Against Eunomius

It is not, it seems, in every respect free even from the reproach of the many to wish to do good to everyone, and to lavish one’s own favour without discrimination on whatever people one happens to meet; nor is it free from reproach to waste on the incurably sick the supply of many remedies. For when such conduct brings nothing worth the effort toward the aim of benefit — neither gain to those who receive nor praise to those who are generous — it often becomes, on the contrary, an occasion of something worse. For the sickly, already ready for death, are easily destroyed all the more by the stronger drugs; and the bestial and irrational, as the Gospel says somewhere, become worse by the benefit when pearls are lavished on them. Therefore it seems right to me, as the divine word has said before, to separate the worthless from the precious in giving what is valuable, so that the one who has trampled the pearl and insulted the kindness by his insensibility to good things may not grieve the goodness of the generous giver.

This came to my mind to say as I considered, on the one hand, the one who shared his own good things unsparingly with all — I mean the man of God, the mouth of piety, Basil, who in the abundance of his spiritual treasures poured out the grace of wisdom without discrimination even into crafty souls — and, on the other, Eunomius, ungrateful toward those who were eager to do him some good. For this man, through the excess of the soul’s sickness from which he suffered concerning the faith, seemed pitiable to all who share in the Church. For who is so unfeeling as not to pity one who is perishing? But it moved that man alone to undertake the cure, the one who alone, in the abundance of his love for humankind, ventured even on what is impossible for the sake of healing; who, grieving deeply at the man’s ruin, out of his natural compassion for the wretched, composed the discourse overturning the heresy as a kind of antidote to deadly poisons, aiming by it to rescue the man again and restore him to the Church. But he, as though his mind were struck by frenzy, resists his physician, fights and battles him, and considers an enemy the one who strives forcibly to lift him out of the pit of impiety.

And he does not simply rave these things, as it chanced, before whoever happened by: he has set up against himself a written monument of this melancholy. Having obtained, over a long time, as much leisure as he wished, he was in labour with a discourse through all the intervening time, longer than the great and fleshy beasts; he was heavy with threats while he was still shaping the embryo in secret; and late at last, and with difficulty, he brought into the light a kind of abortion, an offspring not carried to term, which all who share the same dissent nurse and cherish. But we, because of the blessing of the prophecy — for “Blessed,” it says, “is he who will seize and dash your infants against the rock” — since this little infant of a discourse has come into our hands, have resolved to seize it and dash it against the rock, as one of the children of Babylon. “And the rock was Christ,” that is, the word of truth. Only may the power that strengthens what is weak come upon us, through the prayers of him who perfected his power in the weakness of the body.

Now if that godlike and holy soul still looked upon human life through the flesh, and that lofty mouth, according to the grace allotted to it from the beginning, still sent forth that invincible voice, who would have come to such confidence as to dare even to utter anything on this subject, when that divine trumpet sounded above every word and every sound? But since he has flown up wholly to God — formerly touching the earth with a small and shadowy remnant of the body, while with the greater part he travelled aloft with God, and now having let go and left to this life even that shadow of the body — and the drones are buzzing about the honeycombs of the word and spoiling the honey, let no one charge me with rashness for rising up in defence of the silent mouth. For I did not undertake the labour because I was conscious of any power of speech beyond others; I know precisely, if anyone does, that thousands who abound in the gift of wisdom are multiplying in the Church. Yet since I say that the inheritance of the departed belongs to me above all, both by the written laws and by the laws of nature, for this reason I claim for myself, before the others, the inheritance of the argument. Among those who contribute to the Church of God I am counted with the last; but against the one who has broken away from the Church into the opposing rank I am not the weaker. For in a healthy body even the least part, through the concord of the whole, would be stronger than a part that is decayed and cut off, even if the one is larger and the other smaller.

Let no one think that by these words I am speaking big, as though boasting of vain things beyond the power I have. For I am not led, out of some boyish ambition, to descend tastelessly with the man into a contest of speeches or a display of phrases. Where getting the better is useless and unprofitable, we readily yield the victory to whoever wants it. I judge that this man is in other ways too a practised hand at words, looking at his very practice in his doctrine; but that he has laboured especially over the present discourse I infer both from the fact that no small part of the writer’s life has been spent on this composition, and from his admirers’ exulting beyond all measure in his labours. And it is not unlikely that one who has laboured through so many olympiads of years should have produced something more than those who set to work offhand. But what shows his long wearing-away over words even more is the tastelessness of the figures in the arrangement of what he said, and the superfluous and vain zeal about such things. For having collected from certain books, with hasty preparation, a great sweeping of petty phrases, and having laboriously heaped up a countless pile of words on a few ideas, he has produced this toilsome work, which the disciples of deceit praise and gape at — perhaps because of their blindness about what matters, being deprived along with it of all discernment of what is good and what is not — but which those whose heart’s insight has not been darkened by the filth of unbelief laugh at and judge worth nothing.

For who would not reasonably laugh to see that the subject of the effort was announced as the defence of the doctrines of truth, while the effort itself is spent on a tastelessness of words and figures to no achievement? For what would it contribute toward refuting what had been said (as he supposes) and establishing the truth of what is in question, though he struggle all the more, to have an outlandish invention of figures in the discourse, a novel and peculiar syntax, insolence laboured over and labour again insolent, worked out in imitation of none of those who went before him? For one could not discover which of those known for eloquence he looked to when he brought himself to this, like one of the conjurors on the stage, with parallel and balanced clauses, words that sound alike and end alike, beating out his discourse to the rhythm of his little phrases as if with castanets. Such, along with many others, are also the silly trills in his prologue and the effeminate Sotadeans, which, it seems to me, he did not even recite in a quiet manner, but, tapping with his foot and snapping his fingers, chanted shrilly in time with the rhythm, saying that there will be no further need “either of other words or of second labours.”

In these things, then, and things like them, I concede that he has the advantage and may gorge himself on victory at will; I shall willingly pass over all effort about such things, as befitting only those who have ambition in view — if indeed it brings any credit at all to be affected in such words. For even Paul, the genuine servant of the word, adorned with truth alone, thought it shameful himself to dress up the word with such embellishments, and trained us to look to truth alone, rightly and fittingly laying this down. For why should one who is made beautiful by the adornment of truth drag in the fussiness of the cosmetic art to complete a counterfeit and contrived beauty? For those who lack the truth it is perhaps useful to drug the lie with the pleasure of words, spending such fussiness on the style of the discourse like a rouge; for so the deceit, coloured and decked with flowers by such elegances of speech, would become persuasive and acceptable to the hearers. But when truth is pursued by people pure and unmixed with any deceitful veil, its beauty shines from within on what is said.

Now that I am about to take up the examination of what he said, I seem to be at a loss, like a farmer in a windless calm, not knowing how to separate the grain from the chaff; so much in this heap of words is superfluous and chaffy that I come near to thinking that in all that he has said there is no substance of facts or thoughts at all. For to go through everything he has written in order I judge both vain for our effort and laborious, and not suited to our aim. For we do not have so much leisure left over as to be free to spend time on vanities; and I think it befits the approved workman not to wear out his strength on vanities but on those things in which the labour has acknowledged fruit. All, then, that right at the start, in his prologue, giving himself airs as a champion of truth, he says in attacking his opponents with the reproach of unbelief — saying that a lasting and indelible hatred is ingrained in them; and how he swaggers over the things lately become known to him, not adding what the things known were, but saying that a judgment

of the disputed points had taken place among them, and a lawful penalty bringing the necessity of self-restraint on those who were insolent without justice — saying it thus in his own voice, in that Lydian mode of his: “And those who were insolent without justice having been compelled by lawful justice to be moderate” — which he also named the “renunciation” of those who had risen against him (I do not know what he means by “renunciation”): all this and everything of the kind I shall pass by in my discourse, as a vain crowd that contributes nothing useful. But if he has made any plea on behalf of the heretical way of thinking, to that I think it right to give more attention. For so too did the interpreter of the divine doctrines in his own discourse: though there were many things that could have extended his discourse at length, proceeding by the necessary rules he cut short the mass of the subject, having picked out from all that was said in the book of impiety the chief heads of the blasphemy.

If anyone demands that our own discourse be set against his in order, following the sequence of his discourse, let him say what the gain is. What more will the hearers have if I solve the riddle and enigma of the title, which, like the tragic Sphinx, is held out to us right away in the prologue — that novel “apology for the apology” — and the great nonsense about it, and recount the long narrative of his dream? For I think that the sticky and vain novelty in the title of the work, preserved in the discourse of Eunomius alone, wearies the readers enough, and so does the vulgarity of his own narratives: what labours and contests of his own he recounts, as having travelled through every land and sea and as proclaimed throughout the whole world. If these things were written out again — and, as is likely, with the refutations of the lies swelling the discourse further — who will prove so tough and adamantine as not to be nauseated at the untimeliness of the labour? And if I were to write out word for word that inspired history — who the man from the Euxine Pontus was who annoyed him beforehand through the sameness of the name; what his life was, what his pursuits; how he quarrelled with the Armenian because of their likeness of character; then on what terms they came to agreement with each other and were reconciled, so as to make common cause against that invincible and greatly renowned Aetius, his teacher (for he dignifies him with these praises); then what the contrivance and plot against him was by which they brought the man to trial, making it a charge against him that he was well regarded and above the others — if I were to tell all this, would I not, like those who draw an eye disease upon themselves through much company with those already sick, seem myself to share in the sickness of vain zeal, following his babble step by step and examining each detail? What slaves set free does he speak of? What relationship of initiates, and what rank of bought slaves? What is the point of Montius, Gallus, and Domitian coming into the discourse, and false witnesses, and an angry emperor, and certain people being sent into exile? What could be vainer than these narratives, at least for one who wishes not to tell a bare story but to refute the man who spoke against the doctrine of the heresy?

Still more useless, I think, are the things shown by the history after these; for I think not even the writer himself could go through them without dozing, even though fathers are held by a natural affection toward their offspring. For there, forsooth, the deeds are displayed, the sufferings are raised on high by the discourse, and the history is fitted out to the bulk of tragedy. But so that I may not, by excusing myself more than is needed, linger over useless things — and so that, like one who drives his horse through mud and is filled with the unpleasantness of it, I too, by leading my discourse through the memory of what he wrote, may not defile my treatise — I think it fitting to leap over all such rubbish, as far as possible, with a high and swift bound of the discourse. For a quick withdrawal from unpleasant things is gain enough, hurrying the discourse to the end of the story, so that the words of their bitterness may not drip into my book as well. Let it befit the voice of Eunomius alone to say such things about priests of God: “shield-bearers, lictors, and bodyguards, terrifying, searching, not allowing the one in hiding to escape notice,” and all the other things he is not ashamed to write against the grey hairs of priests. For just as in the schools of the outside learning, to train readiness of tongue and mind, the youths are given themes of invective against some unspecified person, so the writer steps straight in against those he has mentioned and lets loose his slanderous tongue on them; and keeping silent about any deeds of wickedness, he prepares for them a mere stale dregs of insults, fabricating every reproach against them and combining incompatible things in his abuse: “a lentil-pounding soldier,” and “a holy man accursed,” “pale with fasting and murderous with bitterness,” and much buffoonery of this sort. As in the processions outside someone is held up to scorn because in his excess of shamelessness he revels without a mask, so he, hiding his bitterness behind no curtain, with a naked and brazen voice hurls abuse as from the wagon.

Then he admits what provokes him: that those men, he says, were eager that not many should be perverted along with them by their deceit. And for this he is angry: that they were not free to stay in all the places they wished, but that by the order of the ruler of that time Phrygia became their place of residence, so that not many might be harmed by their wicked company. And indignant over this he writes: “And the great weight of the contests, and the unbearable sufferings, and the noble endurance of the sufferings: to have exchanged the land that bore them for Phrygia.” Quite so! For was not what happened a disgrace to the man of Oltiseris, bringing down his father’s pride and insulting the dignity of his family, so that the famous, double-named Priscus, this man’s father’s father, would never have chosen the things he now chafes at? Hence the brilliant and admired stories of his family: the mill, the leather, the slave’s ration of grain, and the rest of the inheritance of Canaan; and for these things those who procured their removal had to be reviled!

I too agree with him on this: truly worthy of their blame are those who became the cause of these things for them, if there are, or ever were, any such at all; because through these things the knowledge of their former lives is covered up and the memory of the more respectable facts taken away, and it does not allow inquiry into what is older than the present: from what rank each of them set out at the beginning, what course of life they had from their fathers, what small or great thing befitting free men they were conscious of in themselves, before they became so known and named as to become known even to emperors, as he now boasts in his treatise, and all the higher authorities were stirred up over them, and their affairs were talked about over much of the world. Has he not truly been most gravely wronged by these things — whether this writer himself, or his patron and guide in a like life, Aetius, whom he seems to me to have emulated not so much with an eye to the deceit of his doctrines as much more to the provision and comfort of his life? I say this not inferring it by guesswork, but having heard it with my own ears from those who knew it accurately.

