Latin Translation of Basil's Hexaemeron 5.1–6.1

"And God said, Let the earth sprout the grass of pasture, sowing seed according to its kind, and the fruit-bearing tree bearing fruit according to its kind, whose seed is in itself." Fittingly, then, after the earth had breathed again, having struggled free of the weight of the waters, the command was given to it to sprout first grass and then pasture, which we see happen even now. For the word then uttered, that first command, was like a law of nature, and it clung to the earth, giving it the ability to produce and bear fruit for the future. "Let the earth sprout." The first stage in the generation of growing things is sprouting; then, when it has emerged a little, it becomes grass, and when it has grown, it is pasture. And growing up little by little it forms joints, and so it develops until the seed ripens in due season. For the grassy, green appearance is common to all. "Let the earth sprout the grass of pasture." The earth was commanded to sprout by itself, needing no help from anything. Since some think that the sun provides plants and seeds with the causes of their growth, drawing what springs from the earth up from its lowest seats by the attraction of its heat, therefore the adornment of the earth's fruitfulness shone forth before the sun, so that the occasion of worshipping the sun as the author of growing things might be taken away from those who are in error, if only they could be persuaded that before the sun itself was created the earth was already adorned with its fruits, considering that the sun is later in birth than grass and pasture. What shall we say, then? That the Creator was laying up food for cattle, but held our race worthy of no provision? It is not so. For he who prepared pasture for your oxen and horses certainly supplied richer wealth and abundance of enjoyment for you, and stored up the means of your life through their nourishment. And what else should the production of seeds be understood to be than the furnishing of your provision? For there is no doubt that vegetables and the roots of wild palms provide food for human beings. And even if there is some kind of plant fitted for others' uses and not ours, yet this very thing is seen to work to our gain all the same, and the benefit of all seeds is felt to be assigned to us. This is certainly the right understanding of what has been said.

"Let the earth sprout the grass of pasture and seed sowing according to its kind." Rightly so; for in this way the order of the narrative will stand consistent, which is now thought in some way to contradict itself, and the necessity of nature's arrangement will be fulfilled. For first comes sprouting, then grass, after this the succession of pasture, which is soon accompanied by the completion of the seed. How, then, does the word declare that everything that grows from the earth has seed, when neither the reed, nor couch grass, nor mint, nor crocus, nor very many others take the beginning of their birth from seed? To this we answer that some of the things the earth produces are believed to hold the power of seed in their roots and base: as the reed, after its new growth, again sends up another offspring from the root, which will provide for the renewal of the stock in future. Not only the reed does this but a thousand others, which, growing under the earth, keep a reviving offspring in the root. Hence it is proved true that each growing thing either has a seed to renew its kind or has some seed-like power joined to it. And this is what it means by "according to its kind." For the offspring of a reed cannot be the producer of olives; rather from a reed another reed arises by the likeness of kinship, and so what the earth produced in the first generation is preserved until now by the succession of descendants. "Let the earth sprout." See how, from a small word and a very brief command, the dry and barren earth was suddenly in labour and driven to bring forth fruit; and as if it had laid aside a mourning garment and put on more joyful clothing, exulting in the dress of its own beauty, it poured forth everything it had conceived at the heavenly command. So I desire the wonders of creation to cling more deeply in your minds, so that wherever you are found and whatever kind of growing thing you stand and look at, you may receive a splendid reminder of the Creator; and above all, when you see the grass of hay or a flower, you may turn at once to the image of human nature, remembering the example of the wise Isaiah: "All flesh is like grass, and all the glory of man like the flower of grass" (Isa 40:6). For the shortness of this life, its very small joy, and the cheerfulness of mortals over their prosperity were most fittingly compared by the prophet. For today someone is seen well fed in body, strong of face, in the prime of age, roaring with strength and irresistible in his drive. The next day this man is found pitiable, either broken by old age or wasting with sickness. Another likewise is held in high regard, filled with the greatest riches, propped up by attendants, thronged by a swarm of clients and of friends, even pretended ones, surrounded by a guard of parasites or flattering relatives; going out and coming back by all ways, he gathers envy with reproach, for one who stands out cannot avoid this disease. Add to wealth civil power too, honours conferred by princes, the government of nations, the command of soldiers, heralds crying out before him with a terrifying voice, lictors attending him on this side and that and striking the deepest terror into suppliants; add floggings, proscriptions, auctions, chains, prisons, from which an unbearable fear is heaped up on those subject to him. And then? One night, an attack of fever, a pain in the side, the gasping of the lungs, drags the man away torn from among men; his whole stage is suddenly stripped bare, and all that power vanishes like a dream that has passed. Therefore the prophet aptly compared the likeness of human glory to the frailty of flowers.

