer. For the devil does not know how the most excellent Wisdom of God uses him, both lying in wait and raging, for the salvation of his faithful, reaching mightily from the upper end, which is the beginning of the spiritual creation, to the lower end, which is the death of the body, and ordering all things sweetly. For it reaches everywhere because of its purity, and nothing defiled runs into it. But for the devil, who is a stranger to the death of the flesh, on account of which he goes about too proudly, a death of another kind is prepared in the eternal fire of Tartarus, by which spirits can be tormented not only with earthly but also with aerial bodies. But proud men, to whom Christ is worthless because he died, though by it he bought us at so great a price, both pay this death together with men by the condition of a wretched nature, which is drawn from the first sin, and will be hurled into that other death together with the devil. They have preferred him to Christ for this reason, that he cast them down into this death, into which he himself, because of his different nature, did not fall, and into which Christ, for their sake, by his great mercy, descended. And yet they do not hesitate to believe themselves better than the demons, and do not cease to assail and detest them with every curse, though they certainly know them to be strangers to the suffering of this death, on account of which they despise Christ. Nor will they consider how it could be that the Word of God, remaining in itself and in no part changeable in itself, could nevertheless, by taking up a lower nature, suffer something lower, which the unclean demon cannot suffer because he does not have an earthly body. So, though they themselves are better than the demons, yet because they bear flesh they can die in the way in which the demons, who do not bear it, certainly cannot. And they presume much on the deaths of their sacrifices, which they do not perceive they are offering to deceitful and proud spirits; or, if they already perceive it, they think the friendship of the faithless and envious to be of some benefit to them, whose purpose has no business except the hindering of our return.

They do not understand that not even the proudest spirits could have rejoiced in the honors of sacrifices unless a true sacrifice were owed to the one true God, in whose place they wish to be worshiped; and that it cannot be rightly offered except through a holy and righteous priest; nor unless what is offered is received from those for whom it is offered, and is without fault, so that it can be offered for the cleansing of the faulty. This certainly all desire who wish a sacrifice to be offered to God for themselves. Who, then, is so righteous and holy a priest as the only Son of God, who had no need to cleanse his own sins by sacrifice, neither original sins nor those added from human life? And what could so fittingly be taken from men to be offered for them as human flesh? And what so suited to this offering as mortal flesh? And what so clean for cleansing the faults of mortals as flesh born in and from a virgin's womb without any contagion of carnal concupiscence? And what could be offered and received so gratefully as the flesh of our sacrifice, made the body of our priest? So that, since four things are considered in every sacrifice, to whom it is offered, by whom it is offered, what is offered, and for whom it is offered, the same one true Mediator, reconciling us to God through the sacrifice of peace, might remain one with him to whom he offered, might make one in himself those for whom he offered, and might himself be one, the one who offered and that which he offered.

But there are some who think that they can be cleansed by their own power to contemplate God and cleave to God; whom that very pride stains most of all. For there is no vice that the divine law resists more, and over which that proudest spirit, the mediator to the depths and the barrier to the heights, receives a greater right of dominion; unless he is avoided by another way when he lies in wait secretly, or, when he rages openly through the failing people (which is what Amalek means) and, by resisting, refuses passage to the land of promise, he is overcome through the cross of the Lord, which was prefigured by the outstretched hands of Moses. For these people promise themselves cleansing by their own power on this ground, that some of them have been able to send the eye of the mind beyond all creation and to touch, in however small a part, the light of unchangeable truth; which they mock many Christians, living meanwhile by faith alone, for not yet having been able to do. But what does it profit the proud man, who for this reason blushes to climb on board the wood, to look from afar at the homeland across the sea? Or what harm is it to the humble man not to see it from so great a distance, while he comes to it on that wood on which the other disdains to be carried?

These people also find fault with us for believing in the resurrection of the flesh, and wish rather that they themselves should be believed even on these matters. As though, because they have been able to understand the most high and unchangeable substance through the things that are made, they must therefore be consulted about the conversion of changeable things or the connected order of the ages. For because they argue most truly and persuade by most certain proofs that all temporal things are made by eternal reasons, have they therefore been able to see in those reasons themselves, or gather from them, how many kinds of animals there are, what the seeds of each are in their beginnings, what the manner of their growth, what numbers run through their conceptions, births, ages, and deaths, what motions in seeking what accords with their nature and fleeing what is contrary? Have they not sought all these things, not through that unchangeable wisdom, but through the history of places and times, and believed what others have experienced and written down? So it is the less to be wondered at that they could in no way trace the sequence of the longer ages, and a certain goal of this course down which the human race runs as down a river, and from there the turning to the end due to each. For not even historians could write these things, being far in the future and experienced and narrated by no one. Nor did those philosophers, better than the rest, contemplate such things by understanding in those highest and eternal reasons; otherwise they would not inquire into past things of the same kind, as historians could, but would rather foreknow the future too; and those who could do this were called seers by them, and prophets by us.

And yet the name of prophets is not altogether foreign to their writings. But it makes a great difference whether the future is conjectured from experience of the past, as physicians, foreseeing many things, have also committed to writing what they noted by experience, and as farmers or even sailors foretell many things (for such things, if they are done at long intervals of time, are thought to be divinations); or whether things to come have already set out, and, seen far off as they come, are announced by the keen sense of those who see them, and when the aerial powers do this they are believed to divine, as if someone from the top of a mountain should see someone coming far off and announce it beforehand to those who live close by in the plain; or whether they are foretold to certain men by holy angels, to whom God shows them through his Word and Wisdom, where both future and past things stand, or, heard by them, are passed on again to other men; or whether the minds of certain men themselves are so lifted up by the Holy Spirit that, not through angels but through themselves, they behold the standing causes of future things in the very highest citadel of things. For the aerial powers too hear these things, whether angels or men announce them; and they hear only as much as he judges necessary, to whom all things are subject. Many things are also foretold by a certain instinct and impulse of the spirit by those who do not know it, as Caiaphas did not know what he said, but, being high priest, he prophesied. Therefore, about the successions of the ages and about the resurrection of the dead, we ought not to consult even those philosophers who understood, as far as they could, the eternity of the Creator, in whom we live and move and have our being. For, knowing God through the things that are made, they did not glorify him as God or give thanks, but, saying they were wise, they became fools. And since they were not fit to fix the eye of the mind so steadily on the eternity of the spiritual and unchangeable nature as to see, in the very wisdom of the Creator and Ruler of the universe, the volumes of the ages, which there already were and always were, but here were to be, so that they were not yet; and to see there the conversions for the better not only of human souls but also of human bodies, up to the perfection of their own measure; since, then, they were in no way fit to see these things there, they were not counted worthy even of this, that they should be announced to them by holy angels, whether outwardly through the bodily senses or by inner revelations expressed in the spirit; as these things were shown to our fathers, endowed with true godliness, who, foretelling them, and gaining belief either by present signs or by near events coming to pass as they had foretold, deserved to have an authority by which they should be believed about things far in the future, even to the end of the world. But the proud and deceitful aerial powers, even if they are found to have spoken through their seers some things about the fellowship and city of the saints and about the true Mediator, heard from the holy prophets or angels, did this in order to draw away, if they could, even the faithful of God to their own falsehoods through these truths that belonged to others. But God brought it about through those who did not know it, that the truth should resound from every side, as a help to the faithful and a testimony against the ungodly.

Because, then, we were not fit to lay hold of eternal things, and the filth of sins weighed us down, contracted by the love of temporal things and grown into us as if naturally from the stock of mortality, we had to be cleansed. But we could be cleansed so as to be attuned to eternal things only through temporal things, such as those to which we were already attuned and by which we were held. For health is very far from disease; but the cure that lies between does not lead to health unless it suits the disease. Useless temporal things deceive the sick; useful temporal things take up those who are to be healed and carry them across, once healed, to eternal things. And as the rational mind, when cleansed, owes contemplation to eternal things, so, when it is to be cleansed, it owes faith to temporal things. One of those who were once held to be wise among the Greeks said: "As eternity is to what has come into being, so truth is to faith." And it is certainly a true saying. For what we call temporal, he called "what has come into being." Of this kind we too are, not only according to the body but also according to the changeableness of the mind. For that is not properly called eternal which is changed in any part. Insofar, then, as we are changeable, so far are we distant from eternity. But eternal life is promised us through the truth, from whose clear sight our faith in turn is as distant as mortality is from eternity. Now, then, we give faith to the things done in time for our sake, and through it we are cleansed; so that when we have come to sight, as truth succeeds to faith, so eternity may succeed to mortality. Therefore, since our faith will become truth when we have come to what is promised us as believers, and eternal life is promised us, and the Truth said (not the truth that will come to be as our faith is to become, but that which is always Truth, because eternity is there), the Truth said, then, "And this is eternal life, that they may know you, the one true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent": when our faith by seeing becomes truth, then eternity will hold our mortality changed. Until this happens, and so that it may happen, since we accommodate the faith of belief to things that have come into being, as in eternal things we hope for the truth of contemplation, lest the faith of mortal life should be out of harmony with the truth of eternal life, the Truth itself, coeternal with the Father, sprang up from the earth, when the Son of God came in such a way as to become the son of man and to receive in himself our faith, by which he might lead us to his truth, he who so took up our mortality as not to lose his eternity. For "as eternity is to what has come into being, so truth is to faith." So, then, it was necessary for us to be cleansed in such a way that he who remained eternal should become for us one who had come into being, lest he be one thing for us in faith and another in truth. Nor could we pass from what we are as beings that have come into being to eternal things, unless, the eternal one being joined to us through our coming into being, we were carried across to his eternity. Now, then, our faith has in a certain way followed thither where he in whom we have believed ascended: born, dead, raised up, taken up. Of these four, we knew the first two in ourselves, for we know that men are both born and die; but the other two, that is, to be raised up and taken up, we rightly hope for in ourselves, because we have believed that they were done in him. And so, because in him what had come into being passed over to eternity, ours too will pass over, when faith has come to truth. For to those who already believed, so that they might remain in the word of faith, and, led from there to the truth and through it to eternity, might be freed from death, he speaks thus: "If you remain in my word, you will truly be my disciples." And as if they asked, "With what fruit?", he went on to say: "And you will know the truth." And again, as if they said, "What use is truth to mortals?", "And the truth," he says, "will set you free." From what, except from death, from corruption, from changeableness? For truth remains immortal, incorrupt, unchangeable. And true immortality, true incorruptibility, true unchangeableness, is eternity itself.

See for what purpose the Son of God was sent; or rather, see what it is for the Son of God to have been sent. Whatever was done in time, in things that had come into being, brought forth from eternity and referred back to eternity, to produce the faith by which we might be cleansed to contemplate the truth, was either testimony to this sending or the very sending of the Son of God. But some testimonies foretold that he would come, some testified that he had come. For it was fitting that he, through whom every creature was made, when made a creature should have every creature as witness. For unless the one were proclaimed by the many sent, the one would not be held when the many were let go. And unless there were testimonies such as seemed great to the little, it would not be believed that the great one, who was sent as little to the little, would make them great. For heaven and earth and all that is in them, made by the Son of God, are incomparably greater, since all things were made through him, than the signs and wonders that broke forth in testimony to him. But still men, in order that, being little, they might believe these great things made through him, trembled at those little things as though they were great. "When, then, the fullness of time came, God sent his Son, made of a woman, made under the Law": so little as to be made; sent, therefore, in that he was made. If, then, the greater sends the lesser, we too confess that he was made lesser, and lesser insofar as he was made, and made insofar as he was sent. For he sent his Son made of a woman; and yet, because all things were made through him, not only before he was made and sent but before all things were, we confess the same one equal to the one who sends, when we say that he was sent as lesser. How, then, before that fullness of time at which it was fitting that he be sent, before he had been sent, could he be seen by the fathers, when certain angelic visions were shown to them, since not even when already sent was he seen as he is equal to the Father? For why does he say to Philip, by whom he was certainly seen, as by the rest and even by those by whom he was crucified in the flesh, "Have I been with you so long, and you have not known me? Philip, he who has seen me has seen the Father too," unless because he was both seen and not seen? He was seen as, having been sent, he had been made; he was not seen as all things had been made through him. Or why does he also say, "He who has my commandments and keeps them, he it is who loves me; and he who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I will love him and will manifest myself to him," when he was manifest before the eyes of men, unless because he was offering the flesh, which the Word had become in the fullness of time, to be received by our faith, while he was keeping the Word himself, through whom all things had been made, to be contemplated in eternity by the mind cleansed through faith?

But if the Son is said to be sent by the Father in this sense, that the one is the Father and the other the Son, this in no way hinders us from believing that the Son is equal to the Father, consubstantial and coeternal, and yet sent by the Father. Not because the one is greater and the other less, but because the one is Father and the other Son; the one begetter, the other begotten; the one he from whom the one sent is, the other he who is from the one who sends. For the Son is from the Father, not the Father from the Son. In this sense it can now be understood that the Son is said to be sent not only because the Word became flesh, but sent so that the Word might become flesh and do through his bodily presence the things that are written; that is, so that not only the man is understood to have been sent, which the Word became, but also the Word to have been sent so that he might become man; because he was not sent according to any unequal power or substance or anything in him that is not equal to the Father, but according to the fact that the Son is from the Father, not the Father from the Son. For the Son is the Word of the Father, who is also called his Wisdom. What wonder, then, if he is sent, not because he is unequal to the Father, but because he is "a certain pure emanation of the glory of the almighty God"? And there, what emanates and that from which it emanates are of one and the same substance. For it does not emanate as water from an opening in the earth or in a rock, but as light from light. For what is said, "For it is the brightness of eternal light," what else is said than "It is the light of eternal light"? For what is the brightness of light but light? And therefore it is coeternal with the light from which it is light. But Scripture preferred to say "brightness of light" rather than "light of light," lest this which emanates should be thought dimmer than that from which it emanates. For when one hears that this is its brightness, it is easier to believe that that shines through this than that this shines less. But since there was no need to guard against the light that begot this one being thought lesser (for no heretic ever dared to say this, nor is it to be believed that anyone will dare), Scripture meets that thought by which the light that emanates might seem dimmer than that from which it emanates; and it removed this suspicion when it said, "It is the brightness of that," that is, of eternal light, and so showed it equal. For if this is lesser, it is its dimness, not its brightness. But if it is greater, it does not emanate from it; for it would not surpass that from which it was begotten. Because, then, it emanates from that, it is not greater than that; but because it is not its dimness but its brightness, it is not lesser; it is therefore equal. Nor should it trouble us that it is called "a certain pure emanation of the glory of the almighty God," as though it itself were not almighty, but the emanation of the almighty. For soon it is said of it, "And being one, it can do all things." And who is almighty but one who can do all things? It is sent, therefore, by him from whom it emanates. For so it is sought by him who loved and desired it: "Send her forth," he says, "from your holy heavens, and send her from the throne of your greatness, that she may be with me and labor with me"; that is, teach me to labor, so that I may not labor in vain. For her labors are virtues. But she is sent in one way to be with man; she was sent in another way to be herself man. For "she passes into holy souls and makes them friends of God and prophets," just as she also fills the holy angels and works through them everything suited to such ministries. But when the fullness of time came she was sent, not to fill angels, nor to be an angel, except insofar as she announced the counsel of the Father, which was also her own; nor to be with men or in men, for this had happened before too in the fathers and prophets; but so that the Word himself might become flesh, that is, become man. In this future sacrament, once revealed, was the salvation also of those wise and holy men who were born of women before he himself was born of the Virgin; and in this sacrament, accomplished and preached, is the salvation of all who believe, hope, and love. For "this is the great sacrament of godliness, which was manifested in the flesh, justified in the spirit, appeared to angels, was preached among the nations, believed in the world, taken up in glory." The Word of God, then, is sent by him whose Word he is; he is sent by him of whom he was born: he who begot sends, what was begotten is sent. And he is sent to each one when he is known and perceived by anyone, as far as he can be known and perceived according to the capacity of the rational soul, whether making progress toward God or perfected in God. The Son, then, is not said to be sent by the very fact that he was born of the Father; but either by the fact that the Word made flesh appeared to this world, which is why he says, "I came out from the Father and came into this world"; or by the fact that he is perceived in time by someone's mind, as it is said, "Send her, that she may be with me and labor with me." What was born from eternity, then, is eternal: "For it is the brightness of eternal light"; but what is sent in time is known by someone. But when the Son of God was manifested in the flesh, he was sent into this world, in the fullness of time, made of a woman. "For since, in the wisdom of God, the world could not know God by wisdom," since "the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it," "it pleased God through the foolishness of preaching to save those who believe"; so that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us. But when he is perceived in time by the mind of anyone making progress, he is indeed said to be sent, but not into this world; for he does not appear perceptibly, that is, he is not present to the bodily senses. For we too, insofar as we grasp with the mind something eternal, as far as we can, are not in this world; and the spirits of all the righteous, even those still living in this flesh, insofar as they savor divine things, are not in this world. But the Father, when he is known by anyone in time, is not said to be sent; for he has no one from whom he is or from whom he proceeds. For Wisdom says, "I came forth from the mouth of the Most High"; and of the Holy Spirit it is said, "He proceeds from the Father"; but the Father from no one. As, then, the Father begot and the Son was begotten, so the Father sent and the Son was sent. But as he who begot and he who was begotten, so also he who sent and he who was sent are one, because the Father and the Son are one. So also the Holy Spirit is one with them, because these three are one. For as for the Son to be born is to be from the Father, so for the Son to be sent is to be known to be from him. And as for the Holy Spirit to be the gift of God is to proceed from the Father, so to be sent is to be known to proceed from him. Nor can we say that the Holy Spirit does not also proceed from the Son; for not in vain is the same Spirit called the Spirit both of the Father and of the Son. Nor do I see what else he wished to signify when, breathing on the faces of the disciples, he said, "Receive the Holy Spirit." For that bodily breath, proceeding from the body with the bodily sense of touch, was not the substance of the Holy Spirit, but a showing, by a fitting sign, that the Holy Spirit proceeds not only from the Father but also from the Son. For who would be so utterly mad as to say that the Spirit he gave by breathing was one and the Spirit he sent after his ascension another? For the Spirit of God is one, the Spirit of the Father and of the Son, the Holy Spirit, who works all things in all. But that he was given twice was certainly a dispensation of signification, of which we shall speak in its place, as far as the Lord grants. When, then, the Lord says, "whom I will send you from the Father," he shows that the Spirit is both the Father's and the Son's. For also, when he had said, "whom the Father will send," he added, "in my name"; yet he did not say, "whom the Father will send from me," as he said, "whom I will send you from the Father": showing, namely, that the Father is the principle of the whole divinity, or, if it is better so called, of the deity. He, then, who proceeds from the Father and the Son is referred back to him from whom the Son was born. And what the evangelist says, "The Spirit had not yet been given, because Jesus had not yet been glorified": how is it understood, unless because that particular giving or sending of the Holy Spirit after the glorification of Christ was to be such as had never been before? For it was not that there was none before, but there had not been such a one. For if the Holy Spirit was not given before, with whom were the prophets filled when they spoke? Since Scripture says openly, and shows in many places, that they spoke by the Holy Spirit; since it was said of John the Baptist too, "He will be filled with the Holy Spirit even from his mother's womb"; and Zechariah his father is found filled with the Holy Spirit, so as to say such things of him; and Mary with the Holy Spirit, so as to proclaim such things of the Lord whom she carried in her womb; and Simeon and Anna with the Holy Spirit, so as to recognize the greatness of the little Christ. How, then, had the Spirit not yet been given, because Jesus had not yet been glorified, unless because that giving, or bestowal, or sending of the Holy Spirit was to have a certain character of its own at its very coming, such as never was before? For nowhere do we read that men spoke in languages they did not know when the Holy Spirit came upon them, as happened then, when it was fitting that his coming should be shown by perceptible signs, to show that the whole world and all nations, set in various languages, would believe in Christ through the gift of the Holy Spirit; so that what is sung in the Psalm might be fulfilled: "There are no speeches or words in which their voices are not heard; their sound has gone out into all the earth, and their words to the ends of the world." So man was joined to the Word of God in unity of person, and in a certain way mingled with him, when, the fullness of time coming, the Son of God was sent into this world, made of a woman, so that he might also be the son of man for the sake of the sons of men. This person the angelic nature could figure beforehand, to foretell it; it could not appropriate it, so as to be it.

But as to the perceptible manifestation of the Holy Spirit, whether through the form of a dove or through fiery tongues, when a subject and serving creature showed his substance, coeternal with the Father and the Son and equally unchangeable, by temporal motions and forms, though it was not joined to the unity of his person, as the flesh that the Word became was, I do not dare to say that nothing of the kind happened before. But I would say quite confidently that the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, of one and the same substance, God the Creator, the almighty Trinity, work inseparably; but that they cannot be shown inseparably through a creature far unequal and above all bodily; just as through our voices, which certainly sound bodily, the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit cannot be named except in their own proper intervals of time, distinguished by definite separation, which the syllables of each word occupy. For in their own substance, by which they are, the three are one, the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, the selfsame above every creature without any temporal motion, without any intervals of times or places, and at once one and the same from eternity to eternity, like eternity itself, which is not without truth and love; but in my voices the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit are separated and could not be spoken at once, and in visible letters they have held their own separate spaces. And just as, when I name my memory and understanding and will, each name refers to each thing, yet each was produced by all three (for there is none of these three names that my memory and understanding and will have not produced together), so the Trinity together produced both the voice of the Father, and the flesh of the Son, and the dove of the Holy Spirit, though each of these is referred to each person. By this likeness it is in some way recognized that the Trinity, inseparable in itself, is shown separably through the appearance of a visible creature, and that the inseparable working of the Trinity is present even in each of the things that are said to belong properly to showing the Father, or the Son, or the Holy Spirit. If, then, I am asked how either the voices or the perceptible forms and appearances were made before the incarnation of the Word of God, which prefigured this future event, I answer that God worked them through angels; which I have, I think, sufficiently shown also by the testimonies of the holy Scriptures. But if it is asked how the incarnation itself was brought about, I say that the Word of God himself was made flesh, that is, made man, yet not turned and changed into that which he was made; made, indeed, in such a way that there is there not only the Word of God and the flesh of a man, but also the rational soul of a man, and this whole is called both God on account of God and man on account of man. And if this is hard to understand, let the mind be cleansed by faith, by abstaining more and more from sins, by doing good, and by praying with the groaning of holy desires, so that, making progress through divine help, it may both understand and love. But if it is asked how, after the incarnation of the Word, either the voice of the Father or the bodily appearance by which the Holy Spirit was shown was made, I do not doubt that these were made through a creature; but whether only through a bodily and perceptible one, or with a rational or intellectual spirit also employed (for some have chosen so to call what the Greeks call noeron), not indeed to unity of person (for who would say that whatever creature it was through which the voice of the Father sounded is God the Father in that way, or that whatever creature it was in which the Holy Spirit was shown through the form of a dove or through fiery tongues is the Holy Spirit in that way, as that man who was made of the Virgin is the Son of God?), but only for the ministry of carrying out the signification, as God judged fitting; or whether something else is to be understood, is hard to find, and it is not expedient to affirm rashly. Yet how these things could have been done without a rational or intellectual creature I do not see. Nor is this yet the place to explain why I think so, as far as the Lord gives strength. For first the arguments of the heretics must be discussed and refuted, which they put forward not from the divine books but from their own reasonings, by which they think they forcefully compel us to understand the testimonies of the Scriptures about the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit as they wish. But now it has been sufficiently shown, I think, that the Son is not less because he was sent by the Father, nor the Holy Spirit less because both the Father and the Son sent him. For these things are understood to be set down in the Scriptures either on account of the visible creature, or rather on account of commending the principle, not on account of inequality or disparity or unlikeness of substance; because even if God the Father had willed to appear visibly through a subject creature, it would still be most absurd to say that he was sent either by the Son whom he begot or by the Holy Spirit who proceeds from him. Let this, then, be the measure of this volume; next, in the others, with the Lord's help, we shall see of what kind those most cunning arguments of the heretics are and how they are refuted.

From here, then, I begin to say things that cannot be said as they are thought, either by any man or at least by us; although even our thought itself, when we think of God the Trinity, feels itself far unequal to him of whom it thinks, and does not grasp him as he is, but, as it is written, he is seen even by men as great as the apostle Paul was “through a mirror and in a riddle.” First, I pray to our Lord God himself, of whom we ought always to think and of whom we cannot think worthily, to whom blessing must be rendered in praise “at all times,” and to whose expression no speech is adequate, both for help to understand and explain what I intend, and for pardon wherever I give offence. For I am mindful not only of my will but also of my weakness. I ask those also who are going to read these things to forgive me where they notice that I wished to say more than I was able, whether because they themselves understand it better, or because they do not understand it on account of the difficulty of my language; just as I forgive them where they cannot understand because of their own slowness. And we shall more easily forgive one another if we know, or at least hold firmly by believing, that what is said of the unchangeable and invisible nature, supremely living and sufficient to itself, is not to be measured by the habits of things visible, changeable, mortal, or needy. But since we labour, and are not equal to the task, to grasp with knowledge even the things that lie near our bodily senses, or what we ourselves are in the inner man, it is nevertheless not impudent for faithful piety to burn for those things above, divine and unspeakable: a piety not puffed up by arrogance in its own strength, but set on fire by the grace of the Creator and Saviour himself. For with what understanding does man grasp God, who does not yet grasp the very understanding by which he wishes to grasp him? But if he already grasps this, let him attend carefully that there is nothing better in his nature than it, and let him see whether he sees there any outlines of shapes, brightness of colours, spacious size, distance of parts, extension of bulk, any motions through intervals of place, or anything of the kind. Certainly we find none of these in that than which we find nothing better in our nature, that is, in our understanding, by which we grasp wisdom as far as we are capable. What, therefore, we do not find in what is best in us, we ought not to seek in him who is far better than what is best in us; so that we may understand God, if we can and as far as we can, as good without quality, great without quantity, creator without need, presiding without position, containing all things without possession, wholly everywhere without place, everlasting without time, making changeable things without any change of himself, and undergoing nothing. Whoever thinks of God in this way, even if he cannot yet discover in every way what he is, nevertheless piously takes care, as far as he can, not to think anything of him that he is not.

Yet he is without doubt a substance, or, if this is a better name for it, an essence, which the Greeks call ousia. For just as wisdom (sapientia) is named from being wise (sapere), and knowledge (scientia) from knowing (scire), so essence (essentia) is named from being (esse). And who is more than he who said to his servant Moses, “I am who I am,” and, “You shall say to the children of Israel: He who is has sent me to you”? But other things that are called essences or substances admit accidents, by which a change, great or of any size, takes place in them; but nothing of the kind can happen to God. And therefore that substance or essence which is God is alone unchangeable, and to it being itself, from which essence is named, belongs most of all and most truly. For what is changed does not keep its very being; and what can be changed, even if it is not changed, can cease to be what it was; and so only that which not only is not changed but cannot be changed at all comes to mind without hesitation as that which most truly is said to be.

Therefore, so that we may now begin to answer the adversaries of our faith even concerning those things that are neither said as they are thought nor thought as they are: among the many arguments that the Arians are accustomed to raise against the catholic faith, they seem to put forward this as their most cunning device, when they say: “Whatever is said or understood of God is said not according to accident but according to substance. Therefore to be unbegotten belongs to the Father according to substance, and to be begotten belongs to the Son according to substance. But to be unbegotten and to be begotten are different; therefore the substance of the Father and of the Son is different.” We answer them: If whatever is said of God is said according to substance, then what was said, “I and the Father are one,” is said according to substance. Therefore the substance of the Father and of the Son is one. Or if this is not said according to substance, then something is said of God not according to substance; and so we are no longer compelled to understand “unbegotten” and “begotten” according to substance. Again, it is said of the Son, “He did not think it robbery to be equal with God.” We ask: equal according to what? For if he is not called equal according to substance, let them admit that something is said of God not according to substance; let them admit, then, that “unbegotten” and “begotten” are not said according to substance. But if they do not admit this, because they will have everything said of God according to substance, then the Son is equal to the Father according to substance.

Now nothing is usually called an accident except what can be lost by some change of the thing to which it happens. For even if certain accidents are called inseparable, which in Greek are called achōrista, such as the black colour of a raven's feather, yet the feather loses it, not indeed as long as it is a feather, but because it is not always a feather. Therefore the matter itself is changeable, and from the fact that that animal or that feather ceases to be, and that whole body is changed and turned into earth, it certainly loses that colour too. And yet even an accident that is called separable is lost not by separation but by change, as blackness is in men's hair; because while it is hair it can grow white, it is called a separable accident. But to those who look carefully it is clear enough that nothing migrates, as it were, by separation from the head when it grows grey, so that the blackness departs from it and goes somewhere when whiteness takes its place, but that that quality of colour is turned and changed there. Therefore there is no accident in God, because there is nothing in him changeable or able to be lost. But if one likes to call that also an accident which, though it is not lost, is yet decreased or increased, like the life of the soul (for as long as it is a soul it lives, and because it is always a soul it always lives; but because it lives more when it is wise and less when it is foolish, some change takes place here too, not that life is lacking, as wisdom is lacking in the foolish, but that it is less): nothing of this kind takes place in God either, because he remains wholly unchangeable.

Therefore nothing is said of him according to accident, because nothing happens to him; and yet not everything that is said of him is said according to substance. For in created and changeable things, whatever is not said according to substance must be said according to accident. For all things that can be lost or decreased happen to them as accidents: both sizes and qualities, and what is said with relation to something, such as friendships, kinships, servitudes, likenesses, equalities, and anything of the kind; and positions and conditions, places and times, actions and passions. But in God nothing is said according to accident, because there is nothing changeable in him; and yet not everything that is said is said according to substance. For something is said with relation to something, as the Father in relation to the Son and the Son in relation to the Father, and this is not an accident: for the one is always Father and the other always Son. And not “always” in the sense that, from the time the Son was born, the Father never ceases to be Father because the Son never ceases to be Son, but in the sense that the Son was always born and never began to be Son. For if he had at some time begun to be, or were at some time to cease to be Son, it would be said according to accident. If, however, what is called Father were said with reference to himself, not to the Son, and what is called Son were said with reference to himself, not to the Father, then both the one would be called Father and the other Son according to substance. But because the Father is not called Father except from the fact that he has a Son, and the Son is not called Son except from the fact that he has a Father, these things are not said according to substance; for each of them is not said with reference to himself, but these terms are said reciprocally and in relation to each other. Nor are they said according to accident, because both what is called Father and what is called Son is eternal and unchangeable in them. Therefore, although to be Father and to be Son are different, the substance is not different; because these are said not according to substance but relatively; and yet this relation is not an accident, because it is not changeable.

But suppose they think this argument should be resisted in this way: that the Father is indeed so called in relation to the Son, and the Son in relation to the Father, but “unbegotten” and “begotten” are said with reference to themselves, not in relation to each other. For to call him unbegotten is not the same as to call him Father, since even if he had not begotten the Son nothing would prevent his being called unbegotten; and if anyone begets a son, he is not therefore himself unbegotten, since men, begotten from other men, themselves beget others. So, they say, Father is said in relation to the Son and Son in relation to the Father, but unbegotten is said with reference to himself, and begotten with reference to himself; and therefore, if whatever is said with reference to oneself is said according to substance, and to be unbegotten and to be begotten are different, the substance is different. If they say this, they do not understand that they are indeed saying something about “unbegotten” that needs to be examined more carefully, because no one is a father because he is unbegotten, nor unbegotten because he is a father, and so “unbegotten” is thought to be said with reference to oneself, not with relation to something; but with strange blindness they do not notice that “begotten” cannot be said except with relation to something. For a son is a son because he is begotten, and because he is a son he is certainly begotten. And just as son is referred to father, so begotten is referred to begetter; and as father to son, so begetter to begotten. And therefore the notion by which a begetter is understood is one thing, and that by which an unbegotten is understood is another. For although both are said of God the Father, the former is said in relation to the begotten, that is, to the Son, which they do not deny; but they maintain that what is called “unbegotten” is said with reference to himself. They say, therefore: “If something is said of the Father with reference to himself which cannot be said of the Son with reference to himself, and whatever is said with reference to oneself is said according to substance, and ‘unbegotten’ is said with reference to himself, which cannot be said of the Son, then ‘unbegotten’ is said according to substance; and since the Son cannot be called this, he is not of the same substance.” This cunning is answered by compelling them to say according to what the Son is equal to the Father: whether according to what is said with reference to himself, or according to what is said in relation to the Father. Not according to what is said in relation to the Father, since son is said in relation to father, and the Father is not son but father. For father and son are not said of each other in the way that friends or neighbours are. A friend is called so relatively to a friend, and if they love each other equally, the friendship is the same in both; and a neighbour is called so relatively to a neighbour, and because they are equally neighbours to each other (for as much as this one is neighbour to that one, so much is that one to this), the neighbourliness is the same in both. But since the Son is said relatively not to a Son but to the Father, the Son is not equal to the Father according to what is said in relation to the Father; it remains that he is equal according to what is said with reference to himself. But whatever is said with reference to oneself is said according to substance; it remains, therefore, that he is equal according to substance. Therefore the substance of both is the same. But when the Father is called unbegotten, what is said is not what he is but what he is not. And when a relation is denied, it is not denied according to substance, because the relation itself is not affirmed according to substance.

This must be made plain by examples. And first we must see that the same thing is signified when we say “begotten” as when we say “son.” For he is a son because he is begotten, and because he is a son he is certainly begotten. What is said, therefore, by “unbegotten” shows that he is not a son. But “begotten” and “unbegotten” are said conveniently, whereas “son” is said in Latin, but the usage of speech does not allow “unson” (infilius) to be said. Yet nothing is taken from the sense if one says “not son”; just as, if one says “not begotten” instead of “unbegotten,” nothing else is said. So too “neighbour” and “friend” are said relatively, and yet one cannot say “unneighbour” as one says “unfriend” (inimicus, enemy). Therefore in these matters we must not consider what the usage of our speech allows or does not allow to be said, but what understanding of the things themselves shines out. Let us, then, no longer say “unbegotten,” although it can be said in Latin, but let us say instead “not begotten,” which means the same. Do we then say anything other than “not son”? Now this negative particle does not make what is said relatively without it to be said substantially when it is put before it; it only denies what was affirmed without it, as in the other categories. For example, when we say, “He is a man,” we designate a substance. Whoever, then, says, “He is not a man,” does not state another kind of category, but only denies that one. As, then, I affirm according to substance, “He is a man,” so I deny according to substance when I say, “He is not a man.” And when it is asked how large he is, and I affirm, “He is four-foot,” that is, of four feet, I affirm according to quantity; he who says, “He is not four-foot,” denies according to quantity. “He is white”: I affirm according to quality; “He is not white”: I deny according to quality. “He is near”: I affirm according to relation; “He is not near”: I deny according to relation. I affirm according to position when I say, “He lies down”; I deny according to position when I say, “He does not lie down.” I affirm according to condition when I say, “He is armed”; I deny according to condition when I say, “He is not armed”; and it means just as much if I say, “He is unarmed.” I affirm according to time when I say, “He is of yesterday”; I deny according to time when I say, “He is not of yesterday.” And when I say, “He is at Rome,” I affirm according to place; and I deny according to place when I say, “He is not at Rome.” I affirm according to doing when I say, “He strikes”; but if I say, “He does not strike,” I deny according to doing, to show that he is not doing this. And when I say, “He is beaten,” I affirm according to the category called being acted upon; and I deny according to it when I say, “He is not beaten.” And in general there is no kind of category according to which we wish to affirm something without being shown to deny according to that same category, if we choose to put the negative particle before it. Since this is so, if I affirmed substantially by saying “Son,” I would deny substantially by saying “not Son.” But since I affirm relatively when I say, “He is a son” (for I refer him to a father), I deny relatively if I say, “He is not a son”; for I refer the same denial to a parent, wishing to show that he has no parent. But if “son” means as much as “begotten,” as we said before, then “not begotten” means as much as “not son.” But we deny relatively by saying “not son”; therefore we deny relatively by saying “not begotten.” And what is “unbegotten” but “not begotten”? Therefore one does not depart from the category of relation when “unbegotten” is said. For just as “begotten” is not said with reference to oneself, but means that he is from a begetter, so when “unbegotten” is said, it is not said with reference to oneself, but shows that he is not from a begetter. Yet both meanings turn within the same category, which is called relation; and what is pronounced relatively does not indicate substance. So, although “begotten” and “unbegotten” are different, they do not indicate a different substance; because just as son is referred to father and not-son to not-father, so begotten must be referred to begetter, and not-begotten to not-begetter.

Therefore let us hold this above all, that whatever that most excellent and divine sublimity is said to be with reference to itself is said substantially, but what is said with relation to something is said not substantially but relatively; and that the force of the same substance in the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit is so great that whatever is said of each with reference to themselves is to be taken, in the sum, not in the plural but in the singular. For just as the Father is God, and the Son is God, and the Holy Spirit is God, which no one doubts is said according to substance, yet we do not say that this most excellent Trinity is three gods, but one God; so the Father is great, the Son great, the Holy Spirit great, yet not three greats but one great. For it is written not of the Father alone, as they perversely think, but of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, “You alone are the great God.” And the Father is good, the Son good, the Holy Spirit good; and not three goods, but one good, of whom it was said, “No one is good but one, God.” For the Lord Jesus, lest he be understood only as a man by the one who had said “Good Master,” addressing him as a man, therefore did not say, “No one is good but the Father alone,” but, “No one is good but one, God.” For in the name of the Father the Father himself is meant by himself; but in the name of God, both he and the Son and the Holy Spirit, because the Trinity is one God. But position, condition, places, and times are said of God not properly but figuratively and by likenesses. For he is said both to “sit upon the cherubim,” which is said of position; and to be “clothed with the abyss as with a garment,” which is said of condition; and, “Your years shall not fail,” which is said of time; and, “If I ascend into heaven, you are there,” which is said of place. But as regards doing, perhaps it is said most truly of God alone: for God alone makes and is not himself made, nor is he acted upon as regards his substance by which he is God. So the Father is almighty, the Son almighty, the Holy Spirit almighty; yet not three almighties, but one Almighty, “from whom are all things, through whom are all things, in whom are all things; to him be glory.” Whatever, therefore, God is said to be with reference to himself is both said of each person singly, that is, of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, and at the same time of the Trinity itself, not in the plural but in the singular. For since to God it is not one thing to be and another to be great, but to be is for him the same as to be great, therefore, just as we do not say three essences, so we do not say three greatnesses, but one essence and one greatness. I say essence, which in Greek is called ousia, and which we more usually call substance. They do indeed also speak of hypostasis; but I do not know what difference they mean to put between ousia and hypostasis, so that most of our people who treat these matters in Greek are accustomed to say mian ousian, treis hypostaseis, which in Latin is “one essence, three substances.”

But because our usage of speech has already established that the same thing is understood when we say essence as when we say substance, we do not dare to say “one essence, three substances,” but “one essence or substance, but three persons,” as many Latin writers of authority who have treated these matters have said, since they found no more fitting way to express in words what they understood without words. For in fact, since the Father is not the Son, and the Son is not the Father, and the Holy Spirit, who is also called the gift of God, is neither the Father nor the Son, they are certainly three. And therefore it was said in the plural, “I and the Father are one.” For he did not say, “is one,” as the Sabellians say, but “are one.” Yet when it is asked, “Three what?” human speech labours under a great poverty indeed. Still, “three persons” has been said, not in order that that might be said, but in order not to be silent.

As, then, we do not say three essences, so we do not say three greatnesses, nor three great ones. For in things that are great by participation in greatness, for which it is one thing to be and another to be great, as a great house, a great mountain, a great mind, in these things greatness is one thing, and that which is great by that greatness is another; and a great house is certainly not the same as greatness. But that is true greatness by which not only a house that is great is great, and by which any mountain that is great is great, but also by which whatever else is called great is great; so that greatness itself is one thing, and the things that are called great from it are another. This greatness is certainly great in the first place, and much more excellently than the things that are great by participating in it. But God is not great by a greatness that is not what he himself is, as though God were a participant in it when he is great; otherwise that greatness would be greater than God, whereas there is nothing greater than God. Therefore he is great by that greatness which he himself is. And so, as we do not say three essences, neither do we say three greatnesses: for to God, to be is the same as to be great. For the same reason we do not say three great ones but one great one; because God is not great by participation in greatness, but is great by himself being great, since he is his own greatness. Let the same be said of the goodness, the eternity, and the omnipotence of God, and of all the predicates whatever that can be pronounced of God, which are said of him with reference to himself, not figuratively and by likeness but properly, if indeed anything can be said properly of him by the mouth of man.

But what is said properly of each one in the same Trinity is in no way said with reference to themselves, but in relation to each other or to the creature; and therefore it is clear that these things are said relatively, not substantially. For just as the Trinity is called one God, great, good, eternal, almighty, and the same God can be called his own deity, his own greatness, his own goodness, his own eternity, his own omnipotence, the Trinity cannot be called Father in the same way, except perhaps figuratively in relation to the creature, because of the adoption of sons. For what is written, “Hear, O Israel: the Lord your God is one Lord,” must certainly not be understood as excluding the Son or excluding the Holy Spirit; and we rightly call this one Lord our God also our Father, who regenerates us by his grace. But the Trinity can in no way be called Son. But “Holy Spirit,” according to what is written, “For God is spirit,” can indeed be said of the whole, because the Father is spirit and the Son is spirit, and the Father is holy and the Son is holy. Therefore the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, since they are one God, and God is certainly holy and God is spirit, the Trinity can also be called the Holy Spirit. But that Holy Spirit who is understood not as the Trinity but as in the Trinity is spoken of relatively in what he is properly called, the Holy Spirit, since he is referred to the Father and to the Son, because the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of the Father and of the Son. But the relation itself does not appear in this name; it does appear, however, when he is called the gift of God. For he is the gift of the Father and of the Son, because he both “proceeds from the Father,” as the Lord says, and what the apostle says, “Whoever does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him,” he certainly says of the Holy Spirit himself. When, therefore, we say “the gift of the giver” and “the giver of the gift,” we speak of both relatively to each other. So the Holy Spirit is a certain unspeakable communion of the Father and the Son; and perhaps he is so called because the same name can fit the Father and the Son. For he is called properly what they are called in common, since the Father is spirit and the Son is spirit, and the Father is holy and the Son is holy. So that, therefore, the communion of both may be signified by a name that fits both, the gift of both is called the Holy Spirit. And this Trinity is one God, alone, good, great, eternal, almighty: itself its own unity, deity, greatness, goodness, eternity, omnipotence.

Nor should it trouble anyone that we have said that the Holy Spirit (not the Trinity itself, but the one who is in the Trinity) is spoken of relatively, because there seems to be no corresponding term for the one to whom he is referred. For we cannot speak here as we say “the servant of the master” and “the master of the servant,” “the son of the father” and “the father of the son,” since these are said relatively. For we say “the Holy Spirit of the Father,” but we do not say in turn “the Father of the Holy Spirit,” lest the Holy Spirit be understood to be his son. Likewise we say “the Holy Spirit of the Son,” but we do not say “the Son of the Holy Spirit,” lest the Holy Spirit be understood to be his father. For in many relative terms it happens that no word is found by which the things referred to each other may correspond. For what is said so plainly relatively as “pledge”? It is referred to that of which it is the pledge, and a pledge is always a pledge of something. When, then, we say “the pledge of the Father and the Son,” can we say in turn “the Father of the pledge” or “the Son of the pledge”? But when we say “the gift of the Father and the Son,” we cannot indeed say “the Father of the gift” or “the Son of the gift”; but so that these may correspond to each other, we say “the gift of the giver” and “the giver of the gift,” because here a word in common use could be found, while there it could not.

The Father, then, is spoken of relatively, and the same is spoken of relatively as “beginning,” and perhaps in other ways; but he is called Father in relation to the Son, and beginning in relation to all things that are from him. Likewise the Son is spoken of relatively; he is also called relatively the Word and the Image, and in all these names he is referred to the Father; but the Father is called none of these. The Son too is called the beginning: for when he was asked, “Who are you?” he answered, “The beginning, who also speak to you.” But is he the beginning of the Father? He wished to show himself as Creator when he said that he was the beginning, just as the Father is the beginning of the creature, in that all things are from him. For “creator” too is said relatively to the creature, as master to servant. And therefore when we say both that the Father is the beginning and that the Son is the beginning, we do not speak of two beginnings of the creature; because the Father and the Son together are one beginning in relation to the creature, as one Creator, as one God. But if whatever remains in itself and begets or works something is the beginning of the thing it begets or works, we cannot deny that the Holy Spirit too is rightly called the beginning, because we do not separate him from the name of Creator. And it is written of him that he works, and he certainly works while remaining in himself; for he is not himself changed and turned into any of the things he works. And see what he works: “To each,” he says, “is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good. To one is given through the Spirit the word of wisdom, to another the word of knowledge according to the same Spirit, to another faith in the same Spirit, to another the gift of healings in the one Spirit, to another the working of powers, to another prophecy, to another the discerning of spirits, to another kinds of tongues. But all these the one and the same Spirit works, dividing to each one his own as he wills,” that is, as God. For who can work such great things but God? “But it is the same God who works all things in all.” For if we are asked about the Holy Spirit by himself, we answer most truly that he is God; and together with the Father and the Son he is one God. God, then, is called one beginning in relation to the creature, not two or three beginnings.

But in relation to each other in the Trinity, if what begets is the beginning of what it begets, the Father is the beginning of the Son, because he begets him. But whether the Father is also the beginning of the Holy Spirit, since it is said, “He proceeds from the Father,” is no small question. For if it is so, he will be the beginning not only of the thing he begets or makes, but also of what he gives. And here light is shed, as far as it can be, on what troubles many: why the Holy Spirit is not also a son, since he too goes out from the Father, as we read in the Gospel. For he went out not as one born but as one given; and therefore he is not called son, because he was neither born like the Only-begotten, nor made so as to be born into adoption by God's grace, like us. For what is born of the Father is referred to the Father alone when it is called Son, and so it is the Son of the Father and not ours as well; but what is given is referred both to him who gave and to those to whom he gave. And so the Holy Spirit is called not only the Spirit of the Father and the Son who gave him, but also ours who received him; just as the salvation of the Lord, who gives salvation, is spoken of (“salvation is the Lord's”), and the same is also our salvation, who have received it. The Spirit, then, is both God's, who gave, and ours, who have received. Not that spirit of ours by which we exist, for that is the spirit of the man that is in him; but this one is ours in another way, as we also say, “Give us our bread.” Although we have certainly received that spirit too which is called the man's: “For what do you have,” he says, “that you did not receive?” But what we received in order to exist is one thing, and what we received in order to be holy is another. Hence it is also written of John that he would come “in the spirit and power of Elijah”: it is called the spirit of Elijah, namely the Holy Spirit whom Elijah received. The same must be understood of Moses, when the Lord says to him, “I will take of your spirit and give it to them,” that is, I will give them of the Holy Spirit whom I have already given you. If, then, what is given also has as its beginning the one by whom it is given, because it did not receive from anywhere else that which proceeds from him, it must be confessed that the Father and the Son are the beginning of the Holy Spirit, not two beginnings; but as the Father and the Son are one God, and in relation to the creature one Creator and one Lord, so in relation to the Holy Spirit they are one beginning; but in relation to the creature the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are one beginning, as one Creator and one Lord.

It is further asked whether, just as the Son has by being born not only that he is Son but that he exists at all, so the Holy Spirit has by being given not only that he is a gift but that he exists at all: whether, then, he existed before he was given but was not yet a gift, or whether, by the very fact that God was going to give him, he was already a gift even before he was given. But if he does not proceed except when he is given, he would certainly not proceed before there was someone to whom he might be given; how then did he already exist as substance, if he exists only because he is given, just as the Son by being born has not only that he is Son, which is said relatively, but that he is substance at all? Or does the Holy Spirit always proceed, and proceed not from a point in time but from eternity; but because he so proceeded as to be able to be given, was he already a gift even before there was anyone to whom he might be given? For “gift” is understood in one way and “given” (donatum) in another. A gift can exist even before it is given; but it can in no way be called given unless it has been given.

Nor should it trouble us that, although the Holy Spirit is coeternal with the Father and the Son, something is said of him from a point in time, such as this very thing we have called “given.” For the Spirit is eternally gift, but given in time. For if one is not called master except when he begins to have a servant, this relative name too belongs to God from a point in time; for the creature of which he is Lord is not everlasting. How then shall we maintain that even relative terms are not accidents, since nothing happens to God in time, because he is not changeable, as we discussed at the beginning of this inquiry? See, he does not have being Lord everlastingly, lest we be compelled to call the creature everlasting too, since he would not be Lord everlastingly unless it also served everlastingly. For just as there cannot be a servant who has no master, so there cannot be a master who has no servant. And suppose someone comes forward who says that God alone is eternal, and that times are not eternal because of their variety and changeableness, but that times nevertheless did not begin to be in time (for there was no time before times began, and therefore it did not happen to God in time that he was Lord, since he was Lord of the times themselves, which certainly did not begin to be in time): what will he answer about man, who was made in time, and of whom God was certainly not Lord before there was one of whom he could be Lord? Certainly at least that he was the Lord of man happened to God from a point in time; and, so that all dispute may seem to be removed, certainly that he was your Lord or mine, who have only lately begun to be, happened to God from a point in time. Or if this too seems uncertain because of the obscure question about the soul, what of his being Lord of the people of Israel? For even if the nature of the soul which that people had already existed, which we are not now asking, yet that people did not yet exist, and when it began to exist is evident. Finally, that he was Lord of this tree and this crop, which have only lately begun to be, happened from a point in time. For even if the matter itself already existed, yet it is one thing to be Lord of the matter and another to be Lord of a nature already made. For a man too is master of the wood at one time and master of the chest at another, although the chest was made from that very wood, and it certainly did not exist when he was already master of the wood. How then shall we maintain that nothing is said of God according to accident, except that nothing happens to his nature by which it is changed, so that those relative things are accidents which happen with some change of the things of which they are said? As a friend is spoken of relatively; for he does not begin to be a friend except when he has begun to love: some change of will therefore takes place, so that he is called a friend. But when a coin is called a price, it is spoken of relatively, and yet it was not changed when it began to be a price; nor when it is called a pledge, and anything similar. If, then, a coin can so often be spoken of relatively without any change in itself, so that neither when it begins to be so called nor when it ceases does any change take place in its nature or form by which it is a coin, how much more easily ought we to accept of that unchangeable substance of God that something is said of it relatively to the creature in such a way that, although it begins to be said in time, nothing is understood to have happened to the substance of God itself, but only to the creature to which it is related? “Lord,” he says, “you have become our refuge.” God is therefore called our refuge relatively, for he is referred to us; and he becomes our refuge when we take refuge in him. Does anything then come about in his nature that was not there before we took refuge in it? The change therefore takes place in us: for we were worse before we took refuge in him, and by taking refuge in him we are made better; but in him there is none. So too he begins to be our Father when we are regenerated by his grace, since “he gave us power to become sons of God.” Our substance, therefore, is changed for the better when we are made his sons; and at the same time he begins to be our Father, but with no change of his substance. What, therefore, God begins to be called in time that he was not called before is clearly said relatively; yet not according to an accident of God, as though something had happened to him, but plainly according to an accident of that in relation to which God begins to be called something. And when a righteous man begins to be a friend of God, it is he who is changed; but far be it that God should love anyone in time, as though with a new love that was not in him before, with whom things past have not passed away and things future have already been done. So he loved all his saints before the foundation of the world, as he predestined them; but when they are converted and find him, they are then said to begin to be loved by him, so that it may be said in the way in which what is said can be grasped by human feeling. So too when he is said to be angry with the wicked and gentle with the good, they are changed, not he: as light is harsh to weak eyes and gentle to strong ones, by their change, of course, not its own.

Some think that the equality of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit is hindered from being understood because it is written that Christ is “the power of God and the wisdom of God,” so that equality does not seem to be present, since the Father is not himself power and wisdom but the begetter of power and wisdom. And indeed the question is usually asked with no small attention, how God is called the Father of power and wisdom. For the apostle says that Christ is “the power of God and the wisdom of God.” And from this some of our writers reasoned against the Arians in this way, at least against those who first raised themselves against the catholic faith. For Arius himself is reported to have said, “If he is a son, he was born; if he was born, there was a time when he was not a son,” not understanding that for God even to have been born is everlasting, so that the Son is coeternal with the Father, as the brightness that is generated by fire and spreads from it is of the same age as the fire, and would be coeternal if the fire were eternal. Hence some later Arians abandoned that opinion and confessed that the Son of God did not begin from a point in time. But among the disputations that our writers held against those who said, “There was a time when the Son was not,” some also inserted this argument: “If the Son of God is the power and wisdom of God, and God was never without power and wisdom, the Son is coeternal with God the Father. But the apostle says that Christ is ‘the power of God and the wisdom of God’; and it is the part of a madman to say that God at some time did not have power or wisdom. Therefore there was not a time when the Son was not.” This argument compels us to say that God the Father is not wise except by having the wisdom which he begot, not by the Father being wisdom itself in himself. Then, if this is so, since the Son himself is called God from God, light from light, we must see whether he can be called wisdom from wisdom, if God the Father is not wisdom itself but only the begetter of wisdom. And if we hold this, why is he not also the begetter of his own greatness, goodness, eternity, and omnipotence, so that he is not himself his own greatness, goodness, eternity, and omnipotence, but is great by the greatness which he begot, good by the goodness, eternal by the eternity, and almighty by the omnipotence that was born of him, just as he is not himself his own wisdom, but is wise by the wisdom that was born of him? For we need not fear being compelled to speak of many sons of God coeternal with the Father, besides the adoption of the creature, if he is the begetter of his greatness, goodness, eternity, and omnipotence. This cavil is easily answered: it does not follow, because many things have been named, that he is the father of many coeternal sons, just as it does not follow that he is the father of two when Christ is called the power of God and the wisdom of God. For the same power is wisdom, and the same wisdom is power; and so also with the rest, so that the same greatness is power, and whatever else has been mentioned above or can still be mentioned.