For the story of this Aetius I once heard from Athanasius, bishop of the Galatians, a man who would put nothing before the truth, who, to attest his account to the many, also showed a letter of George of Laodicea. He said that Aetius did not take up absurdity of doctrine at first, but that later he put forward this innovation as a trade for his living. For when he had already shed his slavery to Ampelis, the woman who owned him (how, I need not say, lest I seem to touch on the story too maliciously), he was at first a smith, practising this fiery and mechanical craft by hand, sitting at a little hammer and a small anvil under a hair tent, and scraping together meanly and with toil the necessities of life by this work. For what wage worth mentioning could there be for one who mends the rotten parts of bronze vessels, stops up holes, applies tin to the cracks, and solders the bottoms of cauldrons with lead? The cause of his change of life, he said, was a misfortune that befell him through his craft. For once he received from a soldier’s wife a golden ornament of the kind worn on the neck or the arm, to mend a dent it had received, and he cheated the woman by a trick: he stole the gold piece and gave her back in its place a bronze one of equal size to the gold, with a like appearance through a surface dye, having smeared the bronze with gold. The woman was taken in by the appearance — for he was clever in the smith’s work too at cheating his customers by the tricks of the craft — but in time she detected the fraud about the gold, when the dye had worn off the bronze; then she took the thief to court, certain soldiers being stirred to anger because of kinship and common race. And after that piece of daring, having suffered what a cheat and a thief would be likely to suffer, he swore himself off the craft — as though it was not his choice but his trade that had put the desire to steal in him.

After this he became the attendant of one of the quack physicians, so as not to be utterly without the food he needed, and he went about to the more obscure houses and to certain outcast people under the pretext of medicine. Then, as his scheme gradually brought him to prosperity, a certain Armenian, easily deceived because he was a barbarian, was persuaded to consult him as a physician and supplied him with plenty of money; and he now thought it a small thing to serve others in the craft for wages, and claimed to be a physician himself and to be called one. From then on he took part in medical gatherings, and mixing with those who wrangle in disputes, he was one of the shouters.

And by throwing his own weight into the scale of the argument, he was courted not a little by those who hired the shamelessness of his voice for their own quarrels. When his bread had become richer through this, he thought he ought not to remain even in this way of life, but little by little he stripped off that medicine together with the smithing. Now when Arius, the fighter against God, had sown these wicked seeds of tares, whose fruit is the doctrines of the Anomoeans, the schools of the physicians at that time resounded with the uproar about that question. Having practised himself in that kind of debate, and having picked up a certain method of syllogisms from echoes of Aristotle, he became famous for surpassing Arius, the father of the heresy, by the novelty of his inventions; or rather, having grasped the consequence of what Arius had laid down, he was thought to be a sharp fellow and a discoverer of hidden things, declaring that what is created and is from what is not is unlike the one who created it and brought it out of non-being. Since by such arguments he tickled the novelty-loving ears of those sick with these things, this novel language came to the knowledge also of Theophilus the Blemmyan, who had an earlier acquaintance with Gallus; and through him Aetius slipped into the palace. When the crime against the prefect Domitian and against Montius was then dared by Gallus, all who had shared in the pollution shared, as was to be expected, in his downfall. But this man slips out of the punishment, not even judged worthy to suffer any harm along with the accomplices in the crime. After this, when the great Athanasius had been removed from the church of the Alexandrians by imperial power, and George of Tarbasthena was tearing that people apart, Aetius became an Alexandrian again, behind none of those who were fed by the Cappadocian and lived as his parasites; for he did not neglect flattery either. And George, long since captured by the perversion of the doctrine, delighted in him, and lay open to Aetius at will as a windfall.

These things, then, did not escape the notice of this Eunomius, his genuine emulator. He had observed that the life of his natural father — a most excellent man in other respects, except that he became the father of such a son — was honest and respectable, but toilsome through poverty and full of countless labours. (For he was a farmer bent over the plough, spending much labour on a small plot of land; and through the winter, when he was free from his labours on the land, he would cleverly trace out the first letters and the syllables for children, and with those fees eke out his living.) Seeing these things in his own father, he bade farewell to the plough and the mattock and all his father’s tools, so that he himself might not toil at similar labours, and first became a disciple of the wisdom of Prunicus. Having practised writing at speed, he at first attended, I think, one of his relatives, getting his food as the wage of his service as a writer; then, as tutor to the boys of the man who fed him, he gradually advanced to a desire for rhetoric. I pass over what came in between: his life in his native country, and in what circumstances he was caught in Constantinople, and with whom. After this, they say, he busied himself with the cloak and the belt. But since he saw that it was all small, and that nothing worth his desire was being gathered by his zeal for these things, he left the other pursuits of life and admired Aetius alone of all — not unwisely, I think, choosing this, with a view to his own aim, as a scheme for making a living. For from the time he shared in this secret wisdom, everything grows for him unsown and unploughed. For he is wise in what he is eager for, and he knew how one might best win over the more passionate among men. For since human nature is, for the most part, easily caught by pleasure, and nature is very prone to this passion, readily falling from the rougher pursuits to the smoothness of pleasure, in order to win to himself as many partners as possible in the disease of his doctrines, he makes himself pleasant to those whom he initiates, discarding the steepness and toil of virtue as unpersuasive for the reception of the mystery. What they teach in secret, and how much those who have received the pollution through deceit blab and bring into the open — that secret initiation, what they are taught by the august hierophant of their mysteries, the manner of their baptisms and their plea for nature, and everything of the kind — if anyone has leisure to learn it accurately, let him ask those who think it no offence to utter anything unseemly. We will be silent. For it is not holy even for accusers to mention such things, nor, having learned to honour purity even in speech, to soil our treatise even with the milder of these stories, though the truth attends what is said.

But the reason we have mentioned these things is this: just as Aristotle’s perverse craft was for Aetius a source of gain from impiety, so for his fully trained disciple too, on a par with his teacher, the simplicity of those he deceived provided the means of living in plenty. What great wrong, then, did Basil by the Euxine Pontus, or Eustathius in Armenia, do him, about whom the long digression of his history spreads itself out? How have they hurt his aim in life? Did they not rather nourish their novel reputation to greater size? For how did they come to be known, and named so widely? Did it not come about through those men — if indeed the accuser is telling the truth about them? For the fact that those men, being of good repute, as the writer testifies, judged as worthy opponents people who had no claim to be known from any quarter naturally became an occasion of pride for those who had been ranged against men thought to be above the rest. And from this they gained that the lowness and namelessness of their former life was overshadowed, and that thereafter they were well known: things to be shunned by people of sense (for no right-thinking person would pray to be thought great for evil), but to such people the very height of good fortune. So they say that a certain obscure and lowly man in Asia, wishing to become famous among the Ephesians, did not even put into his mind any great and brilliant deed — for he could not — but became more notable than those known for the greatest deeds by inventing an extreme of harm against the Ephesians. They had a public building admired for all its splendour and costliness; the man destroyed that great work by fire, and when he was tried for his daring he confessed the passion of his soul: that, making much of being known by many, he had devised that his name, as the one who dared it, should be remembered along with the greatness of the evil. Such too is the basis of these men’s fame, except that it differs in being greater in evil. For it is not lifeless buildings but the living building of the Church itself that they ruin, throwing into it, like a fire, the derangement of doctrine. But the discussion of doctrine I shall put off to its proper time.

Meanwhile let us now consider how the man who complained in his prologue that he is hated by the unbelieving for telling the truth makes use of the truth. For it is perhaps not untimely, having learned also from his statements outside doctrine how he stands toward truth, to use this as evidence for his doctrines. For “He who is faithful,” it says, “in very little is faithful also in much, and he who is unjust in very little is unjust also in much.” Being about to write the apology for the apology — this novel and absurd title and subject of his discourse — he says that the cause of such a paradox came from no other source than from the man who had spoken against his earlier discourse. That discourse bore the name Apology; and our teacher had taken him up on it, on the ground that an apology fits only those who are accused, and that if someone writes on his own initiative and at will, what he writes is something else and not an apology. That one ought not to make an apology without a prior accusation, because the absurdity is obvious, he does not dispute; but he says that, having been accused on the gravest charges, he made his defence against the judgment brought on him. How much falsehood there is in this will, I think, become clear from his own words. He has complained that many and unbearable sufferings came upon him from those who condemned him; and this one may learn from what he himself has written. How then did he suffer these things, if he had made his defence on the charges? For if he used his apology to escape the charges, that whole tragedy is altogether false and fabricated in vain; but if he suffered what he has told, clearly he suffered without having made a defence. For this is the aim of every defence: not to allow those who have power over the verdict to be misled by slander — unless he will try to say that he did put forward his defence at the trial, but, unable to win over those who had been appointed to judge, he was worsted by his opponents. But he said nothing of the sort at the trial, nor was he going to. How could he? He confesses in his treatise that he refused to accept hostile and inimical judges: “For we confess,” he says, “that we were convicted while silent, since wicked and evil men had pushed their way into the judges’ place.” There, as I think, struggling violently, with his mind on other things, he did not notice the solecism neatly woven into his speech, very pompously Atticizing with the word eisphrēsantōn, whose usage is one thing among those who have mastered the language — as those familiar with the orator’s speeches know — and was taken to be another by the new Atticist. But this has nothing to do with our aim.

A little further on he adds this as well: “For if he thinks that because I did not accept my accusers as judges he thereby does away with the apology, he has failed to notice that he is very naive.” When, then, and before whom has this shrewd man made his defence — he who objected to the judges because of their enmity, and, as he himself affirms, kept silent at the trial? Look at the vehement champion of truth: how after a little he turns round and deserts to falsehood, honouring truth in word and opposing it in deed! But this is delightful: he even contends for the defence of the falsehood itself. For how can the same man both have justly made his defence against the judgment brought on him, and again have wisely kept silent because the trial was among enemies? And yet by the very discourse he entitled the Apology it is plainly shown that no court was ever convened for him at all. For the prologue of the discourse is addressed not to definite judges but to certain indefinite people, both those living at that time and those who would come after. On this I myself agree with him: he needed a great defence — not like the one now written, which needs yet another apology to support it, but a comprehensive and sensible one, able to persuade his hearers why he wrote as though he were convening a court for himself of people neither present nor perhaps even born, made his defence to those who did not exist, and begged those who had not come into being not to distinguish falsehood from truth by numbers, attaching the better to the greater part. For truly it befits him to put such a defence before such judges, those still in the loins of their fathers, and to think he speaks justly in that he alone has resolved to oppose the opinions of all, and thinks the deluded fancy of his own soul more trustworthy than all those throughout the world who glorify the name of Christ.

Let him write, if he likes, yet another apology for the second apology; for the present one is not a correction of his errors but rather a proof of the charges. For who does not know that every lawful defence aims at removing the charge brought? Thus one who is accused of theft or murder or some other offence either denies the act entirely, or shifts the blame for the evil to another, or, if he can do none of these, will ask pardon and mercy from those who have power over the verdict. Here the discourse contains neither a denial of the charges nor a transfer to others; it neither takes refuge in mercy nor promises good conduct for the future; but the very charge he is accused of is strengthened by a more laborious argument. For what is alleged, as he himself says, is an indictment for impiety, which brings against him no vague charge but states the very form of the impiety; and the defence argues that one must be impious, not removing the charge but confirming the accusation. If the doctrines of piety were obscure, it would perhaps be less dangerous to venture on novelty; but when the teaching of the theologian is firmly rooted in all pious souls, does the one who shouts the opposite of what is commonly acknowledged by all defend himself against what he is charged with, or does he rather draw on himself the anger of his hearers and stand forth as his own more bitter accuser? I say the latter. So, if there are, as the writer says, either hearers of his defence or accusers of what he has dared against piety, let him say himself either how the accusers will insult him, or what verdict the judges will bring in about him, when the offence is established beforehand by the defence.

But these things have somehow fallen out of the sequence of the argument, because the sequence was not well conducted; for what lies before us now is not to examine how he ought to have defended himself, but whether he made any defence at all. Let us return to what was proposed: that he is plainly caught by his own words, as follows. The man who is so annoyed at falsehood says that he was tried, met with lawless judges, and was led over land and sea, suffering hardship under the blaze of the sun and in the dust. Then again, covering up the falsehood, he drives out one nail with another, as the proverb says, correcting this falsehood with another falsehood. For since everyone knows, as he does, that he uttered not a single word in court, he says that he refused the court of his enemies and was convicted while silent. How could anyone be more clearly refuted as at odds both with the truth and with himself? When he is called to account for the title of his discourse, he puts forward the trial as the necessity for his apology; when he is refuted for having said nothing before the judges, he denies the trial and rejects the judges. Do you see how stoutly the vehement champion of truth stands against falsehood? Then, being such a man, he dares to call the great Basil wicked, malicious, and a liar, and besides these, rash, ignorant, a counterfeit, uninitiated in divine things; and to the catalogue of abuse he adds derangement and madness and countless things of the kind, scattering them through his whole discourse, as if he thought that his own bitterness would be enough to outweigh the testimony of all people, who are awed at the very name of the great man as at one of the ancient saints.

and he thinks he can damage the one who is unwounded by blame by abuse alone. The sun is not so low that the one who throws stones or anything else at it can reach it; the missiles turn back again on the one who sent them, while the target remains higher than the throw. And if someone slanders the sun as dull, he has not dimmed the light of its ray by his jibes; the sun, even when mocked, will be the sun, while the one who reviles its ray as lightless will be exposed for the blindness of his organs of sight. And however much he may wish, after the fashion of that apology of his, to persuade those who will hear and read him not to join in the opinions of all about the sun, nor to make the experience of the many more authoritative than his own supposition, attaching the better to the greater part, he will babble in vain before those who see.