"Let the earth sprout the grass of pasture, sowing seed according to its kind." Until now, then, the order of growing things bears witness to the first arrangement. For sprouting comes before all that is generated; and if anything bursts forth from a root, like crocus and couch grass, it must first sprout, and after this be seen as green hay, and so be brought to ripe grain when the stalk is already turning yellow. "Let the earth sprout the grass of pasture." When a seed has fallen on the ground and has been moderately softened by moisture and warmth, it is soon joined to the bosom of the earth, receiving from it certain generative nourishments, and sinks gradually by slipping into its veins; and, spreading very fine fibres, it breaks through the swelling of the earth above it as it grows, and, now firmly founded, it easily rises up, unfolding as many stalks upward as the roots it has stretched downward. And so the tender sprout, warmed by the vapour beneath, which has slipped in through the roots by the drawing of heat, and supplied with the nourishment of the earth, spreads part of itself into the stalk, sends part into the husk, gives part to the grains, and stretches part into the beards. And in this way, its growth completed, each part gradually reaches its own measure. So whether it is wheat, or a pulse, or a vegetable, or a shrub, it can sufficiently instruct your mind, so that you may see the wisdom of the Creator, the craftsman: how the stalk of grain is girded as with knees, so that, bound by frequent joints, it may more easily carry the burden of the ears when, bent by the weight of ripeness, they begin to bow down. And for this reason the stalk of oats is entirely empty, since it bears no weight on its head. But nature has fortified wheat quite differently, placing its grains very providently in sheaths, so that they may not be snatched away by birds; and so it reasonably set the beards on it like spears for a guard, by whose points the smaller creatures are driven off. [4] What shall I say, and what shall I leave unsaid, looking at such abundant treasures of creation? The pursuit of the better things is difficult, but the loss of what is omitted is not to be borne. "Let the earth sprout the grass of pasture." Along with things for food, harmful things too come forth at once: with wheat hemlock, with the other seeds hellebore, aconite, mandrake, and the juice of the poppy. What then? Shall we set aside thanksgiving for the Creator's generosity and accuse him of producing harmful things? By no means; considering that not everything was made for our belly. The foods assigned to you are both ready to hand and well known; but each of the things that were generated has its own reason. For it does not follow that, because a draught of bull's blood is deadly, the animal itself should not have been made or should not be seen at all, when its labour is judged quite necessary for the various uses of our life. The rationality natural to human beings will suffice you for avoiding what is harmful. For if sheep and goats have a natural sense of guarding against what is hurtful to them, discerning the harm by instinct alone, will you, who have the faculty of speech and the skill of the art of medicine searching out remedies for health, and frequent experience of things showing us ways of escape from evils, tell me, find it hard to avoid dangerous things, none of which was established idly or uselessly? For they either supply food for certain animals, or bring us relief toward health when we are sick. Starlings usually eat hemlock, and are said to escape its poison because of the quality of their bodies: for the passages next to their hearts are very narrow, and they digest what they have eaten before the coldness reaches their inner organs. Quails too use hellebore as food, and avoid its deadly poison by a certain tempering of their nature. All these things are believed to help us as well. For from mandrake sleeping drugs are made, useful for the most severe pains of the limbs. Some have soothed a most troublesome raging hunger with hemlock; some have rid the body of long-standing ailments with hellebore. So where you thought to bring a charge against the Creator, from there rather you gain an increase of praise to give him.