But suppose the Father is called nothing in himself except what he is called in relation to the Son, that is, father, or begetter, or his beginning (and the one who begets is consequently the beginning of what he begets from himself); and whatever else he is called, he is called with the Son, or rather in the Son, whether great by the greatness which he begot, or just by the justice which he begot, or good by the goodness which he begot, or powerful by the power or strength which he begot, or wise by the wisdom which he begot; and greatness itself is not said of the Father, but he is the generator of greatness; while the Son, just as he is called Son in himself, which is said not with the Father but in relation to the Father, is not in the same way great in himself, but with the Father, whose greatness he is; and so he is called wise with the Father, whose wisdom he is, just as the Father is wise with the Son, because he is wise by the wisdom which he begot: then whatever they are called with reference to themselves, neither is called without the other; that is, whatever they are called that shows their substance, both are called together. If this is so, then neither is the Father God without the Son, nor the Son God without the Father, but both together are God. And what is said, “In the beginning was the Word,” is understood as “the Word was in the Father”; or if “in the beginning” is said as if it meant “before all things,” then in what follows, “And the Word was with God,” the Word is understood as the Son alone, not the Father and the Son together, as if both were one Word (for he is the Word as he is the Image, and the Father and the Son are not both together the image, but the Son alone is the image of the Father, as he is also the Son; for both together are not the son). But in what is added, “And the Word was with God,” it is a great deal to understand it thus: the Word, which is the Son alone, was with God, which is not the Father alone but the Father and the Son together. But what wonder if this can be said of two things very different from each other? For what is so different as mind and body? Yet one can say, “The mind was with the man,” that is, in the man, although the mind is not the body, while the man is mind and body together. So that what is written next, “And the Word was God,” would be understood thus: the Word, who is not the Father, was God together with the Father. Do we then say that the Father is the generator of his greatness, that is, the generator of his power or of his wisdom, while the Son is the greatness, power, and wisdom, and God, great, almighty, and wise, is both together? How then is he God from God, light from light? For both together are not God from God, but the Son alone is from God, namely the Father; nor are both together light from light, but the Son alone is from the light, the Father. Unless perhaps, in order to suggest and impress most briefly that the Son is coeternal with the Father, it was said “God from God” and “light from light,” and anything said in this way, as if it were said: “This, which is not the Son without the Father, from this, which is not the Father without the Son,” that is, “this light, which is not light without the Father, from this light, the Father, which is not light without the Son”; so that when it is said “God, who is not the Son without the Father, and from God, who is not the Father without the Son,” it may be perfectly understood that the begetter did not precede what he begot. If this is so, the only thing that cannot be said of them, “this from that,” is what both are not together. Thus “Word from Word” cannot be said, because both together are not the Word, but the Son alone; nor “image from image,” because both together are not the image; nor “Son from Son,” because both together are not the son; according to what is said, “I and the Father are one.” For “we are one” is said in the sense: what he is, I also am, according to essence, not according to relation.

And I do not know whether it is found said in the Scriptures that things whose nature is different “are one.” But if several things are of the same nature and think differently, they are not one, at least in so far as they think differently. For if the disciples were already one from the fact that they were men, he would not have said, “That they may be one, as we are one,” when he commended his disciples to the Father. But Paul and Apollos, because they were both men and thought the same, are one: “He who plants,” he says, “and he who waters are one.” When, therefore, “one” is said without adding one what, and several things are called one, the same nature and essence is signified, not disagreeing nor dissenting. But when one what is added, it can signify something made one out of several, even though different in nature. So soul and body are certainly not one (for what is so different?), unless one what is added or understood, that is, one man, or one animal. Hence the apostle says, “He who joins himself to a harlot is one body.” He did not say, “They are one,” or “He is one,” but added “body,” as one body composed by joining from two different things, male and female. And, “He who joins himself to the Lord,” he says, “is one spirit.” He did not say, “He who joins himself to the Lord is one,” or “They are one,” but added “spirit.” For the spirit of man and the Spirit of God are different in nature; but by cleaving, one spirit is made from two different ones, in such a way that the Spirit of God is blessed and perfect without the human spirit, but the spirit of man is not blessed except with God. And not without reason, I think, when the Lord in the Gospel according to John spoke so much and so often of unity itself, whether his own with the Father or ours with one another, did he nowhere say, “That they and we may be one,” but, “That they may be one, as we also are one.” The Father and the Son, therefore, are one, certainly according to unity of substance; and there is one God, and one great, and one wise, as has been discussed. How then is the Father greater? For if greater, he is greater in greatness; but since the Son is his greatness, neither is the Son greater than him who begot him, nor is the Father greater than that greatness by which he is great: therefore they are equal. For in what is he equal, if not in that by which he is, for whom to be is not one thing and to be great another? Or if the Father is greater in eternity, the Son is not equal in anything at all. For in what is he equal? If you say in greatness, a greatness that is less eternal is not equal, and so with the rest. Or perhaps he is equal in power but not equal in wisdom? But how is a power equal that is less wise? Or is he equal in wisdom but not equal in power? But how is a wisdom equal that is less powerful? It remains, then, that if he is not equal in any one thing, he is not equal in all. But Scripture cries out, “He did not think it robbery to be equal with God.” Every adversary of the truth, therefore, provided he is bound by apostolic authority, is compelled to confess that the Son is equal to God in at least some one thing. Let him choose which he likes: from it he will be shown to be equal in all the things that are said of his substance.

For so the virtues that are in the human mind, although each is understood in its own way, are in no way separated from one another, so that whoever are equal, for example, in courage are equal also in prudence, temperance, and justice. For if you say that these men are equal in courage but that one excels in prudence, it follows that the other's courage is less prudent, and so they are not equal even in courage, since the one's courage is more prudent. And you will find the same of the other virtues if you go through them all with the same consideration. For we are not dealing with strength of body but with courage of mind. How much more, then, do these things hold in that unchangeable and eternal substance, incomparably more simple than the human mind? For to the human mind it is not the same to be as to be courageous, or prudent, or just, or temperate; for a mind can exist and have none of these virtues. But to God it is the same to be as to be strong, or just, or wise, and whatever you may say of that simple multiplicity or multiple simplicity by which his substance is signified. Therefore, whether “God from God” is said in such a way that this name fits each one, yet not so that both together are two gods but one God (for they cohere with each other in the way that the apostle bears witness happens even in distant and different substances; for the Lord alone is spirit, and the spirit of man alone is certainly spirit, yet if it cleaves to the Lord it is one spirit; how much more there, where there is a wholly inseparable and eternal bond?), lest it seem absurdly to be said as though he were the son of both, when he is called the Son of God, if what is called God is said only of both together; or whether whatever is said of God that indicates his substance is said only of both together, or rather of the Trinity itself together: whether it is this or that, which needs more careful discussion, for now it is enough to see that the Son is in no way equal to the Father if he is found unequal in anything that pertains to signifying his substance, as we have already shown. But the apostle called him equal. Therefore the Son is equal to the Father in all things, and is of one and the same substance.

Therefore the Holy Spirit too subsists in the same unity and equality of substance. For whether he is the unity of both, or the holiness, or the love, or the unity because the love, and the love because the holiness, it is clear that he is not one of the two, he by whom each is joined to the other, by whom the begotten is loved by the begetter and loves his begetter, and they are, not by participation but by their own essence, not by the gift of some superior but by their own, “keeping the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.” This we are commanded to imitate by grace, both towards God and towards ourselves: “on these two commandments hang the whole Law and the Prophets.” Thus those three are God, one, alone, great, wise, holy, blessed. But we are blessed from him, through him, and in him; because by his gift we are one among ourselves, and one spirit with him, because our soul cleaves after him. And it is good for us to cleave to God, because he will destroy everyone who goes whoring away from him. The Holy Spirit, then, is something common to the Father and the Son, whatever it is. But that communion itself is consubstantial and coeternal; and if it can fittingly be called friendship, let it be so called; but it is more aptly called love. And this too is substance, because God is substance, and “God is love,” as it is written. And just as he is substance together with the Father and the Son, so he is great together with them, and good together, and holy together, and whatever else is said with reference to himself; since for God it is not one thing to be and another to be great or good, and so on, as we showed above. For if love is less great there than wisdom, wisdom is loved less than it is; it is therefore equal, so that wisdom is loved as much as it is. But wisdom is equal to the Father, as we argued above; therefore the Holy Spirit too is equal; and if equal, equal in all things, because of the supreme simplicity which is in that substance. And therefore they are not more than three: one loving him who is from him, and one loving him from whom he is, and love itself. And if this is nothing, how is God love? If it is not substance, how is God substance?

But if it is asked how that substance is both simple and manifold, we must first notice why the creature is manifold and in no way truly simple. And first, every body certainly consists of parts, so that one part is greater, another less, and the whole is greater than any part of whatever size. For heaven and earth are parts of the whole mass of the world; and earth alone and heaven alone consist of innumerable parts, and each is less in a third of itself than in the rest, and less in a half than in the whole; and the whole body of the world, which is commonly called by its two parts, heaven and earth, is certainly greater than heaven alone or earth alone. And in each body size is one thing, colour another, shape another. For the same colour and the same shape can remain when the size is reduced; and the same shape and the same size can remain when the colour is changed; and when the shape does not remain the same, it can be just as large and coloured in the same way; and whatever other things are said of a body together can be changed, either together or several without the others. And so the nature of body is shown to be manifold, and in no way simple. The spiritual creature too, such as the soul, is indeed simpler in comparison with the body; but apart from comparison with the body it is manifold, and is not simple either. For it is simpler than the body because it is not spread out in bulk through a space of place, but in each body it is whole in the whole and whole in any part of it; and therefore when something happens in any tiny part of the body which the soul senses, although it does not happen in the whole body, yet the whole soul senses it, because it is not hidden from the whole. But even in the soul, since it is one thing to be skilful, another to be idle, another sharp, another of good memory, and desire is one thing, fear another, joy another, sadness another, and some can be found in the nature of the soul without others, some more and some less, innumerable things in innumerable ways, it is clear that its nature is not simple but manifold. For nothing simple is changeable; but every creature is changeable.

God, however, is indeed called in many ways great, good, wise, blessed, true, and whatever else seems not unworthily said; but his greatness is the same as his wisdom (for he is great not in bulk but in power), and his goodness is the same as his wisdom and greatness, and his truth the same as all of them; and there it is not one thing to be blessed and another to be great, or wise, or true, or good, or to be at all. Nor, because he is a Trinity, is he therefore to be thought threefold; otherwise the Father alone, or the Son alone, would be less than the Father and the Son together. Although it is not found how one could say either “the Father alone” or “the Son alone,” since always and inseparably the one is with the Son and the other with the Father; not so that both are Father or both Son, but because they are always in each other, neither is alone. But since we also call the Trinity itself God alone, although he is always with holy spirits and souls, yet we say he alone is God because they are not God with him: so we say the Father alone is Father, not because he is separated from the Son, but because both together are not Father.

Since, then, the Father alone, or the Son alone, or the Holy Spirit alone is as great as the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit together, he is in no way to be called threefold. For bodies grow by being joined. For although he who cleaves to his wife is one body, yet it becomes a larger body than if it were the husband's alone or the wife's alone. But in spiritual things, when the lesser cleaves to the greater, as the creature to the Creator, the former becomes greater than it was, not the latter. For in things that are not great in bulk, to be greater is the same as to be better. And the spirit of any creature becomes better when it cleaves to the Creator than if it did not cleave; and therefore also greater, because better. “He, then, who cleaves to the Lord is one spirit”; but yet the Lord does not therefore become greater, although he who cleaves to the Lord does. In God himself, therefore, when the equal Son cleaves to the equal Father, or the Holy Spirit equal to the Father and the Son, God does not become greater than each of them, because there is nothing by which that perfection could grow. But perfect is the Father, perfect the Son, perfect the Holy Spirit, and perfect God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit: and therefore a Trinity rather than threefold.

And since we have shown how the Father can be called alone, because no one but he is Father there, we must consider that statement by which it is said that the only true God is not the Father alone, but the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. For if someone asks whether the Father alone is God, how shall we answer that he is not, unless perhaps we say that the Father is indeed God, but not that he is God alone, and that God alone is the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit? But what do we do with that testimony of the Lord? For he was speaking to the Father, and had named as Father the one he was addressing, when he said: “And this is eternal life, that they may know you, the one true God.” The Arians usually take this as if the Son were not true God. Setting them aside, we must see whether we are compelled to understand, when it is said to the Father, “that they may know you, the one true God,” that he meant to suggest that the Father alone is also true God, lest we should not understand by “God” anything but the three together, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Do we then, from the Lord's testimony, call both the Father the one true God, and the Son the one true God, and the Holy Spirit the one true God, and the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit together, that is, the Trinity itself together, not three true gods but one true God? Or, since he added, “and Jesus Christ whom you have sent,” must “the one true God” be understood again, and is the order of the words, “that they may know you and Jesus Christ whom you have sent as the one true God”? Why then did he say nothing of the Holy Spirit? Is it because it follows that wherever one is named who cleaves to one with such great peace that through it both are one, that peace itself is understood from this, although it is not mentioned? For in that place too the apostle seems, as it were, to pass over the Holy Spirit, and yet he is understood there as well, where he says, “All things are yours, and you are Christ's, and Christ is God's”; and again, “The head of the woman is the man, the head of the man is Christ, and the head of Christ is God.” But again, if God is only the three together, how is God the head of Christ, that is, the Trinity the head of Christ, when Christ is in the Trinity so that it is the Trinity? Or is what the Father is with the Son the head of what the Son alone is? For with the Son the Father is God, but the Son alone is Christ; especially since it is now the Word made flesh who speaks, according to whose humility the Father is also greater, as he says, “For the Father is greater than I”; so that the very being God, which he has as one with the Father, is the head of the man who is Mediator, which he alone is. For if we rightly call the mind the governing part of man, that is, as it were the head of human substance, although man himself is man together with the mind, why is not the Word, which with the Father together is God, much more fittingly and much more the head of Christ, although Christ as man cannot be understood except with the Word that was made flesh? But this, as we have said, we shall consider somewhat more carefully later. For now the equality of the Trinity and its one and the same substance have been shown as briefly as we could, so that however this question stands, which we have put off to be discussed with closer attention, nothing may prevent us from confessing the supreme equality of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

A certain writer, wishing to suggest as briefly as possible what is proper to each of the persons in the Trinity, said, “Eternity in the Father, form in the Image, use in the Gift.” And since he was a man of no small authority in treating the Scriptures and in asserting the faith (for it was Hilary who put this in his books), I have searched as far as I am able into the hidden meaning of these words, that is, of Father, Image, and Gift, of eternity, form, and use; and I think he did not follow anything in the word “eternity” except that the Father has no father from whom he is, while the Son is from the Father in order to be, and to be coeternal with him. For an image, if it perfectly fills that of which it is the image, is made equal to it, not it to its image. In this Image he named form, I believe, because of beauty, where there is already such great harmony, and first equality, and first likeness, differing in nothing, unequal in no way, and unlike in no part, but corresponding exactly to that of which it is the image. There is the first and highest life, for which it is not one thing to live and another to be, but to be and to live are the same; and the first and highest understanding, for which it is not one thing to live and another to understand, but what is understanding is living and is being, all one; like a perfect Word, to which nothing is lacking, and as it were the art of the almighty and wise God, full of all the living, unchangeable reasons; and all are one in it, as it is itself one from one, with whom it is one. There God knew all things that he made through it; and therefore, though times pass away and follow one another, nothing passes away from or is added to the knowledge of God. For these created things are not known by God because they were made; rather, they were made, even though changeable, because they are known unchangeably by him. That unspeakable embrace, then, of the Father and the Image is not without enjoyment, without love, without joy. That love, delight, happiness, or blessedness, then, if it can be worthily expressed by any human word, he called briefly “use”; and it is in the Trinity the Holy Spirit, not begotten, but the sweetness of the begetter and the begotten, pouring forth with vast bounty and abundance on all creatures according to their capacity, so that they keep their order and rest in their places. All these things, then, which were made by divine art, show in themselves a certain unity, form, and order. For each of them is both some one thing, as are the natures of bodies and the dispositions of souls; and is shaped by some form, as are the shapes or qualities of bodies and the learning or skills of souls; and seeks or keeps some order, as are the weights or placements of bodies and the loves or delights of souls. We must, then, perceiving the Creator through the things that are made with the understanding, understand the Trinity, a trace of which appears in the creature, as is fitting. For in that Trinity is the supreme source of all things, the most perfect beauty, and the most blessed delight. And so those three seem both to be defined in relation to one another and to be infinite in themselves. But here in bodily things one thing is not as much as three together, and two are something more than one; but in that supreme Trinity one is as much as the three together, and two are not more than one. And they are infinite in themselves. So each is in each, and all in each, and each in all, and all in all, and all are one. Whoever sees this, even in part, or “through a mirror and in a riddle,” let him rejoice in knowing God, and honour him as God, and give thanks; but whoever does not see it, let him strive through piety to see it, not through blindness to slander it. For God is one, yet a Trinity. Nor is “from whom are all things, through whom are all things, in whom are all things” to be taken confusedly; nor is it said to many gods, but “to him be glory for ever and ever. Amen.”

Now let us inquire more carefully, as far as God grants, into what we put off a little earlier: whether each person in the Trinity, singly and by itself, not with the other two, can be called God, or great, or wise, or true, or almighty, or just, and whatever else can be said of God not relatively but with reference to himself; or whether these things are said only when the Trinity is understood. For this raises the question, because it is written that Christ is “the power of God and the wisdom of God”: whether he is the father of his wisdom and power in such a way that he is wise by this wisdom which he begot, and powerful by this power which he begot; and, because he is always powerful and wise, he always begot power and wisdom. For we had said: if this is so, why is he not also the father of his greatness by which he is great, and of his goodness by which he is good, and of his justice by which he is just, and of whatever else there may be? Or if all these, under several names, are understood in the same wisdom and power, so that the greatness is the same as the power, the goodness the same as the wisdom, and again the wisdom the same as the power, as we have already discussed, let us remember that when I name any of these it is to be taken as though I named them all. It is asked, then, whether the Father too, singly, is wise and is himself his own wisdom, or whether he is wise in the way that he is speaking. For he is speaking by the Word whom he begot: not by a word that is uttered, sounds, and passes, but by the Word who was with God, and the Word was God, and all things were made through him; by the Word equal to himself, by whom he always and unchangeably speaks himself. For he is not himself the word, just as he is not the son or the image. But speaking (setting aside those temporal utterances of God which are made in the creature, for they sound and pass away), speaking, then, by that coeternal Word, he is not understood singly, but with that Word, without whom he is certainly not speaking. Is he then wise as he is speaking, so that he is wisdom as he is the Word, and to be the Word is the same as to be wisdom, and also to be power, so that power, wisdom, and Word are the same, and are said relatively, like Son and image; and he is not powerful or wise singly, but with the very power and wisdom which he begot, just as he is not speaking singly, but by that Word and with that Word which he begot; and so he is great by and with the greatness which he begot? And if he is not great by one thing and God by another, but great by that by which he is God, since for him to be great is not other than to be God, it follows that neither is he God singly, but by and with the deity which he begot; so that the Son is the deity of the Father, as he is the wisdom and power of the Father, and as he is the Word and image of the Father. And since for him to be is not other than to be God, the Son would also be the essence of the Father, as he is his Word and image. And so, apart from the fact that he is Father, the Father would not be anything except because he has a Son: so that not only what is called Father (which is clearly said not with reference to himself but relatively to the Son, and he is Father because he has a Son), but absolutely whatever he is with reference to himself, he would be because he begot his essence. For just as he is great only by the greatness which he begot, so he is only by the essence which he begot, since for him to be is not other than to be great. Is he, then, the father of his essence as he is the father of his greatness, as he is the father of his power and wisdom? For his greatness is the same as his power, and his essence the same as his greatness. This discussion arose from what is written, that Christ is “the power of God and the wisdom of God.” And so our speech is driven into such straits, when we desire to speak the unspeakable, that we must either say that Christ is not the power of God and the wisdom of God, and so impudently and impiously resist the apostle; or confess that Christ is indeed the power of God and the wisdom of God, but that his Father is not the father of his power and wisdom, which is no less impious (for then he will not be the Father of Christ either, since Christ is the power of God and the wisdom of God); or that the Father is not powerful by his own power nor wise by his own wisdom, and who would dare to say that?; or that in the Father to be is understood as one thing and to be wise as another, so that he does not exist by the very thing by which he is wise, which is usually understood of the soul, which is sometimes foolish and sometimes wise, as a changeable nature and not supremely and perfectly simple; or that the Father is not anything with reference to himself, and that not only what he is as Father but absolutely what he is is said relatively to the Son. How then is the Son of the same essence as the Father, since with reference to himself the Father is neither essence nor exists at all with reference to himself, but even his being is relative to the Son? But surely they are much more of one and the same essence, since the Father and the Son are one and the same essence, seeing that for the Father his very being is not with reference to himself but relative to the Son, whom he begot as his essence, and by which essence he is whatever he is. Then neither is with reference to himself, and each is spoken of relatively to the other? Or is the Father alone spoken of relatively to the Son, not only in that he is called Father but in whatever he is called, while the Son is spoken of also with reference to himself? And if so, what is said of him with reference to himself? Essence itself? But the Son is the essence of the Father, as he is the power and wisdom of the Father, as he is the Word of the Father and the image of the Father. Or if the Son is called essence with reference to himself, while the Father is not essence but the begetter of essence, and does not exist with reference to himself but by this very essence which he begot, as he is great by this very greatness which he begot, then the Son is also called greatness with reference to himself, and so also power, and wisdom, and Word, and image. But what is more absurd than for image to be said with reference to itself? Or if image and Word are not the same as power and wisdom, but the former are said relatively and the latter with reference to themselves, not to another, then the Father begins not to be wise by the wisdom which he begot, because he cannot be spoken of relatively to it without its being spoken of relatively to him. For all things that are said relatively are said reciprocally. It remains, therefore, that the Son is spoken of relatively to the Father even as essence. From this a most unexpected sense results: that essence itself is not essence, or at least that when essence is said, not essence but something relative is indicated. As when “master” is said, not an essence is indicated, but something relative, which is referred to a servant; but when “man” is said, or anything of the kind which is said with reference to itself, not to another, then an essence is indicated. When, then, a man is called master, the man himself is an essence, while he is called master relatively: for man is said with reference to himself, master with reference to the servant. But in the matter we are dealing with, if essence itself is said relatively, essence itself is not essence. Add to this that every essence that is spoken of relatively is also something apart from the relation: as a man is a master, a man a servant, a horse a beast of burden, and a coin a deposit; man, horse, and coin are said with reference to themselves, and are substances or essences, but master, servant, beast of burden, and deposit are said relatively to something. But if there were no man, that is, some substance, there would be no one to be called master relatively; and if the horse were not some essence, there would be nothing to be called a beast of burden relatively; so if the coin were not some substance, it could not be called a deposit relatively. Therefore, if the Father too is not anything with reference to himself, there is no one at all to be spoken of relatively to something. For it is not as with colour, which is referred to something coloured and is not said at all with reference to itself, but always belongs to something coloured, while the thing whose colour it is, even if, in being called coloured, it is referred to the colour, yet in being called a body is said with reference to itself: in no way are we to think that the Father is not called anything with reference to himself, but that whatever he is called is said with reference to the Son, while the same Son is said both with reference to himself and with reference to the Father, when he is called great greatness and powerful power, certainly with reference to himself, and the greatness and power of the great and powerful Father, by which the Father is great and powerful. It is not so, then; but both are substance, and both are one substance. And just as it is absurd to say that whiteness is not white, so it is absurd to say that wisdom is not wise; and just as whiteness is called white with reference to itself, so wisdom too is called wise with reference to itself. But the whiteness of a body is not an essence, since the body itself is the essence and whiteness its quality; hence the body is called white from it, though for the body to be is not the same as to be white. For there form is one thing and colour another, and both exist not in themselves but in some mass, which is neither form nor colour but formed and coloured. True wisdom, however, is both wise and wise by itself. And since any soul that becomes wise by participation in wisdom, if it becomes foolish again, wisdom nevertheless remains in itself, and when the soul has been changed into folly, wisdom is not changed: it is not in the one who becomes wise from it as whiteness is in the body which is white from it. For when the body has been changed into another colour, that whiteness will not remain, but will cease to be altogether. But if the Father, who begot wisdom, also becomes wise from it, and to be is not for him the same as to be wise, then the Son is his quality, not his offspring, and there will no longer be supreme simplicity there. But far be it that it should be so; for there is truly a supremely simple essence there: therefore to be is the same there as to be wise. And if to be is the same there as to be wise, the Father is not wise through that wisdom which he begot; otherwise he did not beget it, but it begot him. For what else do we say, when we say, “For him to be is to be wise,” but, “He is by that by which he is wise”? Therefore what is the cause of his being wise is the cause of his being; and so, if the wisdom which he begot is the cause of his being wise, it is also the cause of his being. And this cannot happen except by begetting or making him. But no one would ever call wisdom the mother or the maker of the Father. For what is more insane? Therefore the Father himself is also wisdom; and the Son is called the wisdom of the Father in the way that he is called the light of the Father; that is, as light from light, and both one light, so wisdom from wisdom is to be understood, and both one wisdom; and therefore also one essence, since there to be is the same as to be wise. For what to be wise is to wisdom, and to be able to power, and to be eternal to eternity, and to be just to justice, and to be great to greatness, that being itself is to essence. And since in that simplicity to be wise is not other than to be, wisdom there is the same as essence.

The Father and the Son together, then, are one essence, one greatness, one truth, and one wisdom. But the Father and the Son together are not both one Word, because they are not both together one Son. For just as the Son is referred to the Father and is not said with reference to himself, so the Word too is referred to him whose Word he is, when he is called Word. For he is Son by that by which he is Word, and Word by that by which he is Son. Since, then, the Father and the Son together are certainly not one Son, it follows that the Father and the Son together are not the one Word of both. And therefore he is not Word by that by which he is wisdom; because Word is not said with reference to oneself but only relatively to him whose Word he is, as Son to the Father; but wisdom by that by which he is essence. And therefore, because there is one essence, there is one wisdom. But since the Word too is wisdom, yet not Word by that by which he is wisdom (for Word is understood relatively, wisdom essentially), let us take it that when Word is said, it is as if “born wisdom” were said, so that he is both Son and image. And when these two words are said, “born wisdom,” in one of them, “born,” Word, image, and Son are understood, and in all these names essence is not shown, because they are said relatively; but in the other, “wisdom,” since it is also said with reference to itself (for it is wise by itself), essence too is shown, and that its being is to be wise. Hence the Father and the Son together are one wisdom, because one essence, and singly wisdom from wisdom, as essence from essence. Therefore it is not because the Father is not the Son, and the Son is not the Father, or because the one is unbegotten and the other begotten, that they are not one essence; for by these names their relations are shown. But both together are one wisdom and one essence, where to be is the same as to be wise; but both together are not Word or Son, because there to be is not the same as to be Word or Son, as we have already shown sufficiently that these are said relatively.

Why then is almost nothing ever said of wisdom in the Scriptures except to show that it is begotten or created by God? Begotten, namely, the wisdom through which all things were made; created or made, as in men, when they are turned to that wisdom which is not created and made but begotten, and are enlightened; for in them something comes to be which is called their wisdom. Or else the Scriptures foretell or narrate that “the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us”; for in this way Christ was made wisdom, because he was made man. Or is it that in those books wisdom does not speak, nor is anything said of it, except what shows it to be born of God or made, although the Father himself is also wisdom, because that wisdom was to be commended to us and imitated, by the imitation of which we are formed? For the Father speaks it, so that it is his Word: not as a sounding word is uttered from the mouth, or is thought before it is pronounced; for this is completed in spaces of time, but that is eternal, and by enlightening it speaks to us both of itself and of the Father what must be spoken to men. And therefore he says, “No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son, and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him”; because the Father reveals through the Son, that is, through his Word. For if this word which we utter, temporal and passing, shows both itself and what we are speaking about, how much more the Word of God, through whom all things were made? It shows the Father as the Father is, because it itself is so, and is what the Father is, according as it is wisdom and essence. For according as it is Word it is not what the Father is, because the Word is not the Father, and Word is said relatively, like Son, which the Father certainly is not. And therefore Christ is the power and wisdom of God, because from the Father, who is power and wisdom, he too is power and wisdom, as he is light from the Father who is light, and the fountain of life with God the Father, who is certainly the fountain of life. For “with you,” he says, “is the fountain of life, and in your light we shall see light”; because “as the Father has life in himself, so he has given to the Son to have life in himself”; and “he was the true light that enlightens every man coming into this world,” and this light, the Word, was with God, but the Word was also God. But “God is light, and in him there is no darkness at all”: a light not bodily but spiritual; and not spiritual in the sense of having been made by enlightening, as it was said to the apostles, “You are the light of the world,” but the light that enlightens every man, that very supreme wisdom, God, of which we are now treating. The Son, therefore, is wisdom from the Father who is wisdom, as light from light and God from God; so that the Father singly is light and the Son singly is light, the Father singly God and the Son singly God; therefore also the Father singly is wisdom and the Son singly is wisdom. And as both together are one light and one God, so both are one wisdom. But the Son “was made for us wisdom from God, and righteousness and sanctification,” because we turn to him in time, that is, from some point in time, so as to remain with him for eternity. And he himself from a certain time “was made flesh and dwelt among us.” For this reason, then, when anything is pronounced or narrated in the Scriptures about wisdom, whether wisdom itself speaks or is spoken of, the Son is chiefly suggested to us. By the example of this Image let us also not depart from God, since we too are the image of God: not indeed equal, for it was made by the Father through the Son, not born of the Father like that one. And we are so because we are enlightened by light; but that one is so because it is light enlightening; and therefore that one, which has no example, is an example to us. For it does not imitate anyone going before it to the Father, from whom it is never at all separable, because it is the very same as he from whom it is. But we, striving, imitate him who abides, and follow him who stands, and walking in him we press on to him; because he was made for us a way in time through humility, who is our eternal dwelling through divinity. For since to pure intellectual spirits who have not fallen through pride he, “in the form of God” and “equal with God” and God, offers an example, so that he might offer the same example of return also to fallen man, who because of the uncleanness of sins and the punishment of mortality could not see God, “he emptied himself,” not by changing his divinity but by taking on our changeableness; and “taking the form of a servant” he came to us into this world, he who was in this world, because the world was made through him; so that he might be an example to those who see God above, an example to those who marvel at man below, an example to the healthy to persevere, an example to the sick to recover, an example to the dying not to fear, an example to the dead to rise again, “that in all things he himself might have the first place.” For since man ought to follow nothing but God to blessedness, and could not perceive God, by following God made man he would follow at once one whom he could perceive and one whom he ought to follow. Let us love him, then, and cleave to him, by “the love poured out in our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” It is no wonder, then, that because of the example which the Image equal to the Father offers us, so that we may be re-formed to the image of God, when Scripture speaks of wisdom it speaks of the Son, whom we follow by living wisely; although the Father too is wisdom, as he is light and God. The Holy Spirit too, whether he is the supreme love joining both and joining us to them (which is not unworthily said, since it is written, “God is love”), how is he not also himself wisdom, since he is light, because “God is light”? Or if the essence of the Holy Spirit is to be named singly and properly in some other way, since he is God he is certainly light, and since he is light he is certainly wisdom. And that the Holy Spirit is God, Scripture cries out in the apostle, who says, “Do you not know that you are the temple of God?” and immediately adds, “and the Spirit of God dwells in you.” For God dwells in his temple. For the Spirit of God does not dwell in the temple of God as a servant, since he says more clearly in another place: “Do you not know that your bodies are the temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God, and that you are not your own? For you were bought with a great price: glorify God, then, in your body.” And what is wisdom but spiritual and unchangeable light? For this sun too is light, but it is bodily; and the spiritual creature is light, but not unchangeable. The Father, then, is light, the Son light, the Holy Spirit light; but together not three lights but one light. And therefore the Father is wisdom, the Son wisdom, the Holy Spirit wisdom; and together not three wisdoms but one wisdom; and since there to be is the same as to be wise, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are one essence. Nor is it there anything other to be than to be God: therefore the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are one God.

And so, for the sake of speaking about things unspeakable, so that we might in some way utter what we can in no way utter fully, our Greek brethren have said “one essence, three substances,” and the Latins “one essence or substance, three persons”; because, as we have already said, in our language, that is, Latin, essence is not usually understood as anything other than substance. And provided that what is said is understood at least “in a riddle,” it was agreed to speak so, in order that something might be said when it was asked what the three are, which the true faith declares to be three, since it says that the Father is not the Son, and that the Holy Spirit, who is the gift of God, is neither the Father nor the Son. When, then, it is asked “three what?” or “three who?”, we set ourselves to find some specific or general name by which we may embrace these three, and none comes to mind, because the surpassing eminence of the Godhead exceeds the power of ordinary speech. For God is thought more truly than he is spoken of, and he is more truly than he is thought. For when we say that Jacob is not the same as Abraham, and that Isaac is neither Abraham nor Jacob, we certainly confess that they are three, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. But when it is asked “three what?”, we answer “three men,” calling them in the plural by a specific name; or by a general name, if we say “three animals” (for man, as the ancients defined him, is a rational, mortal animal); or, as our Scriptures are accustomed to speak, “three souls,” when it is agreed to call the whole by its better part, that is, to call both body and soul, which is the whole man, by the soul. So it was said that seventy-five souls went down into Egypt with Jacob, meaning so many men. Again, when we say that your horse is not the one that is mine, and that a third belonging to someone else is neither mine nor yours, we confess that there are three; and to one who asks “three what?”, we answer “three horses” by a specific name, but “three animals” by a general one. Again, when we say that an ox is not a horse, and that a dog is neither an ox nor a horse, we speak of three things; and to those who ask “three what?”, we no longer say by a specific name three horses, or three oxen, or three dogs, because they are not contained in the same species, but by a general name, three animals; or by a higher genus, three substances, or three creatures, or three natures. Now whatever things are expressed in the plural specifically by one name can also be expressed generally by one name. But not all things that are called generally by one name can we also call specifically by one name. For three horses, which is a specific name, we also call three animals; but a horse, an ox, and a dog we call only three animals or substances, which are general names, or anything else that can be said generally of them; but we cannot call them three horses, or oxen, or dogs, which are specific words. For we express by one name, though in the plural, things that have in common what is signified by that name. Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob have in common what man is; and so they are called three men. A horse, an ox, and a dog also have in common what animal is; so they are called three animals. So three laurels we call also three trees; but a laurel, a myrtle, and an olive only three trees, or three substances, or three natures; and so three stones we call also three bodies; but a stone, a piece of wood, and a piece of iron only three bodies, or by some higher general name if they can be so called. Since, then, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are three, let us ask what three they are, and what they have in common. For what the Father is is not common to them, so that they are fathers to one another; as friends, since they are spoken of relatively to each other, can be called three friends, because they are so to one another. But this is not so there, because only the Father is father there, and not father of two but of the only Son. Nor are they three sons, since the Father is not son there, nor the Holy Spirit. Nor three holy spirits, because the Holy Spirit too, in the proper sense in which he is also called the gift of God, is neither the Father nor the Son. Three what, then? For if three persons, what person is is common to them; so this is a specific or a general name for them, if we look to the usage of speech. But where there is no difference of nature, several things are expressed generally in such a way that they can also be expressed specifically. For it is the difference of nature that causes a laurel, a myrtle, and an olive, or a horse, an ox, and a dog, not to be called by a specific name, the former three laurels or the latter three oxen, but by a general one, the former three trees and the latter three animals. But here, where there is no difference of essence, these three ought to have a specific name, which yet is not found. For person is a general name, so much so that even a man can be called so, though there is such a great difference between man and God. Then, in this general word itself, if we say three persons because what person is is common to them (otherwise they could in no way be so called, just as they are not called three sons, because what son is is not common to them), why do we not also say three gods? For certainly, because the Father is a person, and the Son a person, and the Holy Spirit a person, therefore there are three persons; since, then, the Father is God, and the Son God, and the Holy Spirit God, why not three gods? Or, since because of their unspeakable union these three together are one God, why not also one person, so that we could not say three persons, although we call each one singly a person, just as we cannot say three gods, although we call each one singly God, whether the Father, or the Son, or the Holy Spirit? Is it because Scripture does not say three gods? But neither do we find Scripture mentioning three persons anywhere. Or is it because Scripture calls these three neither three persons nor one person (for we read of “the person of the Lord,” not of the Lord as a person), that it was therefore permitted, by the necessity of speaking and arguing, to say three persons, not because Scripture says it, but because Scripture does not contradict it; whereas if we said three gods, Scripture would contradict us, saying, “Hear, O Israel: the Lord your God is one God”? Why then is it not permitted to say three essences either, since Scripture likewise neither says it nor contradicts it? For if essence is a specific name common to the three, why are they not called three essences, as Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob are called three men, because man is a specific name common to all men? But if essence is not a specific name but a general one, because a man, a beast, a tree, a star, and an angel are each called an essence, why are these not called three essences, as three horses are called three animals, and three laurels three trees, and three stones three bodies? Or if because of the unity of the Trinity they are not called three essences but one essence, why, because of the same unity of the Trinity, are they not called, not three substances or three persons, but one substance and one person? For as the name of essence is common to them, so that each one singly is called an essence, so is the word substance or person common to them. For what we have said must be understood of persons according to our usage, and of substances according to the usage of the Greeks. For they say three substances, one essence, as we say three persons, one essence or substance. What remains, then, but to confess that these words were produced by the necessity of speaking, when there was need of full argument against the snares or errors of the heretics? For when human poverty tried to bring out in speech to the senses of men what it holds, as far as it can grasp, in the inner chamber of the mind concerning the Lord God its Creator, whether by pious faith or by some kind of understanding, it feared to say three essences, lest any difference be understood in that supreme equality. On the other hand, it could not say that they are not three somethings, for Sabellius, because he said this, fell into heresy. For it is known most certainly from the Scriptures, what is to be believed piously, and it is grasped by the sight of the mind with undoubting perception, that there is the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit; and that the Son is not the same as the Father, nor the Holy Spirit the same as either the Father or the Son. It sought what to call the three, and said substances or persons; by these names it did not wish difference to be understood, but did not wish singleness to be understood either; so that not only unity might be understood there, from saying one essence, but also trinity, from saying three substances or persons. For if for God to be is the same as to subsist, then three substances were not to be spoken of, just as three essences are not spoken of; in the same way, because for God to be is the same as to be wise, as we do not say three essences, so neither do we say three wisdoms. For so, because for him to be God is the same as to be, it is not right to say three essences any more than three gods. But if for God to be is one thing and to subsist another, as for God to be is one thing and to be Father or to be Lord another (for what he is is said with reference to himself, but Father is said with reference to the Son, and Lord with reference to the serving creature), then he subsists relatively, as he begets relatively and is Lord relatively. So substance will no longer be substance, because it will be relative. For just as essence is named from being (esse), so we name substance from subsisting (subsistere). But it is absurd for substance to be spoken of relatively; for every thing subsists with reference to itself; how much more God?

If indeed it is fitting that God be said to subsist. For this word is rightly understood of those things in which, as subjects, are the things said to be in some subject, as colour or shape in a body. For a body subsists, and therefore is a substance; but those things are in the subsisting and underlying body, and are not substances but in a substance; and therefore, if that colour or that shape ceases to be, they do not take from the body its being a body, because for it to be is not the same as to retain this or that shape or colour. Changeable and not simple things, therefore, are properly called substances. But if God subsists in such a way that he can properly be called a substance, there is something in him as in a subject, and he is not simple, he for whom to be is the same as whatever else is said of him with reference to himself, such as great, almighty, good, and anything of this kind that is not unfittingly said of God. But it is wicked to say that God subsists and underlies his goodness, and that that goodness is not substance or rather essence, and that God himself is not his goodness, but that it is in him as in a subject. Hence it is clear that God is called substance by a misuse of the word, so that by a more usual name may be understood essence, which is said truly and properly; so that perhaps God alone ought to be called essence. For he truly alone is, because he is unchangeable, and he declared this as his name to his servant Moses when he said, “I am who I am,” and, “You shall say to them: He who is has sent me to you.” But yet, whether he is called essence, which is said properly, or substance, which is said by misuse, both are said with reference to himself, not relatively to something. Hence for God to be is the same as to subsist; and therefore, if the Trinity is one essence, it is also one substance. Perhaps, then, it is more fitting to say three persons than three substances.

But lest I seem to be favouring our own usage, let us look into this too. Although they too, if they wished, as they say three substances, three hypostases, could say three persons, three prosōpa. But they preferred the former, which perhaps was more fittingly said according to the usage of their language. For the same reasoning holds of persons: for to God it is not one thing to be and another to be a person, but wholly the same. For if to be is said with reference to oneself, but person relatively, then let us say three persons, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, as some are called three friends, or three kinsmen, or three neighbours, in that they are so to one another, not in that each of them is so with reference to himself. So any one of them is the friend, or kinsman, or neighbour of the other two, because these names have a relative meaning. What then? Shall we say that the Father is the person of the Son and the Holy Spirit, or the Son the person of the Father and the Holy Spirit, or the Holy Spirit the person of the Father and the Son? But neither is person usually spoken of in this way anywhere, nor in this Trinity, when we say the person of the Father, do we mean anything other than the substance of the Father. Therefore, as the substance of the Father is the Father himself, not by which he is Father but by which he is, so also the person of the Father is nothing other than the Father himself; for person is said with reference to oneself, not with reference to the Son or the Holy Spirit, just as God, and great, and good, and just, and anything else of this kind, are said with reference to oneself. And just as for him to be is the same as to be God, to be great, to be good, so for him to be is the same as to be a person. Why then do we not call these three together one person, as we say one essence and one God, but say three persons, though we do not say three gods or three essences, unless because we wish at least some one word to serve this meaning by which the Trinity is understood, so that we should not be altogether silent when asked “three what?”, since we confess that they are three? For if essence is the genus, and substance or person the species, as some think, then, to omit what I have already said, they ought to be called three essences, as they are called three substances or persons, just as three horses are called three horses and also three animals, since horse is the species and animal the genus. For there the species is not said in the plural and the genus in the singular, as if one said three horses are one animal; but as three horses by the specific name, so three animals by the general name. But if they say that by the name of substance or person not a species is signified, but something singular and individual, so that substance or person is not said as “man” is said, which is common to all men, but as “this man” is said, such as Abraham, such as Isaac, such as Jacob, or anyone else who could be pointed out present with the finger, the same reasoning will overtake them here too. For as Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob are called three individuals, so they are called three men and three souls. Why then are the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, if we discuss them too according to genus, species, and individual, not called three essences, as they are called three substances or persons? But this, as I said, I pass over; I say this: if essence is a genus, one essence no longer has species; just as, because animal is a genus, one animal no longer has species. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, then, are not three species of one essence. But if essence is a species, as man is a species, and those three which we call substances or persons have the same species in common, as Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob have in common the species called man, then, not as man is subdivided into Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob can one man also be subdivided into several single men; for it cannot at all, because one man is already a single man. Why then is one essence subdivided into three substances or persons? For if essence is a species like man, there is one essence as there is one man. Or, as we say that three men of the same sex, of the same bodily constitution, and of the same mind, are one nature (for they are three men but one nature), do we likewise say there three substances, one essence, or three persons, one substance or essence? This is in some way similar, because the ancients who spoke Latin, before they had these names, which have not long come into use, that is, essence or substance, said nature instead of them. We do not, then, say these things according to genus and species, but as according to a common and identical matter. As, if three statues were made from the same gold, we would say three statues are one gold, and yet we would not say that gold is the genus and the statues the species, nor gold the species and the statues the individuals. For no species goes beyond its individuals so as to include anything outside them. For when I define what man is, which is a specific name, all the single men, who are the individuals, are contained in the same definition, and nothing belongs to it that is not a man. But when I define gold, not only statues, if they are golden, but rings and anything else made of gold will belong to gold; and even if nothing is made from it, it is called gold, since even if statues are not golden, they are not therefore not statues. Again, no species exceeds the definition of its genus. For when I define animal, since the horse is a species of this genus, every horse is an animal; but not every statue is gold. Therefore, although in three golden statues we rightly say three statues are one gold, we do not say it in such a way as to understand gold as the genus and the statues as the species. Nor, then, do we call the Trinity three persons or substances, one essence and one God, as though three things subsisted from one matter, even if whatever that matter is were wholly unfolded in these three. For there is nothing else of that essence besides this Trinity; yet we say three persons of the same essence, or three persons one essence; but we do not say three persons from the same essence, as though what essence is were one thing there and what person is another, as we can say three statues from the same gold; for there to be gold is one thing and to be statues another. And when three men are said to be one nature, or three men of the same nature, they can also be said to be three men from the same nature, because from the same nature three other such men can also come into existence; but in that essence of the Trinity no other person whatever can in any way come into existence from the same essence. Then, in these things one man is not as much as three men together, and two men are something more than one man; and in equal statues there is more gold in three together than in each, and less gold in one than in two. But in God it is not so: for the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit together are not a greater essence than the Father alone or the Son alone; but those three substances or persons together, if they are to be so called, are equal to each singly; which the unspiritual man does not perceive. For he cannot think except of masses and spaces, small or large, as phantasms like images of bodies flit about in his mind. Until he is cleansed of this uncleanness, let him believe in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, one God, alone, great, almighty, good, just, merciful, maker of all things visible and invisible, and whatever can be said of him worthily and truly according to human capacity. And when he hears that the Father is the only God, let him not separate the Son or the Holy Spirit from him; for he is the only God together with him with whom he is also one God; since when we hear that the Son is the only God, we must take it without any separation of the Father or the Holy Spirit. And let him so speak of one essence as not to think that one is greater or better than another, or different in any respect. Yet not so that the Father himself is also the Son and the Holy Spirit, and whatever else each is called in relation to another, such as Word, which is said only of the Son, or Gift, which is said only of the Holy Spirit; and for this reason they also admit the plural number, as it is written in the Gospel: “I and the Father are one.” He said both “one” and “are”: “one” according to essence, because they are the same God; “are” according to relation, because the one is Father and the other Son. Sometimes the unity of essence is not mentioned, and only the relations are named, in the plural: “We will come to him, I and the Father, and will make our home with him.” “We will come” and “we will make our home” are plural, because it was said before, “I and the Father,” that is, the Son and the Father, who are spoken of relatively to each other. Sometimes it is wholly hidden, as in Genesis: “Let us make man in our image and likeness.” Both “let us make” and “our” are said in the plural, and must be taken only of the relations. For it is not that gods should make, or in the image and likeness of gods, but that the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit should make, in the image of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, so that man might subsist as the image of God. And God is the Trinity. But because that image of God was not made wholly equal, as not born of him but created by him, to signify this it is an image in such a way that it is “to the image”: that is, it is not made equal in parity, but approaches by a certain likeness. For one approaches God not by intervals of place but by likeness, and withdraws from him by unlikeness. For there are some who distinguish in such a way that they would have the Son be the image, but man not the image but “to the image.” But the apostle refutes them, saying, “A man ought not to veil his head, since he is the image and glory of God.” He did not say “to the image,” but “the image.” Yet this image, when elsewhere it is called “to the image,” is not said as though to the Son, who is the image equal to the Father; otherwise he would not say “to our image.” For how “our,” when the Son is the image of the Father alone? But because of the unequal likeness, as we have said, man was said to be “to the image”; and therefore “our,” so that man might be the image of the Trinity; not equal to the Trinity as the Son is to the Father, but approaching, as has been said, by a certain likeness; as in distant things a certain nearness is signified, not of place but of a kind of imitation. For to this end it is also said, “Be re-formed in the newness of your mind”; and to the same he says, “Be therefore imitators of God, as dearest children.” For it is said to the new man: “who is being renewed to the knowledge of God, according to the image of him who created him.” Or, if it is now agreed, because of the necessity of argument, to admit the plural number even apart from the relative names, so that one name may be given in answer when it is asked “three what?”, and to say three substances or three persons, let no masses or intervals be thought of, no distance of unlikeness however small, so that one should be understood there to be even a little less than another, in whatever way one can be less than another; so that there is neither confusion of the persons nor such a distinction as would make anything unequal. And if this cannot be grasped by the understanding, let it be held by faith, until he shines in our hearts who says by the prophet, “Unless you believe, you will not understand.”

We have said elsewhere that in that Trinity those things are said properly, as belonging distinctly to the individual 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 the Trinity the Gift. But what is said of each with reference to themselves is not said in the plural as three, but as one, the Trinity itself: as the Father is God, the Son God, the Holy Spirit God; the Father good, the Son good, the Holy Spirit good; the Father almighty, the Son almighty, the Holy Spirit almighty; yet not three gods, or three goods, or three almighties, but one God, good, almighty, the Trinity itself; and whatever else is said of each not relatively to one another but with reference to themselves. For these things are said according to essence, because there to be is the same as to be great, to be good, to be wise, and whatever else each person there, or the Trinity itself, is said to be with reference to itself. And therefore we say three persons, or three substances, not so that any difference of essence may be understood, but so that an answer may be given by at least some one word when it is asked “three what?” or “three things what?” And there is such equality in that Trinity that not only is the Father not greater than the Son as regards divinity, but neither are the Father and the Son together something greater than the Holy Spirit, nor is each single person, whichever of the three, something less than the Trinity itself. These things have been said, and if they are repeated by turning them over more often, they become more familiar; but some measure must be kept, and God must be entreated with most devout piety to open the understanding and take away the zeal for contention, so that the essence of truth may be discerned by the mind without any bulk, without any changeableness. Now, therefore, as far as the Creator, wonderfully merciful, himself helps us, let us attend to these things, which we shall treat in a more inward way than before, though they are the same; keeping that rule, that what has not yet become clear to our understanding is not to be let go from the firmness of faith.

For we say that in this Trinity two or three persons are not something greater than one of them. Carnal habit does not grasp this, for no other reason than that it perceives, as it can, the true things that have been created, but cannot behold the truth itself by which they were created; for if it could, this bodily light would be in no way more evident than what we have said. For in the substance of truth, since it alone truly is, nothing is greater except what more truly is. But whatever is intelligible and unchangeable, one is not more truly than another, since it is equally, unchangeably eternal; nor is what is there called great great from anything else than that by which it truly is. Therefore, where greatness itself is truth, whatever has more greatness must have more truth; so whatever does not have more truth does not have more greatness either. Further, whatever has more truth is certainly truer, as that is greater which has more greatness; so there that is greater which is truer. But the Father and the Son together are not more truly than the Father singly or the Son singly. Both together, therefore, are not something greater than each of them singly. And since the Holy Spirit too is equally truly, neither are the Father and the Son together something greater than he, because they are not more truly either. The Father and the Holy Spirit together, too, since they do not surpass the Son in truth (for they are not more truly), do not surpass him in greatness. And so the Son and the Holy Spirit together are something as great as the Father alone, because they are as truly. So too the Trinity itself is as great as each person in it. For there one is not greater that is not truer, where truth itself is greatness. For 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 equally true there must also be equally great.

In bodies, however, it can happen 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 for it to be gold is one thing and to be great another. So too in the nature of the mind: a mind is not called true in the respect in which it is called a great mind. For even one who is not great-minded has a true mind; since the essence of body and mind is not the essence of truth itself, as the Trinity is, 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 thought of, as of three bodies; no framework of joining, as fables tell of three-bodied Geryon; but whatever of this kind occurs to the mind, so that there is more in three than in each, and less in one than in two, let it be rejected without any hesitation; for so everything bodily is rejected. And in spiritual things, let nothing changeable that occurs to the mind be thought to be God. For it is no small part of knowledge, when we breathe up from this depth to that height, if, before we can know what God is, we can already know what he is not. For certainly he is not earth, nor heaven, nor something like earth and heaven, nor anything such as we see in the heaven, nor anything such as we do not see and is perhaps in the heaven. Nor, if you increase in the imagination of your thought the light of the sun as much as you can, whether to make it greater or brighter, a thousand times or countless times, is this God either. Nor is God as the angels are thought of, pure spirits breathing life into heavenly bodies, and changing and turning them at the will of him whom they serve; nor, if all of them, though they are “thousands of thousands,” were gathered into one and became one, is God anything of this kind; nor if you think of these same spirits without bodies, which is indeed most difficult for carnal thought. See, behold if you can, O soul weighed down by the body that is corrupted, and burdened with many and various earthly thoughts; see, behold 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 you hear, “He is truth.” Do not ask what truth is; for at once the fogs of bodily images and the clouds of phantasms will set themselves in the way and disturb the clearness that dawned on you at the first flash, when I said, “Truth.” See, in that very first flash, by which you are dazzled as by lightning when “Truth” is said, remain if you can; but you cannot; you slip back into these usual and earthly things. By what weight, I ask, do you slip back, but by the birdlime of the desire for the filth you have contracted, and by the errors of your pilgrimage?

See again, if you can. Certainly you love nothing but the good, because the earth is good with the height of its mountains, the moderate rise of its hills, and the level of its plains; and a pleasant and fertile estate is good; and a house is good, laid out in balanced parts, spacious and bright; and animals, living bodies, are good; and air is good, mild and healthy; and food is good, pleasant and fit for health; and health is good, without pains and weariness; and a man's face is good, evenly proportioned, cheerful in expression, and bright in colour; and the mind of a friend is good, with the sweetness of agreement and the faithfulness of love; and a just man is good; and riches are good, because they readily help; and the sky is good with its sun and moon and stars; and the angels are good by their holy obedience; and speech is good that teaches the hearer pleasantly and admonishes him fittingly; and a song is good, weighty in its measures and its thoughts. Why say more and more? This is good and that is good: take away this and that, and see good itself, if you can; so you will see God, not good by another good, but the good of every good. For among all these good things, whether those I have mentioned or others that are seen or thought, we would not say, when we judge truly, that one is better than another, unless there were impressed on us the notion of good itself, according to which we both approve something and prefer one thing to another. So God is to be loved, not this or that good, but good itself. For the good of the soul is to be sought, not one over which it flies in judging, but one to which it cleaves in loving; and what is this but God? Not a good mind, or a good angel, or a good sky, but the good good. For so perhaps what I mean to say is more easily noticed. For when I hear, for example, a mind called good, just as there are two words, so from those words I understand two things: one by which it is a mind, the other by which it is good. And indeed, that it might be a mind, it did nothing itself; for there was not yet anything that could act so that it might exist. But that it may be a good mind, I see that it must act by the will; not because that very thing by which it is a mind is not something good (for how else is it called, and most truly called, better than the body?), but it is not yet called a good mind because there remains for it the action of the will by which it may become more excellent; and if it neglects this, it is rightly blamed and rightly called not a good mind. For it differs from one that does this; and since that one is praiseworthy, this one, which does not do it, is certainly blameworthy. But when it does this with zeal and becomes a good mind, it cannot attain it unless it turns to something that it is not itself. And to what should it turn to become a good mind, but to the good, when it loves and desires and attains it? And if it turns away from it again and becomes not good, by the very fact that it turns away from the good, unless that good from which it turns away remains in itself, there is nothing to which it may turn again if it wishes to amend. Therefore there would be no changeable goods unless there were an unchangeable good. When, then, you hear of this good and that good, which can at other times be called not good, if you can see, without those things which are good by participation in the good, good itself, by participation in which they are good (for you understand it too at the same time, when you hear of this or that good), if, I say, you can, with those things taken away, see good by itself, you will have seen God. And if you cleave to him by love, you will at once be made blessed. And it is shameful, since other things are loved only because they are good, to cleave to them and not love the good itself from which they are good. That too, which is a mind only because it is a mind, not yet good in the way in which it turns itself to the unchangeable good, but, as I said, only a mind: when it pleases us so much that, if we understand rightly, we prefer it even to all bodily light, it pleases us not in itself but in that art by which it was made. For it is approved as made there where it is seen to have been worth making. This is truth and the simple good; for it is nothing other than good itself, and therefore also the highest good. For a good cannot be diminished or increased except one that is good from another good. The mind, therefore, turns itself in order to be good to that from which it has its being a mind. Then the will is in harmony with nature, so that the mind may be perfected in good, when that good is loved by the turning of the will, from which comes also that which is not lost even by the turning away of the will. For by turning away from the highest good the mind loses being a good mind; but it does not lose being a mind, since this too is already a good, better than the body. The will, then, loses what the will attains. For the mind already existed which could will to be turned to that from which it was; but what might have willed to be before it was did not yet exist. And this is our good, where we see whether a thing ought to have been or ought to be, whatever we grasp that it ought to have been or ought to be; and where we see that it could not have been unless it ought to have been, even whatever we do not grasp how it ought to have been. This good, then, is “not far from each one of us: for in him we live and move and are.”