Let some well-wisher of Eunomius, then, persuade him to put a bridle on his mouth, not to bolt in the disorder of his speech, not to kick against the goads, not to speak insolently against the honoured name, but to fill his soul with reverence and fear merely on calling the great Basil to mind. For what more will he gain from this immoderate ribaldry, when Basil is regarded by all as such as his life, his word, and the common testimony of the world proclaim him, while the one who tries to revile him displays his own character, as one who, as the Gospel says somewhere, cannot speak good things because he is evil, but speaks out of the abundance of his heart and brings forth from his evil treasure? That the words of abuse are bare and do not touch the truth of the facts is proved from what he has written. He has posited a certain place, in which he says the contest about the doctrines took place, but it is nameless and indicated by no known sign, so that the hearer has to guess at random at what is obscure. In this place, he says, there was an assembly of the elite from everywhere, and he swells his discourse youthfully, as though bringing the setting of the events before our eyes. Then he says that a race for the highest stakes was set before certain judges — whom he does not name either — and that our guide and father was present and prompting them; but when the trial shifted the victory to his opponents, Basil fled the place, deserting his post, and went after “some smoke of his homeland.” And he is profuse in disparaging the man in his sketch of his cowardice, as anyone who wishes may learn from what he wrote; for I have no leisure to spill all the vomit of his leisure through my words. I shall pass, rather, to the reason I mentioned these things.

What is that nameless place in which the discourse about the doctrines is examined? What is the occasion that calls the best men to the contest? Who are the people who hurried over land and sea to share the labours? What world does he mean that hung in suspense over the outcome, awaiting the verdict of the vote? Or who was the one who presided over the contests? Or let these things pass, according to the custom of boys in the schools, of contriving in such inventions some bulk and grandeur for the discourse; but let him say this one thing: who was that invincible combatant with whom he says our teacher was afraid to grapple? If this too is fabricated, let him win once again and have the larger share of vanity; we will be silent. For in shadow-boxing to no useful purpose, the true victory is to yield such a victory willingly. But if he is speaking of what happened in Constantinople, and means that synod, and inflames his discourse over the tragedies there, and names himself the great and unrivalled athlete, we accept the charge that, though present at the time of the contests, we did not grapple with the contestants. Then let him who reproaches the other with cowardice show whether he himself came down into the midst; whether he uttered any word for his own piety; whether he held forth vigorously; whether he contended brilliantly against those ranged against him. But he could not say so, or else he plainly fights against himself; for he has confessed that he received in silence the verdict brought by the judges. If, then, one ought to speak during the contests — for this is the law he now lays down in his treatise — why is he condemned for being silent then? But if he did well in honouring quiet before the judges, what is this partiality, that he is praised for keeping silent while our quiet is made a matter of slander? What could one devise more unjust than this absurdity: that when both of them made their discourses after the contests, he says that he himself made his defence in good time, though he came so long after the time, but reviles the one who answered his discourse as having come too late for the contests? Or perhaps one ought to have refuted beforehand, by a reply, a discourse that was still to be spoken?

For this, it seems, is all that is missing from the charge: why did Basil not refute at the time of that trial what the other was going to write, since he foresaw it? That he did not make this apology at the trial is clear from what he has confessed; I will recall the same words again. “For we confess,” he says, “that we were convicted while silent”; and he adds the reason: because wicked men had obtained the office of judging — or rather, as he himself puts it, “had pushed their way into the judges’ place.” And that, again, he testifies that the apology came at the proper time is clear from other things he said. The passage runs thus: “But that I was led to the apology at the proper time and in the proper manner, not inventing it but compelled on behalf of my sureties, has become clear both from the facts themselves and from this man’s words.” What, then, will he say, who turns his argument round so easily in every direction? That one ought not to keep silent at the contests? Why, then, was Eunomius voiceless at those very contests? But for him an apology after the contests was timely? How, then, was the battle against what had been said untimely for the other? But truer than all, it seems, is the word of the holy man: that under pretence of an apology he made a construction of his own doctrines as he pleased. And the true zealot of Phinehas, who destroys with the sword of the word everyone who has gone whoring from the Lord, drew the sword that heals the soul and slays impiety — I mean the refutation of the blasphemy. If this man resists and does not accept the cure, having killed his own soul by apostasy, the fault is his who chose the evil, as the outside learning too says.

Such, then, is Eunomius against the truth and against us. As for us, it would be open to us, under the more ancient law that allows one to repay aggressors in kind, to hurl the reproaches back at him unsparingly, and with great ease to lavish abuse generously on the one who has grieved us. For if he found so many words of insult and abuse against one who had given blame no opening, how many such words would those be likely to find who satirize his own august life! But since we were trained from the beginning by a disciple of the truth to be disciples of the Gospel, we neither knock out an eye in return nor exchange tooth for tooth, knowing that evil deeds are by nature undone by their opposites, and that nothing evil said or done would advance to the incurable if something better, falling in between, should cut off the continuity of the chain of evils. So the chain of reviling and insult is stopped from going further by patience; whereas if one should repay insult with insult and abuse with abuse, he will certainly increase the absurdity, feeding it with its like. Therefore, leaving aside all the intervening discourse — which is insult, mockery, abuse, and jibes — I shall hasten my discourse on to the examination of the doctrine.

If anyone says that I decline to revile because I have no experience of such repayments, let him look at himself and see how great is the readiness for the worse, slipping of itself into sin without any effort. For becoming evil lies in choosing alone, and the will has often been enough to complete wickedness; and the ease is far greater in the sins of the tongue. The other sins need time, circumstances, and help from outside in order to come about; but the faculty of speech is free to offend at will. A proof of what I say is this very discourse of Eunomius in our hands: whoever studies it with some attention will find the downhill slope of sin in words, which is the easiest of all things to imitate, even for one wholly unpractised in the experience of blasphemy. For why must one toil to coin insults, when one may use his own words against the one who insulted? For in this part of his discourse he has stitched together all the false and blasphemous things, modelled on the patterns found in himself, and there is nothing absurd that is not written there. “Clever,” he says, “contentious, an enemy of truth, a sophist, a deceiver, opposing the opinions and memories of the many, not ashamed of refutation by the facts, heeding neither the fear that comes from the laws nor the blame that comes from men, not knowing how to distinguish truth from cleverness.” To these he adds shamelessness and readiness to revile; then he says he is discordant, full of conflicting notions, fitting together a discourse of ill-fitting parts, fighting with his own words, and uttering contradictions. And wishing to say many bad things about him, but then unable to satisfy the bitterness of his soul with any novelty of insults, since he has nothing to say, he comes back to the same things again and again; having said a thing once, he circles round and says the same a third time and a fourth; and beyond this, doubling back in his discourse as in a double race-course, he runs up and down through the same insults and the same abusive drivel, so that one no longer grows angry at the shamelessness of his insults, since the surfeit of what is said dissolves one’s anger.

One would sooner be disgusted than angry, so servile and graceless are the jibes, straight from the crossroads, no different at all from those of some old woman in her cups, grumbling under her breath. What then? Must one go after each item, without even regard for his venerable standing, and make a laborious defence on everything said in insult, to show that the man against whom it was fabricated was not such? In that way we too would seem to join in insulting him who shone as a luminary to his generation, if we were content to prove by words that he is not a criminal and a condemned man. But I remember that divine voice of his, how prophetically it uttered the words of the prophecy about this man, where it likens him to the shameless among women, who throw their own reproaches at the chaste.

For whom do these words proclaim an enemy of truth? Whom do they proclaim as opposing the opinions of the many? Who is it that asks those who read his treatise not to look to the number of witnesses, but to incline in their judgment to what deserves belief among those supposed to be better? Is it the same man’s part to write these things and to bring those charges — to seek that his hearers follow his own innovations, and then again to disparage others for opposing common assumptions? As for “not ashamed of refutation by the facts” and of human blame, and all such things that he goes through in the same place, I leave it to the judgment of the hearers to consider of whom it is true to say them. Is it of the one who prescribes self-control and decorum and all purity of soul and body through the most exact continence, alike for himself and for those who come near him? Or of the one who bids men not to trouble nature as it goes after what it likes through the appetites of the body, nor to resist pleasures, nor to be exact about such a pursuit in life — for, he says, no harm comes to the soul through such things, but the heretical faith alone suffices a man for perfection? If he denies that their teachings are so, I would pray, and so would every right-minded person, that he speaks the truth in denying such things. But his genuine disciples will not let his denial succeed; otherwise his greatest tenet will fall, and the stage of those who attend on the doctrine chiefly for its sake will be broken up.

And “shameless,” and “not heeding human blame”: shall we consider this from the life lived in youth, or from what came after? From both you would find the reproach of shamelessness coming back upon him; for neither youth nor later life bears the same witness to each of the two. Let the writer remind himself of the life he lived in his native country in the time of his youth, and in Constantinople, and let him hear from those who know what they know of the man he slanders. If one wishes to consider it from their later pursuits, let him say himself who deserves such a name: the one who spent his father’s substance unsparingly on the poor even before his priesthood, especially in the time of the famine, during which he was in charge of the Church while still serving as a priest in the rank of the presbyters, and who afterwards did not spare even what was left, so that he too might boast the Apostle’s word, “I did not eat bread for nothing”? Or the one who has made his championship of the doctrine a source of income? The one who slips uninvited into houses, not even covering up by his manner of life the unpleasantness of his disease, nor taking account of the natural aversion of the healthy toward such people — the one who under the old law would be set apart outside the camp of the inhabitants because of the mark of the plague?

Then again Basil is called rash, insolent, and on both counts a liar by the man who patiently instructs his opponents in meekness! For so he gives himself airs in his treatise with his words about him, he who leaves out no excess of bitterness wherever he is able to bring a charge. From where, then, and from what facts does he prove his insolence and rashness? “Because,” he says, “he called me, a Cappadocian, a Galatian; and then, though I have my home on the border between the countries, in some nameless corner of Carniaspina” — if, instead of a man of Oltiseris, he called him a Galatian; if indeed he can show that he said this at all, for I did not find it in our books. But let it be granted that it was said. For these things is he called rash and insolent and every most dreadful name? And does the wise man not understand that an accusation over small matters from a slanderer furnishes a great defence of the accused man’s uprightness? For a man stirred to accuse would not spare the greater faults and spend his malice on the smaller. On these he is profuse, exalting and exaggerating the offence and philosophizing solemnly about falsehood, judging it equally absurd whether the matter concerns greater or smaller things.

For he knows, like the fathers of his heresy — I mean the scribes and Pharisees — how to strain out the gnat with precision, while unsparingly swallowing the crooked camel loaded with the weight of wickedness. To him it would perhaps not be out of place to say: Spare our commonwealth such legislation, which bids us count the smallness of matters as nothing and not distinguish the charge of falsehood by its size. For Paul does not sin in the same way when he deceives, purifying himself in the Jewish manner at a time when some were usefully deceived, as Judas did at the time of the betrayal, putting on a friendly and affable appearance. Joseph too lied, teasing his brothers out of kindness, and that while swearing by the health of Pharaoh; but his brothers also lied against him, plotting first death and afterwards slavery out of envy. And many such things can be told: Sarah lies, blushing at her laughter; the serpent too lies, suggesting that man would pass into the divine nature through disobedience. Great is the difference of falsehood according to the circumstances, and one cannot say how great, whether you test the matter from the ancient narratives or from present life. So we too will grant that, according to the common verdict on men which the Holy Spirit pronounced through the prophet, “Every man is a liar,” the man of God also fell in with falsehood, naming the neighbouring country, as it happened, through ignorance or disregard of the name of the place. But Eunomius too lied — and what is his lie? A forgery of truth itself. He says that the one who always is once was not; he contrives that the one who is truly Son has a falsely named title; he defines the Creator of all as himself a creature and a thing made; he calls the Lord of all a slave; he ranks the one who has rule by nature with the nature that serves. Is the difference of falsehood small, then — so small that one might think it of no account to be thought to have lied this way or that?

And while reproaching others with sophistical argument, see what care he takes for true demonstration! Our teacher said in his discourse against him that at the time of the upheaval of affairs this man carried off Cyzicus as the prize of impiety. What, then, does the refuter of sophists do? He immediately fastens on the word “prize,” and says that we agree that he both made his defence, and won by his defence, and received the prize of victory through the contests; and he composes a syllogism, concluding his argument, as he thinks, by irrefutable steps. His own written words shall be given verbatim: “For if the prize is the token and end of victory, and the trial indicates the victory, and the trial certainly brings the accusation along with it, then the one who grants the prize will say that the apology too was necessary.” What do we say, then? That he contended, and very vehemently and vigorously, in this wicked contest of impiety, we do not dispute, nor that he outstripped his likes by no small measure and excels in sweating against the truth; but not that he won the victory over his opponents. Rather, by comparison with those who ran with him through impiety into error, he came first of all in the abundance of his falsehood, and so received Cyzicus as the prize for his excess in evil — as one who had beaten all who had stripped for similar contests against the truth, and was proclaimed for his victory in blasphemy by a brilliant and conspicuous herald’s cry, when Cyzicus was set apart for him as the wages of his absurdity by the presidents of such games. And that this is what we confessed, in the sense stated, our discourse shows: we say that Cyzicus came to him as a prize of impiety, not as the success of an apology. What, then, have our words in common with this childish tangle of sophisms, as though on that account a trial had been held for him and the apology made? It is as if someone at a banquet who had poured out more neat wine than the others, and for that had been awarded some prize over his fellow drinkers, were to make his victory at the banquet a proof that he had also been tried in court and had won his case. For he too could imitate the tangle of the syllogism: “If the prize is the token and end of victory, and the trial indicates the victory, and the trial certainly brings the accusation along with it, then I won my trial, since I was crowned for drinking in the contest of much drinking.” But surely someone will say to the man who prides himself so, that the contests in court are one thing and the manner of competing at banquets another, and that the one who won by the cup gains nothing from such a victory over his opponents in court, even if he is decked out with garlands of flowers.