"Let the earth sprout." How much nourishment, then, does he say is found of its own accord in the leaves of plants, and in roots and seeds, and how much is added by cultivation and diligence! Yet he did not command fruit and seed to be produced at once, but decreed that the earth should first sprout and grow green, and then ripen seed, so that that first command might become a lesson of nature for the order of what follows. How, then, does the earth produce seeds according to their kind, when, sowing golden wheat, we often gather black? We shall say that this does not concern a change of kind, but was a certain weakness and sickness of the seed. For grain blackened by blight has not ceased to be grain, as we can know from its very name, because the extreme cold, scorching its appearance, changed it into another colour and taste. Conversely, if the field turns out fertile and enjoys a mild sky, it soon returns to its former shape. But darnel and the other bastard kinds, which Scripture usually calls tares, mixed with the food crops, are not born from the corruption of wheat, but spring from their own origin. The consideration of them is to be applied to those who overturn the Lord's commandments and do not receive the word of admonition sincerely, but, corrupted by evil teaching, dare to mix themselves with the healthy members of the church, so that the hidden ruin of their disease may secretly take root in sound minds. Yet the Lord compares the perfection of those who believe in him to the growth of seed, saying: "As if a man should cast seed upon the earth, and sleep and rise night and day, and the crop sprouts and grows, he knows not how. For the earth bears fruit of itself, first the blade, then the ear" (Mark 4:26–28). "Let the earth sprout the grass." So in the briefest moment of time the earth, beginning with sprouting so as to fulfil the Creator's law, advanced through all the stages of growth and soon brought what was growing to ripeness. At that time you could have seen all the glades shining with the green of plants, and the fields too, adorned with swelling crops, imitating in a way the image of a heaving sea by the motion of the ears. Then every kind of grass and every kind of vegetable, and whatever is shrub or seed-bearing, stood out on the earth with abundant fruits. No failure was then to be feared for the seeds; no laziness of farmers to be blamed; no intemperance of the weather; no complaint of any cause bringing corruption to the crops; no condemnation that could hinder the fertility of the land. For afterwards came sin, for which we were sentenced to eat our bread in the sweat of our face.

Meanwhile he also commanded "the fruitful tree to grow, bearing fruit, whose seed is in itself according to its kind and likeness." At the uttering of this word all the woods at once grew dense, and trees whose habit is to rise high, that is, the olive, the cedar, the cypress, and the pine, and the bushes too were clothed with leaves, and the thickets with foliage. Even those called garland plants, I mean roses, myrtles, and laurels, which did not exist before, rose up in a single moment of time, each with its own property, each distinguished from the other by the plainest proof and produced with a definite mark. But at that time the rose was without a thorn. For the thorn was added to its beauty afterwards, so that care might be next to pleasure, reminding us of the sin for which the earth was condemned to produce brambles and thorns. The earth is commanded to produce also the tree bearing fruit; but we see many trees bearing neither seed nor fruit. To this we shall say that the more useful ones deserved to be mentioned first; and then it will be shown to those who inquire carefully that all trees either bear seed or have a power like seed. For the poplar, the elm, the willow, and others like them seem to bear no evident fruit; yet if anyone examines them more closely he will find seed in them. For beneath their leaves lies a grain which those who have studied the formation of words usually call mischos; this holds the power of seed. And those that grow from the planting of branches put out roots of themselves in great quantity. Perhaps also those buds pushed out from the stock have something of the nature of seed; farmers usually tear these off and plant them to renew the kind. But first, as we said above, those trees are held worthy of mention which, sustaining our life with their fruits and nourishing man, were to give him an enviable freedom of enjoyment: like the vine, which produces wine that gladdens the heart of man, and the olive, which bears the fruit that makes the face shine, in mercy. How many other things then sprang up together at once, nature producing them! So the root of the vine has green shoots around it, spread over the ground, from which first a bud arises, which becomes a wild grape, and after this the grape. The vine too, wisely looked at, is enough to bring nature to your remembrance. For you remember the comparison in the Lord's word, in which he says that he is the vine and the Father the vinedresser. And each of us, who have been grafted into the church by faith, he called branches, calling us to abundant fruitfulness, lest we be accused of sloth and handed over to everlasting flames. Indeed he does not cease everywhere comparing human souls to vines. For