But we must stand by love towards that good and cleave to it, so that we may enjoy the presence of him from whom we are, and in whose absence we could not even exist. For since “we still walk by faith, not by sight,” we certainly do not yet see God, as the same apostle says, “face to face”; yet unless we love him already now, we shall never see him. But who loves what he does not know? For something can be known and not loved; but whether what is not known can be loved, I ask; because 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 to perceive him firmly? For he is not a body, to be searched out by eyes of flesh. But 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 is loved by faith, the heart cannot be cleansed so as to be apt and fit to see him. For where are those three, for the building of which in the mind the whole structure of all the divine books rises up, faith, hope, and love, except in a mind that believes what it does not yet see, and hopes for and loves what it believes? He is loved, then, even when he is not known; yet he is believed. But surely we must take care lest the mind, believing what it does not see, invent for itself something that is not, and hope for and love what is false. If this happens, it will not be “love from a pure heart and a good conscience and faith unfeigned,” which is “the end of the commandment,” as the same apostle says. But when we believe bodily things that we have read or heard of and have not seen, the mind must invent for itself something in the outlines and forms of bodies, as it occurs to it in thinking, which either is not true, or, even if it is true, which can very rarely happen, it is of no use to hold it by faith, but it is useful for something else which is suggested through it. For who, reading or hearing what the apostle Paul wrote, or what was written about him, does not invent in his mind both the face of the apostle himself and that of all whose names are mentioned there? And since in so great a multitude of men to whom those writings are known, one pictures the outlines and figure of those bodies one way and another another, who pictures them more nearly and more like is certainly uncertain. Nor is our faith concerned there with what bodily face those men had, but only that by the grace of God they so lived and did the things that that Scripture testifies; this it is useful to believe, and not to despair of, and to desire. For even the face of the Lord's flesh is varied and invented by the diversity of countless thoughts, though it was one, whatever it was. Nor in our faith which we have concerning the Lord Jesus Christ is what the mind invents for itself, perhaps far otherwise than the reality, the saving thing, but what we think of man according to the species; for we have, as it were fixed as a rule, a knowledge of human nature, according to which, whatever such thing we see, we at once know it to be a man or the form of a man.

Our thought is shaped according to this knowledge when we believe that God was made man for us, as an example of humility and to show God's love towards us. For it profits us to believe, and to hold firm and unshaken in the heart, that the humility by which God was born of a woman and led to death by mortals through such great insults is the supreme medicine by which the swelling of our pride might be healed, and the deep mystery by which the bond of sin might be loosed. So too the power of his miracles and of his resurrection: because we know what omnipotence is, we believe it of the almighty 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 may not be feigned. For we do not know the face of the virgin Mary, from whom, untouched by a man and not corrupted even in giving birth, he was wonderfully born. Nor have we seen what features of body Lazarus had, nor Bethany, nor the tomb and that stone which he ordered to be removed when he raised him, nor the new tomb cut in the rock from which he himself rose, nor the Mount of Olives from which he ascended into heaven; nor do we know at all, those of us who have not seen these things, whether they are as we think of them; indeed, we think it more probable that they are not so. For when the face of some place, or man, or any body, meets our eyes the same as it met our mind when we thought of it before we saw it, we are moved with no small wonder, so rarely and almost never does it happen; and yet we believe those things most firmly, because we think of them according to the specific 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, we do not believe but plainly know. But whether Mary's face was the one that occurs to the mind when we speak of or recall these things, we neither know at all nor believe. Here, then, it is permissible, without harm to faith, to say, “Perhaps she had such a face, perhaps not”; but no one, without harm to the Christian faith, could say, “Perhaps Christ was born of a virgin.” Since, therefore, we desire to understand, as far as is granted, the eternity, equality, and unity of the Trinity, but ought to believe before we understand, and must watch that our faith be not feigned (for we must enjoy that same Trinity in order to live blessedly; but if we believe something false about it, our hope will be empty and our love not chaste), how then do we love by believing that Trinity which we do not know? Is it according to a specific or general knowledge, according to which we love the apostle Paul? For even if he did not have the face that occurs to us when we think of him, and we are entirely ignorant of this, we know nevertheless what a man is. For, not to go far, this is what we are; and it is clear that he was this, and that his soul, joined to a body, lived a mortal life. We believe this of him, then, which we find in ourselves, according to the species or genus in which all human nature is equally contained. What, then, do we know, specifically or generally, of that excellence of the Trinity, as though there were many such trinities, some of which we had experienced, so that by the rule of likeness impressed on us, or by specific or general knowledge, we might believe that one to be such too, and so love the thing we believe and do not yet know from its equality with a thing we know? This is certainly not so. Or, as we love in the Lord Jesus Christ that he rose from the dead, although we have never seen anyone rise from there, can we in the same way love by believing the Trinity which we do not see, and such as we have never seen? But what it is to die and what it is to live we certainly know, because we both live and have at times seen and experienced the dead and the dying. And what else is it to rise again but to come to life again, that is, to return from death to life? When, then, we say and believe that there is a Trinity, we know what a trinity is, because we know what three things are; but this is not what we love. For we easily have that whenever we wish, to say nothing else, even by flashing three fingers. Or do we love, not what every trinity is, but that the Trinity is God? This, then, we love in the Trinity, that it is God; but we have seen or known no other God, because God is one, he alone whom we have not yet seen and love by believing. But from what likeness or comparison with known things we may believe, so that we may love God even though not yet known, this is the question.

Come back with me, then, and let us consider why we love the apostle. Is it because of the human form, which we know very well, since we believe that he was a man? Certainly not; otherwise there is now no one for us to love, since that man no longer exists; for his soul has been separated from his body. But what we love in him we believe is living even now: for we love a just mind. By what general or specific rule, then, except that we know both what a mind is and what just is? And what a mind is we say, not unfittingly, that we know because we too have a mind. For we have never seen it with the eyes and formed a general or specific notion from the likeness of many things seen; but rather, as I said, because we too have one. For what is known so inwardly, and perceives itself to be, as that by which other things too are perceived, that is, the mind itself? For the motions of bodies by which we perceive that others besides ourselves live we recognize from our likeness to them, because we too move our body in living as we notice those bodies are moved. For when a living body is moved, no way is opened to our eyes to see the mind, a thing that cannot be seen with the eyes; but we perceive that there is something in that mass such as is in us to move our mass in a similar way, which is life and soul. Nor is this, as it were, peculiar to human prudence and reason. For beasts too perceive that not only they themselves live, but also one another and each other, and ourselves. Nor do they see our souls, but they perceive it from the motions of the body, and that at once and most easily by a kind of natural agreement. We know, then, the mind of anyone from our own, and from our own we believe in the mind we do not know. For we not only perceive a mind, but can also know what a mind is by considering ourselves: for we have a mind. But what just is, how do we know? For we had said that we love the apostle for no other reason than that he is a just mind. We know, then, what just is, as we know what a mind is. But what a mind is, as has been said, we know from ourselves: for there is a mind in us. But how do we know what just is, if we are not just? But if no one knows what just is except one who is just, 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 just, if he does not know what just is; according to what we showed above, that no one loves what he believes and does not see except from some rule of general or specific knowledge. And so, if no one loves the just except the just, how will anyone wish to be just who is not yet? For no one wishes to be what he does not love. But in order that one who is not yet just may become just, he will certainly wish to be just; and in order to wish it, he loves the just. He, therefore, who is not yet just also loves the just. But one who does not know what just is cannot love the just. Therefore even one who is not yet just knows what just is. Where, then, does he know it? Has he seen it with the eyes? Is any body just, as it is white, or black, or square, or round? Who would say that? But with the eyes he has seen only bodies. But what is just in a man is only the mind; and when a man is called just, he is called so from the mind, not from the body. For justice is a kind of beauty of the mind, by which men are beautiful, many of them even who are crooked and misshapen in body. And just as the mind is not seen with the eyes, neither is its beauty. Where, then, does he who is not yet just know what just is, and love the just in order to become just? Do certain signs shine out through the movement of the body, by which this or that man appears to be just? But how does he know that these are signs of a just mind, not knowing at all what just is? He knows, then. But where do we know what just is, even when we are not yet just? If we know it outside ourselves, we know it in some body. But this is not a matter of body. In ourselves, then, we know what just is. For I find this nowhere else, when I seek to express it, but within myself; and if I ask another what just is, he seeks within himself what to answer; and whoever has been able to answer truly on this has found within himself what to answer. And when I want to speak of Carthage, I seek within myself in order to speak, and within myself I find an image (phantasia) of Carthage; but I received it through the body, that is, through the sense of the body, since I was present there in the body, and saw and perceived it, and kept it in memory, so that I might find within myself a word about it when I wished to speak of it. For its image in my memory is its word: not this three-syllable sound when Carthage is named, or even when the name itself is thought silently through spaces of time, but that which I discern in my mind when I utter this word of three syllables with the voice, or before I utter it. So too when I wish to speak of Alexandria, which I have never seen, an image (phantasma) of it is ready within me. For since I had heard from many and believed that that city is great, as it could be described to me, I formed in my mind an image of it as well as I could; and this is its word within me when I wish to speak of it, before I utter with the voice the five syllables, a name known to almost everyone. Yet if I could bring that image out of my mind before the eyes of men who know Alexandria, certainly either all would say, “It is not it,” or if they said, “It is it,” I would be greatly surprised; and gazing at it in my mind, that is, at the image as a kind of picture of it, I would still not know that it was it, but would believe those who held it from having seen it. But it is not in this way that I seek what just is, nor in this way that I find it, nor in this way that I gaze on it when I speak of it; nor in this way am I approved when I am heard, nor do I approve in this way when I hear; as though I had seen such a thing with the eyes, or learned it by any sense of the body, or heard it from those who had so learned it. For when I say, and say knowingly, “A just mind is one that, by knowledge and reason, in life and conduct gives to each his own,” I do not think of something absent, like Carthage, or invent it as I can, like Alexandria, whether it is so or not; but I discern something present, and I discern it within myself, though I am not myself what I discern; and many, if they hear, will approve. And whoever hears me and approves knowingly, he too discerns this same thing within himself, even if he is not himself what he discerns. But when a just man says it, he discerns and says what he himself is. And where does he too discern it but within himself? But this is not wonderful: for where would he discern himself but within himself? This is wonderful, that the mind should see within itself what it has seen nowhere else, and see what is true, and see the true just mind itself, and be itself a mind and not be the just mind which it sees within itself. Is there another just mind in a mind not yet just? Or if there is not, whom does it see there, when it sees and says what a just mind is, and sees it nowhere but in itself, though it is not itself a just mind? Or is what it sees an inner truth present to the mind that is able to behold it? And not all are able; and those who are able to behold it are not all also what they behold, that is, they are not also themselves just minds, as they can see and say what a just mind is. And how will they be able to be so, except by cleaving to that very form which they behold, so that they may be formed by it and be just minds; not only discerning and saying that a mind is just that, by knowledge and reason, in life and conduct gives to each his own, but so that they themselves may live justly and be of just conduct, giving to each his own, so as to “owe no one anything except to love one another”? And how does one cleave to that form except by loving it? Why, then, do we love another whom we believe to be just, and do not love the form itself in which we see what a just mind is, so that we too may be able to be just? Or is it that unless we loved this too, we would not love at all him whom we love because of it, but while we are not just, we love it less than is needed for us to be able to be just? The man who is believed to be just, then, is loved because of that form and truth which he who loves discerns and understands within himself; but that form and truth itself cannot be loved from anywhere else. For we find nothing like it besides itself, so that we might love it by believing when it is unknown, from the fact that we already know something like it. For whatever such thing you behold is itself; and there is nothing like it, since it alone is such as it is. He who loves men, then, ought to love them either because they are just or in order that they may be just. For so he ought to love himself too, either because he is just or in order that he may be just; for so he loves his neighbour as himself without any danger. For he who loves himself otherwise loves himself unjustly, since he loves himself to this end, that he may be unjust; and so to this end, that he may be wicked; and therefore he no longer loves himself. For “he who loves iniquity hates his own soul.”

Therefore in this question which we have about the Trinity and about knowing God, the chief thing to be seen is what true love is, or rather what love is. For only that is to be called love which is true; otherwise it is desire; and so those who desire are said to love by a misuse of the word, just as those who love are said to desire by a misuse of the word. And this is true love, that, cleaving to the truth, we may live justly, and therefore despise all mortal things for the love of men, by which we wish them to live justly. For so we shall be able to be ready, profitably, even to die for the brethren, which the Lord Jesus Christ taught us by his example. For since there are two commandments on which the whole Law and the Prophets hang, the love of God and the love of neighbour, not without reason does Scripture often put one for both. Sometimes only the love of God, as in that, “We know that for those who love God all things work together for good”; and again, “But whoever loves God is known by him”; and that, “For the love of God has been poured out in our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us”; and many others: because it follows that he who loves God does what God has commanded, and loves him in so far as he does it; it follows, then, that he also loves his neighbour, because God has commanded this. Sometimes Scripture mentions only the love of neighbour, as in that, “Bear one another's burdens, and so you will fulfil the law of Christ”; and that, “For the whole law is fulfilled in one word, in what is written, You shall love your neighbour as yourself”; and in the Gospel, “Whatever you wish that men should do to you, do so to them also; for this is the Law and the Prophets.” And we find very many other places in the holy writings in which the love of neighbour alone seems to be commanded for perfection, and the love of God passed over in silence, although the Law and the Prophets hang on both commandments. But this too is because it follows that he who loves his neighbour also loves above all love itself. But “God is love, and he who abides in love abides in God.” It follows, then, that he loves God above all. Therefore those who seek God through those Powers that rule over the world or parts of the world are carried away from him and cast far off, not by intervals of place but by difference of affections; for they try to go outward and desert their own inner selves, within which God is more inward still. And so, even if they have heard of or somehow thought of some holy heavenly Power, they desire its deeds, which human weakness marvels at, rather than imitate the piety by which divine rest is obtained. For they prefer proudly to be able to do what an angel can than devoutly to be what an angel is. For no holy one rejoices in his own power, but in the power of him from whom he has the ability to do whatever he fittingly can; and he knows that it is more powerful to be joined to the Almighty by a pious will than to be able by one's own power and will to do what makes those tremble who cannot do such things. And so the Lord Jesus Christ himself, doing such things in order to teach those who marvelled greater things, and to turn those intent on and held in suspense by unusual temporal things to things eternal and inward, says, “Come to me, all you who labour and are burdened, and I will refresh you; take my yoke upon you.” And he does not say, “Learn from me, because I raise men dead four days,” but he says, “Learn from me, because I am meek and humble of heart.” For the most solid humility is more powerful and safer than the most windy loftiness. And therefore he goes on to say, “And you will find rest for your souls.” For “love is not puffed up”; and “God is love”; and “the faithful in love shall rest in him,” called back from the noise that is outside to silent joys. See, God is love: why do we go and run to the heights of the heavens and the depths of the earth, seeking him who is with us, if we wish to be with him?

Let no one say: “I do not know what to love.” Let him love his brother, and he will love that same love. For he knows the love with which he loves better than the brother whom he loves. See, he can already have God better known to him than his brother: plainly better known, because more present; better known, because more inward; better known, because more certain. Embrace love, God, and embrace God by love. It is love itself that unites all the good angels and all the servants of God by the bond of holiness, and joins us and them to one another, and joins us to itself. The more, then, we are healed of the swelling of pride, the fuller we are of love; and with what is he full who is full of love, if not with God? But, you say, I see love, and as far as I can I behold it with my mind, and I believe the Scripture that says, “God is love, and he who abides in love abides in God”; but when I see it, I do not see the Trinity in it. Indeed you do see the Trinity, if you see love. But I will remind you, if I can, so that you may see that you see; only let love itself be present, so that we may be moved by love to some good. For when we love love, we love it as loving something, for the very reason that it loves something. What, then, does love love, so that love itself can also be loved? For it is not love that loves nothing. But if it loves itself, it must love something, so that it may love itself as love. For just as a word indicates something and indicates itself too, but does not indicate itself as a word unless it indicates that it indicates something, so love too loves itself, but unless it loves itself as loving something, it does not love itself as love. What then does love love, but what we love with love? And this, to begin from what is nearest, is our brother. And let us attend to how greatly the apostle John commends brotherly love: “He who loves his brother,” he says, “abides in the light, and there is no stumbling block in him.” It is clear that he placed the perfection of righteousness in the love of one's brother; for he in whom there is no stumbling block is certainly perfect. And yet he seems to have been silent about the love of God; which he would never have done, unless he wished God to be understood in brotherly love itself. For most plainly, a little later in the same letter, he says: “Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. He who does not love has not known God, for God is love.” This connection declares plainly and openly that this same brotherly love (for the love with which we love one another is brotherly love) is proclaimed with such authority to be not only from God but also God. When, therefore, we love our brother from love, we love our brother from God; nor can it be that we do not love above all the very love with which we love our brother. Hence it is gathered that those two commandments cannot exist without each other. For since God is love, he certainly loves God who loves love; and he must love love who loves his brother. And therefore he says a little later, “He cannot love God whom he does not see, who does not love his brother whom he sees”; because the reason why he does not see God is that he does not love his brother. For he who does not love his brother is not in love; and he who is not in love is not in God, because God is love. Further, he who is not in God is not in light, because “God is light, and in him there is no darkness at all.” What wonder, then, if he who is not in the light does not see the light, that is, does not see God, because he is in darkness? But he sees his brother with human sight, by which God cannot be seen. But if he loved with spiritual love him whom he sees with human sight, he would see God, who is love itself, with the inner sight by which he can be seen. Therefore he who does not love the brother whom he sees, how can he love God, whom he does not see for this very reason, that God is love, which he lacks who does not love his brother? Nor let the question trouble us any longer, how much love we ought to spend on our brother and how much on God: on God incomparably more than on ourselves, on our brother as much as on ourselves; and we love ourselves the more, the more we love God. With one and the same love, therefore, we love God and neighbour; but God for God's sake, and ourselves and our neighbour for God's sake.

For what is it, I ask, that sets us on fire when we hear and read: “See, now is the acceptable time; see, now is the day of salvation; giving no offence in anything, so that our ministry may not be blamed; but in all things commending ourselves as ministers of God, in much patience, in afflictions, in necessities, in distresses, in beatings, in prisons, in tumults, in labours, in watchings, in fastings, in chastity, in knowledge, in long-suffering, in kindness, in the Holy Spirit, in love unfeigned, in the word of truth, in the power of God; by the weapons of righteousness on the right hand and on the left, through glory and dishonour, through ill repute and good repute; as deceivers, and yet true; as unknown, and yet well known; as dying, and see, we live; as chastened, and not killed; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and possessing all things”? What is it that kindles us to love the apostle Paul when we read these things, except that we believe he lived so? Yet that the ministers of God ought to live so we do not believe from hearing it from others, but behold within ourselves, or rather above ourselves, in the truth itself. Him, then, whom we believe to have lived so, we love because of what we see. And unless we loved above all this form, which we discern as always stable and unchangeable, we would not love him for the reason that we hold by faith that his life, while he lived in the flesh, was fitted to and in harmony with this form. But somehow we are roused even more to the love of this form itself by the faith by which we believe that someone lived so, and by the hope by which, since some men have lived so, we by no means despair that we too, who are men, can live so; so that we both desire this more ardently and pray for it more confidently. So the love of that form, according to which they are believed to have lived, makes their life loved by us; and their life, believed, rouses a more burning love towards that same form: so that the more ardently we love God, the more certainly and serenely we see him; because in God we behold the unchangeable form of justice according to which we judge that man ought to live. Faith, therefore, avails for the knowledge and love of God, not as of one wholly unknown or wholly unloved, but so that he may be known more clearly and loved more firmly.

And what is love or charity, which divine Scripture praises and proclaims so greatly, but the love of the good? But love belongs to someone who loves, and by love something is loved. See, there are three: the lover, what is loved, and love. What then is love but a kind of life joining together, or seeking to join together, two things, namely the lover and what is loved? And this is so even in outward and carnal loves; but in order to drink something purer and clearer, let us tread down the flesh and ascend to the mind. What does the mind love in a friend but the mind? There too, then, there are three: the lover, what is loved, and love. It remains to ascend from here too, and to seek these things higher up, as far as is granted to man. But here let our attention rest a little, not as if it thought it had already found what it seeks, but as a place is usually found where something is to be sought: it has not yet been found, but where it is to be sought has been found. So let it suffice to have said this, so that from it, as from the starting point of a beginning, we may weave the rest.

We are certainly seeking a trinity, not any trinity whatever, but that Trinity which is God, the true, supreme, and only God. Wait, then, whoever you are who hear these things; for we are still seeking, and no one justly blames one who seeks such things, provided that, most firm in faith, he seeks what is most difficult either to know or to express. But one who affirms is quickly and justly blamed by whoever either sees or teaches better. “Seek God,” he says, “and your soul shall live.” And lest anyone rashly rejoice as though he had grasped him: “Seek his face always,” he says. And the apostle: “If anyone thinks he knows anything, he does not yet know as he ought to know. But whoever loves God is known by him.” Even so he did not say, “has known him,” which is a dangerous presumption, but “is known by him.” So too elsewhere, when he had said, “But now knowing God,” at once correcting himself he said, “or rather being known by God”; and above all in that place, “Brethren,” he says, “I do not consider that I have grasped it; but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind, and stretching out to what lies ahead, I press on with intent towards the prize of the upward calling of God in Christ Jesus. Let as many as are perfect be of this mind.” He says that perfection in this life is nothing other than forgetting what lies behind and stretching out with intent to what lies ahead. For the intent of the seeker is safest until that is grasped to which we tend and towards which we stretch. But that intent is right which sets out from faith. For sure faith in some way begins knowledge; but sure knowledge will not be perfected except after this life, when we shall see “face to face.” Let us be of this mind, then, so as to know that the disposition to seek the truth is safer than that of presuming the unknown to be known. Let us therefore seek as those who will find, and find as those who will go on seeking. For “when a man has finished, then he begins.” Concerning what is to be believed, let us not doubt with any unbelief; concerning what is to be understood, let us not affirm with any rashness: in the former, authority is to be held; in the latter, truth is to be searched out. As regards this question, then, let us believe that the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are one God, the maker and ruler of the whole creation; that the Father is not the Son, nor the Holy Spirit either the Father or the Son; but a trinity of persons related to one another, and a unity of equal essence. And let us seek to understand this, praying for help from him whom we wish to understand, and desiring, as far as he grants, to explain what we understand with such care and anxiety of piety that, even if we say one thing for another, we may still say nothing unworthy. So that if, for example, we say something of the Father that does not properly fit the Father, it may fit the Son, or the Holy Spirit, or the Trinity itself; and if something of the Son that does not properly suit the Son, it may at least suit the Father, or the Holy Spirit, or the Trinity; likewise if something of the Holy Spirit that does not befit what is proper to the Holy Spirit, it may yet not be foreign to the Father or the Son, or to the one God, the Trinity itself. As now we desire to see whether that most excellent love is properly the Holy Spirit; and if it is not, then either the Father is love, or the Son, or the Trinity itself; since we cannot resist the most certain faith and the most powerful authority of Scripture, which says, “God is love.” Yet we must not stray into sacrilegious error, so as to say anything of the Trinity that fits not the Creator but rather the creature, or is invented by empty thought.

Since this is so, let us attend to these three things which we seem to have found. We are not yet speaking of things above, not yet of God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, but of this unequal image, yet an image, that is, man; for the weakness of our mind perhaps gazes on it more familiarly and more easily. See, when I who seek this love something, there are three: I, and what I love, and love itself. For I do not love love unless I love it loving; for there is no love where nothing is loved. There are three, then: the lover, what is loved, and love. What if I love nothing but myself? Will there not be two: what I love, and love? For the lover and what is loved are the same when one loves oneself; just as to love and to be loved are in the same way the same, when anyone loves himself. For the same thing is said twice when it is said, “He loves himself, and is loved by himself.” For then to love and to be loved are not one thing and another, just as the lover and the beloved are not one and another. But love and what is loved are two even so. For when anyone loves himself there is no love unless love itself is loved. And it is one thing to love oneself, another to love one's love. For love is not loved unless it is already loving something; because where nothing is loved there is no love. There are two, then, when anyone loves himself: love, and what is loved. For then the lover and what is loved are one. Hence it seems not to follow that wherever there is love, three things are thereby understood. Let us set aside from this consideration the other things, which are many, of which man consists; and in order that we may find clearly, as far as we can in these matters, what we are now seeking, let us treat of the mind alone. The mind, then, when it loves itself, shows two things, the mind and love. And what is it to love oneself but to wish to be present to oneself in order to enjoy oneself? And when it wishes itself to be as much as it is, the will is equal to the mind, and the love equal to the lover. And if love is some substance, it is certainly not a body but spirit; nor is the mind a body, but spirit. Yet love and mind are not two spirits but one spirit, not two essences but one; and yet two things are one, the lover and love, or, if you like, what is loved and love. And these two are said relatively to each other. For the lover is referred to love, and love to the lover. For the lover loves with some love, and love belongs to some lover. But mind and spirit are not said relatively but show essence. For it is not because they are the mind and spirit of some man that they are mind and spirit. For take away what man is, which is so called with the body joined to it; take away the body, then, and mind and spirit remain; but take away the lover, and there is no love; and take away love, and there is no lover. And therefore in so far as they are referred to each other they are two; but in what they are said with reference to themselves, each is spirit, and both together one spirit; each is mind, and both together one mind. Where, then, is the trinity? Let us attend as far as we can, and call upon the everlasting light to enlighten our darkness, and let us see in ourselves, as far as we are permitted, the image of God.

For the mind cannot love itself unless it also knows itself; for how does it love what it does not know? Or if anyone says that the mind, from general or specific knowledge, believes itself to be such as it has found others to be, and therefore loves itself, he speaks most foolishly. For how does the mind know any mind, if it does not know itself? For it is not as the eye of the body sees other eyes and does not see itself, that the mind knows other minds and is ignorant of itself. For through the eyes of the body we see bodies, because we cannot break back and turn upon the eyes themselves the rays that shine out through them and touch whatever we see, except when we look into mirrors. This is discussed most subtly and most obscurely, until it is shown most plainly whether the matter is so or not. But however it may be with the power by which we see through the eyes, that power itself, whether it is rays or something else, we certainly cannot see with the eyes; but we seek it with the mind, and if it can be done, we grasp this too with the mind. The mind itself, then, as it gathers knowledge of bodily things through the senses of the body, so it gathers knowledge of incorporeal things through itself. Therefore it also knows itself through itself, since it is incorporeal. For if it does not know itself, it does not love itself.

And just as there are two things, the mind and its love, when it loves itself, so there are two things, the mind and its knowledge, when it knows itself. The mind itself, then, and its love and its knowledge are three things, and these three are one; and when they are perfect, they are equal. For if it loves itself less than it is (for example, if the mind of a man loves itself only as much as a man's body is to be loved, though it is more than the body), it sins, and its love is not perfect. Likewise, if it loves itself more than it is, as if it loved itself as much as God is to be loved, though it is incomparably less than God, it also sins greatly and does not have a perfect love of itself. But it sins with greater perversity and wickedness when it loves the body as much as God is to be loved. Likewise, knowledge, if it is less than what is known and can be fully known, is not perfect. But if it is greater, then the nature that knows is higher than the one that is known; as the knowledge of a body is greater than the body itself which is known by that knowledge. For that knowledge is a kind of life in the reason of the knower, while the body is not life. And any life is greater than any body, not in bulk but in power. But when the mind knows itself, its knowledge does not surpass it, because it itself knows and it itself is known. When, therefore, it knows itself whole, and nothing else with itself, its knowledge is equal to it; because its knowledge is not from another nature when it knows itself. And when it perceives itself whole and nothing more, it is neither less nor greater. We were right, then, to say that these three, when they are perfect, are consequently equal. At the same time we are reminded, if we can see it in any way, that these things exist in the soul and are, as it were, unfolded from being folded up, so that they may be perceived and counted substantially, or, so to speak, essentially, not as in a subject, as colour or shape in a body, or any other quality or quantity. For whatever is of this kind does not go beyond the subject in which it is. For this colour or shape of this body cannot also be that of another body. But the mind, by the love with which it loves itself, can also love something else besides itself. Likewise the mind knows not only itself but many other things. Therefore love and knowledge are not in the mind as in a subject; but these too exist substantially, as the mind itself does; because even if they are said relatively to one another, each is nevertheless in its own substance. Nor are they said relatively to each other as colour and the coloured thing are, so that colour is in the coloured subject, not having its own substance in itself (since the coloured body is a substance, while colour is in a substance); but as two friends are also two men, which are substances, while they are called men not relatively, but friends relatively. But again, although the lover or the knower is a substance, and knowledge is a substance, and love is a substance, while the lover and love, or the knower and knowledge, are said relatively to each other like friends, and mind or spirit are not relative, as men are not relative either: yet the lover and love, or the knower and knowledge, cannot be apart from each other as men who are friends can. Although friends too seem to be separable in body, not in mind, in so far as they are friends; yet it can happen that a friend begins even to hate his friend, and by that very fact ceases to be a friend, without the other knowing it and while he still loves him. But if the love with which the mind loves itself ceases to be, the mind will at the same time cease to be loving. Likewise, if the knowledge by which the mind knows itself ceases to be, the mind will at the same time cease to know itself. As a head is certainly the head of something headed, and they are said relatively to each other, though they are also substances; for both the head is a body and the headed thing is; and if there is no head, there will be no headed thing either. But these can be separated from each other by cutting off; those cannot. And even if there are some bodies that cannot be cut or divided at all, yet unless they consisted of their parts, they would not be bodies. A part, then, is said relatively to the whole, because every part is a part of some whole, and the whole is whole by all its parts. But since both the part and the whole are body, these are not only said relatively but also exist substantially. Perhaps, then, the mind is a whole, and its parts, as it were, are the love by which it loves itself and the knowledge by which it knows itself, two parts of which that whole consists? Or are there three equal parts by which the one whole is completed? But no part embraces the whole of which it is a part; whereas the mind, when it knows itself whole, that is, knows itself perfectly, its knowledge extends through the whole of it; and when it loves itself perfectly, it loves itself whole, and its love extends through the whole of it. Is it, then, as one drink is made from wine, water, and honey, and each extends through the whole, and yet they are three (for there is no part of the drink that does not have these three; for they are not joined, as if they were water and oil, but wholly mixed; and they are all substances, and that whole liquid is one substance made from three): is it something like this that we are to think these three are together, mind, love, and knowledge? But water, wine, and honey are not of one substance, although from their mixture one substance of drink is made. But how those three are not of the same substance I do not see, since the mind itself loves itself and itself knows itself; and these three are such that the mind is neither loved nor known by any other thing. These three, then, must be of one and the same essence; and therefore, if they were confused as by a mixture, they would in no way be three, nor could they be referred to one another. As if you make three similar rings from one and the same gold, although linked to one another, they are referred to one another in that they are similar (for every like thing is like something), and there is a trinity of rings and one gold; but if they are mixed with one another and each is spread through the whole mass, that trinity will perish and will not exist at all; and not only will it be called one gold, as it was called in those three rings, but there will no longer be any three golden things.

But in those three, when the mind knows itself and loves itself, the trinity remains, mind, love, and knowledge; and it is not confused by any mixture, although each is in itself and they are mutually whole in wholes, whether each in two or two in each. So all are in all. For the mind is certainly in itself, since it is called mind with reference to itself, although as knowing, or known, or knowable it is said relatively to its knowledge; and as loving and loved or lovable it is referred to the love by which it loves itself. And knowledge, although it is referred to the mind that knows or is known, is yet also said with reference to itself to be known and knowing; for the knowledge by which the mind knows itself is not unknown to itself. And love, although it is referred to the loving mind whose love it is, is yet also love with reference to itself, so that it is also in itself; because love too is loved, and it cannot be loved by anything but love, that is, by itself. So each of these is in itself. And they are in one another in this way: the loving mind is in love, and love in the knowledge of the lover, and knowledge in the knowing mind. Each is in two in this way: the mind that knows and loves itself is in its love and knowledge; and the love of the mind that loves and knows itself is in the mind and its knowledge; and the knowledge of the mind that knows and loves itself is in the mind and in its love, because it loves itself knowing and knows itself loving. And so also two are in each, because the mind that knows and loves itself is with its knowledge in love, and with its love in knowledge; and love itself and knowledge are together in the mind that loves and knows itself. And how they are whole in wholes we have already shown above, when the mind loves itself whole and knows itself whole, and knows its whole love and loves its whole knowledge, when these three are perfect with reference to themselves. In a wonderful way, then, these three are inseparable from one another, and yet each of them is a substance, and all together are one substance or essence, while they are said relatively to one another.

But when the human mind knows itself and loves itself, it does not know and love something unchangeable. And each man, in speaking, expresses his own mind in one way, attending to what is going on in himself; but he defines the human mind in another way, by specific or general knowledge. And so, when he speaks to me of his own mind, whether he understands this or that or does not understand, and whether he wills or does not will this or that, I believe him; but when he says what is true of the human mind specifically or generally, I recognize and approve it. Hence it is clear that each sees one thing in himself, which another believes when he tells him, yet does not see; and another thing in the truth itself, which another too can behold; and the former changes with time, while the latter stands in unchangeable eternity. For we do not gather a general or specific knowledge of the human mind by likeness, by seeing many minds with the eyes of the body; but we behold the inviolable truth, from which we may define perfectly, as far as we can, not what kind each man's mind is, but what kind it ought to be by the everlasting reasons. Hence too the images (phantasiae) of bodily things drawn in through the sense of the body and in some way poured into the memory, from which even things not seen are thought of by an invented image (phantasma), whether otherwise than they are or by chance as they are, we find ourselves approving or disapproving within ourselves by wholly other rules that remain unchangeably above our mind, when we rightly approve or disapprove of anything. For when I recall the walls of Carthage which I have seen, and when I picture those of Alexandria which I have not seen, and, preferring some of these imaginary forms to others, I prefer them reasonably, the judgement of truth from above is strong and clear, and is firm by the most incorrupt rules of its own right; and even if it is overlaid, as it were, by a kind of cloud of bodily images, it is not wrapped up and confused by them. But it makes a difference whether I am shut off from the clear sky beneath this or that fog, or, as usually happens on the highest mountains, enjoying the free air between the two, I look upon both the most serene light above and the densest mists below. For whence is the ardour of brotherly love kindled in me when I hear that some man has endured bitter torments for the beauty and firmness of faith? And if the man himself is pointed out to me with the finger, I am eager to join him to myself, to make him known to me, to bind him in friendship. And so, if opportunity is given, I approach, I address him, I converse with him, I express my affection for him in what words I can, and I wish that he in turn should have and express towards me the same affection; and I strive after a spiritual embrace by believing, because I cannot so quickly search out and see thoroughly his inner self. I love, then, the faithful and brave man with a chaste and genuine love. But if in our conversations he confesses to me, or incautiously in some way betrays himself, that he believes unfitting things about God, and desires something carnal even in him, and that he endured those things for such an error, or from desire of hoped-for money, or from empty greed for human praise, at once that love with which I was carried towards him, offended and, as it were, struck back and taken away from an unworthy man, remains in that form from which I had loved him, believing him to be such. Unless perhaps I now love him in order that he may be such, when I have found that he is not such. But in that man nothing has changed; yet he can be changed, so as to become what I had believed him already to be. In my mind, however, my estimate itself has certainly changed, which was one way about him and is now another; and the same love, at the command of unchangeable justice from above, has been turned from the intention of enjoying to the intention of caring for him. But the form itself of unshaken and stable truth, in which I would have enjoyed the man, believing him good, and in which I take care that he may be good, floods with the same light of incorruptible and most pure reason, in imperturbable eternity, both the gaze of my mind and that cloud of imagination which I discern from above when I think of the same man whom I had seen. Likewise, when I turn over in my mind an arch, beautifully and evenly curved, which I saw, for example, at Carthage, a certain thing reported to the mind through the eyes and passed into the memory produces an imaginary view. But I behold something else in my mind, according to which that work pleases me; and from which, if it displeased me, I would also correct it. And so we judge of these things according to that form, and we discern that form by the intuition of the rational mind. But these things we either touch by the sense of the body when present, or recall as images of absent things fixed in the memory, or from their likeness we picture such things as we ourselves, if we wished and were able, would also attempt to make in actual work: picturing in the mind the images of bodies, or seeing bodies through the body, in one way; but in another way grasping by simple understanding, above the eye of the mind, the reasons and the unspeakably beautiful art of such figures.

In that eternal truth, then, from which all temporal things were made, we behold with the sight of the mind the form according to which we are, and according to which we do anything by true and right reason, whether in ourselves or in bodies; and from it we have with us, as a word, the true knowledge of things conceived, and we beget it by speaking inwardly; nor does it depart from us by being born. But when we speak to others, we apply to the word that remains within the service of the voice, or of some bodily sign, so that by a kind of sensible reminder something similar may come about in the mind of the hearer, such as does not depart from the mind of the speaker. And so we do nothing through the members of the body in our deeds and words, by which the conduct of men is approved or disapproved, that we have not preceded by a word uttered within ourselves. For no one does anything willingly that he has not first spoken in his heart. And this word is conceived by love, either of the creature or of the Creator, that is, either of changeable nature or of unchangeable truth.

So it is conceived either by desire or by love: not that the creature is not to be loved, but if that love is referred to the Creator, it will no longer be desire but love. For it is desire when the creature is loved for its own sake. Then it does not help the one who uses it, but corrupts the one who enjoys it. Since, then, the creature is either equal to us or inferior, the inferior is to be used for God, and the equal enjoyed, but in God. For just as you ought to enjoy yourself, not in yourself but in him who made you, so too him whom you love as yourself. Let us, then, enjoy both ourselves and our brethren in the Lord, and from there let us not dare to send ourselves back to ourselves, and as it were let ourselves slide downward. And the word is born when, having been thought out, it pleases, either for sinning or for doing right. Love, then, as a kind of middle term, joins our word and the mind from which it is begotten, and binds itself with them as a third, in an incorporeal embrace, without any confusion.

But the word conceived and the word born are the same when the will rests in the knowledge itself, which happens in the love of spiritual things. For one who, for example, knows justice perfectly and loves it perfectly is already just, even if there is no need to act according to it outwardly through the members of the body. But in the love of carnal and temporal things, as in the offspring of animals themselves, the conception of the word is one thing and its birth another. For there what is conceived by desiring is born by obtaining. For it is not enough for avarice to know and love gold unless it also has it; nor to know and love eating or lying with someone unless one also does it; nor to know and love honours and power unless they come. And yet all these things, even when obtained, are not enough. “For whoever drinks of this water,” he says, “will thirst again.” And therefore in the Psalm too: “He conceived sorrow,” it says, “and brought forth iniquity.” He says that sorrow or labour is conceived when those things are conceived which it is not enough to know and to will, and the mind burns and is sick with want until it reaches them and as it were brings them forth. Hence in the Latin language things are elegantly called parta (gotten), and reperta and comperta (found), words which sound as though derived from partus (birth). For “desire, when it has conceived, gives birth to sin.” Hence the Lord cries out, “Come to me, all you who labour and are burdened”; and in another place, “Woe to those who are pregnant and those who are nursing in those days.” And since he referred all things, whether right deeds or sins, to the birth of the word, he says, “By your mouth you will be justified, and by your mouth you will be condemned,” wishing the mouth to be understood not as this visible one, but as the inner, invisible mouth of thought and of the heart.

It is rightly asked, then, whether all knowledge is a word, or only knowledge that is loved. For we know also the things we hate; but the things that displease us should not be said to be conceived or brought forth by the mind. For not all things that touch it in any way are conceived; but some only so as to be known, yet not called words, like those of which we are now treating. For words that occupy spaces of time with syllables, whether they are pronounced or thought, are called words in one sense; in another sense everything that is known is called a word impressed on the mind, as long as it can be brought out of memory and defined, even though the thing itself displeases; in yet another sense, when what is conceived by the mind pleases. According to this last kind of word is to be taken what the apostle says, “No one says, Lord Jesus, except in the Holy Spirit”; while according to another sense of word those also say this of whom the Lord himself says, “Not everyone who says to me, Lord, Lord, will enter the kingdom of heaven.” Yet when even the things we hate rightly displease us and are rightly disapproved, our disapproval of them is approved, and pleases, and is a word. Nor does the knowledge of vices displease us, but the vices themselves. For it pleases me that I know and define what intemperance is; and this is its word. Just as in an art faults are known, and the knowledge of them is rightly approved, when the expert distinguishes the form and the privation of excellence, as affirming and denying, being and not being; and yet to be deprived of virtue and to fall into vice is damnable. And to define intemperance and say its word belongs to the art of morals; but to be intemperate belongs to what that art blames. As to know and define what a solecism is belongs to the art of speaking; but to commit one is a fault which the same art reproves. The word, then, which we now wish to distinguish and explain, is knowledge with love. When, therefore, the mind knows and loves itself, its word is joined to it by love. And since it loves its knowledge and knows its love, the word is in love and love in the word, and both in the one who loves and speaks.

But all knowledge according to form is like the thing it knows. For there is another knowledge, according to privation, which we express when we disapprove. And this disapproval of the privation praises the form, and therefore is approved. The mind, then, has some likeness to the form known, whether when that form pleases or when its privation displeases. Therefore in so far as we know God we are like him; but not like him to the point of equality, since we do not know him as much as he knows himself. And just as, when we speak of bodies through the sense of the body, some likeness of them comes about in our mind, which is an image (phantasia) in the memory (for the bodies themselves are not at all in the mind when we think of them, but their likenesses; and so when we approve these in place of them, we err, for error is approving one thing in place of another); yet the image of a body in the mind is better than that form of the body, in so far as it is in a better nature, that is, in a living substance, as the mind is: so when we know God, although we are made better than we were before we knew him, and above all when that same knowledge, also pleasing and worthily loved, is a word, and that knowledge becomes a certain likeness of God, yet it is lower, because it is in a lower nature; for the mind is a creature, but God is the Creator. From this it is gathered that when the mind knows and approves itself, this same knowledge is its word in such a way that it is wholly equal and identical to it; because it is neither knowledge of a lower essence, like that of a body, nor of a higher, like that of God. And while knowledge has a likeness to the thing it knows, that is, to that of which it is knowledge, this knowledge, by which the mind itself, which knows, is known, has a perfect and equal likeness. And therefore it is both image and word, because it is expressed from the mind, when by knowing it is made equal to it, and what is begotten is equal to the begetter.

What then of love? Will it not be an image? Not a word? Not begotten? For why does the mind beget its knowledge when it knows itself, and not beget its love when it loves itself? For if it is the cause of its knowledge because it is knowable, it is also the cause of its love because it is lovable. Why, then, it has not begotten both is hard to say. For this question is also commonly raised concerning the supreme Trinity itself, the almighty creator God, to whose image man was made, by men whom the truth of God invites to faith through human speech: why the Holy Spirit too is not believed or understood to be begotten by God the Father, so that he too may be called son? This we now try to investigate in some way in the human mind, so that from the inner image, in which our nature itself, as if questioned, answers us more familiarly, we may direct the more practised eye of the mind from the enlightened creature to the unchangeable light: if, that is, the truth itself persuades us that, as no Christian doubts that the Word of God is the Son, so the Holy Spirit is love. Let us return, then, to that image which is a creature, that is, to the rational mind, to question and consider it more carefully on this matter, where the knowledge of some things, existing in time, which was not there before, and the love of some things which were not loved before, open to us more distinctly what we are to say; because to speech itself, which must be directed in time, a thing that is contained in the order of times is easier to explain. First, then, let it be clear that it can happen that something is knowable, that is, can be known, and yet is not known; but that it cannot happen that something is known which was not knowable. Hence it must be clearly held that every thing whatever that we know co-generates in us the knowledge of itself. For knowledge is brought forth by both, by the knower and the known. And so the mind, when it knows itself, is the sole parent of its knowledge; for it is itself both the known and the knower. But it was knowable to itself even before it knew itself; yet knowledge of itself was not in it when it did not know itself. In that it knows itself, therefore, it begets knowledge of itself equal to itself; because it does not know itself as less than it is, nor is its knowledge of another essence, not only because it itself knows, but also because it knows itself, as we said above. What then is to be said of love: why, when it loves itself, does it not seem to have begotten its love of itself as well? For it was lovable to itself even before it loved itself, because it could love itself; just as it was knowable to itself even before it knew itself, because it could know itself. For if it were not knowable to itself, it could never have known itself; so if it were not lovable to itself, it could never have loved itself. Why then should it not be said to have begotten its love by loving itself, as it begot its knowledge by knowing itself? Is it because it is clearly shown that the beginning of love is that from which it proceeds (for it proceeds from the mind itself, which is lovable to itself before it loves itself, and so is the beginning of its love by which it loves itself), but that it is therefore not rightly said to be begotten by it, as is the knowledge of itself by which it knows itself, because knowledge is something already found, which is called brought forth (partum) or discovered (repertum), and this is often preceded by a search that comes to rest in that end? For search is the desire of finding, which means the same as if you said discovering. But things that are discovered are as it were brought forth; and so they are like offspring. Where, but in knowledge itself? For there they are formed as if expressed. For even if the things we find by seeking already existed, yet the knowledge itself did not exist, which we regard as offspring being born. Further, that desire which is in seeking proceeds from the seeker, and hangs, as it were, and does not rest in the end towards which it is directed until what is sought is found and joined to the seeker. And this desire, that is, search, although it does not seem to be the love by which what is known is loved (for here the aim is still to know it), is yet something of the same kind. For it can already be called will, because everyone who seeks wishes to find; and if what is sought belongs to knowledge, everyone who seeks wishes to know. And if he wishes ardently and urgently, he is said to study; which is said especially of attaining and acquiring any branches of learning. The mind's bringing forth, then, is preceded by a kind of desire, by which, through seeking and finding what we wish to know, the offspring itself, knowledge, is born; and therefore that desire by which knowledge is conceived and brought forth cannot rightly be called birth and offspring; and the same desire by which one longs to know a thing becomes love of the thing known, while it holds and embraces the pleasing offspring, that is, the knowledge, and joins it to the begetter. And there is a certain image of the Trinity: the mind itself, and its knowledge, which is its offspring and its word from itself, and love as a third; and these three are one and one substance. Nor is the offspring less, while the mind knows itself as great as it is; nor is love less, while it loves itself as much as it knows itself and as great as it is.

Now let our attention, made sharper, approach the task of explaining these same things in order and more plainly. And first, since no one at all can love a thing wholly unknown, we must carefully consider what kind of love belongs to those who are studying, that is, those who do not yet know, but still desire to know, some branch of learning. For even in those matters in which we do not usually speak of study, loves often arise from hearing, when the mind is fired by the report of someone's beauty to see and enjoy it; because it knows the beauties of bodies in general, from having seen very many, and there is within it that by which what it longs for outwardly is approved. When this happens, love is roused not for a thing wholly unknown, since its kind is so well known. And when we love a good man whose face we have not seen, we love him from the knowledge of the virtues, which we know in the truth itself. But to know the branches of learning, we are often fired by the authority of those who praise and commend them; and yet unless we had in the mind a notion of each branch of learning impressed in brief, we would burn with no zeal to learn it. For who would spend any care and effort on knowing rhetoric, for example, unless he knew beforehand that it is the knowledge of speaking? Sometimes too we admire the ends of these branches of learning, which we have heard of or experienced, and from this we burn to acquire by learning the ability by which we may attain them. As if one who did not know letters were told that there is a kind of learning by which anyone can send words made by the hand in silence to someone however far away, which he to whom they are sent in turn gathers not with the ears but with the eyes; and if he saw this done, would he not, while he longs to know how this can be done, be moved with all zeal towards that end which he already holds as known? So the zeal of learners is kindled; for what anyone is wholly ignorant of he can in no way love. So too if anyone hears an unknown sign, such as the sound of some word whose meaning he does not know, he desires to know what it is, that is, what thing that sound was appointed to recall: as if he hears “temetum” said and, not knowing what it is, asks. He must already know, then, that it is a sign, that is, that it is not an empty sound but that something is signified by it; otherwise this word of three syllables is already known, and has impressed its articulated form on the mind through the sense of the ears. What more is to be sought in it, to make it better known, when all its letters and all the spaces of its sounds are known, except that at the same time it became known that it is a sign, and this moved a desire to know what it is a sign of? The more, then, it is known, but not fully known, the more the mind desires to know what remains about it. For if it knew only that this sound exists, and did not know that it is a sign of something, it would seek nothing further, having perceived the sensible thing by sensing it, as far as it could. But since it knows not only that it is a sound but also that it is a sign, it wishes to know it perfectly. And no sign is known perfectly unless what it is a sign of is known. Can one, then, who seeks this with burning care so as to know it, and presses on fired by zeal, be said to be without love? What then does he love? For certainly nothing can be loved unless it is known. For he does not love those three syllables, which he already has as known. And if he loves this in them, that he knows that they signify something, that is not what we are dealing with now, for he is not seeking to know that; but we are asking what he loves in what he is eager to know, which he certainly does not yet know; and therefore we wonder why he loves, since we know most firmly that things cannot be loved unless they are known. What then does he love, except that he knows and beholds in the reasons of things what is the beauty of the learning in which the knowledge of all signs is contained, and what is the usefulness of that skill by which human society communicates its thoughts among its members, lest gatherings of men be worse for them than any solitude, if they did not mingle their thoughts by conversing? This fair and useful form, then, the soul discerns, and knows, and loves; and whoever asks about any significant words he does not know is eager to have it perfected in himself as far as he can. For it is one thing that he beholds it in the light of truth, another that he desires it in his own ability. For he beholds in the light of truth how great and how good it is to understand and speak all the languages of all nations, and to hear none as a foreigner and be so heard by none. The beauty of this knowledge is already discerned by thought, and the thing known is loved; and it is so beheld, and so fires the zeal of learners, that they are moved about it and long for it in all the effort they spend to attain such an ability, so as to embrace in practice also what they know beforehand by reason; and so each burns more fervently with love for that ability which he approaches in hope. For those branches of learning are studied more eagerly which are not despaired of as attainable. For a thing that anyone has no hope of obtaining he either loves lukewarmly or does not love at all, although he sees how beautiful it is. Therefore, since knowledge of all languages is despaired of by almost everyone, each is most eager to know that of his own nation. And if he feels he is not sufficient to grasp even that perfectly, yet no one is so idle about this knowledge that, when he hears an unknown word, he does not wish to know what it is, and, if he can, ask and learn. While he asks, he is certainly in the zeal of learning, and seems to love an unknown thing; which is not so. For that form touches the mind which it knows and thinks of, in which shines the beauty of minds joined together by hearing and returning known sounds; and it fires with zeal one who seeks indeed what he does not know, but beholds and loves the known form to which it belongs. And so if one who asks, for example, what “temetum” is (for I gave this as an example) is told, “What does it matter to you?”, he will answer, “Lest perhaps I hear someone speak and not understand, or perhaps read it somewhere and not know what the writer meant.” Who, then, would say to him, “Do not understand what you hear, do not know what you read”? For the beauty of this skill, by which men's thoughts are known to one another through the utterance of significant sounds, is ready to be seen by almost all rational minds; because of this known beauty, loved because known, that unknown word is eagerly sought. And so when he has heard and learned that wine was called “temetum” by the ancients, but that this word is already dead in the usage of speech we now have, he will perhaps think it necessary for him because of some books of the ancients. But if he considers these too superfluous, perhaps he will not even think it worth committing to memory, because he sees that it hardly belongs to that form of learning which he beholds as known in the mind and loves. Therefore every love of the studious mind, that is, of one wishing to know what it does not know, is not love of the thing it does not know, but of what it knows, for the sake of which it wishes to know what it does not know. Or if one is so curious that he is carried away, not for some other known reason, but by the mere love of knowing unknown things, this curious man is indeed to be distinguished from the studious man, but neither does he love unknown things; indeed it is more fitting to say, “He hates unknown things,” which he wishes not to exist, since he wishes all things to be known. But lest anyone raise against us a harder question, asserting that no one can hate what he does not know any more than he can love what he does not know, we do not resist what is true; but it must be understood that, when it is said, “He loves to know unknown things,” this is not said as if it were said, “He loves unknown things.” For it can happen that someone loves to know unknown things; but that he loves unknown things cannot happen. For “to know” is not put there in vain; since he who loves to know unknown things loves not the unknown things themselves but knowing itself. And unless he had this known, no one could say confidently either that he knows or that he does not know. For not only must one who says, “I know,” and says it truly, know what knowing is; but also one who says, “I do not know,” and says it confidently and truly, and knows that he says it truly, certainly knows what knowing is; because he distinguishes the one who does not know from the one who knows, when, looking at himself truthfully, he says, “I do not know”; and when he knows that he says this truly, how would he know it, if he did not know what knowing is?