So neither does the one who is ranked ahead of his likes in the argument for impiety thereby furnish, through the prize of impiety, evidence that he won at the trial. What, then, does our testimony that he excels in impiety contribute to an apology that was never spoken? If he had made his defence before the judges and overcome his opponents, and so received the honour of Cyzicus, he would have had occasion to bring our words forward against us. But if he testifies continually in his discourse that, fleeing the hostility of those who controlled the verdict, he accepted in silence the punishment imposed on him, not enduring to conduct the contests among enemies, why does he deceive himself and use the word “prize” as evidence that he made his defence? The admirable man did not understand the force of “prize”: that Cyzicus was handed to him as a kind of reward and prize of valour for his preeminence in impiety. But since he accepts the prize as he pleases, as a gift for victory, let him also accept what is joined to the word: that by his victory he gained the advantage in impiety. For since he relies on our words against us, it is just to use either both or neither.

Such, then, he is where our words are concerned. In the rest of what he said in insult, will he be shown to speak any truth? There he goes through against Basil that he was cowardly and timid, running away from the heavier labours, and all such things, laboriously working up the symptoms of cowardice: a hidden little room, a door securely fastened, starting in fear at those who came in, and voice, and look, and the signs on the face, and all such things by which the passion of cowardice is indicated. But even if he were refuted in no other falsehood, this alone would be enough to expose his character. For who does not know how that great combatant, at the very time of the Emperor Valens’s contentiousness against the churches of the Lord, rose above so great a weight of affairs by the greatness of his mind, and was loftier than those who threatened, lifted in spirit above all the terror devised against him? Who among the people of the East, who among those dwelling at the furthest ends of our world, was ignorant of his battle for the truth against those in power? Who was not struck with amazement on seeing his opponent? For that opponent was not one of the common sort, nor did his power to win lie in counterfeit petty sophistries, where even superiority is inglorious and defeat costs nothing. He had under him the whole Roman Empire, then governed by him; and proud of so great a kingdom, he had been prejudiced by the slander against our doctrine, Eudoxius of Germanicia having won him over to himself by deceit. He had as allies of his own impulse all those in office, his attendants, and those who held influence in affairs: some inclining to him willingly through likeness of mind, but most readily granting what pleased him out of fear of his power, and showing their zeal toward him by severity against those who held to the faith. Those were the days of flights, confiscations, banishments, threats and fines, dangers, prisons, jails, scourges — and what of the most dreadful things was not put into effect against those who did not agree with the emperor’s impulse? — when it was more dangerous for the pious to be caught in the house of God than to be convicted of the most wicked of crimes.

But to go through all these one by one would need a great treatise, much time, and a work of its own. Besides, since the evils of that time are evident to all, nothing would be gained for the present discourse by setting out those calamities exactly in writing. There is also another burden in narrating them: one who goes through the history of those sorrows in order would necessarily make some mention of our own people. For if anything has been done by us in the contests for piety that would bring glory to the narrative, Wisdom bids us leave it to our neighbours: “Let your neighbour praise you,” it says, “and not your own lips.” Not knowing this, the man who fitted out everything has spent the greater part of his treatise in boasting about himself. Passing over all such things, then, I shall set out exactly the deeds of our teacher’s “cowardice.” The one ranged against him in the opposing line was the emperor himself; the one who served his impulses was the man who governed the whole empire after him; those who worked together for such a desire were all those around him. Let the occasion also be added to these, for a more exact test and display of the athlete’s noble confidence. What, then, was the occasion? The emperor was marching out from Constantinople to the East, his pride lately lifted by his successes against the barbarians, and thinking that nothing ought to oppose his impulses. The prefect went before him on the march, arranging in advance, instead of any of the things needed for government, this one thing: that no one who held the faith should remain at home, but that all should be driven out from everywhere, and others, self-appointed, brought in instead of them, to the insult of the divine order.

With such a purpose, then, the imperial power moved from the Propontis against the churches like some grievous cloud. Bithynia was laid waste all at once; Galatia was swept away with great ease; everything in between had gone as they wished; and now our own region lay next in the course of the evil. What, then, did the great Basil do at that time — the coward, as this man says, the timid one, cowering before dangers and trusting his safety to a hidden little room? Was he terrified at the onset of the evil? Did he take the suffering of those already captured as his counsellor for his own safety? Did he consent to the advice to give way a little to the rush of the evil, and not to throw himself into open danger before men well practised in bloodshed? Or is every excess of language and every height of thought and word shown to fall somewhere short of the truth? How could anyone go through in words such contempt for terrors? How could anyone bring before our eyes that novel contest, which one could not fairly say was waged by men or against men, but was the virtue and boldness of a Christian contending against a murderous power?

For the prefect summoned him, having been given in advance the emperor’s authority. His office was fearful enough in any case because of its greatness, and he made it more fearful by the ruthlessness of his punishments; and after the tragedies he had worked in Bithynia, when the Galatians, with their usual pliancy, had come over without a struggle, he thought that our region too would be ready to meet his wishes. His speech was the prelude to the severity of his deeds, mixed with threats and promises at once: offering honour from the emperor and rule over the Church if Basil were persuaded, and if he resisted, everything that bitterness of soul, once it has the power, plans at will. Such, then, was their side. But our champion was so far from being terrified by anything seen or said, that, like a physician or a good counsellor called in to correct faults, he bade them repent of what they had already dared and cease for the future from murderous rage against the servants of the Lord, since their scheming could gain nothing against those who serve the kingdom of God alone and his immortal power. For those who wish to do harm, he said, can find nothing, said or done, that will grieve the Christian. “Confiscation,” he said, “will not touch one who possesses the faith alone; exile will not frighten one who walks over the whole earth with the same mind, and looks on every land as foreign because his dwelling in it is for a time, and on every city as his own because the creation is his fellow servant. As for undergoing blows, toils, or death, when it is for the truth, this does not cause fear even to women; rather it is for all Christians the highest bound of good fortune to suffer something irreparable for this hope.” He was grieved only, he said, that death is single by nature, and that he could find no way to fight for the truth with many deaths.

When he thus rose above those threats, and looked past the whole weight of that power as nothing, then — as on the stage, when the masks are changed, one thing is suddenly shown in place of another — in the same way the bitterness of the threats was turned into flattery; and the man who had until then been harsh and terrifying in spirit changed to mild and submissive words: “But you,” he said, “do not think it a small thing for the great emperor to be joined to your people; accept being called his teacher as well, and do not oppose his wish. He wishes this to come about by the removal of one small thing from what is written in the creed: the word homoousios.” But the teacher answered again that for the emperor to share in the Church was among the greatest of things — “for it is a great thing,” he said, “to save a soul, not because it is an emperor’s, but because it is a man’s at all” — but that he was so far from making any subtraction from the faith, or any addition, that he would not even change the order of what was written. These things the coward, the unmanly one who started at the creak of the door, said to a man of such rank, and confirmed by his deeds what he had said. He alone checked in himself and turned back the overthrow of the churches at that time, which was flowing like a torrent through the powers that be; he alone was equal to the onset of the evil, like some great and unshaken rock in the sea, which breaks up on itself, instead of a great and mighty wave, the onset of dreadful things.

And his struggle did not stop there. The emperor himself took up the attempt in turn, indignant that he had not achieved his pleasure at the first assault. And just as once the Assyrian, through Nebuzaradan the chief cook, accomplished at Jerusalem the destruction of the temple of the Israelites, so this man too, assigning such a service to one Demosthenes, who was set over the kitchens and was chief of the cooks, as being bolder than the others, thought that he would carry the whole undertaking.

So when that man was throwing everything into confusion, and one of the fighters against God from Illyricum was holding a tablet in his hands and gathering all the officials to it, and kindling Modestus’s anger again more fiercely than his former onslaught, all were stirred to share the emperor’s wrath, joining in his indignation and gratifying the anger of his power, and all were struck down beforehand by fear of what was expected. For again there was that prefect; again risings of terrors more violent than before, additions to the threats, anger at a higher pitch, and the tragic apparatus of the court: heralds, ushers, lictors, railings, curtains, by which even the spirits of the well-prepared are easily cowed. And again the athlete of God, in the second round of the contests, surpassed even the glory of the first. If you seek the proofs of this, look at the facts themselves. What place of the churches did the overthrow of that time not overrun? What nation remained untouched by the rule of the heretics? Which of those esteemed in the churches was not shaken off from his labours? What people escaped such abuse? Was it not all Syria, and Mesopotamia as far as the borders toward the barbarians; was it not Phoenicia, Palestine, Arabia, Egypt, and the nations of Libya up to the boundary of our world; was it not everything on this side — Pontians, Cilicians, Lycians, Lydians, Pisidians, Pamphylians, Carians, Hellespontines, islanders, up to the Propontis itself; was it not everything in Thrace, as far as Thrace extended, and the nations round it, up to the Danube itself? What of all these remained in its former state, except whatever had already been occupied by such evil? Of all of them the people of Cappadocia alone felt nothing of the common misfortune of the churches, because our great champion kept it safe in the trials.

These are the results of our teacher’s cowardice! These are the achievements of the man who cowered before the harsher labours: who did not win his fame among wretched old women, nor practise deceiving silly women ready for every deceit, nor think it great to be admired by the condemned and the corrupt, but showed by his deeds the strength of his soul, and the steadfast, courageous, and noble temper of his spirit. His achievement was the salvation of the whole country, peace for our Church, an example of every good for those who live by virtue, the overthrow of the adversaries, the defence of the faith, the security of the weaker, the confirmation of the more zealous — everything believed to belong to the better part. Where these narratives are concerned, hearing and sight agree upon the facts; for it is the same thing to tell the noblest things in word and to show in deed the evidence for the words, and to confirm each by the other, the memory by what is seen and the facts by what is said.

But somehow my discourse has been carried so far outside the subject, turning to each of the things said in insult by the slanderer — although it is no small gain for Eunomius that the discourse should spend its time on such things, when in accusing him of human wrongs it is hindered from coming to the more important matters. Just as it is useless to reproach a man on trial for murder with rashness in speech (for the proof of the murder is enough to bring the sentence of death, even if no rashness of speech is proved against the murderer along with it), so it seems right to me to bring only his impiety to proof and to let his abuse of us go. For it is clear that when his wickedness has been detected in the greatest and most important things, all the rest is in effect proved along with it, even if we do not go through each point exactly.

The sum of what he constructs, then, is blasphemy against the doctrine of piety, both in his earlier discourse and in the one now being called to account by us; and all his effort is to destroy, to strike out, and to overturn entirely the pious beliefs about the only-begotten God and about the Holy Spirit. So that his construction against the doctrines of the truth may be shown to be as false and unsound as possible, I shall first set out his statement about these matters word for word, and then take up again what he said, examining each part separately.

“The whole account of our doctrines is made up of the highest and most proper substance; of the substance that exists through it, and after it holds first place among all the others; and of a third, ranked with neither of these, but subordinated to the one by reason of cause and to the other by reason of the activity by which it came to be. There are of course included, to complete the whole account, the activities that accompany the substances and the names connatural to these. Again, since each of these substances is, and is conceived to be, purely simple and wholly one according to its own dignity, and since the activities are bounded together with the works, and the works measured by the activities of those who wrought them, it is surely wholly necessary that the activities following each of the substances should be lesser and greater, and that some should hold the first and others the second rank,

and, to speak generally, that they should reach to as great a difference as the works reach to. For it is not even lawful to say that the activity by which he made the angels is the same as that by which he made the stars and the heaven, or man; but one who thinks piously would say that by as much as some works are older and more honourable than others, by so much one activity surpasses another, since the same activities produce works that are the same, and altered works show altered activities. These things being so, and preserving the sequence in their relation to one another unbroken, it befits those who make their examination according to the order connatural to the things, and who do not force everything together and confuse it, if a dispute should arise about the substance, to make the proof of what is being shown and the resolution of what is disputed from the first activities, those adjacent to the substances; and, while resolving the uncertainty about the activities from the substances, still to consider the descent from the first to the second more fitting and more effective for all.”