he says: "My beloved had a vineyard on a fertile hill" (Isa 5:1). And again: "I planted a vineyard and surrounded it with a hedge" (Matt 21:33), meaning human souls, which he has fenced around with the protection of the heavenly commandments, setting also the guard of angels, as it is written: "The Lord will send his angel around those who fear him, and will deliver them" (Ps 34:7). Then he set up, as it were, stakes by which we might be supported, appointing in the church first apostles, second prophets, third teachers (1 Cor 12:28). And so, rousing us by the examples of the saints of old, he has raised us on high and has not at all allowed our mind to lie on the ground and become fit to be trampled by others. He wants us also, bound as with the tendrils of a vine, that is, with the embraces of love, and loving every neighbour, always to strive upward with the impulse of the soul, made like the shoots that, growing gradually, reach the highest tops of trees. He also requires us to undergo digging. The mind is dug when it lays down worldly cares, which make a heavy burden for our hearts. So whoever has cast off the allurements of bodily pleasure, and has despised the ambitious pursuit of accursed glory and riches, shining as if from the cultivation of digging, begins to breathe freely, every stain of earthly life wiped away. It is fitting for us also, according to the meaning of the proverb, not to run to wood in luxuriance, that is, not to live ostentatiously nor seek the honour of outward praise, but to show ourselves fruitful, displaying to the true Vinedresser diligence in good works. And you, like a fruitful olive, do not strip yourself of any hope, but always keep the green and strong constancy of faith. For so you will be seen to imitate the vigour of that tree and its fruitful abundance, if you bestow mercy most generously at all times.

But now let us return to examining the arrangement of the craftsman. How many kinds of trees then came into being! Some are fruitful, others worthless; some suited for building ships, others needed for the hearth. Again, a varied adornment is seen in them, whose properties are hard to investigate, as are the differences of each. For some are fixed to deeper roots, others to shallow and light ones; some stretch up high, each fixed on a single trunk, others are lower and put out many buds from their stocks. And those whose tops are lofty have many and deeper roots, spread around, which nature has set beneath them like foundations, by which the mass placed above can be supported. How great a diversity there is also in barks! Some are smooth and glossy, some knotty and rough; some single, others joined with many layers. And what will surprise you more, a likeness to human old age and youth is found in them. For the bark of young and vigorous saplings is drawn out and taut, but that of aging trees is wrinkled and scaly. Of these, some sprout again when they have been cut, while others wither as soon as they are lopped, as if suffering a kind of death from the injury of the cut. Many have indeed found that pines, when burned or cut, change into an acorn-bearing wood. It is known too that some, tended by the diligence of farmers, have entirely lost their natural defect. For they say that sour pomegranates or bitter almonds can be sweetened in this way: if, near the root, their trunks are bored and a wedge of pine resin is driven through the middle of the heart, it will take away all the unpleasantness of the unsuitable taste by changing it to sweetness. Therefore let no one, covered by the darkness of wickedness, despair of his own salvation, knowing that farming changes the qualities of fruits for the better, and spiritual labour is able to overcome the wickedness of every disease. And indeed we see so great a difference in the fruitfulness of trees that we cannot explain it even in words. For the distinction of fruits is found not only between one kind and another, but very great diversity is found within single kinds as well. The skill of farmers is reported to have handed down that the appearance of the male fruit is one thing and that of the female another; they also affirm that palms are of two sexes. For it is seen how among them the one called female bends its branches toward the male, as if seeking intercourse, so that it may conceive by mingling with it. So clever farmers are said to take certain buds from the male and graft them into the female; and so, as if filled with the desired union, it at once draws back its arms and returns to its former position. The same is told of figs too. For some are said to plant wild trees beside garden ones; some even tie the fruit of the wild fig to the cultivated ones to give them strength, so that they can keep their fruit from falling. The figure of this thing is believed to warn us to recognize that we must often take an example of faith even from outsiders, for the showing forth of good works. For if you see someone among the pagans or heretics, separated from the Lord's church, adorned with the cultivation of life and morals, you should strive the harder and increase your zeal more and more, so that you may come near to that fruitful fig tree, which, borrowing a fruitful vigour from the company of wild trees, has checked the fault of troublesome dropping and seized the help of its neighbour's fertility.