Any studious man, then, and any curious man, does not love unknown things, even when he presses on with most ardent desire to know what he does not know. For either he already knows in its kind what he loves, and longs to know it also in some particular thing or things, which perhaps are praised to him though not yet known to him, and he pictures in his mind an imaginary form by which he is roused to love. And from what does he picture it, but from the things he already knew? Yet if he finds the one that was praised unlike this form figured in his mind and very well known in his thought, perhaps he will not love it. And if he does love it, he will begin to love it from the time he learned it. For a little before, it was another that was loved, which the mind, forming it, was accustomed to present to itself. But if he finds it like that form which report had proclaimed, so that he can truly say to it, “I loved you already,” not even then did he love an unknown one, whom he had known in that likeness. Or we see something in the form of the everlasting reason and love it there, and when it is expressed in some image of a temporal thing, we both believe and love it on the praise of those who have experienced it; and we do not love anything unknown, about which we have already said enough above. Or we love something known, for the sake of which we seek something unknown; and it is by no means the love of that unknown thing that holds us, but of the known thing to which we know it belongs, so that we may know also that which we still seek as unknown, as I said a little before about the unknown word. Or each one loves knowing itself, which cannot be unknown to anyone who desires to know something. For these reasons those who wish to know something they do not know seem to love unknown things, and because of their more ardent desire to seek, they cannot be said to be without love. But how otherwise the matter stands, and that nothing at all unknown is loved, I think I have persuaded those who look carefully at the truth. But since the examples we have given are of those who desire to know something that they themselves are not, we must see whether perhaps some new kind appears when the mind desires to know itself.

What then does the mind love, when it ardently seeks itself in order to know itself, while it is unknown to itself? For see, the mind seeks itself in order to know itself, and is set on fire by this zeal. It loves, then; but what does it love? Itself? How, since it does not yet know itself, and no one can love what he does not know? Or has report proclaimed its beauty to it, as we usually hear about absent people? Perhaps, then, it does not love itself, but loves what it pictures of itself, perhaps far other than what it is; or if the mind pictures itself like itself, and so, when it loves this fiction, loves itself before it knows itself, because it beholds what is like itself, then it knows other minds from which it pictures itself, and is known to itself in its very kind. Why then, when it knows other minds, does it not know itself, since nothing can be more present to it than itself? But if, as other eyes are better known to the eyes of the body than they are to themselves, then let it not seek itself, for it will never find itself. For the eyes will never see themselves except in mirrors; and we must by no means think that anything of the kind is applied also to the contemplation of incorporeal things, so that the mind should know itself as in a mirror. Or does it see in the reason of eternal truth how beautiful it is to know oneself, and love what it sees, and strive that it may come about in itself? Because, although it is not known to itself, yet it is known to it how good it is to be known to itself. And this indeed is most wonderful, not yet to know oneself and already to know how beautiful it is to know oneself. Or does it see some best end, that is, its own security and blessedness, through a kind of hidden memory which has not deserted it even when it has gone far away, and believe that it cannot reach that end unless it knows itself? So while it loves that, it seeks this; and it loves that known thing for the sake of which it seeks the unknown. But why could the memory of its blessedness endure, and the memory of itself not endure with it, so that it should know itself, who wishes to arrive, as well as it knows that at which it wishes to arrive? Or, when it loves to know itself, does it love not itself, which it does not yet know, but knowing itself, and does it bear more bitterly that it is itself lacking to its own knowledge, by which it wishes to grasp all things? But it knows what knowing is, and while it loves this which it knows, it also desires to know itself. Where, then, does it know its own knowing, if it does not know itself? For it knows that it knows other things, but does not know itself; for from this it also knows what knowing is. How, then, does it know itself as knowing something, if it does not know itself? For it does not know another mind as knowing, but itself. It knows itself, then. Further, when it seeks itself in order to know itself, it already knows itself as seeking. It already knows itself, then. Therefore it cannot be wholly ignorant of itself, since, when it knows itself not knowing, it certainly knows itself. But if it did not know itself as not knowing, it would not seek itself in order to know. Therefore, by the very fact that it seeks itself, it is shown to be more known to itself than unknown. For it knows itself seeking and not knowing, while it seeks itself in order to know itself.

What then shall we say? That it knows itself in part and in part does not? But it is absurd to say that it does not know as a whole what it knows. I do not say, “It knows the whole,” but, “What it knows, it knows as a whole.” When, therefore, it knows something about itself, which it cannot know except as a whole, it knows itself whole. But it knows itself as knowing something, and it cannot know anything except as a whole. Therefore it knows itself whole. Further, what of it is so known to it as that it lives? But it cannot be a mind and not live, since it has besides the power to understand; for the souls of beasts too live, but do not understand. As, then, the mind is wholly mind, so it wholly lives. But it knows that it lives. Therefore it knows itself whole. Finally, when the mind seeks to know itself, it already knows that it is a mind; otherwise it does not know whether it is seeking itself, and may perhaps be seeking one thing instead of another. For it could be that it is not itself a mind, and so, while it seeks to know a mind, it is not seeking itself. Therefore, since when the mind seeks what mind is it knows that it is seeking itself, it certainly knows that it is itself a mind. Further, if it knows this in itself, that it is a mind, and it is wholly mind, it knows itself whole. But suppose it did not know that it is a mind, but when it seeks itself knew only this, that it is seeking itself. For even so it can seek one thing instead of another, if it does not know this; but in order not to seek one thing instead of another, it undoubtedly knows what it is seeking. But if it knows what it is seeking, and it is seeking itself, it certainly knows itself. What then does it still seek? And if it knows itself in part and still seeks in part, it is seeking not itself but a part of itself. For when it itself is spoken of, it is spoken of as a whole. Further, since it knows that it has not yet been wholly found by itself, it knows how great the whole is. And so it seeks what is lacking, as we usually seek to bring to mind something that has slipped from it, yet has not wholly gone out of it, because it can be recognized, when it comes, as the thing that was being sought. But how can the mind come into the mind, as if the mind could not be in the mind? Add to this that, if, having found a part, it is not seeking itself whole, yet it is itself whole that seeks. It is wholly present to itself, then, and there is nothing further to be sought; for what is sought is lacking, not the mind that seeks. When, therefore, it seeks itself whole, nothing of it is lacking. Or if it is not the whole that seeks itself, but the part that has been found seeks the part that has not yet been found, then the mind is not seeking itself, since no part of it is seeking itself. For the part that has been found is not seeking itself; and the part that has not yet been found is not seeking itself either, since it is being sought by the part that has already been found. Therefore, since neither the whole mind seeks itself, nor does any part of it seek itself, the mind does not seek itself at all.

Why then has it been commanded to know itself? I believe it is so that it may think about itself and live according to its nature, that is, seek to be set in order according to its nature: under him, namely, to whom it is to be subject, and above those things to which it is to be preferred; under him by whom it ought to be ruled, above the things it ought to rule. For through perverse desire it does many things as though it had forgotten itself. For it sees certain things inwardly beautiful in a more excellent nature, which is God; and when it ought to stand still in order to enjoy them, wishing to claim them for itself, and to be what he is not from him, like him, but from itself, it turns away from him, and is moved and slips down into less and less, which it thinks is more and more; because neither it itself nor anything else is enough for it as it withdraws from him who alone is enough. And so through want and difficulty it becomes excessively intent on its own actions and on the restless pleasures which it gathers through them; and so, through the desire of acquiring knowledge from the things that are outside, whose kind it knows and loves and feels can be lost unless it is held with spent care, it loses its security, and thinks of itself the less, the more secure it is that it cannot lose itself. So, since it is one thing not to know oneself and another not to think of oneself (for we do not say that a man skilled in many branches of learning is ignorant of grammar when he is not thinking of it because he is then thinking of the art of medicine), since, then, it is one thing not to know oneself and another not to think of oneself, so great is the power of love that the mind draws along with it the things it has long thought of with love, and to which it has stuck by the glue of care, even when it returns in some way to think of itself. And because those things are bodies, which it has loved outside through the senses of the flesh, and with which it has become entangled by a kind of long familiarity, and it cannot bring the bodies themselves in with it inwardly, as into the region of incorporeal nature, it rolls together their images and snatches them, made in itself from itself. For it gives something of its own substance to forming them; but it keeps something by which it may freely judge the form of such images, and this is more truly mind, that is, rational understanding, which is kept in order to judge. For we perceive that those parts of the soul which are shaped by the likenesses of bodies we have in common even with the beasts.

But the mind errs when it joins itself to these images with such great love that it even thinks itself to be something of this kind. For so it is in a certain way conformed to them, not by being so but by thinking so; not that it thinks itself to be an image, but wholly the very thing whose image it has with it. For the judgement to distinguish the body which it leaves outside from the image which it carries with it about that body is still strong in it; except when these same images are so expressed that they are perceived as if outside, not thought within, as usually happens to those asleep, or mad, or in some ecstasy.

When, therefore, it thinks itself something of this kind, it thinks itself to be a body. And because it is well aware of its rule by which it governs the body, it has come about that some have asked what part of the body has most power in the body, and have thought that this is the mind, or indeed the whole soul. And so some have thought it is the blood, others the brain, others the heart: not as Scripture says, “I will confess to you, Lord, with my whole heart,” and, “You shall love the Lord your God with your whole heart” (for here the word is carried over from the body to the soul by misuse or transfer), but they thought it to be that very little part of the body which we see in torn-open entrails. Others believed that it is made of very tiny and indivisible bodies, which they call atoms, running together and cohering. Others said that its substance is air, others fire. Others that it is no substance, because they could not think of any substance except body, and did not find that it was a body; but they supposed it to be the very tempering of our body, or the framework of the elements by which this flesh is, as it were, held together. And therefore all these held that it is mortal, because, whether it were a body or some composition of the body, it certainly could not remain immortally. But those who found its substance to be a kind of life in no way bodily, since they found that it is life that animates and quickens every living body, consequently tried, each as he could, to prove it immortal too, because life cannot lack life. For about that fifth body, whatever it is, which some, joining it to the four very well known elements of this world, have said is the source of the soul, I do not think there is need for a long discussion at this point. For either they call body what we do, a thing of which in a space of place a part is less than the whole, and then they are to be numbered among those who believed the mind to be bodily; or, if they call either every substance or every changeable substance a body, though they know that not every one is contained in spaces of place by some length, breadth, and height, we need not fight with them over a question of the word. In all these opinions, whoever sees that the nature of the mind is both a substance and not bodily, that is, that it does not occupy a smaller space of place with a smaller part of itself and a larger with a larger, must at the same time see that those who think it bodily err, not because the mind is lacking to their knowledge, but because they add those things without which they can think of no nature. For whatever they are told to think of without images of bodies, they suppose to be nothing at all. And therefore let the mind not seek itself as though it were lacking to itself. For what is so present to knowledge as that which is present to the mind? Or what is so present to the mind as the mind itself? Hence too what is called invention (inventio), if we go back to the origin of the word, what else does it say but that to find (invenire) is to come into (in id venire) what is sought? For this reason, things that come into the mind as it were of their own accord are not usually said to be found, although they can be said to be known; because we were not tending towards them by seeking, in order to come into them, that is, to find them. Therefore, just as the mind itself seeks the things that are sought by the eyes or by any other sense of the body (for it is the mind that directs the sense of the flesh, and it finds when that sense comes upon the things that are sought), so it finds other things, which it must know not through a bodily sense as messenger but through itself, when it comes upon them; either in the higher substance, that is, in God, or in the other parts of the soul, as when it judges of the images of bodies themselves; for it finds them within the soul, impressed through the body.

How, then, the mind seeks and finds itself is a wonderful question: where it tends in order to seek, or where it comes in order to find. For what is so much in the mind as the mind is? But because it is in the things it thinks of with love, and it has grown used with love to sensible, that is, bodily things, it is not able to be in itself without their images. Hence arises the shame of its error, since it cannot separate the images of things perceived from itself, so as to see itself alone. For they have stuck to it wonderfully by the glue of love; and this is its uncleanness, since, while it tries to think of itself alone, it thinks itself to be that without which it cannot think of itself. When, therefore, it is commanded to know itself, let it not seek itself as though it had been withdrawn from itself, but withdraw what it has added to itself. For it is itself more inward not only than these sensible things, which are plainly outside, but also than their images, which are in a certain part of the soul which beasts too have, though they lack understanding, which is proper to the mind. Since, then, the mind is inward, it goes out in a certain way from itself when it puts forth the affection of love towards these, as it were, traces of its many attentions. And these traces are, as it were, impressed on the memory when these bodily things outside are perceived, so that even when they are absent, their images are present to those who think of them. Let the mind, then, know itself, and not seek itself as if absent, but fix on itself the attention of the will by which it was wandering through other things, and think of itself. So it will see that it never did not love itself, never did not know itself; but by loving something else with itself it has confused itself with it and in a certain way grown together with it; and so, while it embraces diverse things as one, it has thought to be one things that are diverse.

Let it not, then, seek to discern itself as absent, but take care to distinguish itself as present. Nor let it know itself as though it did not know itself, but distinguish itself from what it knows as another. For how will it take care to do what it hears, “Know yourself,” if it does not know either what “know” is or what “yourself” is? But if it knows both, it knows itself too; because “Know yourself” is not said to the mind as “Know the cherubim and seraphim” is said; for we believe about them, who are absent, according as they are proclaimed to be certain heavenly powers. Nor as it is said, “Know the will of that man,” which is in no way available to us either to perceive or to understand, except through bodily signs given; and this in such a way that we believe rather than understand. Nor as it is said to a man, “See your face,” which cannot be done except in a mirror. For even our own face is absent from our sight, because it is not where our sight can be directed. But when it is said to the mind, “Know yourself,” in the very instant in which it understands what was said, “yourself,” it knows itself; and for no other reason than that it is present to itself. But if it does not understand what was said, it certainly does not do it. It is commanded, then, to do this, which it does when it understands the command itself.

Let it not, then, add anything else to what it knows itself to be, when it hears that it should know itself. For it certainly knows that it is spoken to, namely to itself, which is, and lives, and understands. But a corpse too is, and a beast lives; but neither a corpse nor a beast understands. So it knows that it is and lives in the way that understanding is and lives. When, therefore, for example, the mind thinks itself to be air, it thinks that air understands; yet it knows that it understands; but it does not know that it is air, it only thinks so. Let it set aside what it thinks itself to be, and discern what it knows; let this remain to it, which not even those doubted who thought the mind to be this or that body. For not every mind thinks itself to be air; but some think themselves fire, some the brain, and some some other body, and others something else, as I mentioned above; yet all know that they understand, and are, and live; but they refer understanding to what they understand, and being and living to themselves. And no one doubts that no one understands who does not live, and no one lives who does not exist. Consequently, therefore, that which understands both is and lives, not as a corpse is, which does not live, nor as a soul lives which does not understand, but in a certain proper and more excellent way. Likewise they know that they will, and know equally that no one can do this who does not exist and does not live; and likewise they refer the will itself to something which they will with that will. They know also that they remember; and at the same time they know that no one would remember unless he existed and lived; but we refer memory too to something which we remember by it. In two of these three, then, memory and understanding, the knowledge and science of many things are contained; but the will is present, by which we enjoy or use them. For we enjoy things known in which the will rests, delighted in them for their own sake; but we use those things which we refer to something else which is to be enjoyed. Nor is there any other faulty and blameworthy life of men than one that uses badly and enjoys badly. But this is not the place to discuss that. But since we are dealing with the nature of the mind, let us remove from our consideration all knowledge that is taken in from outside through the senses of the body, and let us attend more carefully to what we have laid down, that all minds know about themselves and are certain of. For men have doubted whether the power of living, remembering, understanding, willing, thinking, knowing, judging belongs to air, or to fire, or to the brain, or to the blood, or to atoms, or to some fifth body, whatever it is, besides the usual four elements, or whether the framework or tempering of our flesh itself can produce these things; and one has tried to affirm this, another that. Yet who doubts that he lives, and remembers, and understands, and wills, and thinks, and knows, and judges? For even if he doubts, he lives; if he doubts, he remembers why he doubts; if he doubts, he understands that he doubts; if he doubts, he wishes to be certain; if he doubts, he thinks; if he doubts, he knows that he does not know; if he doubts, he judges that he ought not to assent rashly. Whoever, then, doubts about anything else ought not to doubt about all these; for if they did not exist, he could not doubt about anything. All these things those who think the mind is either a body or the composition or tempering of a body wish to be seen as being in a subject: so that the substance is air, or fire, or some other body which they think is the mind, while understanding is in this body as its quality; so that the one is the subject and the other in the subject; the subject being the mind, which they think is a body, and in the subject understanding, or any other of the things we have mentioned as certain to us. Those too think nearly the same who deny that the mind itself is a body but say it is the framework or tempering of the body. For the difference is this: the former say that the mind itself is a substance, in which subject understanding is; the latter say that the mind itself is in a subject, namely the body of which it is the composition or tempering. Hence, consequently, where else do they think understanding is but in the same subject, the body? None of these notice that the mind knows itself even when it seeks itself, as we have already shown. But in no way is a thing rightly said to be known while its substance is unknown. Therefore, when the mind knows itself, it knows its substance; and when it is certain about itself, it is certain about its substance. But it is certain about itself, as what has been said above proves. And it is not at all certain whether it is air, or fire, or some body, or something of a body. Therefore it is none of these; and the whole of what it is commanded to know about itself comes to this, that it should be certain that it is not any of the things about which it is uncertain, and should be certain that it is only that which alone it is certain that it is. For so it thinks of fire or air, and whatever else of body it thinks of. And it could in no way happen that it should think of what it itself is in the same way as it thinks of what it is not. For it thinks of all these through an imaginary image, whether fire, or air, or this or that body, or that part, or the framework and tempering of the body; and certainly it is not said to be all these, but one of them. But if it were any of these, it would think of it otherwise than the rest, namely not through an imaginary fiction, as absent things are thought of which have been touched by the sense of the body, whether those very things or some of the same kind, but by a certain inward presence, not feigned but true (for nothing is more present to it than itself); as it thinks that it lives, and remembers, and understands, and wills. For it knows these things in itself, and does not imagine them as though it had touched them by sense outside itself, as all bodily things are touched. And if from the thoughts of these things it attaches nothing to itself, so as to think itself something of the kind, whatever remains to it of itself, that alone is itself.

Setting aside, then, for a little the other things of which the mind is certain about itself, let us consider and treat chiefly these three: memory, understanding, and will. For in these three the abilities of little children too are usually examined, to see what kind of disposition they show. For the more firmly and easily a boy remembers, and the more sharply he understands, and the more ardently he studies, the more praiseworthy is his ability. But when the question is about anyone's learning, it is asked not with what firmness and ease he remembers, or with what sharpness he understands, but what he remembers and what he understands. And since a mind is considered praiseworthy not only for how learned it is but also for how good it is, attention is paid not only to what it remembers and what it understands, but also to what it wills; not with how great ardour it wills, but first what it wills, and then how much. For then a mind that loves vehemently is to be praised, when what it loves is to be loved vehemently. When, therefore, these three are spoken of, ability, learning, and use, the first of them is considered in those three, what each can do with memory, understanding, and will. The second of them is considered as what each has in memory and understanding, at which he has arrived by a studious will. And use, the third, lies in the will, handling the things contained in memory and understanding, whether it refers them to something or rests delighted in them as an end. For to use is to take something into the power of the will; but to enjoy is to use with joy, no longer of hope but of the thing itself. Therefore everyone who enjoys uses, for he takes something into the power of the will with delight as an end; but not everyone who uses enjoys, if he has sought what he takes into the power of the will not for its own sake but for the sake of something else. These three, then, memory, understanding, and will, since they are not three lives but one life, nor three minds but one mind, consequently are certainly not three substances but one substance. For memory, which is called life, and mind, and substance, is so called with reference to itself; but in being called memory it is said relatively to something. I would say the same of understanding and of will; for understanding and will too are said with relation to something. But each is life with reference to itself, and mind, and essence. Therefore these three are one in that they are one life, one mind, one essence; and whatever else each is called with reference to itself, they are called together, not in the plural but in the singular. But they are three in that they are referred to one another; and if they were not equal, not only each to each but also each to all, they certainly would not contain one another. For not only is each contained by each, but all are contained by each. For I remember that I have memory, and understanding, and will; and I understand that I understand, and will, and remember; and I will that I will, and remember, and understand; and I remember my whole memory, and understanding, and will together. For what of my memory I do not remember is not in my memory. But nothing is so much in memory as memory itself. I remember it whole, then. Likewise, whatever I understand, I know that I understand, and I know that I will whatever I will; but whatever I know I remember. I remember, then, my whole understanding and my whole will. Similarly, when I understand these three, I understand them whole together. For there is nothing intelligible that I do not understand except what I do not know. But what I do not know, I neither remember nor will. Whatever intelligible thing I do not understand, therefore, I consequently neither remember nor will. But whatever intelligible thing I remember and will, I consequently understand. My will too contains my whole understanding and my whole memory, while I use the whole of what I understand and remember. Therefore, since all are contained by each mutually and as wholes, each whole is equal to each whole, and each whole to all together as wholes; and these three are one, one life, one mind, one essence.

Must we now, then, ascend with whatever strength of attention we have to that supreme and most high essence, of which the human mind is an unequal image, but still an image? Or must these same three be shown more distinctly in the soul through the things we take in from outside by the sense of the body, where the knowledge of bodily things is impressed in time? For we found the mind itself to be such in its memory, understanding, and will of itself that, since it was understood always to know itself and always to will itself, it was understood at the same time always to remember itself and always to understand and love itself; although it does not always think of itself as distinct from the things that are not what it is. And therefore its memory of itself and its understanding of itself are hard to distinguish in it. For in a matter where these are very closely joined, and one is not preceded by the other in any time, it appears as though they were not two, but one thing called by two names; and love itself is not so felt to exist when want does not betray it, since what is loved is always present. Therefore these things may become clear even to slower minds when those things are treated which come to the mind in time and which happen to it in time, when it remembers what it did not remember before, and when it sees what it did not see before, and when it loves what it did not love before. But this treatment now requires another beginning, because of the length of this book.

No one doubts that, as the inner man is endowed with understanding, so the outer man is endowed with bodily sense. Let us strive, then, if we can, to track down in this outer man also some trace or other of the Trinity; not because he too is in the same way the image of God. For the apostle's statement is plain, which declares that the inner man is renewed in the knowledge of God according to the image of him who created him; while in another place he says, “Even if our outer man is perishing, yet the inner man is being renewed day by day.” In this man, then, who is perishing, let us seek, as best we can, a certain likeness of the Trinity, which, if not more exact, may perhaps be easier to discern. For he too is not called “man” for nothing, but because there is in him some likeness of the inner man. And by that very order of our condition, by which we have been made mortal and carnal, we handle visible things more easily and, as it were, more familiarly than intelligible things; for the former are outside, the latter inside, and the former we perceive by bodily sense, the latter we understand by the mind; and we ourselves, that is, our souls, are not sensible things, that is, bodies, but intelligible, since we are life. Yet, as I have said, so great a habit has been formed in bodies, and our attention, sliding back into them in a wonderful way, has so thrown itself outward, that when it has been drawn away from the uncertainty of bodies to be fixed on the spirit with a far more certain and stable knowledge, it flees back to them and seeks rest there, from where it drew its weakness. We must adapt ourselves to its sickness: so that, if we ever try to distinguish inner spiritual things more suitably and to convey them more easily, we should take illustrations by way of likeness from outer bodily things. The outer man, then, endowed with bodily sense, perceives bodies; and this sense, as is easily noticed, is fivefold: seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, touching. But it would be much, and unnecessary, to question all these five senses about what we are seeking. For what one of them reports to us holds also in the others. So let us use above all the testimony of the eyes. For this sense of the body is the most excellent, and, for all the difference in kind, it is nearest to the mind's vision.

When, therefore, we see some body, these three things, which is very easy, are to be considered and distinguished. First, the thing itself which we see, whether a stone, or some flame, or anything else that can be seen with the eyes; which certainly could exist already, even before it was seen. Next, the vision, which did not exist before we perceived that thing presented to the sense. Third, that which keeps the sense of the eyes on the thing that is seen as long as it is seen, that is, the attention of the mind. In these three, then, there is not only a plain distinction but also a different nature. For, first, that visible body is of a nature far other than the sense of the eyes, by whose meeting with it vision comes about. And what else does vision itself appear to be than sense informed by the thing that is perceived? Although if the visible thing is withdrawn there is no such vision, nor could there be any at all if there were no body that could be seen, yet in no way is the body by which the sense of the eyes is formed, when that body is seen, of the same substance as the very form which is impressed by it on the sense, which is called vision. For the body seen is separable in its own nature; but the sense, which was already in the living being even before it saw what it could see, when it came upon something visible, or the vision which comes about in the sense from the visible body when it is already joined to it and is seen, that is, the sense or the vision, the sense formed from outside, belongs to the nature of the living being, which is altogether other than that body which we perceive by seeing, by which the sense is formed not so as to be sense but so as to be vision. For unless the sense were in us even before the sensible thing is presented, we would not differ from the blind while we see nothing, whether in darkness or with closed eyes. But in this we do differ: there is in us, even when we are not seeing, that by which we can see, which is called sense; in them it is not, and they are called blind for no other reason than that they lack it. Likewise that attention of the mind which holds the sense on the thing we see, and joins the two together, differs in nature not only from that visible thing, since the one is mind and the other body, but also from the sense and the vision itself; because this attention belongs to the mind alone, whereas the sense of the eyes is called a sense of the body for no other reason than that the eyes themselves are members of the body; and although the lifeless body does not perceive, yet the soul, mingled with the body, perceives through a bodily instrument, and that instrument is called sense. This sense is cut off and extinguished by some affliction of the body when someone is blinded, while the mind remains the same; and its attention, though the eyes are lost, does not indeed have the bodily sense which it might join by seeing to a body outside and fix its gaze on what it sees, yet by its very effort it shows that, though the bodily sense has been taken away, it has neither been able to perish nor to be lessened. For a certain desire to see remains whole, whether it can be fulfilled or not. These three, then, the body that is seen, the vision itself, and the attention that joins the two, are plain to distinguish, not only because of what is proper to each but also because of the difference of their natures. And in these, although the sense does not proceed from the body that is seen but from the body of the perceiving living being, with which the soul is blended in its own wonderful way, yet vision is begotten from the body that is seen, that is, the sense itself is formed; so that now it is not only sense, which can be whole even in darkness as long as the eyes are unharmed, but also informed sense, which is called vision. Vision, then, is begotten from the visible thing, but not from it alone, unless a seer also is present. Therefore vision is begotten from the visible and the seer, in such a way indeed that from the seer come the sense of the eyes and the attention of one who looks and gazes, while that informing of the sense, which is called vision, is impressed by the body alone that is seen, that is, by some visible thing; and when it is withdrawn, no form remains of that which was in the sense while what was seen was present; yet the sense itself remains, which existed even before anything was perceived; just as a print in water lasts as long as the body that is pressed into it is in it; when this is removed there will be none, although the water remains, which existed even before it took that form of the body. And so we cannot say that the visible thing begets the sense; yet it begets a form, as it were its own likeness, which comes about in the sense when we perceive something by seeing. But we do not distinguish by that same sense the form of the body we see and the form which comes about from it in the sense of the seer; for the union is so close that there is no room for distinguishing them. But we gather by reason that we could not perceive at all unless some likeness of the body seen came about in our sense. For when a ring is pressed into wax, it is not that no image has been made because it is not distinguished until it has been separated. But since, after the wax has been separated, what was made remains so that it can be seen, it is easily accepted that the form impressed by the ring was already in the wax even before it was separated from it. But if the ring were put to a liquid, nothing of the image would appear when it was withdrawn; yet reason ought not on that account fail to discern that in that liquid, before the ring was withdrawn, there was a form of the ring made by the ring, which is to be distinguished from the form that is in the ring, from which this one was made, which will not exist when the ring is withdrawn, although that one remains in the ring from which this one was made. So the sense of the eyes does not fail to have an image of the body that is seen, as long as it is seen, just because it does not remain when that body is withdrawn. And for this reason it can only with great difficulty be made clear to slower minds that an image of the visible thing is formed in our sense when we see it, and that this same form is vision. But those who perhaps notice what I am about to mention will not labor so much in this inquiry. Often when we have looked for a little while at some lights and then closed our eyes, certain bright colors seem to turn about before our sight, changing variously and shining less and less until they cease altogether; and these we must understand to be the remains of that form which had been made in the sense when the shining body was seen, changing as they fade little by little and, in a way, by degrees. For the lattices of windows too, if we happened to be gazing at them, have often appeared in those colors; so that it is clear that this effect was impressed on our sense by the thing that was seen. It existed, then, also while we were seeing, and it was clearer and more distinct; but it was so closely joined with the appearance of the thing that was being seen that it could not be distinguished at all; and it was the vision itself. Moreover, when the little flame of a lamp is, as it were, doubled by the rays of the eyes being in some way drawn apart, two visions come about, although the thing seen is one. For the same rays, darting out each from its own eye, are affected separately while they are not allowed to converge equally and jointly in looking at that body, so that one gaze is made from both. And so, if we close one eye, we shall see not a double fire but one, as it is. Why, when the left eye is closed, that appearance which was on the right ceases to be seen, and in turn, when the right is closed, that which was on the left dies away, would be long, and is not needed for the present subject, to inquire and discuss now. For, as far as is enough for the question we have taken up, unless an image very like the thing we see came about in our sense, the appearance of the flame would not be doubled according to the number of the eyes when some way of seeing has been applied that can separate the meeting of the rays. For from one eye, however it is turned down, or pressed, or twisted, if the other is closed, something that is one can in no way be seen double. Since these things are so, let us remember how these three, though of different nature, are blended into a certain unity: that is, the appearance of the body that is seen, and its image impressed on the sense, which is vision or formed sense, and the will of the mind, which applies the sense to the sensible thing and holds the vision itself on it. Of these, the first, that is, the visible thing itself, does not belong to the nature of the living being, except when we see our own body. The second belongs to it in such a way that it comes about in the body and, through the body, in the soul; for it comes about in the sense, which is neither without body nor without soul. But the third belongs to the soul alone, because it is will. Although, then, the substances of these three are so different, yet they come together into so great a unity that the first two can scarcely be distinguished even with reason intervening as judge, namely the appearance of the body that is seen and its image which comes about in the sense, that is, the vision. And the will has such power of joining these two that it both applies the sense, to be formed, to the thing that is seen, and holds it, once formed, on that thing. And if it is so violent that it can be called love, or desire, or lust, it strongly affects the rest of the living being's body as well; and where a more sluggish and harder matter does not resist, it changes it into a like appearance and color. One may see the little body of the chameleon change with the greatest ease to the colors it sees. But in other animals, whose bodily mass is not easily changed, the offspring often betray the longings of their mothers, what they have gazed on with great delight. For the more tender and, so to speak, the more formable the first beginnings of the seeds are, the more effectively and receptively they follow the attention of the mother's soul and the image that has been made in it through the body it gazed on with desire. There are examples that could be mentioned in plenty; but one from the most trustworthy books is enough: what Jacob did so that the sheep and goats bore young of varied colors, by setting before them in the water troughs streaked rods, which they looked at as they drank at the time they conceived.

But the rational soul lives in a deformed way when it lives according to the trinity of the outer man; that is, when to the things that form the bodily sense from outside it brings, not a praiseworthy will by which it refers them to some useful end, but a shameful desire by which it clings to them. For even when the appearance of the body which was being perceived bodily is withdrawn, its likeness remains in the memory, to which the will may again turn the gaze, so that it may be formed by it from within, as the sense was formed from outside by the sensible body presented to it. And so there comes about that trinity from memory, and inner vision, and the will which joins the two. And when these three are brought together into one, from that very bringing together it is called thought. Nor is there now a different substance in these three. For neither is that sensible body there, which is altogether separate from the nature of the living being, nor is the bodily sense formed there so that vision comes about, nor does the will itself act so as to apply the sense, to be formed, to the sensible body and hold it formed on it; but in place of that appearance of the body which was perceived from outside there succeeds memory, retaining that appearance which the soul drank in through the bodily sense; and in place of that vision which was outside when the sense was being formed by the sensible body, there succeeds within a like vision, when the gaze of the mind is formed from what the memory holds, and absent bodies are thought of; and the will itself, as it applied the sense, to be formed, to the body presented outside, and joined it once formed, so turns the gaze of the remembering mind to the memory, so that it may be formed from what the memory has retained, and there may be a like vision in thought. And just as the visible appearance by which the bodily sense was formed, and its likeness which came about in the formed sense so that there was vision, were distinguished by reason (otherwise they were so joined that they were thought to be altogether one and the same), so that image, when the mind thinks of the appearance of a body seen, although it consists of the likeness of the body which the memory holds and of that which is formed from it in the gaze of the remembering mind, yet appears so one and single that they are not found to be two things except by reason judging, by which we understand that what remains in the memory, even when we are thinking of something else, is one thing, and that what comes about when we remember, that is, return to the memory and find there the same appearance, is another. If this were no longer there, we would say that we had forgotten in such a way that we could not recall it at all. But if the gaze of the one remembering were not formed from that which was in the memory, there would in no way be the vision of one thinking; but the joining of the two, that is, of the one which the memory holds and of the one which is expressed from it so that the gaze of the one remembering is formed, makes them appear as one, because they are very alike. And when the gaze of the one thinking has been turned away from it, and what was being seen in the memory has ceased to be looked at, nothing of the form which had been impressed on that gaze will remain; and it will be formed from whatever it turns to again so that another thought comes about. Yet what it left remains in the memory, to which it may turn again when we remember it, and, once turned, be formed and become one with that from which it is formed.

But that will which carries the gaze hither and thither to be formed and brings it back, and joins it once formed, if it has flowed wholly toward the inner image and has turned the mind's gaze entirely away from the presence of the bodies that lie around the senses, and from the very senses of the body, and has turned it completely toward the image that is seen within, then so great a likeness of the bodily appearance, expressed from the memory, is met with that not even reason itself is allowed to discern whether the body itself is seen outside or something of the kind is thought of within. For sometimes people, either enticed or terrified by too much thinking of visible things, have even suddenly uttered cries of that kind, as if they were really engaged in such actions or sufferings. And I remember hearing from someone that he used to see, in thinking, so distinct and as it were solid an appearance of a woman's body that, feeling as if he were joined with her, he even had an emission. So much power has the soul over its body, and so much is it able to turn and change the quality of its garment, as a man who is clothed, who is attached to his garment, is affected. Of the same kind of affection is also the fact that in sleep we are deceived by images. But there is a great difference whether, when the senses of the body are put to sleep, as in those who sleep, or disturbed from their inner structure, as in the insane, or estranged in some other way, as in those who divine or prophesy, the attention of the mind by a certain necessity runs into the images that present themselves, whether from the memory or by some other hidden power through certain spiritual mixtures of a likewise spiritual substance; or whether, as sometimes happens to the healthy and the waking, the will, occupied in thought, turns itself away from the senses and so forms the mind's gaze with various images of sensible things, as though the sensible things themselves were perceived. And these impressions of images come about not only when the will is directed to such things by desiring them, but also when the mind is snatched into looking at the things it would flee, for the sake of avoiding and guarding against them. Hence not only by desiring but also by fearing, either the sense is brought to the sensible things themselves, or the mind's gaze to be formed by images of sensible things. And so the more vehement fear or desire has been, the more distinctly the gaze is formed, whether of one perceiving from a body that lies in a place, or of one thinking from the image of a body which is contained in the memory. What, then, a body in a place is to the bodily sense, that the likeness of a body in the memory is to the mind's gaze; and what the vision of one looking is to that appearance of a body from which the sense is formed, that the vision of one thinking is to the image of a body set in the memory, from which the mind's gaze is formed; and what the attention of the will is to the body seen and the vision, to join them so that a certain unity of three comes about there, although their nature is different, that same attention of the will is to the joining of the image of the body which is in the memory and the vision of one thinking, that is, the form which the mind's gaze took in returning to the memory; so that here too a certain unity comes about from three, now not separated by difference of nature but of one and the same substance; because all this is within, and all of it is one mind.

And just as, when the form and appearance of a body has perished, the will cannot recall the sense of the one seeing to it, so when the image which the memory bears has been wiped out by forgetfulness, there will be nothing to which the will may turn back the mind's gaze by remembering, so that it may be formed. But because the mind is strong enough to imagine not only things forgotten but also things not perceived or experienced, by enlarging, diminishing, changing, and putting together at will those things that have not slipped away, it often imagines something as if it were so, which it either knows is not so or does not know to be so. In this kind of thing one must beware either of lying in order to deceive or of holding an opinion so as to be deceived. If these two evils are avoided, imagined images do it no harm; just as sensible things experienced and retained in memory do no harm if they are neither desired greedily when they please nor shunned shamefully when they offend. But when the will, leaving better things, wallows greedily in them, it becomes unclean; and so they are thought of harmfully when they are present, and more harmfully when they are absent. Life is therefore lived badly and in a deformed way according to the trinity of the outer man; because it has also brought forth that trinity which, although it imagines within, yet imagines outward things, for the sake of using sensible and bodily things. For no one could use them, even well, unless the images of the things perceived were held in the memory; and unless the greatest part of the will dwells in higher and more inward things, and unless that very part which is lent, whether outside to bodies or inside to their images, refers whatever it takes in them to a better and truer life, and rests in that end with a view to which it judges these things are to be done, what else are we doing but what the apostle forbids us to do when he says, “Do not be conformed to this world”? Therefore this trinity is not the image of God; for it comes about in the soul itself through the bodily sense from the lowest, that is the bodily, creation, than which the soul is higher. Yet it is not altogether unlike; for what does not have, after its own kind and in its own measure, a likeness to God, since God made all things very good, for no other reason than that he himself is supremely good? So far, then, as whatever exists is good, so far certainly, although far distant, it nevertheless has some likeness to the supreme good; and if natural, certainly right and well ordered; but if faulty, certainly shameful and perverse. For souls too, in their very sins, pursue nothing but a certain likeness of God, with a proud and preposterous and, so to speak, slavish freedom. So too sin could not have been urged on our first parents unless it had been said, “You will be like gods.” Not everything in creatures that is in some way like God is to be called his image as well, but only that than which he alone is higher. For that alone is expressed directly from him, between which and himself no nature is placed. Of that vision, then, that is, of the form which comes about in the sense of one seeing, the form of the body from which it comes about is, as it were, the parent. But that is not a true parent; hence neither is this a true offspring; for it is not begotten wholly from it, since something else is applied to the body so that it may be formed from it, namely the sense of the one seeing. Therefore to love it is to be estranged. And so the will which joins both, as it were the parent and as it were the offspring, is more spiritual than either of them. For that body which is seen is not spiritual at all. But the vision which comes about in the sense has something spiritual mixed in, because it cannot come about without the soul. But it is not wholly so, since what is formed is a sense of the body. The will, then, which joins both, is recognized, as I said, as more spiritual, and so it begins to suggest, as it were, the person of the Spirit in that trinity. But it belongs more to the formed sense than to that body from which it is formed. For the sense is of the living being and the will is of the soul, not of the stone or of any body that is seen. It does not therefore proceed from that, as from a parent; but neither from this, as from an offspring, that is, from the vision and form that is in the sense. For before the vision came about, the will already existed, which applied the sense, to be formed, to the body by seeing it; but it was not yet satisfied. For how could what had not yet been seen give satisfaction? And satisfaction is the will at rest. And so we can call the will neither, as it were, the offspring of the vision, because it existed before the vision; nor, as it were, its parent, because the vision was formed and expressed not from the will but from the body seen.

We can perhaps rightly call the vision the end and rest of the will, with regard to this one thing only. For one will not want nothing else just because one sees something one wanted. So it is not the whole will of man, whose end is nothing but happiness, but, for this one thing for the time being, the will to see has no end but vision, whether it refers this to something else or not. For if it does not refer the vision to something else, but wanted only to see, there is no need to argue how the vision is shown to be the end of the will; for it is plain. But if it refers it to something else, then it certainly wants something else, and it will no longer be a will to see; or if to see, then not to see this. As if someone wanted to see a scar so as to show by it that there had been a wound; or wanted to see a window so as to see the passers-by through the window; all these and other such wills have their own proper ends, which are referred to the end of that will by which we want to live happily and to attain that life which is not referred to anything else but suffices of itself to the one who loves it. The will to see, then, has vision as its end; and the will to see this thing has the vision of this thing as its end. So the will to see a scar seeks its own end, that is, the vision of the scar, and does not reach further than that; for the will to prove that there was a wound is another will, although it is bound to that one, and its end in turn is the proof of the wound. And the will to see a window has as its end the vision of the window; for another will, to see the passers-by through the window, is linked to it, and its end in turn is the vision of the passers-by. And all wills bound to one another are right if that one to which they are all referred is good; but if that is wicked, all are wicked. And so the connection of right wills is a certain road of those ascending to happiness, which is traveled as it were by sure steps; but the entanglement of wicked and distorted wills is a chain by which whoever does this will be bound, so as to be cast into the outer darkness. Blessed, then, are those who by deeds and conduct sing the song of ascents; and woe to those who drag their sins like a long rope. Now the rest of the will which we call its end, if it is still referred to something else, is as we might say that the rest of the foot in walking is when it is set down so that the other may lean on it as one goes forward by steps. But if something so pleases that the will rests in it with some delight, it is nevertheless not yet that toward which one is going, but this too is referred to something else, so that it is reckoned not as the homeland of a citizen but as the refreshment or even the lodging of a traveler.

Now in the other trinity, which is indeed more inward than this one in sensible things and the senses, but yet is conceived from it, when it is no longer the bodily sense that is formed from the body but the mind's gaze that is formed from the memory, the appearance of the body which we perceived outside having fastened itself in the memory, we call that appearance which is in the memory, as it were, the parent of the one that comes about in the imagination of one thinking. For it was in the memory even before it was thought of by us, just as the body was in its place even before it was perceived so that vision came about. But when it is thought of, it is expressed from the one which the memory holds in the gaze of the one thinking, and by remembering that appearance is formed which is, as it were, the offspring of the one the memory holds. But neither is that a true parent nor this a true offspring. For the mind's gaze, which is formed from the memory when we think of something by recollecting it, does not proceed from that appearance which we remember having seen; for we could not remember those things unless we had seen them; but the mind's gaze which is formed by remembering existed even before we saw the body we remember; how much more before we committed it to memory? Although, then, the form which comes about in the gaze of the one remembering comes about from that which is in the memory, yet the gaze itself does not arise from it but existed before it. And it follows that, if that is not a true parent, neither is this a true offspring. But both that “as it were parent” and this “as it were offspring” suggest something by which inner and truer things may be seen with more practice and more certainty. It is now plainly harder to discern whether the will which joins the vision to the memory is not either the parent or the offspring of one of them; and this difficulty of distinguishing is caused by the parity and equality of the same nature and substance. For it cannot be done here as it was outside, where the formed sense was easily distinguished from the sensible body, and the will from both, because of the difference of nature in all three from one another, of which we have spoken enough above. For although this trinity which is now being examined was brought into the mind from outside, yet it is carried on within, and nothing of it is outside the nature of the mind itself. How, then, can it be shown that the will is neither as it were the parent nor as it were the offspring, either of the bodily likeness contained in the memory or of the one expressed from it when we remember, since in thinking it so joins the two that they appear as one, singly, and cannot be distinguished except by reason? And this must first be seen: there cannot be a will to remember unless we hold in the recesses of the memory either the whole or some part of the thing we want to remember. For of what we have forgotten in every way and in every part, not even the will to remember arises; since whatever we want to recall, we have already recalled that it is or was in our memory. For example, if I want to recall what I had for supper yesterday, either I have already recalled that I had supper, or, if not even this yet, I have certainly recalled something about that time, if nothing else, at least the day of yesterday itself, and that part of it in which one usually has supper, and what having supper is. For if I had recalled nothing of the kind, I could not want to recall what I had for supper yesterday. From this it can be understood that the will to remember proceeds indeed from those things which are contained in the memory, together with those which are expressed from there by seeing them in recollection; that is, from the joining of some thing which we have recalled and of the vision which was made from it in the gaze of the one thinking when we recalled it. But the will itself which joins the two seeks also something else which is, as it were, neighboring and adjacent to the one remembering. There are, then, as many trinities of this kind as there are recollections; for there is none of them in which these three are not present: that which is stored in the memory even before it is thought of, and that which comes about in thought when it is seen, and the will joining the two and, from the two and itself as the third, completing one thing. Or is there rather one trinity recognized in this kind, so that we speak of whatever bodily appearances lie hidden in the memory as, in general, one thing, and again of the vision of the mind recalling and thinking of such things as, in general, one thing, and to the joining of these two the will is added as the third, the one that joins, so that this whole is one thing made of three?

But since the mind's gaze cannot behold at once, with one look, all that the memory holds, the trinities of thoughts alternate, giving way to and succeeding one another in turn; and so this trinity becomes innumerably numerous, yet not infinite, if the number of things stored in the memory is not exceeded. For from the time each person began to perceive bodies by any bodily sense, even if he could add those he has forgotten, there would certainly be a fixed and determinate number, although innumerable. For we call innumerable not only things that are infinite but also things so finite that they exceed the ability of the one counting. But from this it can be noticed somewhat more clearly that what the memory holds stored is one thing, and what is expressed from it in the thought of the one remembering is another, although when the two are joined they seem one and the same; for we can remember the appearances of bodies only as many as we perceived, and as large as we perceived, and as we perceived them; for the mind drank them into the memory from the bodily sense; yet those visions of those who think, though drawn from the things that are in the memory, are multiplied and varied innumerably and altogether without limit. For I remember one sun, because, as it is, I saw one; but if I wish, I think of two, or three, or as many as I wish; yet the gaze of the one thinking of many is formed from the same memory by which I remember one. And I remember it as large as I saw it. For if I remember it larger or smaller than I saw it, I no longer remember what I saw, and so I do not remember. But because I remember, I remember it as large as I saw it; yet I think of it larger, at will, or smaller; and I remember it as I saw it, but I think of it as I wish, running, and standing where I wish, coming from where I wish and to where I wish. It is easy for me to think of it as square, though I remember it as round; and of any color, though I have never seen a green sun and so do not remember one; and as with the sun, so with other things. But since these forms of things are bodily and sensible, the mind errs when we suppose them to be outside in the same way as it thinks them within, whether when they have already perished outside and are still retained in memory, or when what we remember is formed otherwise, not by the faithfulness of recollection but by the variety of thinking. Very often, however, we also believe people who tell us true things which they themselves have perceived by the senses. When we think of these things in the very hearing as they are told, the gaze does not seem to be turned back to the memory so that the visions of thinkers come about; for we think of them not as we remember them but as another tells them; and that trinity does not seem to be completed here which comes about when the appearance hidden in the memory and the vision of the one remembering are joined by the will as the third. For when something is told me, I think not of what lay hidden in my memory but of what I hear. I do not mean the very sounds of the speaker, lest anyone think I have gone off into that trinity which is carried on outside in sensible things and in the senses; but I think of those appearances of bodies which the narrator signifies by words and sounds; which I certainly think of not by remembering but by hearing. But if we consider more carefully, even then the limit of memory is not exceeded. For I could not even understand the narrator if I did not remember, in a general way, each of the things he says, even if I were hearing them put together for the first time. For whoever tells me, for example, of some mountain stripped of its forest and clothed with olive trees, tells it to one who remembers the appearances of mountains and forests and olive trees; and if I had forgotten these, I would not know at all what he was saying, and so I could not think of that narrative. So it is that everyone who thinks of bodily things, whether he makes something up himself, or hears or reads someone narrating past things or foretelling future ones, runs back to his own memory and finds there the limit and measure of all the forms he looks at in thinking. For no one can think at all of a color he has never seen, or a shape of body, or a sound he has never heard, or a taste he has never tasted, or a smell he has never smelled, or any touching of a body he has never felt. But if no one thinks of anything bodily except what he has perceived, because no one remembers anything bodily except what he has perceived, then, as the limit of perceiving is in bodies, so the limit of thinking is in the memory. For the sense receives the appearance from the body we perceive, and the memory from the sense, and the gaze of the one thinking from the memory. And the will, as it joins the sense to the body, so it joins the memory to the sense, and the gaze of the one thinking to the memory. And the same thing that brings these together and joins them also disjoins and separates them, that is, the will. But it separates the bodily senses from the bodies to be perceived by a movement of the body, so that we may not perceive something or may cease to perceive it: as when we turn our eyes away from what we do not want to see, or close them; so the ears from sounds, so the nostrils from smells. So too, either by closing the mouth or by spitting something out of the mouth, we turn away from tastes. In touch also we either withdraw the body so as not to touch what we do not want, or, if we were already touching it, we throw it off or push it away. So the will acts by a movement of the body so that the bodily sense may not be joined to sensible things. And it does this as far as it can; for when in this action it suffers difficulty because of the condition of servile mortality, torment follows, so that nothing is left to the will but endurance. And the will turns the memory away from the sense when, intent on something else, it does not let things present cling to it. This is easy to notice, since often, when someone is speaking in our presence and we are thinking of something else, we seem to ourselves not to have heard. But that is false: for we heard, but we do not remember, since the words slipped at once through the sense of the ears while the inclination of the will, by which they are usually fixed in the memory, was turned elsewhere. So when something of this kind happens, we would more truly say, “We do not remember,” than, “We did not hear.” For it also happens to readers, and very often to me, that when I have read through a page or a letter I do not know what I have read, and read it again. For since the inclination of the will was intent on something else, the memory was not applied to the bodily sense in the way that the sense itself was applied to the letters. So too people walking with their will intent on something else do not know where they have passed; whereas if they had not seen, they would not have walked, or would have walked feeling their way with greater attention, especially if they were going through unknown places; but because they walked easily, they certainly saw; yet because the memory was not joined to the sense itself as the sense of the eyes was joined to the places wherever they went, they could in no way remember what they saw, even very recently. And further, to wish to turn the mind's gaze away from what is in the memory is nothing else than not to think of it.

In this arrangement, then, when we begin from the appearance of the body and come as far as the appearance which comes about in the gaze of the one thinking, four appearances are found, born as it were by steps one from another: the second from the first, the third from the second, the fourth from the third. For from the appearance of the body that is seen arises that which comes about in the sense of the one seeing; and from this, that which comes about in the memory; and from this, that which comes about in the gaze of the one thinking. Therefore the will joins, as it were, parent with offspring three times: first the appearance of the body with that which it begets in the bodily sense; and that again with the one which comes about from it in the memory; and this too, thirdly, with the one which is born from it in the gaze of the one thinking. But the middle joining, which is the second, although it is nearer, is not so like the first as the third is. For there are two visions: one of the one perceiving, the other of the one thinking. But in order that there may be a vision of the one thinking, something like it comes about in the memory from the vision of the one perceiving, to which the mind's gaze may turn in thinking as the gaze of the eyes turns to a body in seeing. For this reason I wanted to commend two trinities of this kind: one, when the vision of the one perceiving is formed from the body; the other, when the vision of the one thinking is formed from the memory. But I did not want to commend the middle one, because it is not usually called vision when the form which comes about in the sense of the one seeing is committed to memory. Yet everywhere the will appears only as the one joining, as it were, parent and offspring. And so, from wherever it proceeds, it can be called neither parent nor offspring.

But if we remember only what we have perceived, and think only of what we remember, why do we often think false things, although we certainly do not remember falsely what we have perceived? Is it not because that will, which I have already taken care to show as far as I could to be what joins and separates things of this kind, leads the gaze of the one thinking, to be formed, through the hidden places of memory as it pleases, and drives it, in order to think of things we do not remember, to take from the things we do remember one thing from here and another from there; and these, coming together into one vision, make something which is called false because either it does not exist outside in the nature of bodily things, or it does not seem to be expressed from the memory, since we remember having perceived nothing of the kind? For who has seen a black swan? And so no one remembers one; yet who cannot think of one? For it is easy to pour a black color over that shape which we have come to know by seeing, a color we have nevertheless seen in other bodies; and because we have perceived both, we remember both. Nor do I remember a four-footed bird, because I have not seen one; but I behold such an image very easily, when to some winged form such as I have seen I add two more feet such as I have likewise seen. Therefore, when we think of things joined together which we remember having perceived separately, we seem not to think of what we remember, although we do it under the governance of the memory, from which we take everything that we put together in many and various ways according to our will. For we do not think even of the very sizes of bodies which we have never seen without the help of memory. For as much space as our gaze usually takes in across the greatness of the world, so far do we extend any masses of bodies when we think of them as very great. And reason indeed goes on to greater things, but imagination does not follow. For reason declares even the infinity of number, which no vision of one thinking of bodily things grasps. The same reason teaches that even the tiniest bodies are infinitely divisible; yet when we have come to those fine and minute things which we remember having seen, we can no longer behold slenderer and more minute images, although reason does not cease to pursue and divide. So we think of no bodily things except either those we remember or those made from what we remember.

But since things that have been impressed on the memory one by one can be thought of in great numbers, measure seems to belong to the memory and number to the vision. For although the multiplicity of such visions is innumerable, yet for each one in the memory a limit has been prescribed which cannot be passed. Measure, then, appears in the memory, number in the visions; just as in visible bodies themselves there is a certain measure, to which the sense of those who see is fitted in very great numbers, and from one visible thing the gaze of many who see it is formed; so that even one person, because of the number of the two eyes, often sees one thing with a doubled appearance, as we showed above. In the things, then, from which visions are expressed there is a certain measure; but in the visions themselves, number. And the will, which joins and orders these, and binds them by a certain unity, and which places the desire of perceiving or thinking, resting it nowhere but in the things from which the visions are formed, is like weight. Therefore I would have given a foretaste of these three, measure, number, weight, as things to be noticed in all other things as well. For now, I have shown as I was able, and by what means I was able, that the will which joins the visible thing and the vision, as it were parent and offspring, whether in perceiving or in thinking, can be called neither parent nor offspring. So the time reminds us to seek this same trinity in the inner man, and to move inward from this animal and carnal man, of whom I have spoken so long, who is called the outer man. There we hope we may be able to find the image of God according to the trinity, with our efforts helped by him who, as the things themselves show, so also holy Scripture testifies, has ordered all things in measure and number and weight.

Come now, let us see where there is, as it were, a kind of boundary between the outer and the inner man. For whatever we have in the mind in common with the beasts is still rightly said to belong to the outer man. For not the body alone will be reckoned the outer man, but joined with it a certain life of its own, by which the structure of the body and all the senses are active, with which it is equipped for perceiving outward things; and when the images of these perceptions, fixed in the memory, are seen again by recollection, it is still a matter that belongs to the outer man. And in all these things we do not differ from the beast, except that in the shape of the body we are not bent down but upright. In this we are admonished by him who made us not to be like the beasts in the better part of ourselves, that is, the mind, since we differ from them by the uprightness of the body. Not that we should throw the mind upon the things that are lofty among bodies; for to seek the rest of the will even in such things is to prostrate the mind. But just as the body is by nature raised upright toward the things that are highest among bodies, that is, toward the heavenly bodies, so the mind, which is a spiritual substance, is to be raised toward the things that are highest among spiritual things, not by the elation of pride but by the godliness of righteousness.