Such, then, is the technical system of the blasphemy. May the true God, the Son of the true God, through the guidance of the Holy Spirit, direct our discourse to the truth. Let us take up again what was said, in order. He said that the account of his own doctrines is made up of the highest and most proper substance, of the substance that exists through it and after it holds first place among all the others, and of a third, ranked with neither of these, but subordinated to the one by reason of cause and to the other by reason of activity. The first of the mischiefs done in this account is this: having promised to set out for us the mystic doctrine, as though correcting the words of the Gospel, he does not use those names by which the Lord handed on the mystery in the perfecting of faith, but, passing over in silence the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, he speaks instead of the Father of a certain highest and most proper substance, instead of the Son of the substance that exists through it and after it holds first place among the others, and instead of the Holy Spirit of the substance ranked with neither of these. Yet if it had been more fitting to speak so, the truth would certainly not have been at a loss to find these words. Nor would those who received the proclamation of the mystery in succession — those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and servants of the word, those after them who filled the whole world with the doctrines of the Gospel, and again, later, those who at various times settled in common council the uncertainties raised about the doctrine, whose traditions are always preserved in writing in the churches — if these things ought to have been said, have made mention of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, if it were at all pious or safe to recoin the words of the faith into this novelty. Otherwise all those men were ignorant and uninstructed in the mysteries, and had never heard of the “connatural names,” as this man calls them, since they neither knew how nor wished to prefer their own conceptions to the names handed down to us by the divine voice.

But the cause of this name-making is, I think, plain to all: that all people, on hearing the titles Father and Son, at once recognize from the names themselves their proper and natural relation to each other; for the kinship of nature is spontaneously conveyed by these titles. So that these things may not be understood of the Father and the only-begotten Son, he steals from his hearers the impression of intimacy that comes in with the names; and leaving aside the God-inspired words, he makes his exposition of the doctrine in terms devised for the ruin of the truth. He does well, though, to say that it is the account not of the doctrines of the Church at large but of their own that is made up of these things. The impiety of what he said is easy for anyone with sense to perceive; but it is perhaps not untimely to examine it point by point in argument as well. What does he mean by attesting “highest” and “most proper” to the substance of the Father alone, not conceding that the substance either of the Son or of the Holy Spirit is high and proper? For my part I think this is a rehearsal for a complete denial of the Only-begotten and the Spirit as regards substance, and that by such technical devices he contrives secretly that they should seem to exist only as far as a name, while the true confession of their hypostasis is set aside by such a construction. And that this is so, one may perceive without difficulty by dwelling a little on the argument. It is not the part of one who believes that the Only-begotten and the Holy Spirit truly exist in their own hypostasis to be so precise about the acknowledgment of the names by which he thinks he must honour the God who is over all.

For it would be the height of silliness for one who agreed about the reality to quibble about the words. But as it is, by attesting “highest” and “most proper” to the substance of the Father alone, he has allowed us, through his silence about the rest, to infer that they do not exist in the proper sense. For how can one say that something truly is, when proper being is not attested to it? Where “proper” is not admitted, one must agree to the opposite terms; for what is not proper is certainly improper. So the construction of not being in the proper sense becomes a proof of complete non-existence; and Eunomius seems to have this in view in innovating these names in his own doctrine. For no one will say that out of perplexity he fell into a foolish supposition and distinguishes the “high” locally, as what is above, assigning to the Father a kind of hilltop look-out and settling the Son in the lower hollows. No one is so childish in mind as to conceive a difference of place in the intellectual and incorporeal nature; for position in place belongs to bodies, while what is intellectual and immaterial by nature is admittedly far removed from any notion of place.

What, then, is the reason why the substance of the Father alone is called “highest”? One would not easily suspect that he is carried about into these notions through some ignorance, since he pretends to be wise in the many things he displays, and, as divine Scripture forbids, is over-wise. Nor will he say that the “high” indicates a superiority of substance in power, or goodness, or anything else of the kind. For this too is known to everyone, not only to those reputed to excel in wisdom: that the hypostasis of the Only-begotten and that of the Holy Spirit lacks nothing as regards perfect goodness and power and all such things. For all good things, so long as they do not admit their opposite, have no limit to their goodness, since they are by nature bounded only by their opposites, as one can see in particular examples: power stops when weakness takes over; life is bounded by death; darkness is the limit of light; and, to put it briefly, each particular good ends in its opposite. If, then, he supposes the nature of the Only-begotten and of the Spirit to be changeable for the worse, he naturally diminishes the notion of goodness in them, as capable of meeting with their opposites. But if the divine and unalterable nature cannot admit the worse — and this is admitted even by the enemies themselves — it is certainly seen to be unlimited in goodness; and the unlimited is the same as the infinite. To conceive of excess and diminution in what is infinite and unlimited is the height of unreason. For how could the notion of infinity be preserved if more and less were taught to be in it? We recognize the more from comparing limits with one another; where there is no limit, how could one conceive the excess?

Or does he not mean this, but conceives some superiority in time, and assigns the greater share according to the privilege of age, and therefore says that the substance of the Father alone is highest? Then let him say by what he has measured the excess of the Father’s life, when no interval of time is conceived before the hypostasis of the Only-begotten. And even if this were so — let it be said for the moment by way of hypothesis; who would conceive such a thing of the nature that is before the ages? — what more being does the substance that precedes in time have than the later substance, I mean according to the very definition of being, so that the one should be called highest and proper and the other not so? Of the older compared with the younger, the time of life is longer; but the substance is not, on that account, either more or less. This will become clearer by examples. What less did David, who appeared fourteen generations later, have than Abraham as regards the definition of substance? Was anything of humanity altered in his case? Was he less a man because he was later in time? And who is so foolish as to say this? For the definition of substance is one in both, in no way altered along with the passage of time; nor would anyone say that the one is more a man because he is earlier in time, while the other shares less in the nature because he came into life after others — as though either the nature had been used up beforehand in those who went before, or time had spent its power in those who have passed. For it is not for time to set the measures of the nature for each; the nature remains in itself, preserving itself through those who come after, while time is carried along in its own way, whether containing or flowing past the nature, which remains firm and unchangeable within its own bounds.

So even if it were granted that the Father has more in respect of time, as the argument supposed, they could not properly attest the “highest” of substance to the Father alone; and when there is no difference by seniority of time, how could they? For since every measuring interval is found below the divine nature, what ground is left to those who try to split the substance that is before time and incomprehensible by a difference of high and low? But the argument leaves no doubt that what these men teach is a plea for the Jewish doctrine. They show that the substance of the Father alone subsists, which alone they maintain properly is, while they reckon that of the Son and of the Spirit among things that are not. For everything that is not in the proper sense is said to be in word only and by a misuse of ordinary speech. So too “man” is properly said not of what is shown by imitation in a picture but of the one properly so called; he is not a likeness of a man but the archetype of the likeness, while the picture is a man only in name, and therefore what is said of it is not said properly, since it is not by nature what it is called. So here too, if the substance of the Father alone is spoken of in the proper sense, and that of the Son and the Spirit no longer, what else is this — is it not a plain denial of the saving proclamation? Then let them run back from the Church to the synagogues of the Jews, since by not granting that the Son properly is, they establish that he is not at all; for the improper is the same as the non-existent.

And since he wishes to be wise in such matters, and spits on those who attempt to write without skill in logic, let him tell us whom he despises from what wisdom he has learned the more and the less of substance. What argument has established such a difference — that one substance is more than another, I mean in respect of the very meaning of substance? Let him not bring forward differences of qualities or properties, which are grasped about a substance by the process of conception and are something other than the subject. It is not differences of odours, or colours, or weight, or power, or rank, or manners and character, or anything else observed about body and soul, that we now have to examine; I mean the subject itself, to which the name of substance properly belongs: whether it has any difference from another substance in being more. But we have never yet heard, of two things admitted to exist, that so long as both exist one is more and the other less. Each equally is, so long as it is what it is, setting aside, as was said before, the question of greater honour or greater duration. If, then, he does not grant at all that the Only-begotten is seen in substance (for his argument seems to be slipping secretly toward this), let him who does not grant that he properly is not concede “less” in his case either. But if he confesses that the Son is a substantial power, however he subsists (for we are not yet fighting about this), why does he take back again what he grants, establishing that the one confessed to be does not properly be — which is equal, as was said, to not being at all? For as there can be no man to whom the definition belonging to the name does not perfectly apply, but along with the one who lacks the properties the whole definition of the substance is cancelled, so with every thing to which being is not attested perfectly or properly: a partial assent to its being gives no proof of its subsistence, but the construction of its not perfectly being establishes the total abolition of the subject.

So, if he is sensible, let him change to the pious way of thinking, removing from his doctrine the “less” and the “improper” in regard to the substance of the Only-begotten and of the Holy Spirit. But if he has resolved to be impious in any case — and I do not know why he wishes to repay his Creator, God, and benefactor with blasphemy — let him at least forfeit the reputation of being anyone in learning, since he ignorantly places substance above substance, declares one high and the other low by an argument found nowhere, and attests “proper” to one and not to the other. For we know of none even of those who have philosophized outside the faith who talked such nonsense; nor does such a thing agree either with the God-inspired words or with common notions. I think, then, that the aim of the invention of these names has been sufficiently shown from what has been said: he lays these words down beforehand as a base of operations or a foundation for all his villainy about the doctrine, so that, having established that one substance alone is to be considered highest and most proper, he may easily overrun the others as being seen among the lower and not in the proper sense. He shows this especially in what follows, where, setting out his views about the Son and the Holy Spirit, he does not come to these names, lest, as I said before, he present even against his will the kinship of their nature by the titles; this teacher of doctrine makes nameless mention of them, while laying it down that the minds of the hearers must be led by connatural names and words.

And yet what name is more connatural than the one named by the Truth himself? But he teaches against the Gospels, not naming the Son but “the substance existing through that one and holding first place after it among all beings.” That this is said in order to destroy the pious belief about the Only-begotten will become clearer from the rest of his construction. But since what was said here seems neutral, so that even one who says nothing impious about Christ might sometimes use these words, I too will pass over the discussion about the Lord for now, keeping the refutation for his plainer blasphemies against him. But concerning the Holy Spirit, since he uses open and unveiled blasphemy, saying that he is not ranked with the Father and the Son but subordinated to both, I will now examine his statement as far as I am able.

Let us first consider what subjection means, and of what things divine Scripture uses such a word. Honouring man by his having come to be in the image of the one who created him, God the Creator subjected to him the whole irrational nature, as the great David praised in his hymns when recounting this grace. “He subjected all things,” he says, “under his feet,” and he mentions by name the things subjected. Again, there is another meaning of subjection in divine Scripture. Ascribing to the God of all the cause of his successes in war, he says, “He subjected peoples to us, and nations under our feet”; and again, “Who subjects peoples under me.” And one may often find this word in the divine Scriptures signifying power over those who stand in opposition. As for the Apostle’s word about the subjection of all men to the Only-begotten that is to come later, and through him to the Father — where, in the depth of wisdom, he says that the mediator between God and men is himself subjected to the Father (hinting at the obedience of all men to the Father through the subjection of the Son, who shared in humanity) — since it needs a fuller and more laborious exposition, I shall put it off for the present. But in the plain cases, where the meaning of subjection has no ambiguity, in what sense does he declare the substance of the Spirit subjected to that of the Son and of the Father? As the Son is subjected to the Father, in the Apostle’s sense? Then in that respect the Spirit is ranked with the Son, not subjected to him, since both are persons among those subjected. Or not so — then how else? As we have learned in the psalm that the irrational nature is subjected to the rational? Then it differs as much as cattle differ from man. But perhaps he will reject this account too. Then he will come to the one that remains: that, being opposed and warring at first, it was afterwards compelled by a stronger necessity to bow to the one who prevailed. Let him choose whichever of these he likes; but I do not know which of them he can choose and escape the inescapable condemnation for blasphemy — whether he says that the Spirit is subjected on a par with the irrational beings, as fish and birds and sheep are to man, or brings him like a captive, after the manner of rebels, to the one superior in power.

Or he says none of these, but that he did not use the word “subjection” in the sense of Scripture, but says in some other meaning that the Spirit is subjected to the Father and the Son. What, then, is this? Is it because he is third in the order handed down by the Lord to the disciples that he lays it down that the Spirit is “subjected” and not “ranked with”? Then by the same argument let him subject the Father to the Only-begotten, since in many places divine Scripture puts the Lord’s name first and makes mention of the God over all second. “I and the Father,” says the Lord, putting himself first; and, “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God”; and countless such texts may be gathered by those who diligently search out testimonies from the Scriptures, such as this: “There are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but the same God.” So by this argument let the God over all be subjected to the Son and to the Spirit, since he is mentioned in third place by Paul. But we have never yet heard of this wisdom: that what is named second or third in some sequence is pushed into the rank of subjects and subordinates. Yet this is what this man wishes the sequence in which the Persons were handed down to indicate, as he constructs superiorities and inferiorities of rank and of nature. For he defines the sequence of order as indicating a difference of natures — I do not know where he imagined such things, or from what necessity he fell into this notion.