If, then, the account of their generation is so great that we have barely been able to set forth a few things instead of many, who could run through the varieties, qualities, and shapes of all fruits, and how much usefulness lies in each? Some ripen cooked by the sun; others fill out protected by coverings. And how is it that the leaves of trees bearing soft fruit are stronger, as those of the fig, while those whose fruit is harder have a more delicate texture of leaves, as nuts? Because the fig, on account of its weakness, rightly demands the help of greater protection, while a denser shade of leaves could have harmed the nuts. How reasonably too the vine leaf is made with a many-cleft form, so that the grape, by the part that is covered, may ward off injury from the air, and by the part that is open may receive the warmth of the sun's heat! So we see nothing made by chance, nothing without reason. There is in all things an ineffable and wonderful wisdom. What mind, or whose eloquence, will suffice to grasp all things precisely, so as to contemplate their properties and distinguish the differences of each, or to explore the secrets of causes hidden deep within? How is one and the same moisture, drawn up through the roots of plants, distributed into numerous services, nourishing the root itself in one way, the bark in another, the trunk in another, and the pith in another? And how does it now become leaf, now take form in shoots and branches, and supply the fruits with nourishment for growth? The same material also pours out certain tears through the branches; who can explain how great the difference between them is? For the tear of the mastic tree is one thing, the juice of balsam another, and another the exudation that flows from the fennel plants of Egypt and Libya. There is also a report that amber is the tear of a certain tree, hardened like stone. Witness to this are twigs or small flies which, settling in the juice of flowing amber, stuck in it as it congealed. And in general no one can give a full account of their qualities except one taught by experience: how again from the same moisture the vine produces wine and the olive oil. And not only is this wonderful, that here it becomes sweet and there rich, but that in the fruits themselves it shows a very manifold change of taste. For the quality of sweetness in the grape is one, in the apple another, in the fig another, in the date another. I want you to examine this matter still more closely: how the moisture seems most pleasant to the sense of the lips and taste when in some fruits, as ripeness comes, it grows sweet, while in others it is held harsh and bitter when it turns sour. It afflicts the sense by excessive bitterness when it is spread through wormwood or scammony. In acorns and cornel fruit it becomes astringent and hard; but in the terebinth or the nut it takes on a soft and rich substance.

But why do we pursue far-off examples, when in one and the same fig tree the moisture is now very bitter in the sap and now very sweet in the fruit, and in the vine it is harsh when it buds but delicious in the ripe grape? And how many distinctions of colours would you say there are? Indeed, if ever you look at flowery fields, you will see how the same liquid is scarlet in this flower, and purple, white, or golden in another, and shows a still greater difference of scent than of colour. But I feel that my discourse, through eagerness for contemplation, is creeping out into immense spaces. Unless I bind it and bring it back to the needs of the subject of creation, the day will surely fail me as I lay open to you the magnificent wisdom by comparison with lesser things. "Let the earth sprout the fruitful tree bearing fruit." As soon as the command was given, the ridges of the mountains grew thick with leafy trees, cultivated gardens were seen, and the banks of rivers were filled with different kinds of foliage. Some of them were appointed to adorn the tables of mortals, some to provide fodder for cattle, others are fitted for the uses of medicine; and, to speak briefly, whatever the long experience of things has gathered for us, the arrangement of the Creator, foreseeing the future from the beginning, collected the necessary things from everywhere and appointed them to be produced with the greatest speed. But you, when you see cultivated and wild plants, those of land and of water, and flowering ones, recognize the greater through the least; yet in such a way that to your own wonder you add love for the Creator, by asking how he makes certain trees always green and others bare in winter; and again how, of those that are always green, some usually change their leaves unnoticed, so that in this way they can never be stripped of their own foliage, like the olive or the pine; while he commands others to be clothed with lasting leaves, like the palm, which is believed to be content with the leaves received from its first sprouting until its very end. Consider this too: how the tree called the tamarisk is of a kind of ambiguous nature, since it delights no less in wetter places than in drier ones. Therefore Jeremiah (Jer 17:6) wisely compares changeable and inconstant characters to this shrub.