Now beasts too can both perceive bodily things outside through the senses of the body, and remember them when fixed in the memory, and among them seek what is advantageous and flee what is harmful. But to note them, and to retain them, not only as caught up naturally but also as deliberately committed to memory, and to impress them again by recollecting and thinking when they are already slipping into forgetfulness, so that, as thought is formed from what the memory bears, so too what is in the memory may be strengthened by thought; to compose imaginary visions as well, by taking things recalled from here and there and, as it were, sewing them together; to examine how in this kind of thing what is like the truth is distinguished from what is true, not in spiritual things but in bodily things themselves: these and suchlike things, although they are done and carried on among sensible things and among those which the mind has drawn from them through the bodily sense, are nevertheless not without reason, nor are they common to men and beasts. But it belongs to a higher reason to judge of these bodily things according to incorporeal and eternal reasons; which, unless they were above the human mind, would certainly not be unchangeable; and unless something of ours were placed beneath them, we could not judge of bodily things according to them. And we judge of bodily things by the reason of dimensions and figures, which the mind knows to remain unchangeably.

But that part of ours which is so engaged in the action of handling bodily and temporal things that it is not common to us with the beast is indeed rational, but it has been, as it were, drawn off from that rational substance of our mind by which we cling to the intelligible and unchangeable truth, and assigned to handling and governing lower things. For just as among all the beasts no helper like the man was found for him unless one taken from him were formed to be his wife, so for our mind, by which we consult the higher and inner truth, there is no helper like it, for the use of bodily things, as much as suffices for man's nature, among the parts of the soul which we have in common with the beasts. And so something rational of ours, not separated so as to divorce the unity but, as it were, drawn off to help the partnership, is divided off for the duty of its own work. And as there is one flesh of two in male and female, so one nature of the mind embraces our understanding and action, or counsel and execution, or reason and rational appetite, or whatever other more expressive way they can be named; so that, as it was said of those, “The two shall be in one flesh,” so it may be said of these, “Two in one mind.”

When, therefore, we discuss the nature of the human mind, we discuss one single thing, and we do not make it double in these two things I have mentioned except by their functions. And so, when we seek a trinity in it, we seek it in the whole, not separating rational action in temporal things from the contemplation of eternal things, so as to seek some third thing by which the trinity may be completed. But the trinity must be found in the whole nature of the mind in such a way that, even if the action concerned with temporal things were lacking, for which work a helper is necessary, for which reason something of the mind is drawn off to administer these lower things, a trinity would be found in the one mind, nowhere divided; and, once this distribution has been made, in that alone which belongs to the contemplation of eternal things there is found not only a trinity but also the image of God; whereas in that which has been drawn off into the action of temporal things, even if a trinity can be found, yet the image of God cannot.

Accordingly, those do not seem to me to put forward a likely opinion who think that the trinity of the image of God in three persons, as far as human nature is concerned, can be found in such a way that it is completed in the marriage of male and female and in their offspring: as though the man himself suggested the person of the Father, and the person of the Son that which proceeded from him so as to be born; and so they say that the third person, as of the Spirit, is the woman, who proceeded from the man in such a way that she was not herself a son or daughter, although it was by her conceiving that the offspring was born. For the Lord said of the Holy Spirit that he proceeds from the Father, and yet he is not a son. In the error of this opinion, then, this alone is put forward plausibly: that in the origin of the woman as she was made, according to the faith of holy Scripture, it is sufficiently shown that not everything that comes into being from some person in such a way as to make another person can be called a son; since the person of the woman came into being from the person of the man, and yet she was not called his daughter. The rest is indeed so absurd, or rather so false, that it is very easily refuted. For I pass over what it means to think the Holy Spirit the mother of the Son of God and the wife of the Father; for perhaps it may be answered that these things give offense only in carnal matters, while bodily conception and birth are thought of. Although even these very things are thought of most chastely by those to whom all things are pure; but to the impure and unbelieving, whose mind and conscience are defiled, nothing is pure, so much so that some of them are offended even that Christ was born of a virgin according to the flesh. But yet, in those highest spiritual things, where there is nothing that can be violated or corrupted, nothing born in time, nothing formed from the formless, if any such things are spoken of, after whose likeness even these kinds of the lower creation have been made, though at a very remote distance, they ought not to disturb anyone's sober prudence, lest, while he avoids a vain horror, he run into a pernicious error. Let him accustom himself so to find traces of spiritual things in bodily things that, when he has begun to ascend upward from there under the guidance of reason, so as to arrive at the unchangeable truth itself through which these things were made, he may not drag with him to the highest things what he despises in the lowest. For a certain man was not ashamed to choose wisdom for his wife, because the name of wife, in begetting offspring, suggests to the one thinking a corruptible union; nor indeed is wisdom itself of the female sex because it is expressed by a word of feminine gender in both the Greek and the Latin language.

We do not, then, reject this opinion because we fear to think of holy, inviolable, and unchangeable love as, so to speak, the wife of God the Father, coming into being from him, yet not as offspring, for the begetting of the Word through whom all things were made; but because divine Scripture plainly shows it to be false. For God said, “Let us make man in our image and likeness”; and a little later it was said, “And God made man in the image of God.” “Our,” certainly, since it is plural in number, would not rightly be said if man were made in the image of one person, whether of the Father or of the Son or of the Holy Spirit; but because he was being made in the image of the Trinity, for that reason it was said, “in our image.” And again, lest we should think that three gods are to be believed in the Trinity, since the same Trinity is one God, it says, “And God made man in the image of God,” as if it said, “In his own image.” For such expressions are common in those Scriptures; and some, even if they defend the catholic faith, nevertheless do not notice them carefully, so that they think “God made man in the image of God” was said as though it meant “The Father made him in the image of the Son”; wishing in this way to show that the Son also is called God in the holy Scriptures, as if other most true and most plain proofs were lacking, where the Son is called not only God but true God. For in dealing with this text, while they intend to solve another difficulty, they so entangle themselves that they cannot get free. For if the Father made man in the image of the Son, so that man is not the image of the Father but of the Son, the Son is unlike the Father. But if godly faith teaches, as it does teach, that the Son is like the Father to the point of equality of essence, then what was made in the likeness of the Son must also have been made in the likeness of the Father. Then, if the Father made man not in his own image but in that of the Son, why does he not say, “Let us make man in your image and likeness,” but says “our,” unless because the image of the Trinity was being made in man, so that in this way man would be the image of the one true God, because the Trinity itself is the one true God? Such expressions are innumerable in the Scriptures, but it will be enough to have brought forward these. In the Psalms it is said thus: “Salvation is the Lord's, and your blessing is upon your people,” as if it were said to another, not to him of whom he had said, “Salvation is the Lord's.” And again he says, “By you I shall be rescued from temptation, and hoping in my God I shall leap over the wall,” as if he said to another, “By you I shall be rescued from temptation.” And again, “Peoples shall fall under you, in the heart of the enemies of the king,” as if he said, “in the heart of your enemies.” For it was to that king, that is, to our Lord Jesus Christ, that he had said, “Peoples shall fall under you”; and he meant the same king to be understood when he said, “in the heart of the enemies of the king.” Such expressions are found more rarely in the writings of the New Testament. But yet the apostle says to the Romans, “Concerning his Son, who was made for him of the seed of David according to the flesh, who was predestined Son of God in power according to the Spirit of sanctification by the resurrection of the dead of Jesus Christ our Lord,” as though he were speaking of another above. For what is “the Son of God predestined by the resurrection of the dead of Jesus Christ” but the Son of the same Jesus Christ who was predestined Son of God in power? So, just as here, when we hear “Son of God in the power of Jesus Christ,” or “Son of God according to the Spirit of sanctification of Jesus Christ,” or “Son of God by the resurrection of the dead of Jesus Christ,” although it could have been said in the usual way, “in his own power,” or “according to the Spirit of his own sanctification,” or “by the resurrection of his dead,” or “of his own dead,” we are not compelled to understand another person, but one and the same, namely the Son of God, our Lord Jesus Christ; so, when we hear “God made man in the image of God,” although it could have been said more usually, “in his own image,” we are not compelled to understand another person in the Trinity, but the one and same Trinity itself, which is one God, and in whose image man was made. This being so, if we take this same image of the Trinity to be not in one man but in three, father and mother and son, then man was not made in the image of God before a wife was made for him, and before they had a son; because there was not yet a trinity. Or does someone say: “There was already a trinity, because, although not yet in its proper form, yet in its original nature the woman was already in the man's side and the son in the father's loins”? Why then, when Scripture had said, “God made man in the image of God,” did it continue, saying, “God made him; male and female he made them, and he blessed them”? Or, if it is to be punctuated thus, “And God made man,” so that “in the image of God he made him” follows, and the third clause added is “male and female he made them.” For some have been afraid to say, “He made him male and female,” lest something monstrous should be understood, like those whom they call hermaphrodites; whereas even so both could be understood, not falsely, in the singular number, because of what was said, “Two in one flesh.” Why then, as I had begun to say, does Scripture, in the nature of man made in the image of God, mention nothing besides male and female? For to complete the image of the Trinity it ought to have added the son as well, although still placed in the father's loins, as the woman was in his side. Or was the woman perhaps already made, and had Scripture compressed into a brief summary what it would afterward explain more carefully, how it was done; and could the son not be mentioned for this reason, that he was not yet born? As if the Holy Spirit could not have included this too in that brevity, intending to relate the birth of the son afterward in its place, just as he afterward related in its place how the woman was taken from the man's side, and yet did not omit to name her here.

We ought not, therefore, to understand man to have been made in the image of the supreme Trinity, that is, in the image of God, in such a way that the same image is understood to be in three human beings; especially since the apostle says that the man is the image of God, and for that reason removes the covering from his head, which he warns must be put on the woman, speaking thus: “A man ought not to veil his head, since he is the image and glory of God. But the woman is the glory of the man.” What, then, shall we say to this? If the woman, in her own person, completes the image of the Trinity, why is the man still called the image after she has been taken from his side? Or if even one person of a human being out of three can be called the image of God, as in the supreme Trinity itself each person is God, why is the woman not also the image of God? For she is commanded to veil her head for this very reason, that he is forbidden to because he is the image of God. But we must see how what the apostle says, that not the woman but the man is the image of God, is not contrary to what is written in Genesis: “God made man; in the image of God he made him; male and female he made them, and he blessed them.” For it says that human nature itself, which is completed in both sexes, was made in the image of God, and it does not separate the woman from the understanding of the image of God. For having said that God made man in the image of God, it says, “He made him male and female,” or certainly, with another punctuation, “male and female he made them.” How, then, have we heard through the apostle that the man is the image of God, and therefore is forbidden to veil his head, but the woman is not, and therefore she is commanded to do so? Unless, I believe, it is as I have already said when I was treating of the nature of the human mind: that the woman together with her husband is the image of God, so that that whole substance is one image; but when she is assigned as a helper, which concerns her alone, she is not the image of God; but as for what concerns the man alone, he is the image of God, as fully and completely as when the woman is joined with him in one. As we said of the nature of the human mind: if it contemplates the truth as a whole, it is the image of God; and when something is assigned from it and drawn off, by a certain direction of attention, to the action of temporal things, it is nonetheless the image of God on the side by which it consults the truth it beholds; but on the side by which it is directed to doing lower things, it is not the image of God. And since the more it extends itself toward what is eternal, the more it is formed from there in the image of God, and therefore it is not to be restrained so as to hold itself back and moderate itself from that, for this reason the man ought not to veil his head. But because for that rational action which is engaged in bodily and temporal things too great an advance into lower things is dangerous, it ought to have authority over its head, which the veil indicates, by which it is signified that it must be restrained. For a sacred and godly sign is pleasing to the holy angels. For God does not see in time, nor does anything new happen in his vision and knowledge when something is done temporally and transiently, as the senses, whether the carnal senses of animals and men or even the heavenly senses of angels, are affected by it. That the apostle Paul figured the mystery of some more hidden thing in this manifest sex of male and female can be understood even from this: when in another place he says that a true widow is one who is left alone, without children and grandchildren, and yet she ought to hope in the Lord and persist in prayers night and day, here he indicates that the woman, who was deceived and fell into transgression, is saved through the bearing of children; and he added, “if they continue in faith and love and holiness with sobriety.” As if it could harm a good widow either not to have had children, or that those she had would not continue in good works! But because the things called good works are, as it were, the children of our life, according to which it is asked what manner of life each person has, that is, how he conducts these temporal affairs, which life the Greeks call not ζωή but βίος; and because these good works are usually practiced most in the duties of mercy; and works of mercy profit nothing, whether to pagans, or to Jews who do not believe in Christ, or to any heretics or schismatics, where faith and love and sober holiness are not found: it is clear what the apostle meant to signify; and he spoke figuratively and mystically because he was speaking about veiling the woman's head, which will remain empty unless it is referred to some secret of a sacrament. For, as not only the truest reason but also the authority of the apostle himself declares, man was made in the image of God not according to the form of the body but according to the rational mind. For it is a shamefully vain thought that supposes God to be bounded and limited by the outlines of bodily members. And further, does not the same blessed apostle say, “Be renewed in the spirit of your mind, and put on the new man, who is created according to God”; and elsewhere more plainly, “Putting off the old man with his deeds, put on the new, who is being renewed in the knowledge of God according to the image of him who created him”? If, then, we are renewed in the spirit of our mind, and that is the new man who is being renewed in the knowledge of God according to the image of him who created him, no one doubts that man was made in the image of him who created him, not according to the body, nor according to any part of the soul, but according to the rational mind, where the knowledge of God can be. And according to this renewal we are also made sons of God through the baptism of Christ, and, putting on the new man, we certainly put on Christ through faith. Who, then, would exclude women from this fellowship, since they are fellow heirs of grace with us; and in another place the same apostle says, “For you are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus. For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus”? Have believing women, then, lost the sex of their body? But because they are renewed in the image of God where there is no sex, man was made in the image of God where there is no sex, that is, in the spirit of his mind. Why then ought the man not to veil his head because he is the image and glory of God, while the woman ought to, because she is the glory of the man, as though the woman were not renewed in the spirit of her mind, which is renewed in the knowledge of God according to the image of him who created it? But because she differs from the man by the sex of her body, that part of reason which is turned aside to govern temporal things could fittingly be figured in her bodily veil; so that the image of God does not remain except on the side by which the mind of man clings to beholding or consulting the eternal reasons; and it is plain that not only males but also females have this.

In their minds, then, a common nature is recognized; but in their bodies the distribution of that one mind is figured. So, as we ascend inward by certain steps of consideration through the parts of the soul, from the point where something begins to meet us that is not common to us with the beasts, there reason begins, where the inner man can now be recognized. And if he too, through that reason to which the administration of temporal things has been delegated, slides too far into outward things by an immoderate advance, with the consent of his head, that is, if that which presides in the watchtower of counsel, as the masculine portion, does not restrain and rein it in, he grows old among his enemies, the demons who envy virtue, with their prince the devil; and that vision of eternal things is withdrawn even from the head itself, eating the forbidden thing with his wife, so that the light of his eyes is not with him; and so, both stripped of that illumination of truth, and with the eyes of conscience opened to see how dishonorable and unseemly they have been left, like leaves of sweet fruits but without the fruits themselves, so they weave together good words without the fruit of good work, so that, living badly, they may as it were cover their shame by speaking well.

For the soul, loving its own power, slides away from the common whole to a private part; and by that apostate pride which is called the beginning of sin, although, following God as ruler in the whole of creation, it could have been governed best by his laws, seeking something more than the whole and striving to govern it by its own law, since there is nothing greater than the whole, it is thrust into care for a part, and so, by craving something more, it is made less; whence avarice also is called the root of all evils. And all that in which it strives to do something of its own against the laws by which the whole is administered, it does through its own body, which it possesses as a part; and so, delighted by bodily forms and motions, since it does not have them with itself within, it is wrapped up with their images, which it has fixed in the memory, and is shamefully defiled by an imaginary fornication, referring all its functions to those ends by which it curiously seeks bodily and temporal things through the senses of the body, or with swollen arrogance affects to be higher than other souls given over to the bodily senses, or is plunged into the muddy whirlpool of carnal pleasure.

When, then, with a good will, it takes counsel for itself or for others toward perceiving inner and higher things, which are possessed in a chaste embrace, not privately but in common, by all who love such things, without any narrowness or envy; even if it is deceived in something through ignorance of temporal things, because it also conducts this temporally, and does not keep the measure of acting that it ought, it is a human temptation. And it is a great thing so to spend this life, which we travel like a road on our way back, that no temptation takes hold of us except what is human. For this sin is outside the body, and is not reckoned as fornication, and therefore it is very easily forgiven. But when it does something for the sake of obtaining the things that are perceived through the body, out of a desire of experiencing or excelling or handling, so as to place the end of its good in them, whatever it does, it does shamefully; and it commits fornication, sinning against its own body; and snatching inward the deceptive images of bodily things and putting them together by vain meditation, so that nothing even divine seems to it to be other than such, privately greedy it is made fruitful in errors, and privately prodigal it is emptied of its strength. Nor would it leap into so shameful and wretched a fornication all at once from the beginning; but, as it is written, “He who despises small things will fall little by little.”

For as a snake creeps not with open steps but with the tiniest efforts of its scales, so the slippery movement of falling away takes hold of the negligent little by little, and, beginning from a perverse desire for likeness to God, it arrives at likeness to the beasts. Hence it is that, stripped of their first robe, they earned by their mortality garments of skins. For the true honor of man is the image and likeness of God, which is not kept except in relation to him by whom it is impressed. So the less one loves what is one's own, the more one clings to God. But by the desire of experiencing its own power, by a certain inclination of its own it falls headlong to itself as to a middle point. So, while it wants to be like him, under no one, it is driven as a punishment from its very middle point down to the lowest things, that is, to the things in which beasts delight; and so, since its honor is the likeness of God and its disgrace the likeness of the beast, “man, set in honor, did not understand; he was compared to senseless cattle, and became like them.” By what way, then, would it pass so far from the highest things to the lowest, except through its own middle? For when, neglecting the love of wisdom, which always remains the same, knowledge is craved from the experience of changeable and temporal things, it puffs up, it does not build up; so the mind, weighed down as if by its own weight, is driven out of happiness, and through that experience of its own middle it learns by its punishment what difference there is between the good forsaken and the evil committed; and, its strength poured out and lost, it cannot return except by the grace of its Maker, calling it to repentance and forgiving its sins. For who will deliver the unhappy soul from the body of this death, except the grace of God through Jesus Christ our Lord? Of this grace we will speak in its place, as far as he himself grants.

Now let us carry through, as far as the Lord helps, the consideration we have undertaken of that part of reason to which knowledge belongs, that is, the knowledge of temporal and changeable things that is necessary for carrying out the actions of this life. For just as in that manifest marriage of the two human beings who were made first, the serpent did not eat of the forbidden tree but only persuaded them to eat, and the woman did not eat alone but gave to her husband and they ate together, although she alone spoke with the serpent and she alone was deceived by him; so too in this which is carried on and discerned even within one human being, by a kind of hidden and secret marriage, the carnal, or, so to speak, the sensual movement of the soul, which is directed to the senses of the body and is common to us and the beasts, is shut off from the reason of wisdom. For bodily things are perceived by the sense of the body; but eternal, unchangeable, spiritual things are understood by the reason of wisdom. And appetite is near to the reason of knowledge; since that which is called the knowledge of action reasons about the very bodily things which are perceived by the sense of the body: well, if it refers that knowledge to the end of the supreme good; badly, if it does so in order to enjoy them as goods such that it rests in them in a false happiness. When, then, to this direction of the mind, which is engaged with lively reasoning in temporal and bodily things for the sake of the duty of action, that carnal or animal sense presents some enticement to enjoy itself, that is, as some private good of its own, not as the public and common good, which is the unchangeable good, then, as it were, the serpent speaks to the woman. And to consent to this enticement is to eat of the forbidden tree. But if this consent is content with the delight of thought alone, while the members are so restrained by the authority of the higher counsel that they are not yielded to sin as weapons of iniquity, then, I think, it is to be regarded as if the woman alone had eaten the forbidden food. But if in consenting to make wrong use of the things that are perceived through the bodily sense, any sin is so decided upon that, if there is opportunity, it is also carried out in the body, then that woman must be understood to have given her husband the unlawful food to eat together with her. For a sin cannot be decided upon by the mind, not only to be thought of with pleasure but also to be effectively committed, unless that direction of the mind too, which has the supreme power of moving the members to the act or restraining them from it, yields to and serves the evil action. Certainly, when the mind is delighted by unlawful things in thought alone, not indeed deciding that they are to be done, yet holding and turning over with pleasure things that ought to have been rejected the moment they touched the mind, it is not to be denied that it is a sin, but far less than if it were also resolved to carry it out in act. And therefore pardon must be asked for such thoughts as well, and the breast must be struck, and we must say, “Forgive us our debts”; and we must do what follows and join it in the prayer, “as we also forgive our debtors.” For it cannot be said, as in those first two human beings each bore his own person, and so, if the woman alone had eaten the unlawful food, she alone would certainly have been punished with death, that likewise in one human being, if thought alone feeds with pleasure on unlawful delights, from which it ought to turn away at once, and evils are not decided upon to be done but only held pleasantly in recollection, the woman, as it were, can be condemned without the man. God forbid that we believe this. For here there is one person, one human being, and the whole will be condemned, unless these things, which are recognized as sins of thought alone, without the will to act but yet with the will to delight the mind with such things, are forgiven through the grace of the Mediator. This discussion, then, in which we have sought in the mind of each human being a certain rational marriage of contemplation and action, with functions distributed to each, yet with the unity of the mind kept in both, while the historical truth which divine authority hands down about the first two human beings, namely the man and his wife, from whom the human race has been propagated, remains intact, is to be heard only for this purpose: that it may be understood that the apostle, in attributing the image of God to the man only and not also to the woman, meant, although in the different sex of two human beings, to signify something to be sought in one human being.

Nor does it escape me that some who were before us, distinguished defenders of the catholic faith and expounders of the divine word, when they sought these two things in one human being, whose whole good soul they took to be a kind of paradise, said that the man was the mind and the woman the bodily sense. And according to this distribution, in which the man is taken as mind and the woman as bodily sense, everything seems to fit aptly if the matter is examined carefully; except that it is written that among all the beasts and birds no helper like him was found for the man, and then the woman was made for him from his side. For this reason I did not think the bodily sense, which we see to be common to us and the beasts, should be taken for the woman; but I wanted something which the beasts do not have; and I thought the bodily sense should rather be understood by the serpent, which we read was wiser than all the beasts of the earth. For among those natural goods which we see to be common to us and the irrational animals, sense excels by a certain liveliness: not that sense of which it is written in the Letter to the Hebrews, where we read that solid food belongs to the perfect, who by practice have their senses trained to distinguish good from evil; for those senses belong to the rational nature and pertain to understanding; but this fivefold sense in the body, through which bodily appearance and motion are perceived not only by us but also by the beasts. But whether in this way or in that, or in some other way, we are to understand what the apostle said, that the man is the image and glory of God and the woman the glory of the man, it is plain that when we live according to God, our mind, directed to his invisible things, ought to be formed progressively from his eternity, truth, and love; but that something of our rational direction, that is, of the same mind, must be directed to the use of changeable and bodily things, without which this life is not carried on; not so that we may be conformed to this world by setting our end in such goods and twisting the desire for happiness toward them, but so that whatever we do rationally in the use of temporal things we may do with a view to attaining eternal things, passing through these, clinging to those.

For knowledge too has its own good measure, if what in it puffs up, or tends to puff up, is overcome by the love of eternal things, which does not puff up but, as we know, builds up. For without knowledge not even the virtues themselves, by which one lives rightly, can be had, by which this miserable life is so governed that one may arrive at that eternal life which is truly happy. Yet the action by which we use temporal things well differs from the contemplation of eternal things, and the latter is assigned to wisdom, the former to knowledge. For although that which is wisdom can also be called knowledge, as the apostle too speaks where he says, “Now I know in part, but then I shall know even as I am known,” by which knowledge he certainly means that of the contemplation of God, which will be the highest reward of the saints; yet where he says, “To one is given through the Spirit the word of wisdom, to another the word of knowledge according to the same Spirit,” he certainly distinguishes these two without doubt, although he does not explain there what the difference is, and by what each can be recognized. But having searched the manifold wealth of the holy Scriptures, I find it written in the book of Job, the same holy man speaking: “Behold, godliness is wisdom; and to abstain from evil is knowledge.” In this difference it is to be understood that wisdom belongs to contemplation, knowledge to action. For in this place he put godliness for the worship of God, which in Greek is called θεοσέβεια. For this is the word this sentence has in the Greek manuscripts. And what is more excellent among eternal things than God, whose nature alone is unchangeable? And what is his worship but the love of him, by which we now desire to see him, and believe and hope that we shall see him; and, as far as we make progress, we see now through a mirror in an enigma, but then in manifestation? For this is what the apostle Paul says, “face to face”; this too is what John says, “Beloved, now we are children of God, and it has not yet appeared what we shall be; we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is.” Discourse about these and suchlike things seems to me to be the very word of wisdom. But to abstain from evil, which Job said is knowledge, is without doubt a matter of temporal things. For in time we are among evils, from which we ought to abstain so that we may come to those eternal goods. Therefore whatever we do prudently, courageously, temperately, and justly belongs to that knowledge or discipline in which our action is engaged in avoiding evils and seeking goods; and so does whatever we gather by historical knowledge for the sake of examples to be avoided or imitated, and for the necessary proofs of any things suited to our uses. When discourse is about these things, I think it the word of knowledge, to be distinguished from the word of wisdom, to which belong those things which neither have been nor will be, but are, and because of that eternity in which they are, they are said to have been and to be and to be going to be, without any changeableness of times. For they did not so exist as to cease to be, nor are they going to be as though they were not now; but they have always had, and will always have, that very being. And they remain, not as bodies fixed in spaces of places, but in an incorporeal nature they are present as intelligible things to the gaze of the mind, as these visible or tangible things in places are to the senses of the body. And not only do the intelligible and incorporeal reasons of sensible things placed in space remain without spatial extension, but also the reasons of motions that pass in time stand without temporal passing, they too certainly intelligible, not sensible. To attain to them with the gaze of the mind is for few; and when they are attained, as far as can be, the one who attains them does not remain in them, but, his very gaze as it were beaten back, he is driven away, and there comes about a transitory thought of a thing that is not transitory. Yet this thought, passing through the disciplines by which the mind is instructed, is committed to memory, so that the mind, which is compelled to pass on from there, may have somewhere to return; although, if the thought did not return to the memory and find there what it had committed to it, it would be led to it like a beginner, as it had been led before, and would find it where it had first found it, namely in that incorporeal truth, from which it would again be fixed in the memory as if written down. For a man's thought does not remain in it in the way that, for example, the incorporeal and unchangeable reason of a square body remains; if indeed it has been able to reach it without the image of spatial extension. Or if the rhythm of some artful and musical sound passing through stretches of time is grasped, standing without time in a kind of secret and deep silence, it can at least be thought of as long as that song can be heard; yet what the gaze of the mind, even passing, has snatched from there and, as if swallowing it into the stomach, has stored in the memory, it will be able in a way to ruminate by recollecting, and to transfer what it has so learned into a discipline. But if it has been wiped out by complete forgetfulness, one will come again, under the guidance of teaching, to what had fallen away entirely, and it will be found as it was.

Hence that noble philosopher Plato tried to persuade us that the souls of men lived here even before they bore these bodies, and that this is why the things that are learned are remembered as already known rather than known as new. For he related that a certain boy, questioned about some matters of geometry, answered as though he were very skilled in that discipline. For, questioned step by step and skillfully, he saw what was to be seen and said what he had seen. But if this were the recollection of things previously known, then certainly not all, or almost all, could do this when questioned in that way. For not all were geometers in a former life, since geometers are so rare in the human race that one can scarcely be found. Rather, it is to be believed that the nature of the intellectual mind has been so made that, joined by the natural order arranged by the Creator to intelligible things, it sees them in a certain incorporeal light of its own kind, as the eye of the flesh sees the things that lie round about in this bodily light, of which it was created capable and to which it is suited. For it is not because the eye too had already known white and black before it was created in this flesh that it distinguishes them without a teacher. Lastly, why is it only about intelligible things that it can happen that anyone well questioned answers what belongs to each discipline, even if he is ignorant of it? Why can no one do this about sensible things, except those which he has seen while placed in this body, or which he has believed from those who knew them and told him, whether by their writings or by their words? For we must not agree with those who say that Pythagoras of Samos remembered some such things which he had experienced when he had been here before in another body; and others tell of some others who underwent something of this kind in their minds. That these were false memories, such as we often experience in dreams, when we seem to remember having done or seen what we neither did nor saw at all, and that the minds of those men, even awake, were affected in this way at the prompting of malignant and deceitful spirits, whose concern it is to confirm or sow a false opinion about the transmigration of souls in order to deceive men, can be inferred from this: if they truly remembered the things they had seen here when placed before in other bodies, it would happen to many, indeed to almost all; since they suppose that, as the dead come from the living, so the living come from the dead, as sleepers from the waking and the waking from sleepers, without ceasing. If, then, this is the right distinction between wisdom and knowledge, that the intellectual knowledge of eternal things belongs to wisdom and the rational knowledge of temporal things to knowledge, it is not difficult to judge which is to be preferred or placed after which. And if some other distinction is to be used by which these two may be recognized, which the apostle without doubt teaches are different when he says, “To one is given through the Spirit the word of wisdom, to another the word of knowledge according to the same Spirit,” yet the difference between these two which we have set down is most evident, that the intellectual knowledge of eternal things is one thing, the rational knowledge of temporal things another, and no one doubts that the former is to be preferred to the latter. As we leave behind, then, the things that belong to the outer man, and desire to ascend inward from the things we have in common with the beasts, before we come to the knowledge of intelligible and highest things, which are eternal, the rational knowledge of temporal things meets us. In this too, then, let us find, if we can, some trinity, as we found it in the senses of the body and in the things which have entered through them into our soul or spirit by way of images; so that, in place of the bodily things which we touch, placed outside, with the bodily sense, we had within the likenesses of bodies impressed on the memory, from which thought was formed, with the will as the third joining the two; just as the gaze of the eyes was formed outside, which the will applied to the visible thing so that vision came about, and joined the two, there too applying itself as the third. But this must not be crowded into this book, so that in the one that follows, if God helps, it can be fittingly examined, and what is found can be explained.

In the previous book of this work, the twelfth, we did enough to distinguish the function of the rational mind in temporal things, in which not only our knowing but also our acting is engaged, from the more excellent function of the same mind, which is spent on contemplating eternal things and is bounded by knowing alone. But I think it will be more convenient to insert something from the holy Scriptures, by which both may more easily be recognized. John the evangelist began his Gospel thus: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him nothing was made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men; and the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not grasp it. There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came for a testimony, to bear witness to the light, that all might believe through him. He was not the light, but came to bear witness to the light. That was the true light, which enlightens every man coming into this world. He was in the world, and the world was made through him, and the world did not know him. He came to his own, and his own did not receive him. But as many as received him, 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. And the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us. And we saw his glory, the glory as of the Only-begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth.” All this which I have quoted from the Gospel has, in its earlier parts, what is unchangeable and eternal, the contemplation of which makes us happy; but in the parts that follow, eternal things are mentioned mixed with temporal. And for this reason some things there belong to knowledge and some to wisdom, according to the distinction we made earlier in the twelfth book. For “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him nothing was made. What was made was life in him, and the life was the light of men; and the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not grasp it” requires the contemplative life and is to be beheld by the intellectual mind. In this, the more anyone has made progress, the wiser he will without doubt become. But because of what it says, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not grasp it,” faith was certainly needed, by which what was not seen might be believed. For by darkness he meant the hearts of mortals, turned away from such light and less fit to behold it; for which reason he adds and says, “There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came for a testimony, to bear witness to the light, that all might believe through him.” This was now done in time, and it belongs to knowledge, which is contained in historical knowing. And we think of the man John by means of an image which is impressed on our memory from the knowledge of human nature. And those who do not believe these things think of it in the same way as those who do believe. For to both it is known what a man is; his outer part, that is, the body, they have learned through the eyes of the body; but his inner part, that is, the soul, they hold as known in themselves, because they too are men, and through human intercourse; so that they can think of what is said, “There was a man whose name was John,” because they also know names by speaking and hearing. But what is said there, “sent from God,” those who hold it hold by faith; and those who do not hold it by faith either waver in doubt or mock in unbelief. Yet both, unless they are of the number of the excessively foolish who say in their heart, “There is no God,” on hearing these words think of both things, what God is and what it is to be sent from God; and if not as the things really are, at least as they are able. Now faith itself, which each person sees to be in his heart if he believes, or not to be if he does not believe, we know in another way: not as the bodies which we see with bodily eyes, and of which, even when absent, we think through their images which we hold in memory; nor as the things we have not seen, which we form in some way in thought from those we have seen, and commit to memory, so that we may run back to them when we wish, in order to see there by recollection, in like manner, them, or rather whatever images of them we have fixed there; nor as a living man, whose soul, even if we do not see it, we infer from our own, and whom, as living, from his bodily motions, as we have learned by seeing, we behold also in thinking. Not so is faith seen in the heart in which it is, by him whose it is; but the most certain knowledge holds it, and conscience proclaims it. Although, then, we are commanded to believe precisely because we cannot see what we are commanded to believe, yet faith itself, when it is in us, we see in us; because the faith of absent things is present, and the faith of things that are outside is inside, and the faith of things that are not seen is seen; and yet it comes about in time in the hearts of men; and if from believers they become unbelievers, it perishes from them. And sometimes faith is given even to false things; for we speak in such a way as to say, “Faith was placed in him, and he deceived.” Such faith, if indeed it too is to be called faith, perishes from hearts without blame when truth, once found, drives it out. But faith in true things passes, as is to be desired, into those very things. For it is not to be said that it perishes when the things that were believed are seen. For is it still to be called faith, since faith is defined in the Letter to the Hebrews, where it is said to be the conviction of things that are not seen? Next, what follows, “He came for a testimony, to bear witness to the light, that all might believe through him,” is, as we have said, a temporal action. For testimony is borne in time even about an eternal thing, which is the intelligible light. To bear witness to it came John, who was not the light but came to bear witness to the light. For he adds, “That was the true light, which enlightens every man coming into this world. He was in the world, and the world was made through him, and the world did not know him. He came to his own, and his own did not receive him.” All these words those who know the Latin language understand from things they know. Some of these have become known to us through the senses of the body, as man, as the world itself, whose greatness we see so plainly, as the sounds of these same words, for hearing too is a sense of the body; others through the reason of the mind, as what was said, “And his own did not receive him”; for it is understood, “They did not believe in him,” and what that is we have come to know by no sense of the body but by the reason of the mind. Of the words themselves too we have learned not the sounds but the meanings, partly through the sense of the body, partly through the reason of the mind. Nor have we heard these words now for the first time; but they are words we had heard already; and not only the words themselves but also what they meant we held as known in memory, and recognized here. For when this two-syllable word, mundus (“world”), is spoken, since it is a sound, a bodily thing has certainly become known through the body, that is, through the ear; but what it means has also become known through the body, that is, through the eyes of the flesh. For the world, as far as it is known, is known to those who see. But this four-syllable word, crediderunt (“they believed”), by its sound, since that is a body, slips in through the ear of the flesh; but what it means is known by no sense of the body but by the reason of the mind. For unless we knew through the mind what “they believed” is, we would not understand what those failed to do of whom it is said, “And his own did not receive him.” The sound of the word, then, resounds from outside on the ears of the body and reaches the sense which is called hearing. The appearance of a man, too, is both known to us in ourselves and is present from outside to the senses of the body in others: to the eyes, when he is seen; to the ears, when he is heard; to touch, when he is held and touched; it also has in our memory an image, bodily indeed, but its own, like a body. Finally, the wonderful beauty of the world itself is present from outside both to our gaze and to the sense called touch, if we touch any of it; it too has its own image within, in our memory, to which we run back when we think of it, either shut within walls or even in darkness. But of these images of bodily things, which are not bodies yet have likenesses of bodies and belong to the life of the outer man, we have spoken enough in the eleventh book. Now, however, we are dealing with the inner man and his knowledge, the knowledge which is of temporal and changeable things; into whose purpose, when something is taken up even from things that belong to the outer man, it must be taken up so that something may be taught from it that helps rational knowledge; and so the rational use of the things we have in common with irrational animals belongs to the inner man, and it cannot rightly be said to be common to us with the irrational animals.

But faith, about which the plan of our arrangement compels us to argue somewhat at length in this book, which those who have it are called faithful, and those who do not, unfaithful, like those who did not receive the Son of God coming to his own, although it has come about in us by hearing, nevertheless does not belong to that sense of the body which is called hearing, since it is not a sound; nor to the eyes of this flesh, since it is not color or bodily form; nor to that which is called touch, since it has nothing of bulk; nor to any sense of the body at all, since this is a thing of the heart, not of the body; nor is it outside us, but in our inmost parts; nor does any human being see it in another, but each in himself. Finally, it can even be feigned by pretense, and be thought to be in one in whom it is not. Each, then, sees his own faith in himself; but in another he believes it to be, he does not see it; and he believes it the more firmly the more he knows its fruits, which faith is wont to work through love. Therefore this faith is common to all those of whom the evangelist adds and says, “But as many as received him, 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”: not as some bodily form is common, to be seen by the eyes of all to whom it is present, for the gaze of all who see it is in some way informed by that one form; but as a human face can be said to be common to all men; for this is said in such a way that each nevertheless has his own. We say most truly that the faith of believers is impressed from one teaching on the hearts of each of those who believe the same thing; but the things that are believed are one thing, the faith by which they are believed another. For the former are among the things which are said to be, or to have been, or to be going to be; but the latter is in the mind of the believer, visible only to him whose it is; although it is also in others, not the same faith but a like one. For it is one not in number but in kind; yet because of the likeness and the absence of any difference we rather say it is one than many. For when we see two men who are very alike, we say that both have one face, and we wonder. So it is more easily said that there were many souls, each one, of course, belonging to each person, of whom we read in the Acts of the Apostles that they had one soul, than that anyone should dare to say, where the apostle said “one faith,” that there are as many faiths as faithful. And yet he who says, “O woman, great is your faith,” and to another, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” signifies that each has his own. But the same faith of believers is called one in the same way as the same will of those who will is called one; since even in those who will the same thing, each one's own will is visible to him, while the other's is hidden, although he wills the same; and if it shows itself by some signs, it is believed rather than seen. But each, conscious of his own mind, certainly does not believe but plainly sees that this is his own will.

There is indeed such agreement in the same nature, living and using reason, that, although what one wills is hidden from another, there are nevertheless some wills of all which are known even to each; and although each human being does not know what one other human being wills, in certain matters he can know what all will. Hence the very witty urbanity of a certain mime is celebrated, who, having promised in the theater that at another show he would tell what all had in mind and what they all willed, when on the appointed day a greater crowd flocked together in huge expectation, all in suspense and silent, is reported to have said: “You want to buy cheap and sell dear.” In this saying of a most frivolous actor all nevertheless found their own consciences, and they applauded with wonderful favor the man who set before the eyes of all what was true and yet unexpected. But why was so great an expectation aroused when he promised to tell the will of all, unless because the wills of other men are hidden from a man? But was this hidden from him? Is it hidden from anyone? For what reason, then, unless because there are some things which each may not unfittingly infer in others from himself, through a shared vice or nature? But it is one thing to see one's own will, another to infer another's, though by the most certain inference. For I hold it as certain, in human affairs, that Rome was founded as that Constantinople was, although I have seen Rome with my own eyes, whereas of Constantinople I know nothing except what I have believed from other witnesses. And that mime, indeed, either by looking at himself or also by experience of others, believed that to want to buy cheap and sell dear was common to all. But since it is truly a vice, anyone can acquire the justice opposed to it, or fall into the plague of some other vice which is contrary to it, by which he resists and overcomes it. For I myself know a man who, when a manuscript was offered to him for sale and he saw that the seller was ignorant of its price and therefore asked something very small, gave him, to his surprise, the just price, which was much greater. What if someone were possessed by such wickedness that he sold cheap what his parents left him and bought dear what his lusts consumed? Such extravagance is not, I think, incredible; and if such people are sought, they will be found, or perhaps they will turn up even without being sought, who, with a wickedness greater than that of the theater, mock the theatrical proposition or pronouncement, buying debaucheries at a high price and selling their estates at a low one. We know too of some who, for the sake of largess, bought grain dear and sold it more cheaply to their fellow citizens. And what the old poet Ennius said, “All mortals desire to be praised,” he certainly inferred in others both from himself and from those he had experienced, and he seems to have pronounced the will of all men. Finally, if that mime too had said, “You all want to be praised; none of you wants to be blamed,” he would similarly have seemed to say what was the will of all. Yet there are some who hate their own vices, and who are displeased with themselves in those things and do not want to be praised by others for them, and who thank the kindness of those who rebuke them, when they are blamed so that they may be corrected. But if he had said, “You all want to be happy; you do not want to be wretched,” he would have said something which no one would fail to recognize in his own will. For whatever else anyone may secretly will, he does not depart from this will which is well enough known to all and in all men.

But it is a wonder, since the will to obtain and keep happiness is one in all, from where there arises in turn so great a variety and diversity of wills about happiness itself; not that anyone does not want it, but that not all know it. For if all knew it, it would not be thought by some to be in virtue of mind, by others in pleasure of body, by others in both, and by others in this or that place. For as each thing especially delighted them, so they set the happy life in it. How, then, do all most ardently love what not all know? Who can love what he does not know? as I have already argued about this in earlier books. Why, then, is happiness loved by all and yet not known by all? Or perhaps all know what it is, but not all know where it is, and that is the source of the dispute? As if it were a question of some place in this world where everyone who wants to live happily ought to want to live, and not that it is asked where happiness is in the same way as what it is. For certainly, if it is in pleasure of the body, he is happy who enjoys pleasure of the body; if in virtue of mind, he who enjoys this; if in both, he who enjoys both. When, therefore, one says, “To live happily is to enjoy pleasure of the body,” and another says, “To live happily is to enjoy virtue of mind,” do not either both not know what the happy life is, or not both know it? How then do both love it, if no one can love what he does not know? Or perhaps what we laid down as most true and most certain, that all men want to live happily, is false? For if to live happily is, for example, to live according to virtue of mind, how does one who does not want this want to live happily? Would we not more truly say, “This man does not want to live happily, because he does not want to live according to virtue, which alone is to live happily”? Not all, then, want to live happily; indeed few want it, if to live happily is nothing but to live according to virtue of mind, which many do not want. Will that, then, be false, which not even Cicero himself, the Academic, doubted (though to the Academics everything is doubtful), who, when in the dialogue Hortensius he wanted to take the beginning of his argument from some certain thing about which no one would doubt, said, “We certainly all want to be happy”? God forbid that we should say this is false. What then? Must it be said that, even if to live happily is nothing else than to live according to virtue of mind, yet even one who does not want this wants to live happily? This indeed seems too absurd. For it is as if we said, “Even one who does not want to live happily wants to live happily.” Who would listen to such a contradiction, who would bear it? And yet necessity drives us to it, if it is both true that all want to live happily and that not all want to live in the way in which alone one lives happily.

Or perhaps this is what can rescue us from these straits: since we said that each placed the happy life in what most delighted him, as pleasure delighted Epicurus and virtue Zeno, and something else others, let us say that to live happily is nothing but to live according to one's own delight, and therefore that it is not false that all want to live happily, because all want to live as each is delighted? For if this too had been announced to the people in the theater, all would have found it in their own wills. But Cicero too, having set this against himself as an objection, refuted it in such a way that those who think so are put to shame. For he says: “But see, people who are not philosophers indeed, but ready to argue, all say that those are happy who live as they themselves wish”; this is what we have called “as each is delighted.” But he soon added: “That indeed is false. For to wish what is not fitting is itself most wretched; nor is it so wretched not to obtain what you wish as to wish to obtain what you ought not.” Most excellently, and most truly. For who is so blind of mind, so estranged from all light of seemliness and wrapped in the darkness of disgrace, as to call happy, because he lives as he wishes, one who lives wickedly and shamefully, and, with no one forbidding, no one punishing, no one even daring to reprove him, and, moreover, with very many praising him, since, as divine Scripture says, “The sinner is praised in the desires of his soul, and he who does wicked things is blessed,” fulfills all his most criminal and most shameful wishes; whereas certainly, although he would be wretched even so, he would yet be less so if he could have had none of the things he had wrongly wished? For anyone is made wretched even by an evil will alone; but more wretched by the power by which the desire of the evil will is fulfilled. Therefore, since it is true that all men want to be happy, and desire this one thing with the most ardent love, and for its sake whatever else they desire; and since no one can love what he does not know at all, what or of what kind it is, nor can he not know what it is that he knows he wants: it follows that all know the happy life. And all who are happy have what they want, although not all who have what they want are thereby happy; but those are thereby wretched who either do not have what they want or have what they do not rightly want. No one, then, is happy except one who both has all that he wants and wants nothing badly.

Since, then, the happy life consists of these two things, and is known to all and dear to all, what do we think is the reason why, of these two, when they cannot have both, men would rather choose to have all that they want than to want all things well even if they do not have them? Is it the very depravity of the human race that, although it is not hidden from them that neither he is happy who does not have what he wants, nor he who has what he wants badly, but he who both has whatever good things he wants and wants no evil ones, yet of these two by which the happy life is completed, when both are not granted, that is chosen rather by which one departs further from the happy life (for whoever obtains what he wickedly desired is further from it than one who does not obtain what he desired), whereas a good will ought rather to have been chosen and preferred, even when it has not obtained what it seeks? For he comes near to being happy who wills well whatever he wills, and wills things which, when he has obtained them, will make him happy. And certainly it is not evil things but good that make one happy, when they do; and of these goods he already has something, and that not to be lightly esteemed, namely that very good will which desires to rejoice in the goods of which human nature is capable, not in the committing or obtaining of any evil; and which pursues with a prudent, temperate, courageous, and just mind such goods as can exist even in this miserable life, and attains them as far as is granted; so that even among evils he is good, and when all evils are ended and all goods fulfilled he will be happy.

And for this reason, in this mortal life, so full of errors and troubles, faith is above all necessary, by which one believes in God. For it cannot be found from where else any good things, and especially those by which each becomes good and those by which he will become happy, come to man and are added to him, except from God. But when the one who is faithful and good amid these miseries has come from this life to the happy one, then there will truly be what now can in no way be, that he lives as he wills. For he will not will to live badly in that happiness, nor will he will anything that will be lacking, nor will anything be lacking that he wills. Whatever is loved will be present; nor will what is not present be desired. All that is there will be good, and the supreme God will be the supreme good, and will be at hand for those who love him to enjoy; and, what is most happy of all, it will be certain that it will always be so. But now the philosophers have indeed made for themselves their own happy lives, as each of them pleased, as if by their own virtue they could do what by the common condition of mortals they could not, namely live as they willed. For they felt that no one could be happy otherwise than by having what he willed and suffering nothing that he did not will. And who would not wish any life whatever in which he delights, and which he therefore calls happy, to be so in his own power that he could have it forever? And yet who is in that state? Who wants to suffer troubles which he may bear bravely, even though he wants and is able to bear them if he suffers them? Who would want to live in torments, even one who can live praiseworthily in them by holding to justice through patience? Those who have endured these evils thought of them as passing, whether by desiring to have or by fearing to lose what they loved, whether wickedly or praiseworthily. For many have bravely pressed on through passing evils to lasting goods. These are certainly happy in hope, even while they are in the passing evils through which they come to goods that will not pass. But he who is happy in hope is not yet happy; for he waits with patience for a happiness which he does not yet hold. But he who is tortured without any such hope, without any such reward, however much endurance he shows, is not truly happy but bravely wretched. For he is not therefore not wretched because he would be more wretched if he bore his wretchedness impatiently as well. Further, if he does not suffer the things he would not want to suffer in his body, not even then is he to be considered happy, since he does not live as he wills. For, to pass over other things, which concern injuries of the mind without harm to the body, which we would wish to live without, and which are innumerable, he would certainly wish, if he could, to have his body so safe and unharmed, and to suffer no troubles from it, as to have this in his power, or in the incorruption of the body itself; and since he does not have this, and hangs in uncertainty, he certainly does not live as he wills. For although by courage he is ready to receive and bear with an even mind whatever adversity befalls, yet he would rather it did not befall, and he acts so if he can; and so he is ready for both, in such a way that, as far as lies in him, he wishes for the one and avoids the other; and if he meets what he avoids, he bears it willingly because what he willed could not come about. He endures, then, so as not to be crushed; but he would not wish to be pressed at all. How, then, does he live as he wills? Because he is willingly brave in bearing what he would not wish to have brought upon him? He wills what he can, therefore, because he cannot do what he wills. This is the whole happiness, whether to be laughed at or rather pitied, of proud mortals who boast that they live as they will because they willingly bear with patience what they do not will to happen to them. For this, they say, is what Terence wisely said: “Since what you will cannot be done, will what you can.” Who denies that this was aptly said? But the advice was given to a wretched man, so that he might not be more wretched. To a happy man, such as all wish to be, it is not rightly or truly said, “What you will cannot be done.” For if he is happy, whatever he wills can be done, because he does not will what cannot be done. But this life does not belong to this mortality, nor will it exist except when immortality also exists. And if this could in no way be given to man, happiness too would be sought in vain, because it cannot exist without immortality.

Since, then, all men want to be happy, if they want it truly, they certainly want to be immortal as well; for otherwise they could not be happy. Finally, when asked about immortality, as about happiness, all answer that they want it. But some sort of happiness, which is called so rather than being so, is sought in this life, or rather is feigned, while immortality is despaired of, without which there can be no true happiness. For he lives happily, as we have already said above and sufficiently established by argument, who lives as he wills and wills nothing badly. But no one wills immortality badly, if human nature is capable of it by God's gift; and if it is not capable of it, neither is it capable of happiness. For in order that a man may live happily, he must live. And when life itself abandons him in dying, how can a happy life remain with him? And when it abandons him, it abandons him either unwilling, without doubt, or willing, or neither. If unwilling, how is it a happy life, which is so within his will that it is not within his power? And since no one is happy by willing something and not having it, how much less is he happy who is abandoned against his will, not by honor, not by possession, not by any other thing, but by the happy life itself, when he will have no life at all? Hence, even if no sense is left by which he may be wretched (for the happy life departs precisely because all life departs), he is nevertheless wretched as long as he perceives, because he knows that against his will that is being consumed for whose sake he loves all else and which he loves above all else. Life, then, cannot both be happy and abandon a man against his will; because no one becomes happy against his will; and so how much more does it make him wretched by abandoning him against his will, when, if it were present to him against his will, it would make him wretched? But if it abandons him willing, even so, how was it a happy life, which the one who had it willed to perish? It remains for them to say that neither is in the mind of the happy man; that is, that when he is abandoned by the happy life, when through death all life abandons him, he neither wills nor does not will it, for he stands ready for both with an even heart. But neither is that a happy life which is such that it is unworthy of the love of the one it makes happy. For how is it a happy life which the happy man does not love? Or how is that loved whose flourishing or perishing is received with indifference? Unless perhaps the virtues, which we love in this way only for the sake of happiness, dare to persuade us not to love happiness itself. But if they do this, we certainly cease to love them as well, when we do not love that for whose sake alone we loved them. Then, how will that opinion be true, so thoroughly seen, so examined, so sifted, so certain, that all men want to be happy, if those who are already happy neither do not want nor want to be happy? Or if they want it, as truth cries out, as nature compels, in which the supremely good and unchangeably happy Creator has implanted this; if, I say, those who are happy want to be happy, they certainly do not want not to be happy. And if they do not want not to be happy, without doubt they do not want that by which they are happy to be consumed and to perish. And they cannot be happy except as living; they do not want, then, their living to perish. All, then, who either truly are happy or desire to be, want to be immortal. But he does not live happily who does not have what he wants; in no way, then, could a life be truly happy unless it were everlasting.

Whether human nature can receive this, which it nevertheless confesses to be desirable, is no small question. But if faith is present, which is in those to whom Jesus gave power to become sons of God, there is no question. For of those who try to find these things by human arguments, scarcely a few, endowed with great ability, abounding in leisure, and trained in the subtlest learning, have been able to arrive at investigating the immortality of the soul alone. Yet for this soul they did not find a stable, that is, a true, happy life; for they said it returns to the miseries of this life even after happiness. And those of them who were ashamed of this opinion, and thought that the purified soul was to be placed in everlasting happiness without a body, hold such views about the eternity of the world in the past that they themselves refute this opinion of theirs about the soul: which it would be long to show here, but it has been explained sufficiently by us, I think, in the twelfth book of the City of God. But this faith promises, not by human argument but by divine authority, that the whole man, who certainly consists of soul and body, will be immortal, and for this reason truly happy. And so, when it had been said in the Gospel that Jesus gave power to become sons of God to those who received him, and what it is to have received him had been briefly explained by saying, “to those who believe in his name,” and it had been added in what way they would become sons of God, “who were born not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God,” then, lest this weakness of men, which we see and bear, should despair of so great an excellence, it was at once joined, “And the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us,” so that what seemed incredible might be made persuasive from its opposite. For if the Son of God by nature, out of mercy for the sons of men, was made the son of man (for this is “The Word was made flesh and dwelt among us” men), how much more credible is it that the sons of man by nature should by the grace of God become sons of God and dwell in God, in whom alone and from whom alone they can be happy, made partakers of his immortality; for the sake of persuading us of which the Son of God was made a partaker of our mortality?