For the order of counting does not produce a difference of natures. The things counted remain as they are by nature, in themselves, whether they are counted or not; and number is a sign that makes known the quantity of things. It does not necessarily send to a second rank whatever is lower in dignity of nature; it makes the sequence of the things signified by number according to the wish of those who count. “Paul and Silvanus and Timothy”: three persons are mentioned here, according to the wish of the one who mentions them. Did the number show that Silvanus, placed second after Paul, is something else and not a man? Or was Timothy, placed third, thought on that account to be of some other nature because of the sequence chosen by the one who mentions them? Not so. Each of them is a man both before the counting and after it. But since the word could not show the three at once with a single utterance, it mentions each separately in the order it pleased, and joins the names by the conjunctions between them, so as, I think, to show by the joining of the names the concord of the three into one.

But this does not please the new teacher of doctrine. He legislates against the ordinance of the divine voice; having cut off from its proper and natural order and conjunction what was ranked with the Father and the Son by the Lord himself, he has counted it among the subordinates, and says that it is the work of both: of the Father, as supplying the cause of its construction, and of the Only-begotten, as having himself produced its hypostasis; and he defines this as the cause of the subjection, without yet having disclosed the meaning of subjection itself. Then he says: “There are of course included the activities that accompany the substances and the names connatural to these.” The meaning of these words is not very easy to see, covered as it is with a thick darkness of impiety; but as far as one may conjecture, it is this. He calls “activities of substances,” I think, the powers that produced the Son and the Holy Spirit, by which the first substance wrought the second and the second the third; and he says that the names of the works produced were connaturally constructed along with the works. The mischief about the names we have already examined as far as possible, and when we come to that part of the examination we shall add more, if the argument requires it.

For now it is worth considering: how do the activities accompany the substances? What are they in their own nature? Something other than the substances they accompany, or part of them and of their nature? If something other, how, or by whom, did they come to be? If the same, how are they cut off, and, instead of coexisting with them, accompany them from outside? For nothing can be learned so simply from what he said — whether some natural necessity, without choice, forces the activity, whatever it may be, to follow the substance, as burning follows fire, and vapours and exhalations follow the bodies from which they arise. But I think he would not say this, so as to consider God’s substance a variegated and composite thing, which has its activity inseparable from it and observed along with it, as an accident shown in a subject. Rather he says that the substances, moving by choice and free will, produce by themselves what they please. And who says that what comes about willingly, from forethought, “follows” like something accompanying from outside? We do not know of the word worn in common usage for such things, so as to say that the activity of one labouring at something follows the labourer. For it is not possible to separate the one from the other and grasp what remains by itself: he who says “activity” has included in the word what moves according to it, and he who mentions the agent has also signified the activity without saying it. This will be clearer through examples. We say that someone works bronze, or builds, or does some other such thing. Then by a single word the expression presents both the work and the one who practises the craft at once, so that if one were separated the other would not subsist. If, then, the two are conceived together, the activity itself and the one who moves according to it, how is the activity that produces the second substance said here to follow the first substance, somehow mediating by itself between both, neither agreeing with the first in nature nor joined to the second? For it is separated from the first by being not a nature but a movement of a nature; and it does not agree with the one after it, because what it brought into subsistence through itself was not a bare activity but an active substance. Then let us examine this also besides: he calls the substance a work of the substance, the second of the first, and again the third of the second.

By what means did he first prove this statement? What arguments did he use for it? By what method did he compel us to believe that each in turn must be the work of the one before it? If one had to reason by analogy about these from the rest of what is observed in creation, even so it would not be right to conjecture about what lies above from what is below; still, the argument would perhaps have had something pardonable, straying in what is incomprehensible by way of what appears. But as it is, who will try to say that heaven is the work of God, the sun the work of heaven, the moon of the sun, the stars of the moon, and something else in creation of them? All are the works of one, since there is one God and Father of all, from whom are all things. And if some things do come into being through one another, like the generation of animals, even then one thing does not come into being as a different kind from another, since the nature remains in the offspring. How, then, when he cannot say such a thing of anything observed in creation, does he establish it of the transcendent substance, that the second is the work of the first and this of the next? And if, thinking of the generation of animals, he imagined from it that he could reason in a similar way about the pure nature, so that what comes next is conceived as a work of what goes before, even so he does not keep his argument consistent. For things that come into being from others are certainly of the same kind as those from which they come. But he attributes what is foreign and alien to things born one from another, so as to show the abundance of his falsehood, like a skilful fighter trying to strike the truth with both hands. For to show that the Son and the Spirit are lowered and lessened in natural dignity, he says that each comes into being as a different kind from the other, so that those who have learned of their generation one from another may never come to a notion of kinship from such a mode of existence; and he fights against the very definition of nature, both saying that a thing of a different kind comes into being from another and declaring the begotten to be a bastard in relation to the nature of the begetter.

But what one might more reasonably blame before these things is this. If he were one of those who are inexperienced in speaking, unpractised and untrained in such constructions, and then declared whatever occurred to him as it chanced, he might perhaps be pardoned for not using the accepted methods in constructing his doctrines. But since he has such a surplus of ability in this that he even reaches beyond our nature by his method of comprehension, how did he not know the principle by which every hidden thing is comprehended in these logical arguments? For who does not know that every argument takes its starting points from what is evident and known to all, and through these brings belief to what is disputed, and that nothing hidden could be grasped otherwise unless what is agreed leads us by the hand to understand what is obscure? But if what is taken as the starting points of argument for disclosing what is unknown were in conflict with the assumptions of the many, hardly could the unknown be disclosed through them. Now the whole battle and dispute about the doctrine between the churchmen and the Anomoeans is whether the Son and the Spirit must be conceived as created, according to the account of the opponents, or as belonging to the uncreated nature, as the Church has believed. This man, then, declares the very thing disputed by all as agreed; and having found no proof that the next substance is the work of the one before, he boldly teaches that it is so. I do not know from what education or wisdom he took this boldness. For if every construction and proof must be preceded by some uncontested and unambiguous admission, so that the unknown is proved by being properly linked through the intermediate steps to what is already grasped, the one who puts forward what is still in question to establish other things establishes nothing but ignorance by ignorance and deceit by deceit. This is making the blind a guide of the blind, as the Gospel says somewhere. For truly to the blind argument that gropes in the void, which says that the Creator and Maker of all is a creature and a thing made, they yoke another blind argument: that the Son is alien in nature to the Father, unlike in substance, and in every way without share in natural kinship. But not yet about these things; where he uncovers the impiety of his thought more nakedly, there it will be timely for us too to put forward the refutation of the impiety. For now we must return to the sequence of what he said: “Again, since each of these substances is purely simple and wholly one, both in being and in being conceived, according to its own dignity, and since the activities are bounded together with the works, and the works measured by the activities of those who wrought them.”

“it is surely wholly necessary that the activities following each of the substances should be lesser and greater, and that some should hold the first and others the second rank.”

The thought running through all he has said, though he concludes it in a multitude of words, is one: to establish that there is no conjunction of the Father with the Son, or again of the Son with the Spirit, but that the substances are split off from one another, torn apart into an estranged nature and an alienation of different kinds; and not in this only, but differing also in magnitude and in a lowering of rank, so that some are conceived as greater, as he himself says, and others as smaller, and differ in all other respects. Though it may seem superfluous to many to dwell on what is obvious, and to try to refute point by point what most people at once consider false, detestable, and without force, nevertheless, so as not to seem to pass over anything he said unexamined for lack of refutations, we will attack these too as far as we are able.

He says that each of these substances is pure, simple, and wholly one, both in being and in being conceived, according to its own dignity. Here again, putting forward disputed things as agreed, he thinks he is saying something, considering his own declaration enough in place of all proof. He says “three substances”: this is what he shows by saying “each of these substances”; he would not have spoken so if he thought it one. If, then, he speaks of the difference of the substances from one another so as not to seem to agree with the impiety of Sabellius, who fits three titles to one subject, we too agree, and none of the pious opposes the doctrine — except that he seems to err in the names alone and in the expression of his statement, naming “substances” instead of “hypostases.” For things that have the same definition of substance will not likewise agree in the account given of the hypostasis. Peter, James, and John were the same as one another in the definition of substance (for each of them was a man), but in the properties of the hypostasis of each they did not agree with one another. So if he were establishing this — that one must not confuse the hypostases nor fit the three titles to one person — his word would be “faithful,” as the Apostle testifies, “and worthy of all acceptance.” But since he does not have this in view, and says these things not to distinguish the hypostases from one another by the properties observed in them, but establishes that the underlying substance itself stands as alien to the other — or rather to itself — and therefore names many substances, as though each had some peculiar alienation from the others, I say for this reason that his argument has neither beginning nor head, since it builds the blasphemy on nothing agreed, as consistency requires. For it contains no argument by which one might be brought to such a view of the doctrine; but, as in the telling of a dream, it holds a bare and unargued exposition of impiety. For while the Church teaches us not to split the faith into a multitude of substances, but to believe that in three persons and hypostases there is no difference in being, and the opponents place variation and unlikeness in the substances themselves, this man boldly declares as already established what has neither been shown by any argument nor can be shown — perhaps never yet having spoken into the ears of real hearers. For he would have been taught by those who listen intelligently that every argument, so long as what is said is put forward at will without proof, is an old wives’ tale, with no force to show by itself what is sought, when no support is brought to what is said either from the divine words or from human reasoning.

So much for that. Let us examine what was said. He says that each of the substances which he has fashioned in his argument is simple and wholly one. That the divine and blessed nature, which transcends every mind, is simple, we think not even the most brutish and low-minded would deny. For how could one suppose that what is formless and shapeless, and separated from all magnitude and from quantity in size, is multiform and composite? But that thinking the transcendent substance simple does not agree with the doctrine they construct, however they may play with words, will be clear to anyone who attends even a little. For who does not know that simplicity in the case of the holy Trinity, by its own definition, does not admit more and less? Where no mixture and concourse of qualities can be conceived, but the mind grasps a power without parts and uncompounded, how, and by what reasoning, could one learn a difference by more and less? For whoever defines these as differing must necessarily conceive certain qualities occurring about the subject. Either he conceives the difference among them by excess and deficiency, and thereby brings the notion of magnitude into the question; or he establishes that they exceed or fall short in goodness, power, wisdom, and whatever else is piously conceived about the Divine; and in that way he will not escape the account of composition.

For nothing is deficient in wisdom or power or any other good if its good is not acquired, but it is by nature such as it is. So the man who says that he grasps lesser and greater substances in the divine nature has failed to notice that he is constructing the Divine as composite from unlike things, so that the subject is conceived as one thing and what is participated in as another, by participation in which what is not such comes to be in the good. But if he had truly conceived the substance as simple and wholly one, being itself that which is good and not becoming so by acquisition, he would not have reckoned greater and less about it. For it was said earlier that goods are diminished only by the presence of evil; where the nature cannot admit the worse, no limit of goodness is conceived; and the unlimited is not such by relation to something else, but, conceived in itself and by itself, escapes limit. To say that one infinite is more or less than another — I do not know how anyone who reasons could agree to it. So, if he confesses that the transcendent substance is simple and kindred with itself, let him agree that it is joined together in a communion of simplicity and infinity. But if he divides and estranges the substances from one another, conceiving that of the Only-begotten as other than the Father’s, and that of the Spirit as different from that of the Only-begotten, and speaks of more and less in them, let him not fail to notice that while seeming to grant simplicity he is in truth constructing composition.

But let us take up again, in order, the statement he made: “since the substance is pure, simple, and wholly one, both in being and in being conceived, according to its own dignity.” What does he mean by “according to its own dignity”? If he sees their substances in a common dignity, the addition to the statement was superfluous and redundant even so, dwelling on what is agreed; still the untimeliness of the expression might perhaps have been pardonable, since the more pious sense would make the vain overflow of words unobjectionable. But as it is, the danger for him does not stop at a fault of words (for then the sickness would be easily curable); he still clings to wicked devices. For he calls each of the three substances simple “according to its own dignity,” so that, with the distinctions he stated at the beginning about the first, second, and third substance, the account of simplicity too may be perverted along with them. For just as he called the substance of the Father alone highest and alone proper, admitting for the Son and the Spirit neither the word “high” nor “most proper,” so by the same reasoning, having called the substances simple, he thinks one must apply the notion of simplicity too according to the measure of the dignity observed in each: so that the most proper and first is seen in the highest and perfect simplicity, while the second, proportionally, lowers the account of simplicity too according to the measure of its fall from the first rank; and in the last likewise it descends from perfect simplicity as far as the proportion of dignity is diminished in the last. From this it follows that the substance of the Father is supposed to be purely simple, while that of the Son is not exactly simple but also has composite nature mixed into it, and the nature of the Holy Spirit is still more composite, the account of simplicity being diminished little by little in the last. For as what is not perfectly good is admitted to share in some part of the opposite state, so what is not wholly simple cannot escape being thought composite.

And that he uses these words with this meaning is shown more clearly by what follows, in which he brings down the notion of the Son and the Spirit more plainly to grovelling and low suppositions. “Since the activities,” he says, “are bounded together with the works, and the works are measured by the activities of those who wrought them, it is surely wholly necessary that the activities following each of the substances should be lesser and greater, and that some should hold the first and others the second rank.” Although he has laboriously covered these words with a fog of language and made their sense hard for most people to catch, it will easily be made clear from the sequence of what has been examined. “Since the activities are bounded together with the works,” he says. He calls the Son and the Spirit “works,” and “activities” the powers productive of them, through which they were produced, which a little before he said “follow” the substances. The word “bounded together” shows the equal extent of the substance produced with the power that brought it into subsistence — or rather not the power, but the activity of the power, as he himself names it — so that the product may be the work not of the whole power of the agent but of some partial activity, so much of the whole power being moved as would appear commensurate with the production of what comes to be.