"Let the earth sprout." This small command, then, compels it to put forth all the powers it has, in each yearly course, to form the race of plants, seeds, and trees. For as a spinning top, set going by the stroke of the first blow, unfolds its winding circles in curved spaces, and once fixed on its sharp point turns itself round, so the order of nature, having taken its beginning from God's first command, passes through all the age until it reaches the common end and conclusion. Toward that end let us too hasten, filled with the fruits of good works, so that, planted in the house of the Lord, we may flourish in the courts of our most holy God, in Christ Jesus, to whom be glory and honour always, and for ages of ages. Amen.

Spectators of athletic contests ought to share the hardiness of those who compete; this is easily proved by the organizers of the sacred games, who order those gathered in the stadium to sit bareheaded, so, it seems to me, that each person may be present not only as a spectator but also as a sharer in the sweat. In the same way, one who seeks the greatest and most excellent spectacles and listens to the highest and ineffable wisdom should bring his own resources to the contemplation of the matter set before him, and share the burden of the labour with me as far as he can, considering himself present as a companion rather than as a judge, lest the discovery of the truth escape us and by my fault there be a common loss to my hearers. Why do I say this? Because the subject before us is the composition of the world, taking its beginning not from worldly wisdom but from what the Lord taught his servant Moses, speaking to him in appearance and not in riddles. So it is necessary that the most eager spectators of the greatest things should take part in the present questions with a mind not untrained. If, then, at any time under a clear night sky you have looked up at the ineffable beauty of the stars, I believe you were captivated and asked about the Creator of all things: who adorned the heaven with such flowers, and how in the things that are seen usefulness is proved greater than delight. And likewise if by day, examining with a sober mind, you have considered the wonders of the day and, through the reason of visible things, reckoned with him who is invisible, you have come altogether ready to listen, showing yourself worthy of the festival of this honourable and blessed spectacle. Therefore I will do what those do who take strangers in cities by the hand and lead them to the places they seek: I will introduce you, as those who do not know them, to the hidden wonders of this greatest city. In this city lies our ancient homeland, from which the murderer, the devil, led us away, enticed by his allurements. Here you behold the first generation of man, and the death that followed upon us, which was born of sin, the firstborn offspring of the ancient demon. There you recognize man, earthly indeed by nature, but the work of divine hands; much weaker in strength than cattle, but appointed ruler of living and lifeless things; weak in natural equipment, but raised to heaven itself by the help of reason. If we learn these things, we shall know ourselves, remember God, adore the Creator, serve the Lord, glorify the Father, revere the benefactor, and never cease to venerate the author of our present and future life, who by the riches he has given us shows also the faithfulness of those he has promised, and by the experience of present things confirms also the things that are hoped for. For if temporal things are such, what are the everlasting? If visible things are so good, what are those not seen? If the greatness of heaven exceeds the measure of the human mind, who can suffice to estimate the nature of the everlasting? If the sun, subject to corruption, is so good and great, swift in motion, ordered in its courses, having a fitting size by which it cannot exceed the moderation set for all things (and the beauty of its nature, like a clear eye, gives adornment to the world); if the sight of it is never satisfying, how beautiful will the Sun of righteousness be thought to be? If it is a loss to the blind man not to see this sun, how great a loss will the sinner suffer, deprived of the true light?