As for those, then, who say, “Did God lack any other way of freeing men from the misery of this mortality, that he should will his only-begotten Son, God coeternal with himself, to become man by putting on a human soul and flesh, and, made mortal, to suffer death?”, it is too little to refute them by asserting that this way, by which God deigns to free us through the Mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, is good and befitting the divine dignity; we must also show, not that no other way was possible to God, to whose power all things are equally subject, but that there was no other way more fitting for healing our misery, nor ought there to have been. For what was so necessary for raising our hope, and for freeing the minds of mortals, cast down by the condition of mortality itself, from despair of immortality, as that it should be shown to us how much God valued us and how much he loved us? And what is more manifest and more glorious as a proof of this than that the Son of God, unchangeably good, remaining in himself what he was, and receiving from us and for us what he was not, deigning to enter into fellowship with our nature without loss of his own, should first bear our evils without any evil desert of his own; and so, to us who now believe how much God loves us, and now hope for what we despaired of, should confer his gifts upon us with an undeserved generosity, without any good deserts of ours, indeed with our evil deserts going before? For even the things that are called our merits are his gifts. For in order that faith may work through love, the love of God has been poured out in our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. And he was given when Jesus was glorified by the resurrection. For then he promised that he would send him, and he sent him; because then, as was written of him and foretold before, “He ascended on high, he led captivity captive, he gave gifts to men.” These gifts are our merits, by which we arrive at the supreme good of immortal happiness. “But God commends his love toward us,” says the apostle, “in that, while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Much more, then, being now justified by his blood, we shall be saved from wrath through him.” He adds further, and says, “For if, when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved in his life.” Those whom he first called sinners he afterward called enemies of God; and those he first called justified in the blood of Jesus Christ he afterward called reconciled through the death of the Son of God; and those he first called saved from wrath through him he afterward called saved in his life. So before this grace we were not sinners in just any way, but in such sins that we were enemies of God. And a little earlier the same apostle called us sinners and enemies of God by two names, one as it were very mild, the other plainly very harsh, saying, “For if Christ, when we were still weak, at the right time died for the ungodly.” Those he called weak he likewise named ungodly. Weakness seems something slight; but sometimes it is such that it is called ungodliness. Yet unless it were weakness, it would not need a physician, who in Hebrew is Jesus, in Greek Σωτήρ, and in our speech Salvator (“Savior”). This word the Latin language did not have before, but it could have it, as it could when it wished. And this preceding sentence of the apostle, where he says, “When we were still weak, at the right time he died for the ungodly,” coheres with the two that follow, in one of which he said “sinners” and in the other “enemies of God,” as though he matched each to each, referring sinners to the weak and enemies of God to the ungodly.

But what is “justified in his blood”? What is the power of this blood, I ask, that believers are justified in it? And what is “reconciled through the death of his Son”? Is it really so, that when God the Father was angry with us, he saw the death of his Son for us and was appeased toward us? Was his Son, then, already so far appeased toward us that he even deigned to die for us, while the Father was still so far angry that unless the Son died for us he would not be appeased? And what of what the same teacher of the Gentiles says in another place: “What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how has he not also with him given us all things?” Unless the Father had already been appeased, would he, not sparing his own Son, have given him up for us? Does not this statement seem, as it were, contrary to that one? In that one the Son dies for us, and the Father is reconciled to us through his death; but in this one, as though the Father loved us first, he himself does not spare the Son for our sake, he himself gives him up to death for us. But I see that the Father loved us even before, not only before the Son died for us, but before he founded the world, as the apostle himself testifies, saying, “As he chose us in him before the foundation of the world.” Nor was the Son given up for us as though unwilling, the Father not sparing him; for it was said of him too, “Who loved me and gave himself up for me.” All things, then, the Father and the Son and the Spirit of both work together, equally and in harmony; yet we have been justified in the blood of Christ, and we have been reconciled to God through the death of his Son; and how that was done I will explain here too, as I can, as far as seems enough.

By a certain justice of God the human race was handed over into the power of the devil, the sin of the first man passing originally into all who are born through the union of the two sexes, and the debt of the first parents binding all their descendants. This handing over was first signified in Genesis, where, when it had been said to the serpent, “You shall eat earth,” it was said to the man, “You are earth, and to earth you shall go.” By what was said, “to earth you shall go,” the death of the body was foretold, because he would not have experienced even that if he had remained as he was made, upright; but what he said to him while still living, “You are earth,” shows that the whole man was changed for the worse. For “You are earth” is like this: “My Spirit shall not remain in these men, because they are flesh.” Then, therefore, he showed that he was handed over to the one to whom it had been said, “You shall eat earth.” But the apostle proclaims this more plainly, where he says: “And you, when you were dead in trespasses and sins, in which you once walked according to the age of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, of the spirit who now works in the sons of unbelief, among whom we all also once lived in the desires of our flesh, doing the wishes of the flesh and of the affections; and we were by nature children of wrath, as the rest also.” The sons of unbelief are the unbelievers; and who is not this before he becomes a believer? Therefore all men from their origin are under the prince of the power of the air, who works in the sons of unbelief. And what I have said, “from their origin,” is what the apostle says, that he too was “by nature” as the rest: by nature, that is, as it has been depraved by sin, not as it was created upright from the beginning. But this manner in which man was handed over into the power of the devil ought not to be understood as though God did this or commanded it to be done, but that he only permitted it, yet justly. For when he forsook the sinner, the author of sin at once invaded. Nor indeed did God so forsake his creature as not to show himself to it as God creating and giving life, and, amid the penal evils, granting many good things even to the evil. For he did not shut up his compassions in his anger. Nor did he let man go from the law of his power when he permitted him to be in the devil's power; because not even the devil himself is outside the power of the Almighty, any more than outside his goodness. For by what means would even the evil angels subsist with any kind of life, except through him who gives life to all things? If, then, the committing of sins through the just anger of God subjected man to the devil, certainly the remission of sins through the kind reconciliation of God rescued man from the devil.

But the devil was to be overcome not by the power of God but by his justice. For what is more powerful than the Almighty? Or the power of what creature can be compared to the power of the Creator? But since the devil, by the fault of his own perversity, became a lover of power and a deserter and assailant of justice (for so men too imitate him the more, the more they neglect or even hate justice and pursue power, and either rejoice in obtaining it or are inflamed with desire for it), it pleased God that, in order to rescue man from the devil's power, the devil should be overcome not by power but by justice; and so that men too, imitating Christ, should seek to overcome the devil by justice, not by power. Not that power is to be shunned as something evil; but the order must be kept by which justice comes first. For how great can the power of mortals be? Let mortals, then, hold to justice; power will be given to the immortal. Compared with that, the power of those men who are called powerful on earth, however great, is found to be a ridiculous weakness; and there a pit is dug for the sinner where the wicked seem able to do most. But the righteous man sings and says: “Blessed is the man whom you instruct, O Lord, and teach him out of your law, so that you may give him rest from the evil days, until a pit is dug for the sinner. For the Lord will not cast off his people, nor will he forsake his inheritance, until justice is turned into judgment; and all who have it are upright in heart.” In this time, then, in which the power of the people of God is deferred, the Lord will not cast off his people, nor will he forsake his inheritance, however bitter and undeserved the things it suffers, humble and weak as it is, until the justice which the weakness of the godly now has is turned into judgment, that is, receives the power of judging; which is reserved for the just at the end, when power has followed in its order upon the justice that went before. For power joined to justice, or justice added to power, makes judicial power. And justice belongs to good will; whence it was said by the angels when Christ was born, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men of good will.” Power ought to follow justice, not go before it; and so it is placed among “second,” that is, prosperous, things; and “second” things are named from following. For since two things make one happy, as we argued above, to will well and to be able to do what you will, there ought not to be that perversity, which was noted in the same discussion, that of the two things that make one happy a man should choose to be able to do what he wills and neglect to will what he ought; since he ought first to have a good will, and great power afterward. Moreover, the good will must be cleansed from vices; and if a man is overcome by them, he is overcome so as to will badly, and how then will his will be good? It is to be wished, then, that power be given now, but against the vices, for the conquering of which men do not want to be powerful, though they want it for the conquering of men; and why this, unless so that, truly conquered, they may falsely conquer, and be conquerors not in truth but in opinion? Let a man will to be prudent, will to be brave, will to be temperate, will to be just; and so that he may truly be able to do these things, let him plainly wish for power, and seek to be powerful in himself, and, in a wonderful way, against himself for himself. But the other things which he wills well and yet cannot do, such as immortality and true and full happiness, let him not cease to desire, and let him wait for them with patience.

What, then, is the justice by which the devil was conquered? What but the justice of Jesus Christ? And how was he conquered? Because, although he found in him nothing worthy of death, he nevertheless killed him. And it is certainly just that the debtors whom he held should be let go free, believing in him whom he killed without any debt. This is what we mean when we say we are justified in his blood. For so that innocent blood was poured out for the remission of our sins. Hence in the Psalms he calls himself free among the dead. For he alone died free from the debt of death. Hence in another Psalm too he says, “Then I paid back what I did not steal,” wanting sin to be understood by theft, because it was usurped against what is lawful. Hence too, by the mouth of his own flesh, as we read in the Gospel, he says, “Behold, the prince of this world comes, and finds nothing in me,” that is, no sin; “but that all may know,” he says, “that I do the will of my Father, rise, let us go hence.” And from there he goes on to his passion, so that he might pay for us debtors what he himself did not owe. Would the devil have been conquered by this most equitable right if Christ had chosen to deal with him by power and not by justice? But he put aside what he could do, so that he might first do what he ought. And for this reason it was necessary that he should be both man and God. For unless he were man, he could not be killed; unless he were God, it would not be believed that he did not will what he could, but that he could not do what he willed; and we would think, not that justice had been preferred by him to power, but that power had been lacking to him. But as it is, he suffered human things for us, because he was man; but if he had not willed it, he could also have not suffered this, because he was also God. Justice was thus made more pleasing in humility, because, with so great a power in his divinity, he could have avoided enduring humility if he had not willed it; and so, by one so powerful dying, to us powerless mortals both justice was commended and power was promised. For of these two he did the one by dying and the other by rising again. For what is more just than to go as far as the death of the cross for justice? And what is more powerful than to rise from the dead, and to ascend into heaven with the very flesh in which he was killed? So justice first and power afterward conquered the devil: justice, because he had no sin and was most unjustly killed by him; power, because, having died, he came back to life, never to die afterward. But he would have conquered the devil by power even if he could not have been killed by him; although it belongs to greater power to conquer death itself by rising again than to avoid it by living. But it is something else for which we are justified in the blood of Christ, when we are rescued from the devil's power through the remission of sins: this belongs to the fact that the devil is conquered by Christ by justice, not by power. For Christ was crucified out of the weakness which he took on in mortal flesh, not out of his immortal power; yet of that weakness the apostle says, “The weakness of God is stronger than men.”

It is not difficult, then, to see that the devil was conquered when he who had been killed by him rose again. It is greater, and deeper to understand, to see that the devil was conquered when he seemed to himself to have conquered, that is, when Christ was killed. For then that blood, since it was his who had no sin at all, was poured out for the remission of our sins, so that, because the devil rightly held those whom, guilty of sin, he had bound by the condition of death, he might rightly let them go through him whom, guilty of no sin, he had undeservedly afflicted with the penalty of death. By this justice the strong man was conquered and by this chain he was bound, so that his vessels might be snatched away, which with him and his angels had been vessels of wrath, and turned into vessels of mercy. For the apostle Paul relates the very words of our Lord Jesus Christ spoken to him from heaven when he was first called. For among the other things he heard, he says that this too was said to him: “For this purpose I have appeared to you, to appoint you a minister and witness of the things you see from me, in which I also go before you, delivering you from the people and from the Gentiles, to whom I send you to open the eyes of the blind, that they may turn from darkness, and from the power of Satan to God, that they may receive remission of sins, and a lot among the saints, and the faith that is in me.” Hence too the same apostle, exhorting believers to give thanks to God the Father, says, “Who rescued us from the power of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of the Son of his love, in whom we have redemption for the remission of sins.” In this redemption the blood of Christ was given for us as a price, and by receiving it the devil was not enriched but bound, so that we might be loosed from his bonds, and he might not drag with him, entangled in the nets of sin, any of those whom Christ, free from all debt, had redeemed by pouring out his blood without owing it, to the ruin of the second and everlasting death; but that those who belong to the grace of Christ, foreknown and predestined and chosen before the foundation of the world, should die only so far as Christ himself died for them, by the death of the flesh only, not of the spirit.

For although the death of the flesh itself came originally from the sin of the first man, yet its good use has made the most glorious martyrs. And so not only death itself but all the evils of this world, the pains and labors of men, although they come from the deserts of sins, and above all of original sin, from which life itself was bound by the chain of death, nevertheless had to remain even when sins were forgiven, so that man might contend with them for the truth, and the virtue of the faithful might be exercised by them; so that the new man, through the new covenant, might be prepared amid the evils of this world for the new world, bearing wisely the misery which this condemned life has deserved, and rejoicing prudently because it will end; but waiting faithfully and patiently for the happiness which the future life, set free, will have without end. For the devil, cast out from rule over the faithful and from their hearts, in whose condemnation and unbelief he reigned, condemned though he was himself, is allowed to oppose them only so far as, under the condition of this mortality, he knows is good for them; of which the sacred writings sound forth through the apostle's mouth: “God is faithful, who will not let you be tempted beyond what you are able; but with the temptation he will also make a way out, that you may be able to endure.” And these evils which the faithful endure piously are of profit, either for correcting sins, or for exercising and testing righteousness, or for showing the misery of this life, so that that life where there will be true and everlasting happiness may be desired more ardently and sought more earnestly. But these things are kept in store for those of whom the apostle says: “We know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose as saints. For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. And those whom he predestined he also called; and those whom he called he also justified; and those whom he justified he also glorified.” Of these predestined none will perish with the devil; none will remain under the devil's power until death. Then follows what I have already mentioned above: “What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how has he not also with him given us all things?” Why, then, should the death of Christ not have taken place? Indeed, why should not this way above all have been chosen, passing over innumerable other ways which the Almighty could use to free us, in which nothing of his divinity was lessened or changed, and so great a benefit was conferred on men from the humanity he took up, that a temporal death which was not owed was rendered by the everlasting Son of God, who was also the son of man, by which he might free them from the everlasting death that was owed? The devil held our sins, and through them rightly fixed us in death. He who had none of his own forgave them, and was undeservedly brought to death by him. That blood was of such worth that he who killed Christ, even for a time, by a death not owed, ought not to keep anyone who has put on Christ in the everlasting death that was owed. “God therefore commends his love toward us, in that, while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Much more, then, being now justified by his blood, we shall be saved from wrath through him.” Justified, he says, by his blood: justified plainly in that we have been freed from all sins; and freed from all sins because the Son of God, who had none, was killed for us. We shall be saved, then, from wrath through him: from the wrath of God, certainly, which is nothing else than just retribution. For the wrath of God is not, as man's, a disturbance of mind; but it is the wrath of him to whom holy Scripture says in another place, “But you, Lord of hosts, judge with tranquillity.” If, then, just divine retribution has received such a name, how is the reconciliation of God rightly understood except as the ending of such wrath? Nor were we enemies to God except as sins are enemies to justice; when these are forgiven, such enmities are ended, and those whom the just one himself justifies are reconciled to him. Yet he certainly loved them even as enemies, since he did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all while we were still enemies. Rightly, then, the apostle went on to add, “For if, when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son,” through which that remission of sins took place, “much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved in his life.” Saved in his life, who were reconciled through his death. For who would doubt that he will give his life to his friends, for whom as enemies he gave his death? “And not only so,” he says, “but we also boast in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.” Not only, he says, shall we be saved, but we also boast; and not in ourselves but in God; and not through ourselves but through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation, according to what was argued above. Then the apostle adds, “Therefore, as through one man sin entered into this world, and through sin death, and so death passed through to all men, in whom all sinned,” and the rest, in which he argues at greater length about two men: the one, the first Adam, by whose sin and death we his descendants are bound as by hereditary evils; the other, the second Adam, who is not man only but also God, by whose paying for us what he did not owe we have been freed from debts both ancestral and our own. Accordingly, since because of that one the devil held all who were begotten through his vitiated carnal concupiscence, it is just that because of this one he should let go all who are regenerated through his immaculate spiritual grace.

There are also many other things in the incarnation of Christ, which displeases the proud, that are to be looked at and thought about for our health. One of them is that it has been shown to man what place he has in the things which God has made, since human nature could be so joined to God that from two substances there came to be one person, and so now from three, God, soul, and flesh; so that those proud, malignant spirits, who put themselves in between as mediators in order to deceive under the pretense of helping, may not dare to set themselves above man because they have no flesh; and above all because the Son of God deigned even to die in that same flesh, so that they may not persuade men to worship them as gods because they seem to be immortal. Next, that the grace of God might be commended to us in the man Christ without any preceding merits; because not even he attained by any preceding merits to being joined in so great a unity with the true God that he became, one person with him, the Son of God; but from the time he began to be man, from that time he is also God; whence it was said, “The Word was made flesh.” There is this too: that the pride of man, which is the greatest obstacle to clinging to God, might be refuted and healed by so great a humility of God. Man learns also how far he has departed from God, and what avails him for healing pain, when he returns through such a Mediator, who as God by his divinity comes to the help of men, and as man by his weakness comes alongside them. And what greater example of obedience could be given to us, who had perished through disobedience, than God the Son obedient to God the Father even to the death of the cross? And where could the reward of obedience itself be better shown than in the flesh of so great a Mediator, which rose again to eternal life? It belonged also to the justice and goodness of the Creator that the devil should be overcome by the same rational creature which he rejoiced to have overcome, and by one coming from that very race which, its origin vitiated through one man, he held entire.

For God could certainly have taken up a man from elsewhere, in whom to be the Mediator between God and men, not from the race of that Adam who bound the human race by his sin; just as he did not create the one he created first from the race of anyone. He could, then, either in this way or in any other way he willed, have created another, by whom the conqueror of the first might be conquered. But God judged it better both to take up from the very race that had been conquered the man through whom he would conquer the enemy of the human race, and yet from a virgin, whose conception was preceded by the spirit, not the flesh, by faith, not lust. Nor was there present the concupiscence of the flesh, through which all the rest, who contract original sin, are sown and conceived; but with that wholly and utterly removed, holy virginity was made fruitful by believing, not by lying with a man; so that what was born from the stock of the first man should derive only the origin of the race, not also of the guilt. For there was born a nature not vitiated by the contagion of the transgression, but the sole medicine of all such vices. There was born, I say, a man having no sin at all, and never to have any, through whom those were to be reborn, to be freed from sin, who could not be born without sin. For although conjugal chastity makes good use of the carnal concupiscence which is in the genital members, yet it has involuntary motions, by which it shows either that it could not have existed in paradise before sin, or, if it did, that it was not such as ever to resist the will. But now we feel it to be such that, fighting against the law of the mind, even if there is no reason for begetting, it thrusts in the goads of intercourse; and there, if it is yielded to, it is sated by sinning; if it is not yielded to, it is reined in by refusing consent. Who could doubt that these two things were foreign to paradise before sin? For neither did that honorable state do anything unseemly, nor did that happiness suffer anything unquiet. It was fitting, then, that this carnal concupiscence should not be there at all when the virgin's offspring was conceived, in whom the author of death would find nothing worthy of death, and whom he would nevertheless kill, to be conquered by the death of the author of life: the conqueror of the first Adam, who held the human race, conquered by the second Adam and losing the Christian race, set free out of the human race from human guilt through him who was not in the guilt, although he was of the race; so that that deceiver might be conquered by that race which he had conquered by guilt. And this was done in such a way that man might not be exalted, but “he who boasts, let him boast in the Lord.” For he who was conquered was only man, and he was conquered because he proudly desired to be a god; but he who conquered was both man and God; and so he conquered, born of a virgin, because God in humility did not rule that man, as he rules other saints, but bore him. These great gifts of God, and any others there are which it would be long for us to seek and discuss now on this subject, would none of them exist unless the Word had been made flesh.

But all these things which the Word made flesh did and endured for us in time and place belong, according to the distinction we undertook to show, to knowledge, not to wisdom. But the Word as he is without time and without place is coeternal with the Father and everywhere whole; and if anyone can, as far as he can, speak truly of him, that speech will be the word of wisdom; and so the Word made flesh, who is Christ Jesus, has the treasures both of wisdom and of knowledge. For the apostle, writing to the Colossians, says: “For I want you to know how great a struggle I have for you and for those who are at Laodicea, and for all who have not seen my face in the flesh, that their hearts may be comforted, joined together in love and in all the riches of the fullness of understanding, for the knowledge of the mystery of God, which is Christ Jesus, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.” How far the apostle knew these treasures, how much of them he had penetrated, and to how great things he had come in them, who can know? Yet I, according to what is written, “To each of us is given the manifestation of the Spirit for profit: to one is given through the Spirit the word of wisdom, to another the word of knowledge according to the same Spirit,” if these two differ from each other in such a way that wisdom is attributed to divine things and knowledge to human, recognize both in Christ, and with me every one of his faithful. And when I read, “The Word was made flesh and dwelt among us,” in the Word I understand the true Son of God, in the flesh I recognize the true son of man, and both joined together into one person of God and man by the ineffable bounty of grace. For this reason it continues and says, “And we saw his glory, the glory as of the Only-begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth.” If we refer grace to knowledge and truth to wisdom, I think we do not depart from that distinction between these two things which we have commended. For among things that arose in time, the highest grace is that man was joined to God in unity of person; but among eternal things the highest truth is rightly attributed to the Word of God. And that the same one is the Only-begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth, has come about so that the same one is in the things done for us in time, through whom we are cleansed by the same faith, so that we may contemplate him steadfastly in eternal things. But those foremost philosophers of the Gentiles, who were able to see the invisible things of God, understood through the things that are made, nevertheless, because they philosophized without the Mediator, that is, without the man Christ, whom they neither believed the prophets that he would come nor the apostles that he had come, held back the truth, as was said of them, in unrighteousness. For, placed among these lowest things, they could only seek some means by which they might reach those lofty things which they had understood; and so they fell among deceiving demons, through whom it came about that they changed the glory of the incorruptible God into the likeness of an image of corruptible man and of birds and four-footed beasts and serpents. For in such forms they also set up or worshiped idols. Our knowledge, then, is Christ, and our wisdom also is the same Christ. He plants in us faith concerning temporal things; he shows us the truth concerning eternal things. Through him we go to him; we press on through knowledge to wisdom; yet we do not depart from one and the same Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. But now we are speaking of knowledge; afterward we will speak of wisdom, as far as he grants. Nor let us take these two as though it were not permitted to speak either of that wisdom which is in human things or of that knowledge which is in divine things. For in the broader custom of speech both can be called wisdom and both knowledge. Yet in no way would it have been written in the apostle, “To one is given the word of wisdom, to another the word of knowledge,” unless these were also properly called each by its own name, of whose distinction we are now treating.

Now, then, let us see what this long discourse has accomplished, what it has gathered, where it has arrived. To want to be happy belongs to all men; yet faith, by which, as it cleanses the heart, one arrives at happiness, does not belong to all. So it comes about that through this, which not all want, one must press on to that which there is no one who does not want. That they want to be happy all see in their own hearts; and so great is the agreement of human nature in this matter that a man is not deceived who infers this from his own mind about another's; finally, we know that all want it. But many despair of being able to be immortal, although no one can be otherwise what all want, that is, happy; yet they want to be immortal too, if they could; but by not believing that they can, they do not live in such a way that they could. Faith, then, is necessary in order that we may attain happiness with all the goods of human nature, that is, of both soul and body. And this same faith holds that this faith has been defined in Christ, who rose in the flesh from the dead, never to die again; and that no one is freed from the devil's dominion except through him, through the remission of sins; and that in the devil's party life must be wretched and everlasting, which should rather be called death than life. Of this faith I have argued in this book too, as I could, for the time available, although I had already said much about it in the fourth book of this work; but there for one purpose, here for another: there, namely, to show why and how Christ was sent by the Father in the fullness of time, because of those who say that the one who sent and the one who was sent cannot be equal in nature; here, to distinguish active knowledge from contemplative wisdom. For it pleased us, ascending as it were by steps, to seek in both, in the inner man, a certain trinity of its own kind in each, as we sought it before in the outer man; so that we might come, with a mind more practiced in these lower things, to behold, in our small measure, if indeed we can even do this, at least in an enigma and through a mirror, that Trinity which is God. Whoever, then, has committed the words of this faith to memory only as sounds, not knowing what they mean, as those who do not know Greek are accustomed to hold Greek words in memory, or Latin words likewise, or those of any other language of which they are ignorant, does he not have a certain trinity in his mind, because the sounds of the words are in his memory even when he is not thinking of them, and the gaze of his recollection is formed from there when he thinks of them, and the will of the one remembering and thinking joins the two? Yet in no way would we say that such a one, when he does this, acts according to the trinity of the inner man, but rather of the outer; because he remembers only that which belongs to the sense of the body called hearing, and looks at it when he wills and as much as he wills, and in such thinking he turns over nothing but images of bodily things, that is, of sounds. But if he holds and recalls what those words mean, then he does indeed do something of the inner man; but he is not yet to be said or thought to live according to the trinity of the inner man if he does not love the things that are proclaimed, commanded, and promised there. For he can hold and think of them even for this purpose, that, thinking them false, he may also try to refute them. That will, then, which there joins what was held in memory and what has been impressed from it on the gaze of thought, does indeed complete some trinity, since it is itself the third; but one does not live according to it when the things thought of do not please, as being false. But when they are believed to be true, and the things that are to be loved there are loved, then one lives according to the trinity of the inner man; for each lives according to what he loves. But how are things loved which are not known but only believed? This question has already been treated in the earlier books, and it was found that no one loves what he is wholly ignorant of, but that, when things unknown are said to be loved, they are loved from things that are known. Now we close this book with the reminder that the just man lives by faith; and this faith works through love, so that even the virtues by which one lives prudently, bravely, temperately, and justly are all referred to the same faith; for otherwise they could not be true virtues. Yet in this life they do not avail so much that there is not sometimes need here of some kind of remission of sins; which does not come about except through him who by his blood conquered the prince of sins. From this faith and such a life, whatever notions are in the mind of the faithful man, when they are contained in the memory, and looked at by recollection, and please the will, yield a certain trinity of its own kind. But the image of God, of which we will speak afterward with his help, is not yet in it; which will appear better when it has been shown where it is; and this the reader may expect in the coming volume.

Now we must discuss wisdom: not the wisdom of God, which without doubt is God, for his only-begotten Son is called the wisdom of God; but we shall speak of the wisdom of man, yet true wisdom, which is according to God and is the true and chief worship of him, which in Greek is called by one name, θεοσέβεια. This name our writers, as we have already mentioned, wishing themselves also to translate by one word, rendered as “godliness” (pietas), although among the Greeks godliness is more usually called εὐσέβεια; but θεοσέβεια, because it cannot be rendered perfectly by one word, is better translated by two, so that it is rather called “the worship of God.” That this is the wisdom of man, as we have already laid down in the twelfth volume of this work, is shown by the authority of holy Scripture, in the book of God's servant Job, where we read that the wisdom of God said to man, “Behold, godliness is wisdom; and to abstain from evil is knowledge”; or also, as some have translated from the Greek ἐπιστήμην, “discipline,” which certainly took its name from learning (discendo), whence it can also be called knowledge. For each thing is learned for this purpose, that it may be known. Although in another sense, in the evils which each person suffers for his sins so that he may be corrected, the word “discipline” is commonly used. Hence that saying in the Letter to the Hebrews, “For what son is there to whom his father does not give discipline?” and, more plainly, in the same letter, “For all discipline for the present seems to be not of joy but of sorrow; but afterward it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have contended through it.” God himself, then, is the supreme wisdom; but the worship of God is the wisdom of man, of which we are now speaking. For “the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God.” According to this wisdom, then, which is the worship of God, holy Scripture says, “The multitude of the wise is the health of the world.” But if to discuss wisdom belongs to the wise, what shall we do? Shall we dare to profess wisdom, lest our discussion of it be shameless? Shall we not be frightened by the example of Pythagoras? He, not having dared to profess himself wise, answered that he was rather a philosopher, that is, a lover of wisdom; and this name, which arose from him, so pleased later generations that, however much anyone seemed to himself or to others to excel in learning about the things that belong to wisdom, he was called nothing but a philosopher. Or did no such man dare to profess himself wise for this reason, that they thought the wise man to be without any sin? But our Scripture does not say this, which says, “Rebuke a wise man, and he will love you.” For it surely judges that one whom it thinks should be rebuked has sin. But I do not dare to profess myself wise even in this sense; it is enough for me, what even they cannot deny, that it belongs also to a philosopher, that is, a lover of wisdom, to discuss wisdom. For those who professed themselves lovers of wisdom rather than wise did not cease to do this. And in discussing wisdom they defined it, saying, “Wisdom is the knowledge of human and divine things.” Hence I too, in the previous book, did not fail to say that the knowledge of both kinds of things, that is, divine and human, can be called both wisdom and knowledge. But according to that distinction by which the apostle said, “To one is given the word of wisdom, to another the word of knowledge,” this definition is to be divided, so that the knowledge of divine things is properly called wisdom, and that of human things properly receives the name of knowledge; of which I treated in the thirteenth volume, not attributing to this knowledge whatever can be known by man in human affairs, where there is a great deal of superfluous vanity and harmful curiosity, but only that by which the most wholesome faith, which leads to true happiness, is begotten, nourished, defended, and strengthened; in which knowledge very many of the faithful are not strong, although they are very strong in faith itself. For it is one thing to know only what a man ought to believe in order to attain the happy life, which can only be eternal; another to know how this very thing may both help the godly and be defended against the ungodly, which the apostle seems to call by the proper name of knowledge. When I spoke of this earlier, I took care above all to commend faith itself, first briefly distinguishing eternal things from temporal, and there discussing temporal things, while deferring eternal things to this book; and I showed that even faith concerning eternal things is temporal, and dwells in time in the hearts of believers, yet is necessary for attaining eternal things themselves. I argued also that faith concerning the temporal things which the Eternal did and suffered for us in the man whom he bore in time and brought on to eternal things, profits for the same attaining of eternal things; and that the virtues themselves, by which in this temporal mortality one lives prudently, bravely, temperately, and justly, are not true virtues unless they are referred to that same faith, temporal though it is, which yet leads on to eternal things.

Therefore, since, as it is written, “As long as we are in the body we are away from the Lord; for we walk by faith, not by sight,” certainly, as long as the just man lives by faith, although he lives according to the inner man, although through this same temporal faith he strives toward the truth and stretches toward eternal things, yet in the retaining, contemplating, and loving of this temporal faith there is not yet such a trinity as should now be called the image of God; lest that should seem to be set among temporal things which must be set among eternal ones. For when the human mind sees its own faith, by which it believes what it does not see, it does not see something everlasting. For this will not always be; it certainly will not be when, this pilgrimage ended, in which we are away from the Lord so that we must walk by faith, that sight succeeds through which we shall see face to face; just as now, though not seeing, yet because we believe, we shall deserve to see, and shall rejoice that we have been led through faith to sight. For then there will no longer be faith, by which things not seen are believed, but sight, by which the things that were believed are seen. Then, therefore, even if we remember this mortal life that has passed, and recall by memory that we once believed what we did not see, this faith will be reckoned among things past and gone, not among things present and always remaining; and so this trinity too, which now consists in the memory, contemplation, and love of this same faith, present and remaining, will then be found to be passed and gone, not lasting. From this it is gathered that, if this trinity is already the image of God, then that too would have to be reckoned not among things that always are but among things that pass.

But God forbid that, since the nature of the soul is immortal and, from the beginning in which it was created, never afterward ceases to be, that than which it has nothing better should not last with its immortality. And what better thing has been created in its nature than that it was made in the image of its Creator? Not, then, in the retaining, contemplating, and loving of faith, which will not always be, but in that which will always be, is to be found what ought to be called the image of God. Or shall we examine somewhat more carefully and more deeply whether this is so? For it can be said that this trinity does not perish even when faith itself has passed; because, as we now both hold it in memory, and see it in thought, and love it with the will, so then too, when we shall hold in memory that we had it, and recall it, and join both of these by the will as the third, the same trinity will remain. For if it left in us no trace, as it were, in passing, we would certainly not have anything of it in our memory to which we might run back in recalling it as past, joining the two by the attention as the third, namely what was in the memory while we were not thinking of it, and what is formed from it by thought. But whoever says this does not distinguish that the trinity is one thing now, when we hold, see, and love present faith in ourselves, and will be another then, when we shall behold by recollection not faith itself but, as it were, its imaginary trace stored in memory, and shall join these two, that is, what was in the memory of the one retaining and what is impressed from it on the gaze of the one recollecting, by the will as the third. That this may be understood, let us take an example from bodily things, of which we spoke enough in the eleventh book. Ascending from lower to higher things, or entering from outer to inner, we found the first trinity in the body that is seen, and in the gaze of the one seeing, which is formed from it when it sees, and in the attention of the will, which joins the two. Let us set up a trinity like this one, when the faith which is now in us is placed in our memory as that body in its place, and from it the thought of the one recollecting is informed, as the gaze of the one looking is from that body; and to these two, to complete the trinity, is added the will as the third, which connects and joins the faith placed in memory and a certain likeness of it impressed on the gaze of recollection; just as in that trinity of bodily vision the attention of the will joins the form of the body that is seen and the conformation that comes about in the sight of the one seeing. Let us suppose, then, that that body which was seen has perished, crumbled away, and that nothing of it has remained in any place, to which the sight might run back to see it: because the image of a bodily thing now passed and gone remains in memory, from which the gaze of the one recollecting may be informed, and these two are joined by the will as the third, is it to be called the same trinity that there was when the appearance of the body placed in its place was being seen? Certainly not, but altogether another: for besides the fact that the former was outside and this inside, the former was produced by the appearance of a present body, this by the image of a past one. So too in this matter which we are now treating, and for which we thought that example should be used, the faith which is now in our mind, like that body in its place, while it is held, looked at, and loved, produces a certain trinity; but that trinity will not exist when this faith is no longer in the mind, as that body is no longer in its place. And the trinity that will exist then, when we shall remember that faith was in us, not that it is, will certainly be another. For this one, which exists now, the thing itself produces, present and fixed in the mind of the believer; but that one which will exist then, the imagination of a past thing left behind in the memory of the one recollecting will produce.

Neither, then, will that trinity which does not yet exist be the image of God, nor is this one the image of God which will not then exist; but the image of the Creator is to be found in the soul of man, that is, the rational or intellectual soul, which has been implanted immortally in its immortality. For just as the immortality of the soul itself is spoken of in a certain sense (for the soul too has its death, when it lacks the happy life, which is to be called the true life of the soul; but it is called immortal because it never ceases to live with some kind of life, even when it is most wretched), so, although reason or understanding in it appears now asleep, now small, now great, the human soul is never anything but rational and intellectual; and so, if it was made in the image of God in this respect, that it can use reason and understanding to understand and behold God, then certainly from the beginning in which this so great and wonderful nature began to be, whether this image is so worn out as to be almost nothing, or obscured and deformed, or clear and beautiful, it always exists. Finally, divine Scripture, pitying the deformity of its dignity, says, “Although man walks in the image, yet he is disturbed in vain; he heaps up treasure and does not know for whom he will gather it.” It would not attribute vanity to the image of God unless it saw that it had been deformed. And it shows well enough that that deformity is not so strong as to take away its being an image, by saying, “Although man walks in the image.” Therefore this saying can truly be pronounced from both sides, so that, as it was said, “Although man walks in the image, yet he is disturbed in vain,” so it may be said, “Although man is disturbed in vain, yet he walks in the image.” For although it is a great nature, yet it could be vitiated, because it is not the highest; and although it could be vitiated because it is not the highest, yet because it is capable of the highest nature and can be a partaker of it, it is a great nature. Let us seek, then, in this image of God a certain trinity of its own kind, with the help of him who made us in his own image. For we cannot otherwise investigate these things healthfully and find anything according to the wisdom which is from him. But if the things we have said in the earlier books, and above all in the tenth, about the human soul or mind are either held and recalled by the reader's memory, or reviewed with care in the places where they were written, he will not want a longer discourse here on the inquiry into so great a matter. Among other things, then, we said in the tenth book that the mind of man knows itself. For the mind knows nothing so well as what is present to it; and nothing is more present to the mind than it is to itself. And we used other proofs too, as far as seemed enough, by which this was most certainly proved.

What, then, is to be said of the mind of an infant, still so small and sunk in so great an ignorance of things that the mind of a man who knows something shudders at the darkness of that mind? Or must it too be believed to know itself, but, too intent on the things which it has begun to perceive through the bodily senses with a delight the greater the newer it is, it cannot be ignorant of itself but cannot think of itself? How intently it is carried toward these sensible things that are outside can be inferred even from this alone, that it is so greedy to drink in this light that if someone less careful, or not knowing what can result, has set a night lamp where an infant lies, in that direction to which the eyes of the one lying there can be turned while the neck cannot be bent, its gaze is not taken away from it, so much so that we know some have even become squint-eyed from this, the eyes keeping the shape which habit in some way fixed in them while they were tender and soft. So too toward the other senses of the body the souls of little ones, as far as that age permits, as it were narrow themselves by attention, so that whatever offends or attracts through the flesh, this alone they vehemently shrink from or desire; but they do not think of their own inner things, nor can they be reminded to do so; because they do not yet know the signs of one reminding them, among which words hold the chief place, and of these, as of other things, they know nothing at all. But that it is one thing not to know oneself and another not to think of oneself we have already shown in the same volume. But let us leave this age, which cannot be questioned about what goes on in it, and which we ourselves have greatly forgotten. Let it suffice to be certain of this alone: that when a man has been able to think about the nature of his own mind and to find what is true, he will find it nowhere else than in himself. And he will find, not what he did not know, but what he was not thinking of. For what do we know, if we do not know what is in our own mind, since all that we know we can know only by the mind?

Yet so great is the power of thought that not even the mind itself in a way places itself in its own sight except when it thinks of itself; and so nothing is in the mind's sight except what is being thought of, so much so that not even the mind itself, by which whatever is thought of is thought of, can be in its own sight otherwise than by thinking of itself. But how, when it is not thinking of itself, it is not in its own sight, since it can never be without itself, as though it itself were one thing and its sight another, I cannot find. This, indeed, is said not absurdly of the eye of the body: for the eye itself is fixed in its place in the body, but its gaze is stretched out to the things that are outside, and extends as far as the stars. Nor is the eye in its own sight, since it does not see itself except when a mirror is set before it, of which we have already spoken; which certainly does not happen when the mind sets itself in its own sight by thinking of itself. Does it, then, see one part of itself by another part when it beholds itself in thinking, as with some of our members, which are the eyes, we see other members of ours which can be in our sight? What more absurd thing can be said or thought? From where, then, is the mind removed, except from itself? And where is it placed in its own sight, except before itself? It will not, then, be where it was when it was not in its own sight, because, placed here, it has been removed from there. But if it has moved in order to be beheld, where will it stay in order to behold? Or is it as it were doubled, so as to be both there and here, that is, both where it can behold and where it can be beheld, so that in itself it is beholding and before itself it is beheld? Truth, consulted, answers us none of these things; because when we think in this way, we think only of feigned images of bodies, which the mind is not, as is most certain to the few minds by which truth can be consulted about this matter. It remains, then, that its sight is something belonging to its nature, and that it is called back to it when it thinks of itself, not as through a space of place but by an incorporeal turning; but when it does not think of itself, it is not indeed in its own sight, nor is its gaze formed from itself, yet it knows itself, as though it were itself the memory of itself. So it is with one skilled in many disciplines: the things he knows are contained in his memory, and nothing of them is in the sight of his mind except what he is thinking of; the rest are stored in a kind of secret knowledge, which is called memory. Therefore we commended the trinity in this way: we placed in the memory that from which the gaze of the one thinking is formed; the conformation itself as the image which is impressed from it; and that by which the two are joined, love or will. The mind, then, when it beholds itself by thought, understands itself and recognizes itself; it begets, then, this understanding and knowledge of itself. For an incorporeal thing is beheld by being understood, and is known by understanding. Nor indeed does the mind beget this knowledge of itself, when by thinking it beholds itself as understood, as though it had been unknown to itself before; but it was known to itself in the way that things are known which are contained in the memory, even if they are not thought of; for we say that a man knows letters even when he is thinking of other things and not of letters. And these two, begetter and begotten, are joined by love as the third, which is nothing else than the will seeking or holding something to be enjoyed. And so we thought the trinity of the mind should be conveyed also by these three names: memory, understanding, will. But since we said near the end of the same tenth book that the mind always remembers itself, and always understands and loves itself, although it does not always think of itself as distinct from the things that are not what it is, we must ask how understanding belongs to thought, while the knowledge of anything that is in the mind, even when it is not being thought of, is said to belong to memory alone. For if this is so, it did not have these three, so as to remember itself, and understand itself, and love itself; but it only remembered itself, and afterward, when it began to think of itself, then it understood and loved itself.

Let us therefore consider more carefully the example we used, where it was shown that not knowing a thing is one thing and not thinking of it another, and that it can happen that a man knows something which he is not thinking of, when he is thinking of something else and not of it. One skilled in two or more disciplines, then, when he thinks of one, nevertheless knows the other or others even if he is not thinking of them. But can we rightly say, “This musician knows music indeed, but does not understand it now, because he is not thinking of it; but he understands geometry now, for he is thinking of it now”? This statement, as far as appears, is absurd. And what of this, if we say, “This musician knows music indeed, but does not love it now, since he is not thinking of it; but he loves geometry now, since he is now thinking of it”: is it not likewise absurd? But we say most rightly, “This man whom you see discussing geometry is also an accomplished musician; for he both remembers that discipline and understands it and loves it; but although he knows and loves it, he is not thinking of it now, since he is thinking of the geometry which he is discussing.” From this we are reminded that there are in the hidden part of the mind certain knowledges of certain things, and that they come forth in a way into the open, and are set, as it were, more openly in the sight of the mind, when they are thought of; for then the mind finds that it both remembers and understands and loves itself, even with regard to what it was not thinking of when it was thinking of something else. But as for what we have not thought of for a long time, and cannot think of unless reminded, that, in some strange way, if it can be said, we do not know that we know. Finally, the one who reminds rightly says to the one he reminds: “You know this, but you do not know that you know it; I will remind you, and you will find yourself knowing what you thought you did not know.” Writings too do this, which have been written about those things which the reader, under the guidance of reason, finds to be true: not things which he believes to be true on the word of the one who wrote, as history is read, but things which he himself also finds to be true, whether within himself or in the very light of the mind, the truth. But one who even when reminded cannot behold these things is sunk deep in the darkness of ignorance by a great blindness of heart, and needs a more wonderful divine help to be able to arrive at true wisdom. For this reason, then, I wanted to use some kind of illustration concerning thought, by which it could be shown how, from the things contained in the memory, the gaze of one recollecting is informed, and something is begotten where a man thinks, such as was in that where he remembered before thinking; because what comes about in time, and where the parent precedes the offspring by a space of time, is more easily distinguished. For if we refer ourselves to the inner memory of the mind, by which it remembers itself, and the inner understanding by which it understands itself, and the inner will by which it loves itself, where these three are always together, and have always been together from the time they began to be, whether they were thought of or not, the image of that Trinity will indeed seem to belong to memory alone; but because there a word cannot exist without thought (for we think all that we say, even with that inner word which belongs to the language of no nation), this image is rather recognized in those three, namely memory, understanding, and will. And by understanding I now mean that by which we understand when thinking, that is, when our thought is formed by finding those things which were at hand in the memory but were not being thought of; and by will, or love, or affection, that which joins this offspring and parent and is in a way common to both. Hence it came about that I led the slowness of readers even through outward sensible things which are seen by the eyes of the flesh, namely in the eleventh book; and from there, entering with them into that power of the inner man by which it reasons about temporal things, I deferred that principal, ruling power by which it contemplates eternal things; and this I did in two volumes: in the twelfth distinguishing the two, of which one is higher and the other lower, which ought to be subject to the higher; and in the thirteenth discussing, with as much truth and brevity as I could, the function of the lower, in which the wholesome knowledge of human things is contained, so that in this temporal life we may do what leads us to attain the eternal; since I enclosed in one volume, concisely, a matter so manifold and abundant, celebrated in many and great discussions by many great men, showing a trinity in it too, but not yet one to be called the image of God.

But now we have come to that discussion in which we have undertaken to consider the principal part of the human mind, by which it knows or can know God, so that we may find in it the image of God. For although the human mind is not of the same nature as God, yet the image of that nature than which no nature is better is to be sought and found in us in that than which our nature too has nothing better. But first the mind is to be considered in itself, before it is a partaker of God, and his image is to be found in it. For we have said that even when it has lost its participation in God and is worn out and deformed, it nevertheless remains the image of God. For it is his image in this very respect, that it is capable of him and can be a partaker of him; and so great a good cannot exist except through its being his image. See, then, the mind remembers itself, understands itself, loves itself: if we see this, we see a trinity; not yet God indeed, but already the image of God. The memory did not receive from outside what it was to hold, nor did the understanding find outside what it was to look at, as the eye of the body does; nor did the will join these two outside, as the form of a body and that which was made from it in the gaze of the one looking; nor did thought, when it turned to it, find an image of a thing seen outside, in a way snatched and stored in the memory, so that the gaze of one recollecting was formed from it, with the will as the third joining the two; as we showed happens in those trinities which were found in bodily things, or were drawn inward in a way from bodies through the bodily sense, of all which we treated in the eleventh book; nor as happened or appeared when we were treating of that knowledge, already placed among the works of the inner man, which was to be distinguished from wisdom; whence the things that are known are, as it were, adventitious in the mind, whether brought in by historical knowledge, such as deeds and words which are carried out in time and pass, or which are set in the nature of things in their own places and regions; or whether they arise in the man himself, where they were not before, either through others teaching or through his own thoughts, like faith, which we commended at great length in the thirteenth book; like the virtues, by which, if they are true, one lives well in this mortality so that one may live happily in that immortality which is promised by God. These and suchlike things have their order in time, in which the trinity of memory, sight, and love appeared to us more easily. For some of them precede the knowledge of learners. For they are knowable even before they are known, and beget knowledge of themselves in learners. And they exist either in their own places, or are things that have passed in time; although the things that have passed do not themselves exist, but certain signs of them as past, by the seeing or hearing of which they are known to have been and to have passed. These signs are either set in places, like the monuments of the dead and whatever is similar; or in trustworthy writings, like all history of weighty and approved authority; or in the minds of those who already know them; for, being already known to them, they are certainly knowable to others too, whose knowledge they have preceded, and who can know them when those to whom they are known teach them. All these things, when they are learned, make a certain trinity: by their own appearance, which was knowable even before it was known, and joined to it the knowledge of the learner, which begins to be when it is learned, and the will as the third, which joins the two. And when they have been known, another trinity comes about, now more inwardly in the mind itself, when they are recalled: from those images which were impressed in the memory when they were learned, and from the informing of thought when the gaze of the one recollecting is turned to them, and from the will, which as the third joins these two. But the things that arise in the mind where they were not, like faith and other things of this kind, although they seem adventitious, since they are implanted by teaching, are nevertheless not placed or carried out outside, like the things that are believed; but they began to exist wholly within, in the mind itself. For faith is not what is believed but that by which it is believed; and the former is believed, the latter is seen. Yet because it began to be in the mind, which was already a mind before these things began to be in it, it seems something adventitious, and will be reckoned among things past when, sight succeeding, it has ceased to be; and it makes one trinity now through its presence, retained, beheld, loved; it will make another then, through a certain trace of itself which in passing it will have left in the memory, as has already been said above.

But whether then the virtues too, by which one lives well in this mortality, since they also begin to exist in the mind, which, although it existed before without them, was nevertheless less of a mind, cease to exist when they have led to eternal things, is something of a question. For it has seemed to some that they will cease; and of three of them, prudence, courage, and temperance, when this is said, something seems to be said; but justice is immortal, and will rather then be perfected in us than cease to be. Yet of all four the great author of eloquence, Tully, arguing in the dialogue Hortensius, says: “If, when we have departed from this life, we were allowed to spend an immortal life in the islands of the blessed, as the stories say, what need would there be of eloquence, since no trials would take place; or even of the virtues themselves? For we would not need courage, with no toil or danger set before us; nor justice, since there would be nothing of another's to be sought; nor temperance, to govern desires that would not exist; nor would we need even prudence, with no choice of goods and evils set before us. We would be happy, then, with one thing only, the knowledge and understanding of nature, for which alone even the life of the gods is to be praised. From this it can be understood that the rest belong to necessity, this one to will.” So that great orator, when he was commending philosophy, recalling what he had received from the philosophers and explaining it excellently and pleasingly, said that all four virtues are necessary only in this life, which we see is full of troubles and errors; but none of them when we have departed from this life, if one is allowed to live there where one lives happily; but that good souls are happy by knowledge and understanding alone, that is, by contemplation of the nature than which nothing is better and more lovable: that is the nature which created and established all other natures. If to be subject to its rule belongs to justice, justice is altogether immortal; nor will it cease to exist in that happiness, but will be such and so great that it cannot be more perfect and greater. Perhaps the other three virtues also will be in that happiness: prudence without any danger of error now, courage without the trouble of evils to be borne, temperance without the resistance of desires; so that it may belong to prudence to set no good before God or equal to him; to courage, to cling to him most firmly; to temperance, to delight in no harmful defect. But what justice now does in helping the wretched, what prudence does in guarding against snares, what courage does in bearing troubles, what temperance does in restraining wicked delights, will not exist there, where there will be no evil at all. And so these works of the virtues, which are necessary for this mortal life, like faith, to which they are to be referred, will be reckoned among things past; and they make one trinity now, when we hold, look at, and love them as present; they will make another then, when we shall find that they do not exist but have existed, through certain traces of them which in passing they will leave in the memory; because then too there will be a trinity, when that trace, whatever it is, is both retained in memory and truly recognized, and these two are joined by the will as the third.

In all this knowledge of temporal things which we have mentioned, some knowable things precede knowledge by an interval of time, such as those sensible things which already existed in reality before they were known, or all those things which are known through history; but some begin to exist at the same time: as if something visible, which did not exist at all, arose before our eyes, it certainly does not precede our knowledge; or if something sounds where a hearer is present, the sound and the hearing of it certainly begin to exist at the same time and cease at the same time. Yet, whether preceding in time or beginning to exist at the same time, knowable things beget knowledge; they are not begotten by knowledge. And when knowledge has come about, when the things we have known, placed in memory, are seen again by recollection, who does not see that the retaining in memory is prior in time to the seeing in recollection, and to the joining of both by the will as the third? But in the mind it is not so. For the mind is not adventitious to itself, as though the same mind which did not exist came from elsewhere to the mind which already existed; or did not come from elsewhere, but in the mind itself which already existed the same mind which did not exist was born, as in the mind which already existed faith arises which did not exist; or as though after knowing itself, by recollecting, it sees itself as placed in its memory, as if it had not been there before it knew itself; since certainly, from the time it began to be, it has never ceased to remember itself, never ceased to understand itself, never ceased to love itself, as we have already shown. And so, when it turns to itself in thought, a trinity comes about, in which a word too can now be understood; for it is formed from thought itself, with the will joining the two. There, then, rather is the image we are seeking to be recognized.

But someone may say: this is not memory, by which the mind, which is always present to itself, is said to remember itself. For memory is of things past, not present: for some who treated of the virtues, among whom is Tully too, divided prudence into these three, memory, understanding, and foresight, assigning memory to things past, understanding to things present, and foresight to things future, which none hold for certain except those who foreknow the future; and this is not a gift of men unless it is given from above, as to the prophets. Hence the book of Wisdom, speaking of men, says, “The thoughts of mortals are fearful, and our foresight uncertain.” But memory of things past and understanding of things present is certain, but of present things that are incorporeal; for bodily things are present to the sight of bodily eyes. But let one who says that memory is not of present things notice how it was said even in secular literature, where there was greater care for correctness of words than for truth of things: “Nor did Ulysses endure such things, nor did the Ithacan forget himself in so great a peril.” For when Virgil said that Ulysses did not forget himself, what else did he mean to be understood than that he remembered himself? Since, then, he was present to himself, he would in no way have remembered himself unless memory belonged to present things. Therefore, just as in things past that is called memory by which it comes about that they can be recalled and remembered, so in a present thing, which the mind is to itself, that by which it is at hand to itself, so that it can be understood by its own thought and both be joined by love of itself, is to be called memory without absurdity.

This trinity of the mind, then, is not the image of God because the mind remembers itself and understands and loves itself, but because it can also remember and understand and love him by whom it was made. And when it does this, it becomes wise itself. But if it does not do this, even when it remembers itself and understands and loves itself, it is foolish. Let it remember, then, its God, in whose image it was made, and understand and love him. To say this more briefly, let it worship God who was not made, by whom it was made capable of him and of whom it can be a partaker; for which reason it is written, “Behold, the worship of God is wisdom”; and not by its own light but by participation in that supreme light it will be wise, and where it is eternal, there it will reign in happiness. For this wisdom of man is so called in such a way that it is also God's. For then it is true; for if it is human, it is vain. But not God's in the sense of that by which God is wise. For he is not wise by participation in himself, as the mind is by participation in God. But just as the justice of God is spoken of, not only that by which he himself is just, but that which he gives to man when he justifies the ungodly, which the apostle commends when he says of some, “For not knowing the justice of God, and wishing to establish their own justice, they have not submitted to the justice of God”; so too it can be said of some, “Not knowing the wisdom of God, and wishing to establish their own, they have not submitted to the wisdom of God.” There is, then, a nature not made, which made all other natures, great and small, and is without doubt more excellent than those it made, and therefore than this one too of which we are speaking, rational and intellectual, which is the mind of man, made in the image of him who made it. And that nature more excellent than the rest is God. And indeed he is “not far from each one of us,” as the apostle says, adding, “For in him we live and move and are.” If he said this according to the body, it could be understood even of this bodily world. For in it too, according to the body, we live and move and are. Hence it must be taken according to the mind, which was made in his image, in a more excellent way, and one not visible but intelligible. For what is not in him, of whom it is divinely written, “For from him and through him and in him are all things”? If, then, all things are in him, in whom at last can those that live live, and those that move be moved, except in him in whom they are? Yet not all are with him in the way in which it was said to him, “I am always with you.” Nor is he with all in the way in which we say, “The Lord be with you.” It is, then, a great misery for man not to be with him without whom he cannot be. For in whom he is, he certainly is not without him; and yet if he does not remember him, and does not understand or love him, he is not with him. And what anyone has wholly forgotten, he certainly cannot even be reminded of.

Let us take an example for this from visible things. Someone whom you do not recognize says to you, “You know me”; and to remind you he tells you where, when, and how he became known to you; and if, when all the signs by which you might be called back to memory have been offered, you do not recognize him, you have so forgotten that all that knowledge has been wholly wiped out of your mind; and nothing else remains but that you believe the one who tells you this, that you once knew him; or not even that, if the speaker does not seem to you worthy of belief. But if you remember, you certainly return to your memory, and find in it what had not been wholly wiped out by forgetfulness. Let us return to that for which we used this example from human intercourse. Among other things the ninth psalm says, “Let sinners be turned into hell, all the nations that forget God.” And again the twenty-first says, “All the ends of the earth shall be reminded and shall turn to the Lord.” These nations, then, had not so forgotten God that they would not remember him even when reminded. But by forgetting God, as by forgetting their own life, they had been turned into death, that is, into hell. But when reminded they turn to the Lord, as though coming back to life by remembering their life, which forgetfulness had kept from them. Likewise we read in the ninety-third: “Understand now, you who are senseless among the people; and you fools, be wise at last. He who planted the ear, shall he not hear?” and so on. For it was said to those who, not understanding God, said vain things about him.