And turning the same thing round again, he says: “and the works are measured by the activities of those who wrought them.” The meaning of these words would become better known to us through an example. Let us suppose that the argument concerns one of the cobbler’s tools, in this way. If the knife bent into the shape of a circle is applied to something on which such a figure is to be made, what is cut by it is bounded by the shape of the iron, and the circle shown in the cut will be as large as the one in the tool; and again, by as much as the tool is bent round, so large a circle will it describe by the cut. Such is the theologian’s notion of the divine hypostasis of the Only-begotten. He says that an activity accompanying the first substance like a tool made the Lord a work commensurate with itself. So he has seen fit to glorify the Son of God, who is now glorified in the glory of the Father and will be revealed at the time of the judgment: he says that he, being a work, is measured by the activity that wrought him.

What, then, is the activity that accompanies the God of all, is conceived before the Only-begotten, and bounds his substance? Some substantial power subsisting by itself and producing what it pleases by free movement? Then it is itself the Father of the Lord. And why is the title of Father still repeated of the God over all, if it was not he but some activity among those that accompany from outside that produced the Son? And how is the Son a Son, whom he says came into subsistence through something else, and who, like one of the supposititious children (may the Lord be gracious to my words!), puts on kinship with the Father, honoured only with the title of Son? And how is the Lord in the second rank after the God of all, when he counts the Son third from the Father, that mediating activity being counted second after the God over all? By this sequence the Holy Spirit will certainly be found no longer in the third but in the fifth rank, since the activity accompanying the Only-begotten, by which the Holy Spirit came into subsistence according to Eunomius’s account, is certainly counted in between. And the statement that “all things came into being through the Son” will be shown by these things to be untenable, since another hypostasis older than the Only-begotten has been fashioned beforehand by the new theologian, to which the cause of the creation of all things will reasonably be referred, because the construction of the Only-begotten himself, according to their account, depends on that activity.

But if, to avoid these absurdities, he should call the activity, of which he defines the Son to be the product, something without subsistence, let him say again how what is not follows what is, and how what does not subsist produces what subsists. For it will be found by these means that non-existent things accompany God, that things which are not become causes of things which are, and that things which do not subsist in their own nature bound the nature of things that subsist; and the whole power that produced and fashioned creation will, by his own account, be enclosed by the non-existent. Such are the doctrines of the theologian, who says that the Lord of heaven and earth, the Creator of all creation, the Word of God who was in the beginning, through whom all things are, came into subsistence by some non-existent and unsubstantial thing — or whatever one ought to call the activity now fashioned by him — and was bounded in it, enclosed on every side by non-existence as by a fence. And he who sees things invisible does not understand to what end the sequence of his argument turns. For if the activity of God is without subsistence, and the work produced from non-existence is enclosed in it, the product will certainly be conceived as of such a nature as the nature of the one who brought the work into subsistence was fashioned in his argument. For what is produced from non-existence and enclosed by it — it is plain to everyone what that is conceived to be: nothing. For opposites are not of a nature to be contained by opposites: neither water by fire, nor life by death, nor light by darkness, nor what is by what is not. But these things, through the wisdom that abounds in him, he either does not understand or shuts his eyes to the truth willingly.

And he establishes that by some necessity one must conceive the “less” in the hypostasis of the Only-begotten, and again observe in the Holy Spirit a further degree of diminution compared with the Son, saying in these words: “It is wholly necessary that the activities following each of the substances should be lesser and greater.” The necessity that forces these things in the divine nature, and allots the greater and the less, we have neither learned from him nor been able until now to understand by ourselves.

For until now the doctrine has prevailed with all who accept the plainness of the simpler proclamation: that no necessity stands above the divine nature, bending the Only-begotten to the less and forcing him like one of the bought slaves. But passing over this, though it deserves no small inquiry, he teaches only that one must conceive him as less. Yet the necessity does not bring his argument to this alone; it establishes something still more toward blasphemy, as has already been partly examined. For if the Son sprang not from the Father but from some unsubstantial activity, he will be conceived not only as less than the Father, but the doctrine must Judaize altogether. For the consequence of this necessity shows that the product of the non-existent is not something small, but what it is not safe to say even for one who accuses. For just as what has its birth from what is is necessarily admitted to be, so, conversely, what springs from what is not will necessarily be admitted not to be. For when something itself is not, how will it bring another into subsistence from itself? If, then, the activity that accompanies God and produces the Son does not exist in a substance of its own, who is so blind as not to see the construction of the blasphemy — that his aim looks to the very denial of our Saviour? And if the sequence of their doctrine steals the hypostasis of the Son from the faith, leaving him nothing but a bare name, hardly could the Holy Spirit be believed to exist in his own hypostasis, whose genealogy is traced through a sequence of non-existents. For when the activity accompanying God does not exist in substance, and the argument from necessity finds its product non-existent, and some other non-existence of activity accompanies this in turn, and then the Spirit is established as having come into being through this — how is the blasphemy not evident to all: that after God, who exists unbegottenly, they establish nothing truly subsisting, since their doctrine proceeds through shadows and non-existent fabrications and rests on nothing that truly subsists?

But the construction of those who teach such things drives the argument into such absurdity. Let it be granted, by hypothesis, that it is not so; for they do profess, forsooth, and are generous in word, conceding that the only-begotten Son and the Holy Spirit exist in their own hypostasis. But if, while confessing this, they also agreed with the beliefs about them, they would certainly not be fighting against the doctrine of the Church, nor be split off from the common hope of Christians. But if they grant being to the Son and the Spirit only as material and pretext for blasphemy for themselves, then perhaps — even if it is bold to say — it would be more profitable for them to desert to the worship of the Jews, abjuring the faith, than to outrage the name of Christians by a seeming confession. For the Jews, having remained till now unreceptive of the word, are impious only so far as not to confess the Christ who has come, but to hope that he will come; one cannot hear them saying anything wicked or destructive of the glory of the one they expect. But these men of the new circumcision — or rather, as the Apostle says, of the mutilation — do not deny that the expected one has come, but they imitate those who dishonoured the Lord’s coming in the flesh by unbelief and insult. Those tried to stone the Lord; these stone the word of truth with their blasphemous words. Those brought forward the lowliness and obscurity of his birth according to the flesh, not accepting his divine birth before the ages; in the same way these men, denying the confession of his magnificent, lofty, and ineffable birth from the Father, establish that he has his being through creation, from which human nature and all things that have come to be have their origin. It was the charge of the Jews that the Lord was regarded as Son of the God over all; these men too are indignant against those who in truth make this confession about him. Those thought they honoured the God of all by shutting the Son out from equal honour with him; these men too do the God over all the same favour, bestowing honour on the Father by pulling down the Lord’s glory.

As for the rest, how could one go through worthily the number and the kind of things by which they display their insult against the Only-begotten? Fashioning in advance some activity before the hypostasis of Christ, they call him its work and product — which the Jews have never yet dared to this day. Then they bound the nature of the Lord, shutting him within certain limits of the power that made him, and as it were roping him in by a measure of quantity, that of the activity that brought him into subsistence, enclosed on every side as by a tunic by the activity they have invented. These things we cannot charge against the Jews. Then they observe in his substance a certain smallness by diminution — by what method I do not know, having measured round by their own supposition the one who is without quantity and magnitude, and having been able to find how much the magnitude of the only-begotten God lacks for perfection, so that, lacking it, he is seen among the smaller and the imperfect. And by many other things, some confessed openly, others constructed secretly, they have made their confession of the Son and of the Holy Spirit an exercise of their own wickedness.

How, then, are they not more pitiable than the Jews in their condemnation, if what was never dared by the Jews is so plainly constructed by these men? For the one who lessens the substance of the Only-begotten and of the Holy Spirit seems perhaps, as far as saying it or hearing it goes, to be only slightly impious; but if one examines the statement exactly, he will be convicted of blasphemy on the main point itself. Let us consider it in this way — and let it be granted me, for the sake of instruction and to make plain the falsehood constructed by the opponents, to bring my discourse forward to an exposition of our own beliefs.

The highest division of all beings makes its cut into the intelligible and the sensible. The sensible nature has been named generically by the Apostle “visible”: for since every body is coloured, and sight perceives this, he passed over the remaining qualities that are by essence bound up with it and called it “visible” from what lies most readily at hand to perception. The common name of the whole intelligible nature, as the Apostle says, is “the invisible”; for by the removal of sense perception it leads the mind by the hand to what is incorporeal and intelligible. But reason divides the notion of this too into two: by sound inference one part is grasped as uncreated, the other as created — uncreated, that which makes creation; created, that which has the cause and the power of its being through the uncreated nature. Among the sensible things are all that we grasp through the senses of the body, in which the differences of qualities admit the account of greater and less, the difference being seen in quantity, quality, and the other properties. But in the intelligible nature — I mean the intelligible nature within creation — such an account of difference as was found in the sensible has no place; another mode is found which discovers the difference of greater from less. For since the source, the principle, and the supply of every good are seen in the uncreated nature, and the whole creation inclines toward it through communion with the first good of the lofty nature — touching it and necessarily participating in proportion to its share in the things above, some partaking more, others less, according to the free will of their choice — the more and the less are recognized in creation in proportion to the impulse of each. For since the nature conceived within creation stands on the border between goods and their opposites, so as to be capable of either at will, according to which way it inclines by its choice, as we have learned from Scripture, there is room to speak of more and less in excellence of virtue, in proportion to its withdrawal from the worse and its approach to the good.

But the uncreated nature is far removed from such difference, since it does not have its good as acquired, nor receive the good into itself by participation in some higher good, but is itself by nature what it is: good, conceived as good, and source of good, simple, uniform, and uncompounded, as even those who fight against us testify. It has a difference within itself befitting the majesty of its nature, not seen in terms of greater and less, as Eunomius thinks; for one who lessens the notion of the good in any one of those in whom we believe in the holy Trinity will certainly make out that something of the opposite state is mixed into whatever falls short in good — which it is not pious to reckon of either the Only-begotten or the Holy Spirit. Rather, being seen in the highest perfection and in incomprehensible excellence, it has an unconfused and distinct difference in the properties inherent in each of the hypostases: in the communion of being uncreated it has no variation, and in the special properties of each it has what is not shared. For the property observed in each of the hypostases clearly and purely distinguishes one from the other. Thus the Father is confessed to be uncreated and unbegotten, for he was neither begotten nor created. This “uncreated,” then, is common to him with the Son and the Holy Spirit; but he is also unbegotten and Father, and this is peculiar and not shared, found in neither of the others. The Son, joined with the Father and the Spirit in being uncreated, has his peculiarity in being and being named Son and Only-begotten, which belongs neither to the God over all nor to the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit, having communion of nature with the Son and the Father in being uncreated, is again distinguished from them by his own marks. For his mark and most peculiar sign is to be none of those things which reason has observed as proper to the Father and to the Son.

For being neither unbegottenly nor only-begottenly, and yet being in the full sense, presents his special property in relation to those named. Joined to the Father in being uncreated, he is again separated from him by not being Father as he is. United with the Son by their conjunction in being uncreated and in having the cause of their existence from the God of all, he is again set apart by what is peculiar to him: in not having subsisted from the Father as only-begotten, and in having been manifested through the Son himself. Again, since creation came to subsist through the Only-begotten, so that the Spirit may not be thought to have anything in common with it from having been manifested through the Son, the Spirit is distinguished from creation by being unchangeable, unalterable, and in no need of goodness from elsewhere. For creation does not have unchangeability in its nature, as Scripture says in telling of the fall of the Morning Star, concerning whom the Lord too, revealing the mysteries to his disciples, said: “I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven.” But by the very things by which he stands apart from creation he has his kinship with the Father and the Son; for the definition of unchangeable and unalterable is one and the same for those things which by nature do not admit the worse.

These things having been said beforehand on our part, it is time now to examine the statement of the opponents as well. “It is necessary,” he says, “that the substances be greater and less,” in his technical treatment of the Son and the Holy Spirit. Let us consider, then, in what sense he conceives the necessity of such a difference: whether by a bodily comparison of things measured against one another, or in the intelligible order, as seen in excess and deficiency of virtue, or according to the substance itself. As to the substance, it has been shown by those who know how to philosophize about such things that no difference can be conceived if one strips it bare of the qualities and properties observed about it and examines it by itself according to the definition of being. And to conceive such a difference in the Only-begotten and the Spirit by intensification and remission of virtue, and therefore necessarily to suppose their nature liable to fall either way, as being equally capable of opposites and lying on the border between good and its opposite, is the height of impiety. For whoever says this will establish that it is one thing in its own definition and becomes something else by participation in the good and the worse. So it happens with iron: when it has been long in company with fire, it takes on the quality of heat while remaining iron; but if it is put into snow or ice, it changes its quality to what prevails, taking the cold of the snow into its own parts. Now as we do not name the material from the quality observed in the iron — for we do not call it fire or ice when it has been given one of these qualities — so, if it were granted, according to the argument of the impious, that in the life-giving power the good is present not by substance but added by participation, it will no longer properly be named by the title of good. Such a supposition will compel us to conceive it as something else, so that the good is neither seen in it eternally, nor is it in itself what it is within the nature of the good, but as though the good once was not in it and at some time will not be. For if things become good by participating in the better, clearly they were not such before the participation. And if, being something else, they were coloured by the presence of the good, then certainly, if they are deprived of it, the good will be thought to be something other than they. If this view prevails, the divine nature will not be thought a provider of goods any more than itself in need of what makes it good. For how could anyone give another what he does not have himself? If, then, it has the good perfectly, we shall conceive no falling short in its perfection, and the one who constructs a “less” in the perfect labours in vain. But if their participation in the good is thought imperfect, and on this ground they speak of the “less,” consider the consequence: what is in that state will not benefit what is inferior, but will be eager to fill up its own lack. So on their account the doctrine of providence is false, and that of judgment, and of the economy, and of all the things believed to have been made and always to be made by the Only-begotten, since he would naturally be busy with care for his own good and would let go his government of the universe. For if this notion prevailed — that the Lord is not perfect in every good — it is no longer hard to see where the blasphemy ends.