But there are more testimonies in the divine words about the love of God. For in it those other two are understood as following from it, because no one loves what he does not remember or what he is wholly ignorant of. Hence that most famous and chief commandment: “You shall love the Lord your God.” The human mind, then, has been so made that it never fails to remember itself, never fails to understand itself, never fails to love itself. But since one who hates someone is eager to harm him, not undeservedly is the mind of man too said to hate itself when it harms itself. For it wills itself evil without knowing it, while it does not think that what it wills is harmful to it; but yet it wills itself evil when it wills what would harm it; whence it is written, “He who loves iniquity hates his own soul.” He, then, who knows how to love himself loves God; but he who does not love God, even if he loves himself, which is implanted in him by nature, is nevertheless not unfittingly said to hate himself, since he does what is against himself, and pursues himself as though he were his own enemy. This is certainly a horrible error, that, although all want to benefit themselves, many do nothing but what is most destructive to them. When the poet was describing a like disease of dumb animals, he says: “May the gods give better things to the godly, and that madness to enemies! They tore their own torn limbs with bare teeth.” Since that was a disease of the body, why did he call it madness, unless because, while every animal is so commended to itself by nature that it guards itself as far as it can, that disease was such that they tore their own limbs, whose health they desired? But when the mind loves God, and, as has been said, consequently remembers and understands him, it is rightly commanded concerning its neighbor to love him as itself. For now it loves itself not perversely but rightly, when it loves God, by participation in whom that image not only exists but is also renewed from oldness, re-formed from deformity, made happy from unhappiness. For although it so loves itself that, if one or the other were set before it, it would rather lose all that it loves below itself than perish; yet by forsaking him who is higher, in relation to whom alone it could guard its strength and enjoy him as its light, to whom it is sung in the Psalm, “I will guard my strength toward you,” and in another, “Come to him and be enlightened,” it has become so weak and dark that it has slipped more unhappily away from itself too into things that are not what it is, and than which it is itself higher, through loves which it cannot overcome, and errors from which it does not see the way back. Hence, now repenting by God's mercy, it cries in the Psalms, “My strength has forsaken me, and the light of my eyes is not with me.” Yet in these great evils of weakness and error it could not lose its natural memory, understanding, and love of itself; for which reason it could rightly be said, as I mentioned above, “Although man walks in the image, yet he is disturbed in vain; he heaps up treasure and does not know for whom he will gather it.” For why does he heap up treasure, unless because his strength has forsaken him, through which, having God, he would need nothing? And why does he not know for whom he will gather it, unless because the light of his eyes is not with him? And so he does not see what the Truth says: “Fool, this night they require your soul of you; and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” Yet, because even such a man walks in the image, and the mind of man has memory and understanding and love of itself, if it were made plain to him that he could not have both, and he were allowed to choose one of the two, being about to lose the other, either the treasures he has gathered or his mind, who is so far without a mind as to prefer to have treasures rather than a mind? For treasures can often overthrow the mind; but a mind which is not overthrown by treasures can live more easily and freely without any treasures. And who will be able to possess any treasures except through the mind? For if an infant boy, though born very rich, being lord of all that is lawfully his, possesses nothing while his mind is asleep, in what way at last will anyone possess anything when his mind is lost? But why do I speak of treasures, which any human being, if such a choice were offered, would rather lack than his mind, when no one prefers them to, no one compares them with, the lights of the body, by which not just one man, as with gold, but every man possesses the heavens? For through the lights of the body each possesses whatever he gladly sees. Who, then, if he could not keep both and were forced to give up one, would not rather lose his treasures than his eyes? And yet if he were asked on a like condition whether he would rather lose his eyes or his mind, who does not see with his mind that he would rather lose his eyes than his mind? For a mind without the eyes of the flesh is still human, but the eyes of the flesh without a mind are bestial. And who would not rather be a man, even blind in the flesh, than a seeing beast? I have said these things so that even the slower, into whose eyes or ears these writings may come, might be reminded by me, though briefly, how much the mind loves itself even when weak and erring, by wrongly loving and pursuing the things that are below it. And it could not love itself if it did not know itself at all, that is, if it did not remember itself, nor understand itself; by which image of God in itself it is so powerful that it can cling to him whose image it is. For it is so ordered, in the order of natures, not of places, that there is nothing above it but him. Finally, when it has clung to him wholly, it will be one spirit; to which the apostle testifies, saying, “But he who clings to the Lord is one spirit”: the mind indeed coming to participate in his nature, truth, and happiness, but he not growing in his nature, truth, and happiness. In that nature, then, when it has happily clung to it, it will live unchangeably and will see as unchangeable all that it sees. Then, as divine Scripture promises it, its desire will be satisfied with good things, with unchangeable good things, the Trinity itself, its God, whose image it is; and so that it may never afterward be violated, it will be in the hidden place of his face, filled with so great an abundance of him that it will never delight in sinning. But now, when it sees itself, it does not see something unchangeable.

And of this it certainly has no doubt, that it is wretched and desires to be happy; nor does it hope this can come about for any other reason than that it is changeable. For if it were not changeable, as it could not become wretched from happy, so it could not become happy from wretched. And what would have made it wretched under an almighty and good Lord, except its own sin and the justice of its Lord? And what will make it happy, except its own merit and the reward of its Lord? But its merit too is the grace of him whose reward will be its happiness. For it cannot give itself the justice which it has lost and does not have. For it received this when man was made, and certainly lost it by sinning. It receives justice, then, on account of which it may deserve to receive happiness. Hence the apostle truly says to it, as to one beginning to be proud as though of its own good: “For what do you have that you did not receive? But if you received it, why do you boast as if you had not received it?” But when it rightly remembers its Lord, having received his Spirit, it feels altogether, because it learns this by inward teaching, that it can rise only by his gracious affection, and could fall only by its own voluntary failing. It certainly does not remember its happiness; for that was and is not, and the mind has wholly forgotten it, and therefore cannot even be reminded of it. But it believes about it the trustworthy writings of its God, written by his prophet, which tell of the happiness of paradise and point out by historical tradition that first good and evil of man. But it does remember the Lord its God; for he always is: he neither was and is not, nor is and was not; but as he never will not be, so he never was not. And he is everywhere whole; for which reason the mind lives and moves and is in him; and therefore it can remember him. Not because it recalls that it knew him in Adam, or anywhere else before the life of this body, or when it was first made so as to be put into this body; for it remembers none of these things at all; whatever of these is so has been wiped out by forgetfulness. But it is reminded so that it may turn to the Lord, as to that light by which it was in some way touched even when it was turned away from him. For hence it is that even the ungodly think of eternity, and rightly blame and rightly praise many things in the conduct of men. By what rules at last do they judge, except those in which they see how each ought to live, even if they themselves do not live in the same way? Where do they see them? For not in their own nature, since without doubt these things are seen by the mind, and it is agreed that their minds are changeable, whereas whoever has been able to see this in them sees these rules as unchangeable; nor in the disposition of their own mind, since those rules are rules of justice, whereas it is agreed that their minds are unjust. Where are these rules written, in which even the unjust man recognizes what is just and unjust, in which he sees that one must have what he himself does not have? Where, then, are they written, except in the book of that light which is called truth? from which every just law is copied, and transferred into the heart of the man who works justice, not by moving there but as if by being impressed, as the image from a ring passes into the wax and does not leave the ring. But he who does not work it, and yet sees what is to be worked, is the one who is turned away from that light, by which he is nevertheless touched. But he who does not even see how one should live sins more excusably, because he is not a transgressor of a known law; but even he is touched now and then by the brightness of the everywhere present truth when, on being admonished, he confesses.

But those who, when reminded, turn to the Lord from that deformity by which they were conformed to this world through worldly desires, are re-formed by him, hearing the apostle say, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be re-formed in the newness of your mind”; so that that image may begin to be re-formed by him by whom it was formed. For it cannot re-form itself, as it could deform itself. He says also elsewhere: “Be renewed in the spirit of your mind, and put on the new man, who is created according to God in justice and holiness of truth.” What he says, “created according to God,” is said in another place, “in the image of God.” But by sinning it lost justice and holiness of truth; for which reason this image became deformed and discolored; it receives it back when it is re-formed and renewed. And when he says, “in the spirit of your mind,” he did not mean two things to be understood there, as though the mind were one thing and the spirit of the mind another; but because every mind is a spirit, but not every spirit is a mind. For God too is a spirit, who cannot be renewed, because neither can he grow old. A spirit is also spoken of in man which is not the mind, to which images like bodies belong; of which he speaks to the Corinthians, where he says, “But if I pray in a tongue, my spirit prays, but my mind is unfruitful.” For he says this when what is said is not understood; because it cannot even be said unless the images of bodily sounds precede the sound of the mouth in the thought of the spirit. The soul of man too is called spirit; whence in the Gospel, “And bowing his head he gave up his spirit,” by which the death of the body, the soul departing, is signified. The spirit of a beast too is spoken of, as is most plainly written in Solomon's book Ecclesiastes, where he says, “Who knows whether the spirit of the sons of men goes upward, and whether the spirit of the beast goes down into the earth?” It is written also in Genesis, where it says that all flesh died in the flood which had in it the spirit of life. Wind too is called spirit, a thing most plainly bodily; whence that in the Psalms, “Fire, hail, snow, ice, spirit of the storm.” Since, then, spirit is spoken of in so many ways, by “the spirit of the mind” he meant that spirit which is called mind. As the same apostle also says, “in the stripping off of the body of the flesh.” He certainly did not mean two things to be understood, as though the flesh were one thing and the body of the flesh another; but because body is the name of many things of which none is flesh (for there are many bodies besides flesh, heavenly bodies and earthly bodies), he said “body of the flesh,” meaning the body which is flesh. So, then, by “the spirit of the mind” he means the spirit which is the mind. Elsewhere too he named the image even more plainly, giving the same command in other words: “Stripping off,” he says, “the old man with his deeds, put on the new man, who is being renewed in the knowledge of God according to the image of him who created him.” What we read there, then, “Put on the new man, who is created according to God,” is in this place, “Put on the new man, who is being renewed according to the image of him who created him.” There he says “according to God”; here, “according to the image of him who created him.” And in place of what he put there, “in justice and holiness of truth,” he put here, “in the knowledge of God.” This renewal and re-forming of the mind, then, takes place according to God, or according to the image of God. But it is said to be “according to God” so that it may not be thought to take place according to another creature; and “according to the image of God,” so that this renewal may be understood to take place in that thing where the image of God is, that is, in the mind. Just as we say that one who departs from the body faithful and just is dead according to the body, not according to the spirit. For what do we mean by “dead according to the body” except dead in body or by the body, not in soul or by the soul? Or if we say, “He is beautiful according to the body,” or, “strong according to the body,” not according to the mind, what else is this than “He is beautiful or strong in body, not in mind”? And we speak in this way innumerable times. Let us not, then, so understand “according to the image of him who created him” as though the image according to which it is renewed were another than the very image which is renewed.

Certainly this renewal does not take place in one moment of conversion itself, as that renewal in baptism takes place in one moment by the remission of all sins; for not even one sin, however small, remains that is not forgiven. But just as it is one thing to be free of fever and another to recover from the weakness which the fever has caused; and again it is one thing to take a weapon fixed in the body out of it, another to heal the wound it has made by a second treatment: so the first treatment is to remove the cause of the sickness, which is done through the pardon of all sins; the second is to heal the sickness itself, which is done gradually by making progress in the renewal of this image. These two are shown in the Psalm, where we read, “Who is gracious to all your iniquities,” which is done in baptism; then follows, “Who heals all your sicknesses,” which is done by daily advances, when this image is being renewed. Of this the apostle spoke most plainly, saying: “Even if our outer man is perishing, yet the inner man is being renewed day by day.” And it is renewed in the knowledge of God, that is, in justice and holiness of truth, as the apostolic testimonies which I mentioned a little earlier have it. He, then, who is renewed day by day by making progress in the knowledge of God and in justice and holiness of truth, transfers his love from temporal things to eternal, from visible to intelligible, from carnal to spiritual; and he diligently presses on to rein in and lessen desire for the former, and to bind himself to the latter by love. But he does this only so far as he is helped by God. For it is God's word: “Without me you can do nothing.” Whomever the last day of this life finds holding the faith of the Mediator in this progress and advance, he will be received by the holy angels, to be led to God whom he worshiped and to be made perfect by him, and at the end of the world he will receive an incorruptible body, not for punishment but for glory. For in this image the likeness of God will be perfect then, when the sight of God is perfect. Of this the apostle Paul says: “We see now through a mirror in an enigma, but then face to face.” He says likewise, “But we, beholding the glory of the Lord with unveiled face, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, as by the Spirit of the Lord”: this is what happens day by day in those who make good progress.

But the apostle John says: “Beloved, now we are sons of God, and it has not yet appeared what we shall be; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is.” From this it appears that the full likeness of God will come about in this image of God then, when it has received the full sight of him. Although this could seem to have been said by the apostle John also of the immortality of the body. For in this too we shall be like God, but only like the Son, because he alone in the Trinity took a body, in which he died and rose again, and carried it to the heights above. For this too is called the image of the Son of God, in which we shall have an immortal body like him, being conformed in this respect not to the image of the Father or of the Holy Spirit, but only of the Son, because of him alone we read, and accept with most sound faith, “The Word was made flesh.” For this reason the apostle says: “Those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers.” Firstborn, certainly, from the dead, according to the same apostle, by which death his flesh was sown in dishonor and rose in glory. According to this image of the Son, to which we are conformed in the body through immortality, we also do what the same apostle says, “As we have borne the image of the earthly, let us bear also the image of him who is from heaven”: that is, that we who were mortal according to Adam may hold by true faith and sure and firm hope that we shall be immortal according to Christ. For so we can now bear the same image, not yet in sight but in faith, not yet in reality but in hope. For the apostle was speaking of the resurrection of the body when he said these things.

But that image of which it was said, “Let us make man in our image and likeness,” since it was not said “in mine” or “in yours,” we believe man was made in the image of the Trinity, and we have grasped it by as much investigation as we could. And therefore what the apostle John says, “We shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is,” is rather to be understood according to this image; because he said it also of him of whom he had said, “We are sons of God.” And the immortality of the flesh will be perfected in that moment of the resurrection of which the apostle Paul says, “In the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet, and the dead will rise incorruptible, and we shall be changed.” For in that very twinkling of an eye, before the judgment, the spiritual body will rise in power, in incorruption, in glory, which is now sown in weakness, corruption, and dishonor as an animal body. But the image which is renewed in the spirit of the mind in the knowledge of God, not outwardly but inwardly, day by day, will be perfected by the very sight which will then be, after the judgment, face to face, but now makes progress through a mirror in an enigma. It is on account of its perfection that we must understand it was said, “We shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is.” For this gift will be given to us then, when it is said, “Come, blessed of my Father, take possession of the kingdom prepared for you.” For then the ungodly will be taken away, so that he may not see the glory of the Lord, when those on the left will go into eternal punishment, while those on the right go into eternal life. “And this,” as the Truth says, “is eternal life, that they may know you,” he says, “the one true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.” This contemplative wisdom, which I think is properly called wisdom in the holy writings, as distinguished from knowledge, the wisdom only of man, which indeed he has only from him by participation in whom the rational and intellectual mind can become truly wise, Cicero commends at the end of the dialogue Hortensius, saying: “If we consider these things day and night, and sharpen our understanding, which is the mind's eye, and take care that it never grows dull, that is, if we live in philosophy, we have great hope that, either, if this by which we perceive and think is mortal and perishable, we shall have a pleasant setting when our human duties are done, and an extinction not unpleasant, and as it were a rest from life; or, if, as the ancient philosophers, the greatest and by far the most famous, held, we have eternal and divine souls, then we must think that the more these have always kept to their course, that is, to reason and the desire of inquiry, and the less they have mixed and entangled themselves in the vices and errors of men, the easier will be their ascent and return to heaven.” Then, adding this very conclusion and ending his discourse by repeating it, he says: “Therefore, to end my speech at last, if we wish either to be extinguished peacefully when we have lived in these pursuits, or to move without delay from this home to another not a little better, we must put all our effort and care into these studies.” Here I wonder that a man of such genius promises to men living in philosophy, which makes happy by the contemplation of truth, a pleasant setting when their human duties are done, if this by which we perceive and think is mortal and perishable: as if what dies and perishes were something we did not love, or rather something we bitterly hated, so that its setting could be pleasant to us. But he had not learned this from the philosophers whom he praises highly; this opinion smacked of that New Academy, where it pleased him to doubt even the most manifest things. But from the philosophers, the greatest and by far the most famous, as he himself confesses, he had received that souls are eternal. And eternal souls are not unfittingly roused by this exhortation to be found in their course when the end of this life comes, that is, in reason and the desire of inquiry, and to mix and entangle themselves less in the vices and errors of men, so that their return to God may be easier. But this course, which is set in the love and investigation of truth, is not enough for the wretched, that is, for all mortals with this reason alone, without faith in the Mediator; which I have taken care to show, as far as I could, in the earlier books of this work, above all in the fourth and the thirteenth.

Wishing to exercise the reader, in the things that have been made, toward knowing him by whom they were made, we have now arrived at his image, which is man, in that by which he excels the other animals, that is, reason or understanding, and whatever else can be said of the rational or intellectual soul that pertains to the thing called the mind (mens) or rational spirit (animus). By this name some authors of the Latin language, in their own manner of speaking, distinguish that which excels in man and is not in the beast from the soul (anima), which is in the beast too. If, then, we seek anything above this nature, and seek truly, it is God, a nature, that is, not created but creating. Whether this is a Trinity we must now show, not only to those who believe, by the authority of divine Scripture, but also to those who understand, by some reasoning, if we can. Why I said “if we can” the matter itself will show better once it has begun to be examined by argument.

For God himself whom we seek will help, as I hope, so that our labor may not be fruitless, and that we may understand how it was said in the holy Psalm: “Let the heart of those who seek the Lord rejoice; seek the Lord and be strengthened; seek his face always.” For it seems that what is always sought is never found; and how then will the heart of those who seek rejoice, and not rather be saddened, if they cannot find what they seek? For it does not say, “Let the heart of those who find rejoice,” but “of those who seek the Lord.” And yet that the Lord God can be found while he is sought the prophet Isaiah testifies, when he says: “Seek the Lord, and as soon as you have found him, call upon him; and when he has drawn near to you, let the wicked forsake his ways, and the unrighteous man his thoughts.” If, then, when sought he can be found, why was it said, “Seek his face always”? Is he perhaps to be sought even when found? For in this way things incomprehensible are to be sought, so that he who has been able to find how incomprehensible is what he was seeking may not think he has found nothing. Why then does he so seek, if he comprehends that what he seeks is incomprehensible, unless because he must not cease as long as he makes progress in the very search for incomprehensible things, and becomes better and better by seeking so great a good, which is both sought in order to be found and found in order to be sought? For it is sought that it may be found more sweetly, and found that it may be sought more eagerly. In this sense one can take what is said in the book Ecclesiasticus, that Wisdom says: “Those who eat me will hunger still, and those who drink me will thirst still.” For they eat and drink because they find; and because they hunger and thirst they still seek. Faith seeks, understanding finds; for which reason the prophet says, “Unless you believe, you will not understand.” And again, understanding still seeks him whom it finds; for “God looked down upon the sons of men,” as is sung in the holy Psalm, “to see if there is anyone who understands or seeks God.” For this, then, man ought to have understanding: that he may seek God.

We shall, then, have lingered long enough among the things God has made, that through them he who made them might be known: “For his invisible things, from the creation of the world, are clearly seen, being understood through the things that are made.” Hence those are rebuked in the book of Wisdom who “from the good things that are seen could not know him who is, nor, attending to the works, recognized the craftsman; but supposed either fire, or wind, or the swift air, or the circle of the stars, or the violence of waters, or the lights of heaven to be gods, the rulers of the world. If, delighted by their beauty, they supposed these to be gods, let them know how much better their Lord is; for the author of beauty created them. Or if they marveled at their power and working, let them understand from these how much mightier is he who established them. For from the greatness of the beauty and of the creature the Creator of these could knowably be seen.” I have set down these words from the book of Wisdom so that none of the faithful may think that I have sought vainly and idly in the creature first, through certain trinities of its own kind, step by step as it were, until I came to the mind of man, the traces of that supreme Trinity which we seek when we seek God.

But since the necessity of discussing and reasoning through fourteen books has compelled us to say many things, which we cannot view all at once so as to refer them by swift thought to what we wish to grasp, I will do, as far as I can with the Lord's help, the following: whatever I have brought to knowledge by argument in each volume I will gather briefly, with the argument removed, and set down as under one view of the mind, not the way each thing persuaded, but the very things of which we were persuaded; so that what follows may not be so far from what preceded that looking at what follows causes us to forget what preceded, or, if it does, that what has slipped away may quickly be recovered by rereading.

In the first book the unity and equality of that supreme Trinity is shown according to the holy Scriptures. In the second, third, and fourth, the same; but the question of the sending of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, carefully treated, made three books; and it was shown that the one sent is not therefore less than the sender because the one sent and the other was sent, since the Trinity, which is equal in all things, and equally unchangeable and invisible in its nature and present everywhere, works inseparably. In the fifth, for the sake of those to whom the substance of the Father and the Son seems not to be the same because they think that everything said of God is said according to substance, and who therefore contend that begetting and being begotten, or being begotten and unbegotten, since they are different, are different substances, it is shown that not everything said of God is said according to substance, as he is called good and great according to substance, and whatever else is said of him with respect to himself; but that some things are also said relatively, that is, not with respect to himself but with respect to something that he is not, as he is called Father with respect to the Son, or Lord with respect to the creature that serves him; and that where something is said relatively, that is, with respect to something he is not, and even in time, as in “Lord, you have become our refuge,” nothing happens to him by which he is changed, but he remains entirely unchangeable in his nature or essence. In the sixth, how Christ was called by the apostle's mouth “the power of God and the wisdom of God” is so discussed that the same question is deferred to be treated more carefully: whether he from whom Christ was begotten is not himself wisdom, but only the father of his own wisdom, or whether wisdom begot wisdom. But whichever of these were so, in this book too the equality of the Trinity appeared, and that God is not threefold but a Trinity; nor are the Father and the Son something double compared with a single Holy Spirit, since there not even three are anything more than one of them. It was also discussed how one may understand what Bishop Hilary said: “Eternity in the Father, form in the Image, use in the Gift.” In the seventh, the question that had been deferred is explained, so that God who begot the Son is not only the Father of his power and wisdom but himself power and wisdom, and so also the Holy Spirit; and yet they are not together three powers or three wisdoms, but one power and one wisdom, as one God and one essence. Then it was asked how they are called one essence, three persons, or by some Greeks one essence, three substances; and it was found that this is said from the necessity of speech, so that they might be expressed by some one name when it is asked what the three are whom we truly confess to be three, namely the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. In the eighth, it is made clear by reasoning also to those who understand that in the substance of truth not only is the Father not greater than the Son, but neither are both together anything greater than the Holy Spirit alone, nor any two in the same Trinity anything greater than one, nor all three together anything greater than each singly. Then, through the truth that is beheld when understood, through the supreme good from which is all good, and through the justice for which a just mind is loved even by a mind not yet just, I pointed the way to understanding, as far as possible, the nature not only incorporeal but also unchangeable which is God; and through love, which in the holy Scriptures is called God, through which the Trinity too began in some way to appear to those who understand, as the lover, what is loved, and love. In the ninth, the argument came to the image of God, which is man according to the mind; and in it a certain trinity is found, namely the mind, the knowledge by which it knows itself, and the love by which it loves itself and its knowledge; and these three are shown to be equal to one another and of one essence. In the tenth, this same subject was treated more carefully and subtly, and brought to the point that a more evident trinity of the mind was found, namely in memory, understanding, and will. But since this too was discovered, that the mind could never be such as not to remember itself, understand itself, and love itself, although it did not always think of itself, and that when it did think of itself it did not in the same thought distinguish itself from bodily things, the argument about the Trinity, of which this is the image, was deferred, so that a trinity might be found even in bodily things seen, and the reader's attention might be exercised more distinctly in it. In the eleventh, therefore, the sense of the eyes was chosen, so that what was found in it might be recognized also in the other four bodily senses, though not stated; and thus a trinity of the outer man appeared, first in the things seen from outside: from the body that is seen, the form thence impressed on the gaze of the one seeing, and the intention of the will joining both. But these three were plainly neither equal to one another nor of one substance. Then in the mind (animus) itself another trinity was found, brought in as it were from the things perceived from outside, in which the same three appeared to be of one substance: the image of the body that is in memory, the forming from it when the gaze of the one thinking is turned to it, and the intention of the will joining both. But this trinity was found to belong to the outer man, because it was brought in from bodies perceived from outside. In the twelfth it seemed necessary to distinguish wisdom from knowledge, and in that which is properly called knowledge, because it is lower, first to seek a certain trinity of its own kind, which, though it already belongs to the inner man, is not yet to be called or thought the image of God. And this is done in the thirteenth book through the commendation of the Christian faith. In the fourteenth, the true wisdom of man is discussed, that is, the wisdom given by God's gift in participation of God himself, which is distinct from knowledge; and the argument reaches the point that a trinity appears in the image of God, which is man according to the mind, which “is renewed in the knowledge of God according to the image of him who created” man in his own image, and so receives wisdom, where there is contemplation of eternal things.

Let us, then, now seek the Trinity which is God in those eternal, incorporeal, and unchangeable things themselves, in the perfect contemplation of which a happy life, which can only be eternal, is promised us. For not only does the authority of the divine Books proclaim that God exists, but the whole nature of things itself, which surrounds us and to which we also belong, proclaims that it has a most excellent Maker, who has given us a mind and natural reason, by which we see that living things are to be preferred to non-living, sentient to non-sentient, understanding to non-understanding, immortal to mortal, powerful to powerless, just to unjust, beautiful to deformed, good to evil, incorruptible to corruptible, unchangeable to changeable, invisible to visible, incorporeal to corporeal, happy to wretched. And therefore, since we set the Creator above created things without any doubt, we must confess that he lives supremely, perceives and understands all things, and cannot die, be corrupted, or be changed; and that he is not a body but a spirit, of all the most powerful, most just, most beautiful, best, and most happy.

But all these things that I have said, and whatever others in a like manner of human speech seem worthily said of God, befit both the whole Trinity, which is one God, and each person in the same Trinity. For who would dare say that either the one God, which is the Trinity itself, or the Father, or the Son, or the Holy Spirit is not living, or perceives or understands nothing, or that, in that nature by which they are declared equal to one another, any of them is mortal or corruptible or changeable or bodily? Or who would deny that each there is most powerful, most just, most beautiful, best, most happy? If, then, all these things and others like them can be said both of the Trinity itself and of each in it, where or how will the Trinity appear? Let us, then, first reduce these many to some few. For what is called life in God is his very essence and nature. God, then, does not live except by the life which he himself is to himself. But this life is not such as is in a tree, where there is no understanding and no sensation; nor such as is in a beast, for the life of a beast has fivefold sensation but no understanding at all. But that life which is God perceives and understands all things, and perceives with mind, not with body, because “God is spirit.” God does not perceive through a body as animals that have bodies do, for he does not consist of soul and body; and therefore that simple nature perceives as it understands and understands as it perceives, and for it sensation is the same as understanding. Nor is it such that at some time it ceases to be or began to be, for it is immortal. And not in vain was it said of him that he “alone has immortality”; for his immortality is truly immortality, in whose nature there is no change. That is also true eternity, by which God is unchangeable, without beginning, without end, and consequently incorruptible. One and the same thing, then, is said whether God is called eternal, or immortal, or incorruptible, or unchangeable; and likewise when he is called living and understanding, which is surely wise, the same thing is said. For he did not acquire wisdom by which to be wise, but he is himself wisdom. And this life is the same as the power or might, and the same as the beauty, by which he is called powerful and beautiful. For what is more powerful and more beautiful than wisdom, which “reaches from end to end mightily and orders all things sweetly”? Goodness, too, and justice: do they differ from each other in the nature of God as they do in his works, as if they were two different qualities of God, one goodness, the other justice? Certainly not; but what is justice is goodness itself, and what is goodness is happiness itself. And God is called incorporeal or bodiless so that he may be believed or understood to be spirit, not body.

Accordingly, if we say eternal, immortal, incorruptible, unchangeable, living, wise, powerful, beautiful, just, good, happy, spirit, the last of all these that I have put seems to signify only substance, and the others qualities of this substance; but it is not so in that ineffable and simple nature. For whatever seems to be said there according to qualities is to be understood according to substance or essence. Far be it that God should be called spirit according to substance and good according to quality; both are according to substance. So it is with all the others we have mentioned, of which we have already said much in the earlier books. Of the first four, then, which we have just listed and arranged, namely eternal, immortal, incorruptible, unchangeable, let us choose one, since these four signify one thing, as I have already argued, so that our attention may not be stretched over many; and let it be rather the one placed first, namely eternal. Let us do the same with the second four, which are living, wise, powerful, beautiful. And since life of some kind is found even in a beast, which has no wisdom, while these two, wisdom and power, are so compared with each other in man that holy Scripture said, “Better is the wise man than the strong,” and since bodies too are commonly called beautiful, let the one we choose of these four be wise; although these four are not to be called unequal in God, for they are four names but one reality. Of the third and last four, although in God to be just is the same as to be good and to be happy, and to be spirit is the same as to be just and good and happy, yet because in men there can be a spirit that is not happy, and a man can be just and good but not yet happy, while he who is happy is certainly also just and good and a spirit, let us rather choose this one, which in men cannot exist without those three, namely happy.

When we say, then, “eternal, wise, happy,” are these three the Trinity which is called God? We have indeed reduced those twelve to this small number of three; but in the same way perhaps we can reduce these three also to some one of them. For if in God's nature wisdom and power can be one and the same thing, or life and wisdom, why can eternity and wisdom, or happiness and wisdom, not be one and the same thing in God's nature? And therefore, just as it made no difference whether we spoke of those twelve or of these three, when we reduced those many to this small number, so it makes no difference whether we speak of these three or of that one into whose singleness we have shown that the other two can likewise be reduced. What manner of argument, then, what force and power of understanding, what liveliness of reason, what sharpness of thought will show (to say nothing now of the others) how this one thing, that God is called wisdom, is a Trinity? For God does not receive wisdom from anyone, as we receive it from him; he is himself his own wisdom, because his wisdom is not one thing and his essence another: for him, to be is to be wise. Christ is indeed called in the holy Scriptures “the power of God and the wisdom of God”; but how this is to be understood, lest the Son seem to make the Father wise, was discussed in the seventh book; and the reasoning came to this, that the Son is wisdom from wisdom just as he is light from light, God from God. Nor could we find the Holy Spirit to be anything else than himself also wisdom, and all together one wisdom, as one God, one essence. How, then, do we understand this wisdom, which is God, to be a Trinity? I did not say, “How do we believe it?” for among the faithful this ought to raise no question; but if in some way we can see by understanding what we believe, what will that way be?

If we recall where in these books the Trinity began to appear to our understanding, the eighth book comes to mind. There, as far as we could, we tried by argument to lift the attention of the mind to understanding that most excellent and unchangeable nature which our mind is not. Yet we beheld it in such a way that it was both not far from us and above us, not in place but by its own venerable and wonderful excellence, so that it seemed to be with us by its present light. In it, however, no Trinity yet appeared to us, because we did not hold the gaze of our mind steady in that brightness to seek it; we discerned only, after a fashion, that there was no mass in which the magnitude of two or three must be believed to be more than that of one. But when we came to love, which in holy Scripture is called God, the Trinity shone out a little: the lover, what is loved, and love. But because that ineffable light beat back our gaze, and the weakness of our mind was in some way shown to be not yet able to bear it, we turned back, between what we had begun and what we had planned, to the more familiar consideration, as it were, of our own mind, according to which man was made in the image of God, in order to refresh our laboring attention; and from there, from the ninth book to the fourteenth, we lingered in the creature which we are, so that we might be able to behold the invisible things of God, understood through the things that are made. And see, now that our understanding has been exercised in lower things as much as was necessary, or perhaps more than was necessary, we wish to lift ourselves to behold the supreme Trinity which is God, and we are not able. We see most certain trinities: those that arise from outside from bodily things, or when the very things perceived from outside are thought of; or when the things that arise in the mind and do not belong to the bodily senses, such as faith, or the virtues, which are the arts of conducting life, are discerned by plain reason and held by knowledge; or when the mind itself, by which we know whatever we truly say we know, is known to itself or thinks of itself; or when it beholds something that it is not, eternal and unchangeable. Do we, then, as we see most certain trinities in all these, because they arise in us or are in us when we remember, look at, and will these things, so also see the Trinity that is God, because there too by understanding we behold, as it were, the one speaking and his Word, that is, the Father and the Son, and the love proceeding thence, common to both, namely the Holy Spirit? Or do we see these trinities that belong to our senses or mind rather than believe them, but believe rather than see that God is a Trinity? If this is so, then either we behold none of his invisible things understood through the things that are made, or, if we behold any, we do not behold the Trinity in them, and there is there something that we behold and something that, though not beheld, we must believe. But that we behold an unchangeable good which we are not, the eighth book showed; and the fourteenth reminded us of it when we spoke of the wisdom which man has from God. Why, then, do we not recognize the Trinity there? Does this wisdom, which is called God, not understand itself, not love itself? Who would say so? Or who is there who does not see that where there is no knowledge there is in no way wisdom? Or are we to think that the wisdom which is God knows other things and does not know itself, or loves other things and does not love itself? If it is foolish and impious to say or believe this, see, then, a trinity: wisdom, its knowledge of itself, and its love of itself. For so in man too we find a trinity: the mind, the knowledge by which it knows itself, and the love by which it loves itself.

But these three are in man in such a way that they are not themselves man. For man, as the ancients defined him, is a rational mortal animal. These things, then, are what excel in man; they are not themselves man. And one person, that is, each individual man, has these three in his mind. And if we define man thus, saying, “Man is a rational substance consisting of soul and body,” there is no doubt that man has a soul which is not body and a body which is not soul. And therefore those three are not man, but belong to man or are in man. Even with the body set aside, if the soul alone is thought of, the mind is something of it, like its head, or eye, or face; but these are not to be thought of as bodies. It is not, then, the soul, but what excels in the soul, that is called mind. But can we say that the Trinity is in God in such a way as to be something of God and not itself God? Therefore each individual man, who is called the image of God not according to all that belongs to his nature but according to his mind alone, is one person, and is the image of the Trinity in his mind. But that Trinity of which he is the image is as a whole nothing other than God, and as a whole nothing other than the Trinity. Nor does anything belong to God's nature that does not belong to that Trinity; and the three persons are of one essence, not as each individual man is one person.

There is also a great difference in this: whether we speak of the mind in man and its knowledge and love, or of memory, understanding, and will, we remember nothing of the mind except through memory, understand nothing except through understanding, and love nothing except through will. But in that Trinity who would dare say that the Father understands neither himself nor the Son nor the Holy Spirit except through the Son, or loves except through the Holy Spirit, but through himself only remembers himself or the Son or the Holy Spirit; and in the same way that the Son remembers neither himself nor the Father except through the Father, nor loves except through the Holy Spirit, but through himself only understands the Father, himself, and the Holy Spirit; and likewise that the Holy Spirit through the Father remembers the Father, the Son, and himself, and through the Son understands the Father, the Son, and himself, but through himself only loves himself, the Father, and the Son: as though the Father were the memory of himself, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, the Son the understanding of himself, of the Father, and of the Holy Spirit, and the Holy Spirit the love of himself, of the Father, and of the Son? Who would presume to suppose or affirm these things in that Trinity? For if there the Son alone understands, for himself and for the Father and for the Holy Spirit, we return to that absurdity, that the Father is not wise of himself but of the Son, and that wisdom did not beget wisdom, but the Father is said to be wise by the wisdom which he begot. For where there is no understanding there can be no wisdom; and therefore if the Father does not understand for himself, but the Son understands for the Father, the Son certainly makes the Father wise. And if for God to be is to be wise, and his essence is the same as his wisdom, it is not the Son who has his essence from the Father, which is true, but rather the Father who has it from the Son, which is utterly absurd and false. That we discussed, refuted, and rejected this absurdity in the seventh book is most certain. God the Father, then, is wise by that wisdom which he himself is to himself, and the Son is the wisdom of the Father from the wisdom which is the Father, from whom the Son was begotten. Consequently the Father also understands by that understanding which he himself is to himself, for he who did not understand would not be wise; and the Son is the understanding of the Father, begotten from the understanding which is the Father. This can fittingly be said of memory too. For how is he wise who remembers nothing, or does not remember himself? Accordingly, because the Father is wisdom and the Son is wisdom, as the Father remembers himself, so does the Son; and as the Father remembers himself and the Son by a memory not of the Son but his own, so the Son remembers himself and the Father by a memory not of the Father but his own. And where there is no love, who would say there is any wisdom? From this it follows that the Father is his own love just as he is his own understanding and memory. See, then: those three, memory, understanding, and love or will, in that supreme and unchangeable essence which is God, are not the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, but the Father alone. And because the Son too is wisdom begotten from wisdom, just as neither the Father nor the Holy Spirit understands for him, but he himself for himself, so neither does the Father remember for him nor the Holy Spirit love for him, but he himself for himself; for he too is his own memory, his own understanding, his own love; but that he is so he has from the Father, from whom he is born. The Holy Spirit also, because he is wisdom proceeding from wisdom, does not have the Father as his memory and the Son as his understanding and himself as his love; for he would not be wisdom if another remembered for him and another understood for him and he only loved for himself; but he himself has these three, and has them in such a way that he himself is these very things. Yet that it is so he has from that from which he proceeds.

Who among men, then, can comprehend that wisdom by which God knows all things, in such a way that neither do the things called past pass away there, nor are the things called future awaited, as if absent, until they come, but past and future together with the present are all present; nor are things thought of one by one, passing in thought from one to another, but all are at hand at once in a single view: who among men, I say, comprehends that wisdom, and the same prudence, and the same knowledge, since we do not even comprehend our own? The things present to our senses or our understanding we can behold after a fashion; the things that are absent, yet were present, we know through memory, if we have not forgotten them. Nor do we infer the past from the future, but the future from the past, and yet not with firm knowledge. For certain of our thoughts, which we foresee as about to come, as if more clearly and certainly near at hand, we carry out by the work of memory, when we are able and as far as we are able; and memory seems to belong not to what is future but to what is past. One can test this in those sayings or songs whose sequence we render from memory. For unless we foresaw in thought what follows, we would certainly not say it. And yet it is not foresight that equips us to foresee, but memory. For until all that we say or sing is finished, there is nothing that is not uttered as foreseen and looked ahead to. And yet when we do this, we are not said to sing or speak with foresight but from memory; and those who are very able at uttering many things in this way are usually praised not for their foresight but for their memory. That these things happen in our mind or by our mind we know and are most certain; but how they happen, the more attentively we try to observe, the more our speech fails, and our very attention does not hold out, so that our understanding, if not our tongue, might arrive at something clear. And do we think that with such weakness of mind we can comprehend whether the providence of God is the same as memory and understanding, God who does not look at things one by one in thinking, but embraces all that he knows in one eternal, unchangeable, and ineffable vision? In this difficulty and distress, then, one may cry out to the living God: “Your knowledge is made wonderful from me, and I shall not be able to reach it.” For from myself I understand how wonderful and incomprehensible is your knowledge by which you made me, since I cannot comprehend even myself whom you made; and yet “in my meditation a fire flames up,” so that I seek your face always.

I know that wisdom is an incorporeal substance, and that it is the light in which are seen the things that are not seen by fleshly eyes; and yet so great and so spiritual a man says, “We see now through a mirror in an enigma, but then face to face.” If we ask what kind of mirror this is and what it is, this surely occurs to us, that in a mirror nothing is seen but an image. This, then, is what we have tried to do: through this image which we are, to see after a fashion him by whom we were made, as through a mirror. This is also what the same apostle signifies when he says: “But we, with unveiled face beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are transformed into the same image from glory to glory, as by the Spirit of the Lord.” He said speculantes, meaning “seeing through a mirror (speculum),” not “looking out from a watchtower (specula).” In the Greek language, from which the apostolic letters were translated into Latin, this is not ambiguous. There the mirror, in which the images of things appear, is wholly different even in the sound of the word from the watchtower, from whose height we view something farther off; and it is quite clear that the apostle took “beholding the glory of the Lord” from the mirror, not from the watchtower. And when he says, “are transformed into the same image,” he certainly means the image of God, calling it “the same,” that is, this very image which we behold; because the same image is also the glory of God, as he says elsewhere: “A man ought not to veil his head, since he is the image and glory of God”; we have already treated these words in the twelfth book. He says “we are transformed,” that is, we are changed from form to form, and we pass from an obscure form to a bright form; because even the obscure one is the image of God, and if image, then surely also glory, in which we were created as men, excelling the other animals. For it was of human nature itself that it was said, “A man ought not to veil his head, since he is the image and glory of God.” When this nature, the most excellent among created things, is justified from ungodliness by its Creator, it is transferred from a deformed form to a beautiful form. For even in ungodliness itself, the more damnable the vice, the more certainly praiseworthy the nature. And for this reason he added “from glory to glory”: from the glory of creation to the glory of justification. Though “from glory to glory” can also be understood in other ways: from the glory of faith to the glory of sight; from the glory by which we are sons of God to the glory by which we shall be like him, “because we shall see him as he is.” And by adding “as by the Spirit of the Lord,” he shows that the good of so desirable a transformation is conferred on us by the grace of God.

These things have been said because the apostle says that we now see through a mirror. But as for his adding “in an enigma,” this is unknown to many who do not know the literature that contains a certain teaching about modes of speech, which the Greeks call tropes; and we too use that Greek word instead of a Latin one. For as we more commonly say schemata than “figures,” so we more commonly say tropes than “modes.” But to express in Latin the names of the individual modes or tropes, so that each answers to each, is very difficult and most unusual. Hence some of our translators, where the apostle says, “which things are an allegory,” not wishing to use the Greek word, translated by circumlocution, saying, “which things signify one thing by another.” Of this trope, that is, allegory, there are several species, among which is also what is called an enigma. The definition of the general name must embrace all the species too. And therefore, as every horse is an animal but not every animal is a horse, so every enigma is an allegory but not every allegory is an enigma. What, then, is allegory but a trope in which one thing is understood from another, like the passage to the Thessalonians: “So then let us not sleep as others do, but let us keep awake and be sober. For those who sleep sleep at night, and those who are drunk are drunk at night; but let us who are of the day be sober”? But this allegory is not an enigma; for, except to the very slow, its sense is at hand. An enigma, to explain briefly, is an obscure allegory, such as “The leech had three daughters,” and whatever is similar. But where the apostle named an allegory, he found it not in words but in a deed: from the two sons of Abraham, one by the slave woman and the other by the free woman, which was not only said but also done, he showed that two covenants are to be understood; and before he explained it, it was obscure. Accordingly such an allegory, which is the general name, could be specifically called an enigma. But since not only those who do not know the literature from which tropes are learned ask what the apostle meant by saying that we now see in an enigma, but also those who do know it still wish to know what that enigma is in which we now see, one meaning must be found from both: from what he says, “We see now through a mirror,” and from what he adds, “in an enigma.” For it is one sentence when it is said whole: “We see now through a mirror in an enigma.” Accordingly, as it seems to me, as by the name of mirror he meant an image, so by the name of enigma he meant a likeness, but an obscure one and difficult to see into. Since, then, by the names of mirror and enigma any likenesses can be understood as signified by the apostle that are suited to understanding God in the way that is possible, still nothing is more suitable than that which is not in vain called his image. Let no one wonder, then, that even in this mode of seeing granted to this life, namely through a mirror in an enigma, we labor to see in whatever way we can. For the name of enigma would not sound here if seeing were easy. And this is a greater enigma: that we do not see what we cannot fail to see. For who does not see his own thought? And who sees his own thought, I do not mean with fleshly eyes, but with the inner sight itself? Who does not see it, and who sees it? For thought is a certain sight of the mind, whether those things are present which are seen by bodily eyes too or perceived by the other senses; or they are not present and their likenesses are discerned in thought; or none of these, but things are thought that are neither bodily nor likenesses of bodily things, such as virtues and vices, or as thought itself is thought of; or those things that are handed down through the disciplines and liberal studies; or the higher causes and reasons of all these are thought of in the unchangeable nature; or even when we think of evil, vain, and false things, either with the sense not consenting or with consent erring.

But now let us speak of those things which we think of as known, and which we have in our knowledge even when we are not thinking of them, whether they belong to the contemplative knowledge, which I have argued is properly to be called wisdom, or to the active, which is properly to be called knowledge. For both together belong to the one mind and are one image of God. But when the lower is treated more distinctly and separately, then it is not to be called the image of God, although even then some likeness of that Trinity is found in it, as we showed in the thirteenth volume. Now, then, we are speaking of the whole of man's knowledge together, in which whatever things are known to us are known; and they are certainly true, otherwise they would not be known. For no one knows false things except when he knows them to be false; and if he knows this, he knows something true, for it is true that those things are false. We are now discussing, then, the things we think of as known, and which are known to us even when they are not being thought of by us. But certainly, if we wished to say them, we could not do so without thinking them. For even if no words sound, he who thinks certainly speaks in his heart. Hence the passage in the book of Wisdom: “They said among themselves, thinking not rightly.” For it explained what “they said among themselves” means when it added “thinking.” Similar to this is the passage in the Gospel where certain scribes, having heard the Lord say to the paralytic, “Take heart, son, your sins are forgiven you,” said within themselves, “This man blasphemes.” For what is “they said within themselves” but “by thinking”? Then follows: “And when Jesus saw their thoughts, he said, Why do you think evil in your hearts?” So Matthew. But Luke tells the same thing thus: “The scribes and Pharisees began to think, saying, Who is this who speaks blasphemies? Who can forgive sins but God alone? But when Jesus knew their thoughts, he answered and said to them, What are you thinking in your hearts?” What in the book of Wisdom is “they said, thinking,” here is “they thought, saying.” For both there and here it is shown that to speak within oneself and in one's heart is to speak by thinking. For they said within themselves, and it was said to them, “What are you thinking?” And of that rich man whose field brought forth abundant crops the Lord himself says, “And he thought within himself, saying.”

Some thoughts, then, are speech of the heart, where the Lord shows there is also a mouth, when he says: “Not what enters into the mouth defiles a man, but what comes out of the mouth, this defiles a man.” In one sentence he included two mouths of man, one of the body, the other of the heart. For that by which they had thought a man defiled enters the mouth of the body; but that by which the Lord said a man is defiled comes out of the mouth of the heart. So indeed he himself explained what he had said. For a little later he says of this to his disciples: “Are you also still without understanding? Do you not understand that whatever enters the mouth goes into the belly and is cast out into the drain?” Here he certainly showed most plainly the mouth of the body. But in what follows, showing the mouth of the heart, he says: “But the things that come out of the mouth come forth from the heart, and these defile a man. For out of the heart come evil thoughts,” and so on. What is clearer than this explanation? And yet, though we say that thoughts are speech of the heart, they are not on that account not also sights, arising from the sights of knowledge, when they are true. For outwardly, when these things happen through the body, speech is one thing and sight another; but inwardly, when we think, both are one. Just as hearing and sight are two things differing from each other in the bodily senses, but in the mind it is not one thing to see and another to hear; and therefore, though speech outwardly is not seen but rather heard, yet the holy Gospel says that inner speech, that is, thoughts, were seen by the Lord, not heard: “They said within themselves, This man blasphemes”; then it added, “And when Jesus saw their thoughts.” He saw, then, what they said. For by his own thought he saw their thoughts, which they supposed they alone saw.

Whoever, then, can understand a word not only before it sounds but even before the images of its sounds are turned over in thought (for this is what belongs to no language, that is, to none of those called the languages of the nations, of which our Latin is one): whoever, I say, can understand this can already see through this mirror and in this enigma some likeness of that Word of which it was said, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” For necessarily, when we speak what is true, that is, speak what we know, from the very knowledge which we hold in memory a word is born that is wholly of the same kind as the knowledge from which it is born. For the thought formed from the thing we know is the word which we speak in the heart, which is neither Greek nor Latin nor of any other language; but when it is necessary to convey it to the knowledge of those to whom we speak, some sign is taken up by which it is signified. And usually a sound, sometimes also a nod, is shown, the one to the ears, the other to the eyes, so that by bodily signs the word which we bear in the mind may become known to the bodily senses too. For what is nodding but speaking visibly, in a certain way? There is testimony to this in the holy Scriptures; for in the Gospel according to John we read: “Truly, truly, I say to you, one of you will betray me. The disciples then looked at one another, uncertain of whom he spoke. Now one of his disciples, whom Jesus loved, was reclining in Jesus' bosom; Simon Peter therefore nodded to him and said to him, Who is it of whom he speaks?” See, by nodding he said what he did not dare to say aloud. But these and similar bodily signs we present to the ears or eyes of those present to whom we speak; and letters were invented through which we might converse even with the absent; but these are signs of spoken words, while spoken words themselves in our speech are signs of the things we think.

Accordingly, the word that sounds outside is a sign of the word that shines within, to which the name of word belongs more truly. For what is uttered by the mouth of flesh is the voice of the word; and it too is called a word, because of that by which it was taken up so as to appear outwardly. For thus our word becomes in a certain way a bodily voice, by taking up that in which it may be manifested to the senses of men, as the Word of God became flesh by taking up that in which he too might be manifested to the senses of men. And as our word becomes voice and is not changed into voice, so the Word of God became flesh, but far be it that he should be changed into flesh. For it is by taking it up, not by being consumed into it, that both ours becomes voice and that Word became flesh. Therefore whoever desires to arrive at some kind of likeness of the Word of God, though unlike in many respects, should not look at our word that sounds in the ears, either when it is uttered by the voice or when it is thought in silence. For the words of all spoken languages are thought in silence too, and songs are run through in the mind while the mouth of the body is silent; and not only the measures of syllables but also the melodies of songs, though they are bodily and belong to the bodily sense called hearing, are at hand, through certain incorporeal images of their own, to those who think of them and silently turn all these things over. But these must be passed over so that we may arrive at that word of man through whose likeness, of whatever kind, the Word of God may be seen after a fashion, as in an enigma: not that word which came to this or that prophet, and of which it was said, “But the word of God grew and multiplied”; and of which it was said again, “So faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ”; and again, “When you received from us the word of the hearing of God, you received it not as the word of men, but as it truly is, the word of God.” And countless similar things are said in the Scriptures of the word of God, which in the sounds of many different languages is spread through human hearts and mouths. But it is called the word of God because divine teaching is handed down, not human. But we are seeking now to see, in whatever way, through this likeness, that Word of God of which it was said, “The Word was God”; of which it was said, “All things were made through him”; of which it was said, “The Word became flesh”; of which it was said, “The fountain of wisdom is the Word of God on high.” We must arrive, then, at that word of man, the word of a rational living being, the word of the image of God, not born of God but made by God, which is neither uttered in sound nor thought in the likeness of sound, such as must belong to some language, but which precedes all the signs by which it is signified, and is begotten from the knowledge that abides in the mind, when that same knowledge is spoken inwardly just as it is. For the sight of thought is most like the sight of knowledge. For when it is spoken through sound or through some bodily sign, it is not spoken as it is, but as it can be seen or heard through the body. When, therefore, what is in the knowledge is in the word, then it is a true word, and truth such as is expected from man: that what is in the knowledge is also in the word, and what is not in the knowledge is not in the word either. Here is recognized: “Yes, yes; no, no.” Thus this likeness of the made image approaches, as far as it can, that likeness of the born image, by which God the Son is declared to be like the Father in all things in substance.

In this enigma this likeness of the Word of God must also be noticed: as of that Word it was said, “All things were made through him,” where God is declared to have made all things through his only-begotten Word, so there are no works of man that are not first spoken in the heart; whence it is written, “The beginning of every work is a word.” But here too, it is when the word is true that it is the beginning of a good work. And a word is true when it is begotten from the knowledge of working well, so that there too “Yes, yes; no, no” may be kept: if it is so in the knowledge by which one must live, let it be so in the word through which one must act; if not, not. Otherwise such a word will be a lie, not truth, and thence will come sin, not right work. There is this likeness of the Word of God also in this likeness of our word: that there can be a word of ours which no work follows, but there can be no work unless a word precedes, just as the Word of God could have existed with no creature existing, but no creature could exist except through him through whom all things were made. And therefore not God the Father, not the Holy Spirit, not the Trinity itself, but the Son alone, who is the Word of God, became flesh, though the Trinity brought it about: so that by our word following and imitating his example we might live rightly, that is, having no lie in either the contemplation or the working of our word. But this is the perfection of this image that is to be at some future time. To attain it the good teacher instructs us by the Christian faith and the teaching of godliness, so that with face unveiled from the veil of the Law, which is the shadow of things to come, beholding the glory of the Lord, that is, looking through a mirror, we may be transformed into the same image from glory to glory as by the Spirit of the Lord, according to the earlier discussion of these words.

When, then, by this transformation this image has been renewed to perfection, we shall be like God, because we shall see him, not through a mirror, but as he is, which the apostle Paul calls “face to face.” But now, in this mirror, in this enigma, in this likeness of whatever kind, who can explain how great the unlikeness also is? Yet I will touch on some points, as I am able, by which it may be noticed.

First, the very knowledge from which our thought is truly formed when we speak what we know: of what kind or how great can it come to be in a man, however skilled and learned? For apart from what comes into the mind from the bodily senses, in which so many things are otherwise than they seem that one who is mad, overwhelmed by their likeness to truth, seems to himself sane (whence the Academic philosophy grew so strong that, doubting everything, it was far more wretchedly mad); apart, then, from the things that come into the mind from the bodily senses, how much remains that we know as we know that we live? In this we have no fear at all of being deceived by some likeness to truth, since it is certain that even one who is deceived lives; nor is it counted among those sights presented from outside, so that the eye is deceived in it as it is deceived when an oar appears broken in water, and towers seem to move to those sailing past, and six hundred other things that are otherwise than they seem; for this is not discerned through the eye of the flesh. The knowledge by which we know that we live is innermost, where not even the Academic can say: “Perhaps you are asleep and do not know it, and see in dreams.” For who does not know that the sights of dreamers are very like those of the waking? But he who is certain of the knowledge of his own life does not say in it, “I know that I am awake,” but, “I know that I live”; whether, then, he sleeps or wakes, he lives. Nor can he be deceived in that knowledge by dreams, because both to sleep and to see in dreams belong to one who lives. Nor can the Academic say against this knowledge, “Perhaps you are mad and do not know it,” because the sights of the mad are very like those of the sane; but he who is mad lives. Nor does he say in reply to the Academics, “I know that I am not mad,” but, “I know that I live.” He, then, who says he knows that he lives can never be deceived or lie. So let a thousand kinds of deceptive sights be set before him who says, “I know that I live”; he will fear none of them, since even he who is deceived lives. But if such things alone belong to human knowledge, they are very few; except that in each kind they are so multiplied that not only are they not few, but they are found to extend to an infinite number. For he who says, “I know that I live,” says he knows one thing; then if he says, “I know that I know that I live,” there are already two; and that he knows these two is a third knowing; so he can add a fourth and a fifth and countless more, if he has the stamina. But because he cannot comprehend an innumerable number by adding single items, nor say anything innumerable times, he comprehends and says this very thing most certainly: that this is true, and so innumerable that he truly cannot comprehend and state its infinite number. The same can be observed likewise in a certain will. For to whom who says, “I will to be happy,” would it not be impudent to answer, “Perhaps you are deceived”? And if he says, “I know that I will this, and I know that I know it,” to these two he can add a third, that he knows these two; and a fourth, that he knows that he knows these two; and so proceed to an infinite number. Likewise if someone says, “I do not wish to err,” will it not be true, whether he errs or does not err, that he does not wish to err? Who would not be most impudent to say to him, “Perhaps you are deceived,” when surely, wherever he is deceived, he is not deceived in not wishing to be deceived? And if he says he knows this, he adds as great a number of known things as he likes, and perceives the number to be infinite. For he who says, “I do not wish to be deceived, and I know that I do not wish it, and I know that I know it,” can from this show an infinite number, even if in awkward speech. And other things are found that avail against the Academics, who contend that nothing can be known by man. But moderation must be kept, especially as this is not what we have undertaken in this work. There are three books of ours on the subject, written in the first period of our conversion; whoever can and will read them, and having read them understands them, will surely not be moved by any of the many arguments they devised against the perception of truth. For since there are two kinds of things that are known, one of those which the mind perceives through the bodily senses, the other of those which it perceives through itself, those philosophers chattered much against the bodily senses; but certain most firm perceptions of true things by the mind through itself, such as the one I mentioned, “I know that I live,” they could in no way call into doubt. But far be it from us to doubt that the things we have learned through the bodily senses are true; for through them we have learned of heaven and earth and the things in them that are known to us, as far as he who made both us and them willed them to become known to us. Far be it also that we should deny that we know what we have learned by the testimony of others; otherwise we do not know that the Ocean exists; we do not know that there are lands and cities which most widespread report commends; we do not know that the men and their deeds existed which we have learned by reading history; we do not know the things that are reported daily from everywhere and confirmed by consistent and concurring evidence; finally, we do not know in what places or from what parents we were born, since we have believed all these things on the testimony of others. And if it is most absurd to say this, we must confess that not only our own bodily senses but also those of others have added very much to our knowledge.

All these things, then, which the human mind knows, whether perceived through itself, through the senses of its body, or by the testimony of others, it holds stored in the treasury of memory; and from these a true word is begotten when we speak what we know, but a word before all sound, before all thought of sound. For then the word is most like the thing known, from which it is begotten, and is its image, since from the sight of knowledge arises the sight of thought, which is a word of no language, a true word from a true thing, having nothing of its own, but wholly from the knowledge from which it is born. Nor does it matter when he who speaks what he knows learned it; for sometimes he says it as soon as he learns it; provided only that the word is true, that is, arisen from things known.

But does God the Father, from whom the Word was born, God from God, does God the Father, I say, in that wisdom which he is to himself, learn some things through the sense of his body and others through himself? Who would say this, who thinks of God not as a rational animal but as above the rational soul, as far as he can be thought of by those who set him above all animals and all souls, although they see by conjecture through a mirror and in an enigma, not yet face to face as he is? Did God the Father learn from elsewhere, from someone, the very things which he knows not through a body, for he has none, but through himself, or did he need messengers or witnesses in order to know them? Certainly not; for that perfection of his suffices for knowing all that he knows. He has messengers indeed, that is, angels, yet not to announce to him what he does not know, for there is nothing he does not know; but their good is to consult his truth about their works, and this is what is meant when they are said to announce some things to him: not that he may learn from them, but that they may learn from him through his Word without bodily sound. They also announce what he wills, sent by him to whom he wills, hearing everything from him through that Word of his, that is, finding in his truth what they are to do, what they are to announce, to whom, and when. For we too pray to him, and yet we do not teach him our needs. For “your Father knows,” says his Word, “what you need before you ask him.” Nor did he come to know these things at some point in time, so that he could know them; but all future temporal things, and among them also what and when we were going to ask of him, and whom he would hear or not hear and in what matters, he foreknew without beginning. And he knows all his creatures, both spiritual and bodily, not because they are; rather, they are because he knows them. For he was not ignorant of what he was going to create. Because he knew, then, he created; he did not know because he created. Nor did he know them otherwise when created than when still to be created; for nothing was added to his wisdom from them, but while they came into existence as was fitting and when it was fitting, it remained as it was. So also it is written in the book Ecclesiasticus: “Before they were created, all things were known to him; so also after they were completed.” “So,” it says, not otherwise: both before they were created and after they were completed, so are they known to him. Far unlike this knowledge, then, is our knowledge. For what is the knowledge of God is also his wisdom; and what is his wisdom is his essence or substance. For in the wonderful simplicity of that nature it is not one thing to be wise and another to be, but to be wise is to be, as we have often said in the earlier books too. But our knowledge in very many things can be both lost and received back, because for us to be is not the same as to know or be wise; for we can be even if we do not know, and are not wise in, the things we have learned from elsewhere. For this reason, as our knowledge is unlike that knowledge of God, so also our word, which is born from our knowledge, is unlike that Word of God which is born from the essence of the Father. And this is as if I said, from the knowledge of the Father, from the wisdom of the Father; or, more expressly, from the Father who is knowledge, from the Father who is wisdom.

The Word of God, then, the only-begotten Son of the Father, like and equal to the Father in all things, God from God, light from light, wisdom from wisdom, essence from essence, is wholly what the Father is, yet not the Father, because this one is the Son, that one the Father. And therefore he knows all that the Father knows; but for him to know is from the Father, as is to be. For there to know and to be are one. And therefore, as the Father's being is not from the Son, so neither is his knowing. Accordingly the Father, as it were uttering himself, begot the Word equal to himself in all things. For he would not have uttered himself wholly and perfectly if there were anything less or more in his Word than in himself. There “Yes, yes; no, no” is recognized in the highest degree. And therefore this Word is truly truth, since whatever is in that knowledge from which he was begotten is also in him, and what is not in it is not in him. And this Word can never have anything false, because he is unchangeably as he is from whom he is. For “the Son cannot do anything of himself, except what he sees the Father doing.” He is powerfully unable to do this; nor is this weakness but strength, by which truth cannot be false. God the Father, then, knows all things in himself, and knows them in the Son; but in himself as himself, in the Son as his Word, which is the Word of all these things that are in himself. Likewise the Son also knows all things: in himself, namely, as the things that were born from those which the Father knows in himself; and in the Father, as those from which were born the things the Son himself knows in himself. The Father and the Son, then, know each other, but the one by begetting, the other by being born. And all the things that are in their knowledge, in their wisdom, in their essence, each of them sees at once; not part by part or one by one, as if with a gaze alternating from here to there and from there to here, and again from there or there to one thing after another, so that he could not see some things without not seeing others; but, as I said, he sees all at once, and there is none of them that he does not always see.

But that word of ours which has no sound nor thought of sound, but is the word of the thing which we speak inwardly by seeing it, and therefore belongs to no language, and is hence in some way like, in this enigma, that Word of God who is also God, since this too is born of our knowledge as that was born of the knowledge of the Father: let us not be reluctant to observe how unlike such a word of ours, which we have found to be in some way like that Word, also is, as far as we are able to say it.

Is our word born of our knowledge alone? Do we not also say many things that we do not know? And we say them not doubting, but thinking them true; and if perhaps they are true, they are true in the things themselves of which we speak, not in our word, because a word is not true unless it is begotten from a thing that is known. In this way, then, our word is false, not when we lie, but when we are deceived. But when we doubt, there is not yet a word about the thing we doubt, but there is a word about the doubt itself. For though we do not know whether what we doubt is true, yet we know that we doubt; and therefore when we say this, the word is true, since we say what we know. What of the fact that we can also lie? When we do this, we certainly have a false word, willingly and knowingly; and there the true word is that we are lying, for this we know. And when we confess that we have lied, we speak the truth, for we say what we know: we know that we lied. But that Word which is God and more powerful than we cannot do this. For “he cannot do anything except what he sees the Father doing”; and he does not speak from himself, but all that he speaks he has from the Father, since the Father speaks him uniquely; and it is the great power of that Word that he cannot lie, because there cannot be there “Yes and no,” but “Yes, yes; no, no.” “But what is not true is not even to be called a word.” If so, I gladly agree. What then, when our word is true and therefore rightly called a word: as it can be called sight from sight, or knowledge from knowledge, can it be called essence from essence, as that Word of God is most of all called and most of all to be called? Why not? Because for us to be is not the same as to know. For we know many things which in a way live through memory, and so in a way die through forgetting; and therefore when they are no longer in our knowledge, we still are; and when our knowledge has slipped from the mind and perished from us, we still live.

Even those things which are so known that they can never fall away, because they are present and belong to the nature of the mind itself, such as our knowing that we live (for this remains as long as the mind remains, and because the mind always remains, this too always remains): this, then, and any similar things that are found, in which the image of God is rather to be observed, even if they are always known, yet because they are not always also thought of, it is hard to find how an eternal word could be spoken of them, since our word is spoken by our thought. For it is eternal for the mind to live, eternal to know that it lives; and yet it is not eternal to think of its life, or to think of the knowledge of its life, since when it begins to think of one thing and another it will cease to think of this, though it does not cease to know it. From which it follows that, if there can be some eternal knowledge in the mind, and the thought of that knowledge cannot be eternal, and our true innermost word is not spoken except by our thought, God alone is understood to have a Word eternal and coeternal with himself. Unless perhaps it should be said that the very possibility of thought (since what is known, even when it is not thought of, can still be truly thought of) is a word as perpetual as the knowledge itself is perpetual. But how is it a word when it has not yet been formed in the sight of thought? How will it be like the knowledge from which it is born if it does not have its form, and is called a word already because it can have it? For that is as if one said it is already to be called a word because it can be a word. But what is it that can be a word and is therefore already worthy of the name of word? What, I say, is this formable and not yet formed thing, but something of our mind which we toss this way and that with a certain revolving motion, when we think now of this, now of that, as it is found or occurs to us? And it becomes a true word when that which I said we toss about with a revolving motion arrives at what we know and is formed from it, taking its likeness in every respect, so that as each thing is known so it is also thought, that is, so it is spoken in the heart, without voice and without thought of voice, which surely belongs to some language. And therefore, even if we grant, lest we seem to labor over a dispute about a word, that that something of our mind which can be formed from our knowledge is already to be called a word even before it is formed, because it is already, so to speak, formable, who does not see how great is the unlikeness here from that Word of God, who is in the form of God in such a way that he was not formable before being formed, nor can ever be formless, but is simple form, and simply equal to him from whom he is, and to whom he is wonderfully coeternal?

Therefore that Word of God is so called that it is not called God's thought, lest it be believed that there is something in God that revolves, as it were, which now receives and now recovers form so as to be a word, and can lose it and in some way roll about formlessly. For that outstanding speaker knew words well and had looked into the force of thought, who said in his poem, “and turns over within himself the varied outcomes of war,” that is, thinks about them. The Son of God, then, is not called the thought of God but the Word of God. For our thought, arriving at what we know and formed from it, is our true word. And therefore the Word of God must be understood without any thought of God, so that he is understood as simple form itself, having nothing formable that could also be formless. Thoughts of God are indeed spoken of in the holy Scriptures too, but in the manner of speaking in which forgetfulness of God is also spoken of there, which in the proper sense certainly does not exist in God.

Therefore, since now in this enigma there is so great an unlikeness to God and to the Word of God, in which some likeness has nevertheless been found, this too must be confessed: that even when we shall be like him, when we shall see him as he is (and he who said this surely had in view the unlikeness that now exists), not even then shall we be equal to him in nature. For the nature that is made is always less than the one who makes it. And then our word will not be false, because we shall neither lie nor be deceived; perhaps also our thoughts will not revolve, going from one thing to another and returning, but we shall see all our knowledge at once in one view; yet even when this has come to be, if it does come to be, the creature that was formable will be formed, so that nothing will be lacking of the form to which it ought to arrive; but still it will not be equal to that simplicity where nothing formable has been formed or re-formed, but where there is form, neither unformed nor formed, the eternal and unchangeable substance itself.

We have spoken enough of the Father and the Son, as far as we could see through this mirror and in this enigma. Now we must discuss the Holy Spirit, as far as it is granted, by God's gift, to see. According to the holy Scriptures this Holy Spirit is neither of the Father alone nor of the Son alone, but of both; and therefore he suggests to us the common love by which the Father and the Son love each other. But in order to exercise us, the divine word has made us inquire with greater zeal into things not lying at hand but to be searched out in hidden places and dug out from hiding. So Scripture did not say, “The Holy Spirit is love”; had it said so, it would have removed no small part of this question; but it said, “God is love,” so that it is uncertain, and therefore to be inquired, whether God the Father is love, or God the Son, or God the Holy Spirit, or God the Trinity itself. For we are not going to say that God is called love not because love itself is some substance worthy of the name of God, but because it is a gift of God, as was said to God, “For you are my patience”; for this was not said because our patience is God's substance, but because it is from him to us, as is read elsewhere, “For from him is my patience.” The very manner of speaking of the Scriptures easily refutes this sense. For “You are my patience” is like “You, Lord, are my hope,” and “My God, my mercy,” and many similar sayings. But it was not said, “Lord, my love,” or “You are my love,” or “God, my love”; but it was said thus, “God is love,” as it was said, “God is spirit.” Whoever does not discern this should seek understanding from the Lord, not explanation from us; for we can say nothing plainer.

God, then, is love; but whether the Father, or the Son, or the Holy Spirit, or the Trinity itself, since it too is not three gods but one God: this is the question. But I have already argued above in this book that the Trinity which is God is not to be understood from those three which we have shown in the trinity of our mind in such a way that the Father is as it were the memory of all three, the Son the understanding of all three, and the Holy Spirit the love of all three; as if the Father neither understood nor loved for himself, but the Son understood for him and the Holy Spirit loved for him, while he only remembered for himself and for them; and the Son neither remembered nor loved for himself, but the Father remembered for him and the Holy Spirit loved for him, while he only understood for himself and for them; and likewise the Holy Spirit neither remembered nor understood for himself, but the Father remembered for him and the Son understood for him, while he only loved for himself and for them; but rather that all three, both all together and each singly, have all three, each in his own nature. Nor do these differ in them, as in us memory is one thing, understanding another, love or charity another; but there is some one thing that is capable of all, like wisdom itself; and it is so had in the nature of each that he who has it is what he has, as an unchangeable and simple substance. If, then, these things have been understood, and have become clear as true, as far as it is granted us in such great matters to see or conjecture, I do not know why, just as the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit are each called wisdom, and all together not three but one wisdom, so the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit should not each be called love, and all together one love. For so the Father is God, the Son God, the Holy Spirit God, and all together one God.

And yet not in vain in this Trinity is no one called the Word of God but the Son, nor the Gift of God but the Holy Spirit, nor he from whom the Word was begotten and from whom the Holy Spirit principally proceeds but God the Father. I added “principally” because the Holy Spirit is found to proceed from the Son also. But this too the Father gave him, not as to one already existing and not yet having it; but whatever he gave to the only-begotten Word, he gave by begetting. He so begot him, then, that the common Gift should proceed from him also, and the Holy Spirit should be the Spirit of both. This distinction of the inseparable Trinity, then, is not to be taken in passing but carefully observed. For hence it came about that the Word of God was properly called also the wisdom of God, though both the Father and the Holy Spirit are wisdom. If, then, any one of these three is properly to be called love, what is more fitting than that this should be the Holy Spirit? So that in that simple and supreme nature substance is not one thing and love another, but substance itself is love and love itself is substance, whether in the Father, or in the Son, or in the Holy Spirit; and yet the Holy Spirit is properly called love.

Just so, sometimes by the name of the Law all the oracles of the holy Scriptures of the Old Testament together are signified. For the apostle, citing a testimony from the prophet Isaiah, where he says, “In other tongues and with other lips I will speak to this people,” nevertheless introduced it with, “It is written in the Law.” And the Lord himself says, “It is written in their Law, They hated me without cause,” though this is read in the Psalm. But sometimes the Law given through Moses is called the Law in the proper sense, according to what was said, “The Law and the Prophets until John,” and “On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.” Here certainly the Law from Mount Sinai is called the Law in the proper sense. Again, by the name of the Prophets the Psalms too are signified; and yet in another place the Saviour himself says, “All things had to be fulfilled that are written in the Law and the Prophets and the Psalms concerning me.” Here again he meant the name of the Prophets to be understood excluding the Psalms. The Law, then, is spoken of universally, together with the Prophets and the Psalms, and it is spoken of properly as that given through Moses. Likewise the Prophets are spoken of commonly together with the Psalms, and properly apart from the Psalms. And by many other examples it could be shown that many names of things are applied both universally and properly to certain things, were it not that in a plain matter lengthy speech is to be avoided. I have said this lest anyone think we call the Holy Spirit love inappropriately because both God the Father and God the Son can be called love.

As, then, we properly call the only Word of God by the name of wisdom, though universally both the Holy Spirit and the Father himself are wisdom, so the Holy Spirit is properly called by the name of love, though universally both the Father and the Son are love. But the Word of God, that is, the only-begotten Son of God, was openly called the wisdom of God by the apostle's mouth, where he says, “Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God”; but where the Holy Spirit was called love we find if we carefully search the words of the apostle John, who, having said, “Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God,” went on to add, “And everyone who loves is born of God; whoever does not love has not known God, for God is love.” Here he made plain that he called God that love which he said is from God. God from God, then, is love. But since both the Son is born of God the Father and the Holy Spirit proceeds from God the Father, it is rightly asked which of them we should take to be called here the love that is God. For the Father alone is God in such a way as not to be from God; and therefore the love that is God in such a way as to be from God is either the Son or the Holy Spirit. But in what follows, having mentioned the love of God, not that by which we loved him, but that by which he loved us and sent his Son as the offerer of atonement for our sins, and having then exhorted that we too should love one another, and so God would abide in us, since he had called love God, wishing at once to say something plainer on this matter, he says: “By this we know that we abide in him and he in us, because he has given us of his Spirit.” The Holy Spirit, then, of whom he has given us, makes us abide in God and him in us; and this is what love does. He, then, is the God who is love. Then a little later, having repeated this very thing and said, “God is love,” he immediately added, “And he who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him”; whence he had said above, “By this we know that we abide in him and he in us, because he has given us of his Spirit.” He, then, is signified where we read, “God is love.” God the Holy Spirit, therefore, who proceeds from God, when he has been given to man, kindles him to love of God and neighbor, and is himself love. For man has nothing from which to love God except from God. For this reason he says a little later, “Let us love him, because he first loved us.” The apostle Paul also says, “The love of God has been poured out in our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.”

There is no gift of God more excellent than this. It alone divides the sons of the eternal kingdom from the sons of eternal perdition. Other gifts too are given through the Holy Spirit, but without love they profit nothing. Unless, then, the Holy Spirit is imparted to someone so far as to make him a lover of God and neighbor, he is not transferred from the left hand to the right. Nor is the Spirit properly called Gift except on account of love; and whoever does not have love, “if he speaks with the tongues of men and of angels, is sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal; and if he has prophecy, and knows all mysteries and all knowledge, and if he has all faith so as to move mountains, he is nothing; and if he distributes all his substance, and if he hands over his body to be burned, it profits him nothing.” How great a good, then, is that without which such great goods bring no one to eternal life! But love or charity itself (for both are names of one thing), if he has it who does not speak in tongues, nor has prophecy, nor knows all mysteries and all knowledge, nor distributes all his goods to the poor, either because he has nothing to distribute or because some necessity prevents him, nor hands over his body to be burned, if there is no trial of such suffering, brings him to the kingdom, so that only love makes faith itself useful. For faith can indeed exist without love, but cannot also profit. For this reason the apostle Paul too says, “In Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision avails anything, but faith working through love,” thus distinguishing it from that faith by which even the demons believe and tremble. The love, then, which is from God and is God, is properly the Holy Spirit, through whom the love of God is poured out in our hearts, through which the whole Trinity dwells in us. Therefore the Holy Spirit, though he is God, is most rightly also called the Gift of God. And what is that Gift properly to be understood to be but love, which brings us to God, and without which any other gift of God whatever does not bring us to God?

Must this too be proved, that the Holy Spirit is called the Gift of God in the sacred Scriptures? If this too is expected, we have in the Gospel according to John the words of the Lord Jesus Christ, who says: “If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. He who believes in me, as the Scripture says, rivers of living water will flow from his belly.” And the evangelist went on to add: “Now this he said of the Spirit, whom those who believed in him were to receive.” Hence the apostle Paul also says: “And we have all been made to drink one Spirit.” But whether this water, which is the Holy Spirit, has been called the gift of God is the question. But as we find here that this water is the Holy Spirit, so we find elsewhere in the same Gospel that this water is called the gift of God. For when the same Lord was speaking with the Samaritan woman at the well, to whom he had said, “Give me a drink,” and she had answered that Jews have no dealings with Samaritans, “Jesus answered and said to her: If you knew the gift of God, and who it is who says to you, Give me a drink, you would perhaps have asked him, and he would have given you living water. The woman said to him: Sir, you have nothing to draw with, and the well is deep; where then do you have living water?” and so on. “Jesus answered and said to her: Everyone who drinks of this water will thirst again; but whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst; but the water that I shall give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” Since, then, this living water, as the evangelist explained, is the Holy Spirit, without doubt the Spirit is the Gift of God, of which the Lord says here: “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is who says to you, Give me a drink, you would perhaps have asked him, and he would have given you living water.” For what he says there, “Rivers of living water will flow from his belly,” he says in this place: “It will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”

The apostle Paul too says, “To each one of us grace is given according to the measure of the gift of Christ”; and to show that the gift of Christ is the Holy Spirit, he went on to add, “Therefore it says: He ascended on high, he led captivity captive, he gave gifts to men.” Now it is very well known that the Lord Jesus, when after his resurrection from the dead he had ascended into heaven, gave the Holy Spirit, filled with whom those who had believed spoke in the tongues of all nations. And let no one be troubled that he says “gifts,” not “gift”; for he cited this testimony from the Psalm. In the Psalm it reads thus: “You ascended on high, you led captivity captive, you received gifts among men.” For so most manuscripts have it, especially the Greek, and we have it so translated from the Hebrew. The apostle, then, said “gifts,” as the prophet did, not “gift.” But whereas the prophet said, “You received gifts among men,” the apostle preferred to say, “He gave gifts to men,” so that from both words, the one prophetic, the other apostolic, since in both there is the authority of the divine word, the fullest sense might be rendered. For both are true: that he gave to men and that he received among men. He gave to men as the head to his members; he himself received among men, surely in his members, on account of which members of his he cried from heaven, “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” and of which members of his he says, “When you did it to one of the least of mine, you did it to me.” Christ himself, then, both gave from heaven and received on earth. Further, both the prophet and the apostle said “gifts” for this reason: because through the Gift, which is the Holy Spirit, many gifts, which are proper to each, are distributed in common to all the members of Christ. For not every one has all, but some have these, others those, though all have the Gift itself by which what is proper to each is distributed, that is, the Holy Spirit. For elsewhere too, having mentioned many gifts, he says, “All these the one and the same Spirit works, distributing to each his own as he wills.” This word is also found in the Letter to the Hebrews, where it is written, “God bearing witness by signs and wonders and various powers and distributions of the Holy Spirit.” And here, having said, “He ascended on high, he led captivity captive, he gave gifts to men,” he says: “Now that he ascended, what does it mean but that he also descended into the lower parts of the earth? He who descended is the same who ascended above all the heavens, that he might fill all things. And he gave some apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers.” See why they are called gifts: because, as he says elsewhere, “Are all apostles? Are all prophets?” and so on. But here he added, “for the perfecting of the saints, for the work of ministry, for the building up of the body of Christ.” This is the house which, as the Psalm sings, is built after the captivity; since from those who have been rescued from the devil, by whom they were held captive, the house of Christ is built, which house is called the Church. And he who conquered the devil led this captivity captive. And so that the devil might not drag with him into eternal punishment those who were to be members of the holy head, he bound him first with the chains of justice, then with those of power. The devil himself, then, is called the captivity which he led captive who ascended on high and gave gifts to men, or received gifts among men.

And the apostle Peter, as we read in that canonical book in which the Acts of the Apostles are written, speaking of Christ, when the Jews were stirred in heart and said, “What then shall we do, brothers? Show us,” said to them: “Repent, and let each of you be baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of sins; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.” Likewise we read in the same book that Simon Magus wished to give the apostles money so as to receive from them the power by which the Holy Spirit would be given through the laying on of his hands. To him the same Peter said, “Your money perish with you, because you thought you could possess the gift of God with money.” And in another place in the same book, when Peter was speaking to Cornelius and those who were with him, announcing and preaching Christ, Scripture says: “While Peter was still speaking these words, the Holy Spirit fell on all who heard the word; and the believers of the circumcision who had come with Peter were amazed, because on the Gentiles also the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out. For they heard them speaking in tongues and magnifying God.” And when Peter afterwards gave an account of this deed of his, that he had baptized the uncircumcised (for, to remove the knot of this question, the Holy Spirit had come upon them before they were baptized), to the brothers who were at Jerusalem and were disturbed on hearing of it, he says among other things: “But when I had begun to speak to them, the Holy Spirit fell on them, as on us at the beginning. And I remembered the word of the Lord, how he said: John indeed baptized with water, but you shall be baptized with the Holy Spirit. If, then, he gave them an equal gift, as also to us who believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I that I could forbid God to give them the Holy Spirit?” And there are many other testimonies of the Scriptures which harmoniously attest that the Holy Spirit is the Gift of God, inasmuch as he is given to those who through him love God. But it is too long to collect them all. And what is enough for those for whom what we have said is not enough?

They should certainly be reminded, since they now see that the Holy Spirit is called the Gift of God, that when they hear “the gift of the Holy Spirit” they should recognize that kind of expression used in “in the stripping off of the body of flesh.” For as the body of flesh is nothing other than the flesh, so the gift of the Holy Spirit is nothing other than the Holy Spirit. He is, then, the Gift of God inasmuch as he is given to those to whom he is given. But in himself he is God, even if he is given to no one, because he was God, coeternal with the Father and the Son, before he was given to anyone. Nor, because they give and he is given, is he therefore less than they. For he is so given as the Gift of God that he also gives himself as God. For it cannot be said that he is not in his own power, of whom it was said, “The Spirit breathes where he wills,” and in the apostle, as I have already mentioned above, “All these the one and the same Spirit works, distributing to each his own as he wills.” There is not there the subjection of the one given and the dominion of the givers, but the concord of the given and the givers.

Therefore, if holy Scripture proclaims, “God is love,” and love is from God and works in us so that we abide in God and he in us, and we know this from the fact that he has given us of his Spirit, the Spirit himself is God who is love. Then, if among the gifts of God nothing is greater than love, and there is no greater gift of God than the Holy Spirit, what follows more naturally than that he is love, who is called both God and from God? And if the love by which the Father loves the Son and the Son loves the Father ineffably shows the communion of both, what is more fitting than that he should properly be called love who is the Spirit common to both? For it is sounder to believe or understand that the Holy Spirit is not alone love in that Trinity, but is not in vain properly called love, for the reasons that have been given. Just as he is not alone either spirit or holy in that Trinity, since the Father is spirit and the Son is spirit, and the Father is holy and the Son is holy, which piety does not doubt; and yet he is not in vain properly called the Holy Spirit. For because he is common to both, he is properly called what both are in common. Otherwise, if in that Trinity the Holy Spirit alone is love, then surely the Son turns out to be the Son not of the Father alone but also of the Holy Spirit. For in countless places the Son is called and read to be the only-begotten of God the Father, yet in such a way that what the apostle says of God the Father is also true: “who rescued us from the power of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of the Son of his love.” He did not say “of his Son”; had he said so, he would have said it most truly, as he did say it most truly, since he often said it; but he said, “of the Son of his love.” The Son, then, is the Son of the Holy Spirit too, if there is no love of God in that Trinity except the Holy Spirit. And if this is most absurd, it remains that the Holy Spirit is not alone love there, but is properly so called for the reasons I have sufficiently discussed; and that what was said, “of the Son of his love,” is to be understood as nothing else than “of his beloved Son,” in short, “of the Son of his substance.” For the love of the Father, which is in his ineffably simple nature, is nothing other than his very nature and substance, as we have often said and are not reluctant to repeat often. And therefore the Son of his love is none other than he who was begotten of his substance.

Therefore the dialectic of Eunomius, from whom the Eunomian heretics arose, is laughable. Since he could not understand, and would not believe, that the only-begotten Word of God, through whom all things were made, is the Son of God by nature, that is, begotten of the substance of the Father, he said that he is the Son not of his nature or substance or essence, but the son of the will of God, wishing to assert, that is, that the will by which God begot the Son was accidental to God: evidently because we sometimes will something which we did not will before; as if our nature were not understood to be changeable for these very reasons, which far be it that we should believe to be so in God. For it was written, “Many are the thoughts in a man's heart, but the counsel of the Lord abides forever,” for no other reason than that we should understand or believe that, as God is eternal, so his counsel is forever, and therefore unchangeable, as he himself is. And what is said of thoughts can most truly be said of wills too: “Many are the wills in a man's heart, but the will of the Lord abides forever.” Some, so as not to call the only-begotten Word the son of God's counsel or will, have said that the Word himself is the counsel or will of the Father. But it is better, as I think, to say counsel from counsel and will from will, as substance from substance and wisdom from wisdom, lest by that absurdity which we have already refuted the Son be said to make the Father wise or willing, if the Father does not have counsel or will in his substance. Shrewdly indeed someone answered a heretic who asked most craftily whether God begot the Son willingly or unwillingly, so that if he said “unwillingly,” a most absurd wretchedness of God would follow; but if “willingly,” the heretic would at once conclude, as by an invincible argument, what he was aiming at, that the Son is of the will, not of the nature. But that man, most alertly, asked him in turn whether God the Father is God willingly or unwillingly, so that if he answered “unwillingly,” that wretchedness would follow which it is great madness to believe of God; but if he said “willingly,” it would be answered him, “Then he too is God by his will, not by nature.” What remained, then, but that he should fall silent and see himself bound by his own question in an insoluble knot? But if any person in the Trinity is also to be called properly the will of God, this name, like love, belongs rather to the Holy Spirit. For what else is love but will?

I see that in this book I have argued about the Holy Spirit according to the holy Scriptures what suffices for the faithful, who already know that the Holy Spirit is God, and not of another substance, nor less than the Father and the Son, which we showed to be true according to the same Scriptures in the earlier books. From the creation too which God made, we have reminded those who ask for a reason in such matters, as far as we were able, that they might clearly see his invisible things, understood through the things that are made, as far as they could, and especially through the rational or intellectual creature, which was made in the image of God; through which, as through a mirror, they might discern, as far as they could, if they could, the Trinity that is God, in our memory, understanding, and will. Whoever vividly perceives these three, established by God in his mind by nature, and how great a thing it is in the mind that by it even the eternal and unchangeable nature can be recalled, beheld, and desired, remembers it through memory, looks upon it through understanding, embraces it through love, surely finds the image of that supreme Trinity. To remembering, seeing, and loving that supreme Trinity, so as to recall it, contemplate it, and delight in it, he ought to refer the whole of his life. But I have warned, as much as seemed sufficient, that he should not so compare this image, made by the same Trinity and changed for the worse by its own fault, with that same Trinity as to think it like it in every way, but rather that he should discern in this likeness, of whatever kind, a great unlikeness too.

I have certainly tried, as far as I could, to indicate God the Father and God the Son: that is, God the begetter, who in a certain way uttered in his Word, coeternal with himself, all that he substantially has; and that Word of his, God, who himself too has substantially nothing more or less than is in him who begot the Word, not falsely but truly. I tried to show this so that it might be seen, not yet face to face, but through this likeness in an enigma, by conjecturing however little, in the memory and understanding of our mind: assigning to memory all that we know, even if we are not thinking of it, and to understanding, in a certain proper way, the forming of thought. For it is by thinking what we have found to be true that we are said above all to understand, and this indeed we leave again in memory. But that is a more hidden depth of our memory, where we found this also when we first thought of it, and where the innermost word is begotten, which belongs to no language, as knowledge from knowledge, and sight from sight, and the understanding that appears in thought from the understanding that was already in memory but was hidden; although thought itself, unless it had a memory of its own, would not return to those things which it had left in memory while it thought of other things.

But of the Holy Spirit I have shown nothing in this enigma that seemed like him except our will, or the love or affection which is a stronger will; since our will, which is in us by nature, has various affections according as things lie near it or come upon it by which we are attracted or offended. What then? Are we to say that our will, when it is right, does not know what to seek and what to shun? But if it knows, then there is in it a certain knowledge of its own, which cannot exist without memory and understanding. Or are we to listen to someone saying that love, which does not act wrongly, does not know what it does? As, then, understanding is in that principal memory, and love is in it, the memory in which we find ready and stored what we can reach by thinking (because we find those two there too, when by thinking we find that we understand and love something, which were there even when we were not thinking of them); and as memory is in this understanding which is formed by thought, and love is in it, the true word which we speak inwardly, without the language of any nation, when we say what we know (for the gaze of our thought does not return to anything except by remembering, and does not care to return except by loving): so the love which joins the sight established in memory and the sight of thought formed from it, as parent and offspring, would not know what it should rightly love unless it had a knowledge of seeking, which cannot exist without memory and understanding.

But since these are in one person, as man is, someone may say to us: “These three, memory, understanding, and love, are mine, not their own; and they do what they do not for themselves but for me, or rather I do it through them. For I remember through memory, understand through understanding, love through love; and when I turn the gaze of thought to my memory, and so speak in my heart what I know, and a true word is begotten from my knowledge, both are mine, both the knowledge and the word. For it is I who know, I who speak in my heart what I know. And when by thinking I find in my memory that I already understand, already love something, which understanding and love were there even before I thought of it, I find my understanding and my love in my memory, by which it is I who understand, I who love, not they themselves. Likewise when thought is mindful and wishes to return to what it had left in memory, and to behold those things understood and speak them inwardly, it is by my memory that it is mindful, and by my will that it wills, not its own. My love too, when it remembers and understands what it ought to seek and what to shun, remembers through my memory, not its own; and whatever it loves intelligently, it understands through my understanding, not its own.” This can be said briefly: through all those three it is I who remember, I who understand, I who love, I who am neither memory nor understanding nor love, but have them. These things, then, can be said by one person, who has these three, not who is these three. But in the simplicity of that supreme nature which is God, although there is one God, yet there are three persons, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

A trinity as the thing itself, then, is one thing; the image of a trinity in another thing is another; and because of this image, that in which these three are is also called an image, just as both the panel and what is painted on it are called an image; but it is because of the painting on it that the panel too is called by the name of image. But in that supreme Trinity, which incomparably surpasses all things, there is such inseparability that, whereas a trinity of men cannot be called one man, that Trinity is both called and is one God; nor is that Trinity in one God, but it is one God. Nor again is that Trinity as this image, man, having those three, is one person; but there are three persons, the Father of the Son, the Son of the Father, and the Spirit of the Father and the Son. For man's memory, and especially that which beasts do not have, namely that in which intelligible things are contained without having come into it through the bodily senses, has according to its small measure, in this image of the Trinity, a likeness of the Father, incomparably unequal indeed, but a likeness of some kind; and likewise man's understanding, which is formed from it by the attention of thought when what is known is spoken, and is the word of the heart belonging to no language, has in its great disparity some likeness of the Son; and man's love, proceeding from knowledge and joining memory and understanding, as common to parent and offspring, and therefore understood to be neither parent nor offspring, has in this image some likeness, though very unequal, of the Holy Spirit. Yet it is not so that, as in this image of the Trinity these three are not one man but belong to one man, so in the supreme Trinity itself, of which this is the image, those three belong to one God; rather they are one God, and they are three persons, not one. This is indeed wonderfully ineffable, or ineffably wonderful: that while this image of the Trinity is one person, and the supreme Trinity itself is three persons, that Trinity of three persons is more inseparable than this of one. For that Trinity, in the nature of divinity, or as it may better be called, deity, is what it is, and is unchangeably and always equal within itself; nor was there a time when it was not, or was otherwise; nor will there be a time when it will not be, or will be otherwise. But these three that are in the unequal image, though not separated by places, since they are not bodies, are yet now in this life separated from one another by magnitudes. For though there are no masses there, we do not therefore fail to see that in one person memory is greater than understanding, in another the reverse, and in another these two are surpassed by the magnitude of love, whether they are equal to each other or not. And so two are surpassed by one, and one by two, and one by one: the lesser by the greater. And when they are equal to one another, healed of all weakness, not even then will that which by grace will be changed no more be equal to that which is unchangeable by nature; because the creature is not equal to the Creator, and when it is healed of all weakness it will have been changed.

But this Trinity, not only incorporeal but also supremely inseparable and truly unchangeable, we shall see far more clearly and certainly, when the sight face to face that is promised us has come, than we now see its image, which we are. Yet those who see through this mirror and in this enigma, as it is granted to see in this life, are not those who behold in their own mind the things we have set out and commended, but those who see the mind as an image, so that they can in some way refer what they see to him whose image it is, and, through the image which they see by beholding, see him too by conjecturing, since they cannot yet see face to face. For the apostle does not say, “We see now a mirror,” but, “We see now through a mirror.”

Those, then, who see their own mind, in the way it can be seen, and in it this trinity which I have discussed in many ways as I could, and yet do not believe or understand it to be the image of God, see a mirror indeed, but they so far fail to see through the mirror him who is now to be seen through the mirror that they do not even know that the mirror itself which they see is a mirror, that is, an image. If they knew this, perhaps they would perceive that he whose mirror this is should be sought through it, and meanwhile seen through it in some way, with unfeigned faith cleansing their hearts, so that he who is now seen through a mirror may be seen face to face. Despising this faith that cleanses hearts, what do they achieve by understanding the most subtle arguments about the nature of the human mind, except to be condemned by the witness of their own understanding? They would certainly not labor in it, and scarcely arrive at anything certain, were they not wrapped in penal darkness and burdened with the corruptible body that weighs down the soul. For what desert, then, was this evil inflicted, if not for sin? Warned, then, by the greatness of so great an evil, they ought to follow the Lamb who takes away the sin of the world.

For those who belong to him, even those far slower in mind than these, when they are released from the body at the end of this life, the envious powers have no right to hold. This Lamb, slain by them without owing them any debt of sin, conquered them, but not by the might of power before he had conquered by the justice of his blood. Accordingly, freed from the power of the devil, they are received by the holy angels, set free from all evils through the Mediator between God and men, the man Jesus Christ; since, as the divine Scriptures agree, both old and new, those through which Christ was foretold and those through which he was proclaimed, there is no other name under heaven in which men must be saved. And, cleansed from every contagion of corruption, they are settled in peaceful abodes until they receive their bodies back, but now incorruptible, to adorn, not burden them. For this pleased the best and wisest Creator: that the spirit of man, devoutly subject to God, should have the body happily subject to it, and that this happiness should last without end.

There we shall see the truth without any difficulty, and enjoy it, most clear and most certain. Nor shall we seek anything by the reasoning mind, but by the contemplating mind we shall discern why the Holy Spirit is not a Son, though he proceeds from the Father. In that light there will be no question; but here, by experience itself, it has appeared to me so difficult (as without doubt it will appear likewise to those who read these things carefully and intelligently), even though I promised in the second book of this work that I would speak of it in another place, that whenever I wished to show something like it in the creature which we are, my speech did not adequately follow my understanding, such as it was; although even in that understanding I felt that I had made an attempt rather than achieved a result. In the one person which is man I did find an image of that supreme Trinity, and, especially in the ninth book, I wished to show those three in a changeable thing, so that they might be more easily understood even through intervals of time. But the three of one person could not correspond to those three persons as human intention demands, as we have shown in this fifteenth book.

Further, in that supreme Trinity which is God there are no intervals of time by which it could be shown, or even asked, whether the Son was first born of the Father and afterwards the Holy Spirit proceeded from both; since holy Scripture calls him the Spirit of both. For he is the one of whom the apostle says, “And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into your hearts”; and he is the one of whom the Son himself says, “For it is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father who speaks in you.” And by many other testimonies of the divine oracles it is proved that the Spirit who in the Trinity is properly called the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of the Father and of the Son; of whom likewise the Son himself says, “whom I shall send you from the Father,” and in another place, “whom the Father will send in my name.” And that he proceeds from both is taught thus: the Son himself says, “He proceeds from the Father”; and when he had risen from the dead and appeared to his disciples, he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit,” to show that he proceeds from him too. And this is the power that went out from him, as we read in the Gospel, and healed all.

As for the reason why after his resurrection he first gave the Holy Spirit on earth and afterwards sent him from heaven, I think it is this: that through this gift love is poured out in our hearts, by which we love God and neighbor, according to those two commandments on which hang all the Law and the Prophets. Signifying this, the Lord Jesus gave them the Holy Spirit twice: once on earth, for love of neighbor, and again from heaven, for love of God. And if perhaps another reason is given for the Holy Spirit being given twice, still we must not doubt that the same Holy Spirit was given when Jesus breathed on them, of whom he soon said, “Go, baptize all nations in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,” where this Trinity is most clearly commended. He it is, then, who was also given from heaven on the day of Pentecost, that is, ten days after the Lord ascended into heaven. How, then, is he not God who gives the Holy Spirit? Rather, how great a God is he who gives God! For none of his disciples gave the Holy Spirit. They prayed that he might come upon those on whom they laid hands; they did not give him themselves. This custom the Church still keeps in its leaders. Finally, Simon Magus too, offering the apostles money, did not say, “Give me also this power, that I may give the Holy Spirit,” but, “that anyone on whom I lay hands may receive the Holy Spirit.” For neither had Scripture said above, “Now Simon, seeing that the apostles gave the Holy Spirit,” but it had said, “Now Simon, seeing that through the laying on of the apostles' hands the Holy Spirit was given.” For this reason the Lord Jesus himself not only gave the Holy Spirit as God but also received him as man; therefore he was called full of grace and of the Holy Spirit. And more plainly it is written of him in the Acts of the Apostles: “Because God anointed him with the Holy Spirit.” Not, certainly, with visible oil, but with the gift of grace, which is signified by the visible ointment with which the Church anoints the baptized. Nor indeed was Christ anointed with the Holy Spirit at the time when the Spirit descended upon him as a dove after his baptism; for then he deigned to prefigure his body, that is, his Church, in which especially the baptized receive the Holy Spirit; but he is to be understood to have been anointed with that mystical and invisible anointing when the Word of God became flesh, that is, when human nature, without any preceding merits of good works, was joined to God the Word in the womb of the virgin, so as to become one person with him. For this reason we confess him born of the Holy Spirit and the virgin Mary. For it is most absurd to believe that he received the Holy Spirit when he was already thirty years old (for at that age he was baptized by John); rather, as he came to baptism without any sin at all, so he came not without the Holy Spirit. For if it was written of his servant and forerunner John himself, “He will be filled with the Holy Spirit even from his mother's womb,” since, though begotten by his father, he yet received the Holy Spirit when formed in the womb, what is to be understood or believed of the man Christ, the very conception of whose flesh was not carnal but spiritual? In what is written of him too, that he received from the Father the promise of the Holy Spirit and poured it out, both natures are shown, the human and the divine: he received as man, he poured out as God. We can receive this gift according to our small measure, but we certainly cannot pour it out upon others; rather, that this may be done, we call upon God, by whom it is brought about, over them.

Can we, then, ask whether the Holy Spirit had already proceeded from the Father when the Son was born, or had not yet proceeded, and when the Son was born proceeded from both, where there are no times? We could ask this where we found times: whether will first proceeds from the human mind, so that something may be sought which, when found, is to be called offspring; and when this offspring has been brought forth or begotten, that will is completed, resting in that end, so that what had been the desire of the seeker becomes the love of the enjoyer, which now proceeds from both, that is, from the begetting mind and the begotten notion, as from parent and offspring. These things simply cannot be asked there, where nothing is begun in time so as to be completed in a following time. Therefore whoever can understand the generation of the Son from the Father without time, let him understand the procession of the Holy Spirit from both without time. And whoever can understand, in what the Son says, “As the Father has life in himself, so he has given to the Son to have life in himself,” not that the Father gave life to a Son already existing without life, but that he so begot him without time that the life which the Father gave the Son by begetting him is coeternal with the life of the Father who gave it, let him understand that, as the Father has in himself that the Holy Spirit proceeds from him, so he has given to the Son that the same Holy Spirit proceeds from him, and both without time; and that the Holy Spirit is said to proceed from the Father in such a way that it is understood that his proceeding also from the Son is something the Son has from the Father. For if whatever he has the Son has from the Father, he certainly has from the Father that the Holy Spirit proceeds from him too. But let no times be thought of there, which have before and after, for there are none there at all. How, then, would he not most absurdly be called the son of both, when, as generation from the Father gives essence to the Son without beginning in time and without any change of nature, so procession from both gives essence to the Holy Spirit without any beginning in time and without any change of nature? For although we do not call the Holy Spirit begotten, we do not dare to call him unbegotten either, lest by this word anyone suspect either two fathers in that Trinity, or two who are not from another. For the Father alone is not from another, and therefore he alone is called unbegotten, not indeed in the Scriptures, but in the usage of those who dispute and who utter what speech they can about so great a matter. But the Son is born of the Father; and the Holy Spirit proceeds principally from the Father, and, since the Father gives this without any interval of time, in common from both. He would be called the son of the Father and the Son if (which is abhorrent to the sense of all sound minds) both had begotten him. He is not, then, begotten by both, but proceeds from both as the Spirit of both.

But since in that coeternal, equal, incorporeal, ineffably unchangeable and inseparable Trinity it is most difficult to distinguish generation from procession, let it suffice meanwhile, for those who cannot stretch further, to have what we said on this matter in a sermon delivered to the ears of the Christian people, and wrote down after saying it. For among other things, when I had taught by testimonies of the holy Scriptures that the Holy Spirit proceeds from both, I said: “If, then, the Holy Spirit proceeds both from the Father and from the Son, why did the Son say, ‘He proceeds from the Father’? Why, do you think, except as he is accustomed to refer even what is his own to him from whom he himself is? Hence also is what he says, ‘My teaching is not mine, but his who sent me.’ If, then, it is understood here to be his teaching, which he nevertheless said was not his but the Father's, how much more must it be understood there that the Holy Spirit proceeds from him too, where he says, ‘He proceeds from the Father,’ in such a way as not to say, ‘He does not proceed from me’? From whom the Son has it that he is God (for he is God from God), from him he certainly has it that the Holy Spirit proceeds from him too; and therefore the Holy Spirit has it from the Father himself that he proceeds also from the Son, as he proceeds from the Father. Here also it is understood in some way, as far as it can be understood by such as we are, why the Holy Spirit is not said to be born but rather to proceed: since if he too were called a son, he would certainly be called the son of both, which is most absurd. For no one is a son of two except of father and mother. Far be it that we should suspect anything of the kind between God the Father and God the Son. For not even a son of men proceeds at the same time from both father and mother; but when he proceeds from the father into the mother, he does not then proceed from the mother; and when he proceeds from the mother into this light, he does not then proceed from the father. But the Holy Spirit does not proceed from the Father into the Son, and from the Son proceed to sanctify the creature; but he proceeds from both at once, although the Father has given this to the Son, that as he proceeds from himself, so he proceeds from him too. For we cannot say that the Holy Spirit is not life, since the Father is life and the Son is life; and therefore, as the Father, having life in himself, has given to the Son also to have life in himself, so he has given him that life should proceed from him, as it also proceeds from himself.” This I have transferred from that sermon into this book, but there I was speaking to the faithful, not to unbelievers.

But if they are not fit to behold this image and to see how true are these things which are in their mind, which are not three in such a way as to be three persons, but all three belong to a man who is one person, why do they not believe about that supreme Trinity which is God what is found in the sacred Writings, rather than demand that a most clear reason be given them, which the human mind, slow and weak as it is, does not grasp? And surely, when they have believed the holy Scriptures unshakeably as most truthful witnesses, let them strive by praying and seeking and living well to understand, that is, so that what is held by faith may be seen by the mind as far as it can be seen. Who would forbid this? Indeed, who would not urge it? But if they think these things should be denied because they cannot discern them with blind minds, then those blind from birth ought to deny that the sun exists. The light, then, shines in the darkness; and if the darkness does not comprehend it, let them first be enlightened by God's gift to be faithful, and begin to be light in comparison with unbelievers; and with this foundation laid, let them be built up to see what they believe, so that at some time they may be able to see. For there are things so believed that they can no longer be seen at all. For Christ is not to be seen again on the cross; but unless this is believed, that it was so done and seen that it is not hoped to be done and seen again, one does not come to Christ as he is to be seen without end. But as for discerning in some way by understanding that supreme, ineffable, incorporeal, and unchangeable nature, the gaze of the human mind, provided only that the rule of faith guides it, exercises itself nowhere better than in that which man himself has in his nature better than the other animals, better also than the other parts of his own soul, which is the mind itself; to which a certain sight of invisible things has been granted, and to which, as it presides honorably in a higher and inner place, even the bodily senses report all things to be judged; and than which there is nothing higher, to which it is to be subject and by which it is to be ruled, except God.

But among these many things which I have now said, in which I dare not profess to have said anything worthy of the ineffability of that supreme Trinity, but rather confess that his knowledge is made wonderful from me and has prevailed, and that I cannot reach it: O my soul, where do you feel yourself to be, where do you lie, where do you stand, until he who has become merciful to all your iniquities heals all your diseases? You recognize, surely, that you are in that inn to which the Samaritan brought the man whom he found half dead from the many wounds inflicted by robbers. And yet you have seen many true things, not with these eyes by which colored bodies are seen, but with those for which he prayed who said, “Let my eyes see what is right.” Surely, then, you have seen many true things, and distinguished them from that light by whose shining you saw them: lift your eyes to the light itself and fix them on it, if you can. For so you will see how the birth of the Word of God differs from the procession of the Gift of God, for which reason the only-begotten Son said that the Holy Spirit is not begotten of the Father (otherwise he would be his brother) but proceeds. Hence, since the Spirit of both is a certain consubstantial communion of the Father and the Son, he is not called (far be it) the son of both. But you cannot fix your gaze there so as to discern this clearly and plainly; I know, you cannot. I speak the truth, I speak to myself, I know what I cannot do. Yet that light has shown you in yourself those three in which you might recognize an image of that supreme Trinity which you cannot yet contemplate with fixed eyes. It has shown you that there is a true word in you, when it is begotten from your knowledge, that is, when we speak what we know, although we neither utter nor think any significant sound in the language of any nation, but our thought is formed from what we know; and there is in the gaze of the one thinking an image most like that knowledge which memory contained, with a third, will or love, joining these two as parent and offspring. And that this will proceeds from thought (for no one wills what he does not know at all, what or of what kind it is), yet is not an image of thought, and that therefore some difference between birth and procession is suggested in this intelligible thing, since to behold by thought is not the same as to desire or even to enjoy by will: this he discerns and distinguishes who can. You too have been able to, though you have not been able, and are not able, to explain in adequate speech what you have scarcely seen amid the clouds of bodily likenesses, which never cease to rush into human thoughts. But that light which is not what you are showed you this also, that those incorporeal likenesses of bodies are one thing, and the truth which we behold by understanding when they are rejected is another: these and other things equally certain that light has shown to your inner eyes. What, then, is the cause why you cannot see it itself with fixed gaze, but surely weakness? And what made it so for you, but iniquity? Who, then, heals all your diseases, but he who becomes merciful to all your iniquities? I will, then, at last conclude this book better with prayer than with argument.

O Lord our God, we believe in you, the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. For the Truth would not say, “Go, baptize all nations in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,” unless you were a Trinity. Nor would you, Lord God, command us to be baptized in the name of one who is not the Lord God. Nor would it be said by the divine voice, “Hear, O Israel: the Lord your God is one God,” unless you were a Trinity in such a way as to be one Lord God. And if you, God, were yourself the Father, and were yourself the Son, your Word, Jesus Christ, and your Gift, the Holy Spirit, we would not read in the Writings of truth, “God sent his Son”; nor would you, O Only-begotten, say of the Holy Spirit, “whom the Father will send in my name,” and, “whom I shall send you from the Father.” Directing my attention to this rule of faith, as far as I could, as far as you made me able, I have sought you, and have desired to see with understanding what I believed, and I have argued much and labored. O Lord my God, my one hope, hear me, lest through weariness I be unwilling to seek you; but let me seek your face always, ardently. Give the strength to seek, you who have made me find you and have given the hope of finding you more and more. Before you are my strength and my weakness: preserve the one, heal the other. Before you are my knowledge and my ignorance: where you have opened to me, receive me as I enter; where you have shut, open to me as I knock. Let me remember you, understand you, love you. Increase these in me until you reform me wholly. I know it is written, “In much speaking you will not escape sin.” But would that I spoke only in preaching your word and praising you! Not only would I escape sin, but I would gain good merit, however much I spoke so. For a man blessed by you would not enjoin sin on his true son in the faith, to whom he wrote, saying: “Preach the word, be urgent in season, out of season.” Is it to be said that he did not speak much who kept not silent your word, Lord, not only in season but also out of season? But it was not much, because it was only what was necessary. Free me, O God, from the much speaking which I suffer inwardly in my soul, wretched in your sight and fleeing to your mercy. For I am not silent in thoughts, even when silent in words. And if I thought nothing but what pleased you, I would certainly not ask you to free me from this much speaking. But my thoughts are many, such as you know, the thoughts of men, since they are vain. Grant me not to consent to them, and even when they delight me, nevertheless to disapprove of them, and not to linger in them as if dozing. Nor let them have such power with me that anything in my works proceeds from them; but under your protection let at least my judgment be safe from them, and my conscience safe. A certain wise man, speaking of you in his book, which is now called by its own name Ecclesiasticus, says, “We say much, and do not attain; and the sum of our words is: He is all.” When, therefore, we have attained to you, these many things that we say without attaining will cease; and you will remain, one, all in all; and without end we shall say one thing, praising you in unity, made one in you ourselves too. O Lord, the one God, God the Trinity, whatever I have said in these books that is of you, may your own also acknowledge; whatever is of me, may you and your own forgive. Amen.