For if such things were so, faith would be vain, preaching empty, and hopes without substance, which have their substance through faith. For why are they baptized into Christ, if he has no power of goodness of his own (may the blasphemy depart from my mouth)? And why do they believe in the Holy Spirit, if they reckon such things about him? How are they born again from corruptible birth through baptism, if the power that regenerates them does not, as they think, possess by nature freedom from falling and from need? How does he transform the body of their lowliness, when they think that the one who transforms is himself in need of alteration for the better, and needs in turn another to transform him? For so long as he is in the lesser state, since the good of the transcendent nature naturally implants in inferior things an unceasing attraction toward itself, the desire for more will in no way come to rest. With appetite always stretching on toward what is not yet grasped, what is lessened will always reach for more, will always be altered toward the greater, and will never arrive at the perfect, because it does not find the limit, by grasping which it would stop its ascent. For since the first good is infinite in nature, the participation of the one who enjoys it will necessarily be infinite too, always grasping more, always finding something beyond what has been grasped, and never able to be bounded, because what is participated has no limit and what grows by participation does not stop.

Such, then, are the blasphemies that come to light from the argument about a difference in goodness. And if they view the greater and the less in them according to some bodily preconception, the absurdity of the argument is admitted at once, even without examining each point exactly. For with these suppositions it is wholly necessary that certain qualities, dimensions, bulks and shapes, and all that makes up the definition of a body, should be brought into the divine nature too; and where the composite is spoken of, there the dissolution of the composite is certainly admitted as well. These and similar things follow from the absurdity of a doctrine that dares to declare less and more in what is without magnitude and beyond comparison, as the argument has shown, a few out of many. For it is not easy to uncover in argument all the deceit hidden in the doctrine; but even through the few things said, the absurdity of what appears in the consequences of the blasphemy will be shown no less.

Let us go on to what follows in the argument, after a few further clarifications to establish our own doctrine. Since the God-inspired testimony is a safe criterion of truth in every doctrine, I think it right to confirm our argument too by setting the divine words beside it. We have recognized these differences in the division of beings: first, as regards our own comprehension — first, I mean, the sensible; after that, what is contemplated by the mind with the guidance of the sensible, which we call intelligible; and in the intelligible again we grasped another difference, divided into created and uncreated. We defined the holy Trinity as belonging to the uncreated nature, and all that is spoken of, exists, and is named after it as belonging to the created. So that our definition may not be without proof but secured by the testimonies of Scripture, we will add this to what has been said: that the Lord was not created but came forth from the Father, as God the Word testifies in his own person in the Gospel, according to that ineffable and indescribable mode of his birth or coming forth. And what truer witness could be found than the voice of the Lord throughout the Gospel, calling his true Father Father and not his creator, and naming himself not a work of God but the Son of God? For just as, when signifying his communion with humanity according to the flesh, he called what was seen the Son of Man, showing the natural kinship of his flesh with her from whom it was taken, so too he signifies by the title of Son his true and genuine relation to the God of all, showing by the word “Son” the kinship of nature.

Some bring forward what is said darkly in a parable, through an enigma, in the proverbial saying — bare and uninterpreted, to overturn the truth — and adduce, in support of the perversion of their doctrine, the word “created,” which the author of Proverbs used in the person of Wisdom, saying that “The Lord created me” is a confession that the Lord was created, as though the Only-begotten himself did not deny such a thing by this word. We must not heed their argument. For they offer no proofs that this saying must in any case be referred to the Lord; nor will they be able to show that the sense of the text in the Hebrew Scripture bears this meaning, since the other translators rendered it “acquired” and “established” instead of “created.” Nor, even if the word stood so in the original Scripture, would the sense be ready and clear, since proverbial teaching shows the aim of what it says not openly but with concealment, by oblique suggestion; as one may recognize the obscurity of the passage from the context of what is said around this place, where it says: when “he set apart his throne upon the winds,” and so on.

For what is God’s throne — material or intelligible? And what are the winds? Are they these usual and familiar ones, which those who study nature say are formed from vapours and exhalations, or are they to be understood in some other way, unknown to human usage, since he says that they serve as a base for the throne? And what is the seat of the incorporeal, uncircumscribed, and shapeless God? Who could understand all such things from the usual meaning of these words? It is clear, then, that what is said consists of riddles of some kind, containing a contemplation deeper than the obvious sense; so that, on these grounds, by no reasoning does the notion that the Lord was created arise from this Scripture for those who reason piously — above all for those who have been taught by the lofty voice of the evangelist that all things that have come into being came into being through him and have their consistence in him. For he says: “All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being; what has come into being came to be in him.” He would not have defined this if he had believed the Lord himself to be one of the things that came into being. For how do all things come into being through him, and the things that came into being have their consistence in him, unless the maker, being altogether something other than the nature of the things made, wrought not himself but creation? For if creation is through him, but the Lord himself is not through himself, he is certainly something other, and not creation.

So, when the evangelist had said, “All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being; what has come into being came to be in him,” and had plainly shown by this that the things that came into being came into being in the Son and had their passage into being through no other, Paul takes up this word; and so as to leave the blasphemous voice no pretext for numbering the nature of the Spirit too among the things that came into being, he brings under enumeration the “all things”: what these “all” are that were spoken and meant by the evangelist. And just as the great David, after saying that all things had been subjected to man, added by kinds what was included in the word “all” — that is, the creatures of land, of water, and of air — so also the interpreter of the divine doctrines, the apostle Paul, having said that all things came into being in him, defines the notion of “all” by the things he enumerates: “visible,” he says, “and invisible” — by “visible,” as has been said, including in the name what is known to sense, and by “invisible” hinting at the intelligible nature. About sensible things there was no need to go through them in detail by name; for no one is so fleshly or brutish as to suspect that the Holy Spirit is among sensible things. But having mentioned the invisible, since the nature of the Spirit too is intellectual and incorporeal, so that no one might suspect that the Spirit subsists among these because of a common invisibility, he makes the clearest division between the things that came into being by creation and the substance that is above creation. For he enumerates the created things in his statement, speaking of certain Thrones, Rulers, Authorities, and Dominions, giving his teaching about these invisible powers by generic and comprehensive names; but what is above creation he separates by his very silence from the number of created things.

It is as if someone in a camp were ordered to name the lesser and subordinate commands — taxiarchs, captains, centurions, and chiliarchs, and any other ranks of particular command that have names — and, after going through them all, made no mention of the command that rules all and directs the whole force; keeping silent about the supreme command not from contempt or forgetfulness, but because he had been ordered, or had proposed, to go through only the subject and subordinate ranks; for he would insult the ruling command by including it in the mention of its subordinates. So, it seems to me, Paul too — who was initiated into unspeakable things in paradise, when he was caught up and was in it, and became a spectator of the wonders above the heavens, and saw and heard things unutterable for men — when he set out to teach the things created by the Lord, and went through them in comprehensive terms, ran through the angelic and supramundane power and stopped his statement at those he had mentioned, dragging nothing of what is above creation into the list of created things. From this the Holy Spirit is clearly attested by Scripture to be above creation. But if someone should overturn the argument on the ground that the Cherubim too are not mentioned by Paul, but are passed over in silence along with the Spirit in his enumeration of things that came into being, and should argue from the omission of any mention of them that either these too are above creation, or else one ought not to think so of the Spirit either, let him consider the meaning of the things enumerated, and he will see that what seems to be omitted, because it was not mentioned by name, is in what was said.

For the one who mentioned Thrones described the Cherubim by another name, putting the obscurity of the Hebrew word into Greek with a more familiar title. Having heard that God sits upon the Cherubim, he named these powers the “thrones” of the one who is seated on them. In the same way the Seraphim in Isaiah, by whom the mystery of the Trinity was clearly proclaimed when, struck with amazement at the beauty in each of those in the Trinity, they cried out in wonder the word “Holy,” are included in the list of those mentioned, being named by the title of “powers” both by the great Paul and before him by the prophet David. For the one says: “Bless the Lord, all his powers, his ministers who do his will.” And Isaiah, instead of saying “Bless,” wrote down the very words of the blessing: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory.” And that these powers are ministers who do the will of God he hinted through the cleansing of sins performed by one of the Seraphim according to the will of the one who sent him; for this is the ministry of these spirits, to be sent out for the salvation of those who are being saved. Understanding this, it seems to me, and learning that the same thing is signified by the two prophets with different titles, the divine Apostle chose the most familiar of the words and named the Seraphim “powers,” so that the slanderers might be left no pretext to say that the Holy Spirit, like one of these, has been passed over in the list of creation. For some are mentioned, as has been shown, and others are passed over in silence, as one may learn from those listed by Paul, who enumerated all creation in the plural but mentioned in the singular those that are spoken of as one. For this is proper to the holy Trinity, to be proclaimed singly: one Father, one Son, one Holy Spirit. But all those named are listed in the plural — Rulers, Authorities, Dominions, Powers — so as to give no suspicion that the Holy Spirit is one of these.

But Paul keeps silent about unspeakable things, and does well; for he knows how to hear the unspeakable words in paradise and yet to refrain from uttering what may not be uttered when he is discussing lower things. The enemies of the truth, however, dare even the unspeakable, insulting the majesty of the Spirit with the lowliness of creation, as though they had not heard that God the Word himself, handing on to the disciples the mystery of the knowledge of God, said that life is made complete and comes to those who are being born again in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit; and that for this reason, by ranking the Spirit with the Father and himself, he separated him from the notion of being creation, so that from both a pious and fitting belief about him might arise: from Paul, keeping silent about him when he mentions creation, and from the Lord, joining the Holy Spirit with the Father and himself when he mentions the life-giving power. So our argument, guided by Holy Scripture, places the Only-begotten and the Holy Spirit above creation, and according to the Saviour’s declaration directs us to contemplate them by faith within the blessed, life-giving, and uncreated nature; so that what is believed to be one, above creation, of the first nature, perfect in every respect, admits in no way the account of diminution — even if the champion of the heresy cuts off infinity by his notion of the “less,” docking, as it were, and contracting the perfection of the divine substance by laying down that greater and less are to be seen in them.

Let us consider, then, what he adds in the sequence of what he said. After saying that the substances must of necessity be thought lesser and greater, and that some hold the first rank, placed in precedence by some difference of magnitude and dignity, while others, thrust down because of the inferiority of their nature and dignity, hold the second, he added this: that they reach, he says, to as great a difference as the works reach to. “Since it is not even lawful to say that the activity by which he made the angels is the same as that by which he made the stars and the heaven, or man; but by as much as some works are older and more honourable than others, by so much one who affirms this would say that one activity surpasses another, since the same activities produce works that are the same, and altered works show altered activities.” For my part I suppose that not even the writer himself could easily say what in the world he meant when he wrote this, so muddied is the sense of what is said with the silt of the phrasing that no one could easily see through to the intention in the mire of the expression. For “to reach to as great a difference as the works reach to” one might suspect to be the babble of some Loxias, as in the outside myth, to deceive the hearers.

If, following what has already been examined, we must also guess at what he is establishing here, this is what he indicates: that however great the variation between the works, so great will the difference between the energies be recognized to be. But which works he is speaking of here cannot be discovered from what he has said. For if he is speaking of the things seen in creation, I do not know what connection these have with what went before. When the inquiry is about Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, what occasion is there to discourse on the nature of earth and water and air and fire and the differences of living creatures, to go through them in speech and describe them, and to say, as though reasoning soundly, that some works are older and more honorable than others and that energy has surpassed energy? But if he calls the only-begotten Son and the Holy Spirit "the works," what again does he mean by the differences of the energies through which these works are brought about? And what are those energies themselves, the ones that surpass energies? For he has neither made clear what he means by the surpassing by which, as he himself says, energy surpasses energy, nor has he said anything about the nature of the energies. Up to now his argument has not set foot on anything: it neither establishes that they subsist substantially nor shows them to be some unsubsisting motion of the will. Throughout, the sense of what he says is thrown into the middle between the two suppositions and is blown back and forth toward either view. He adds that "it is not right to say that the energy by which he made the angels, or the stars and the heaven, or man, is the same." Again, from what necessity or what sequence did he bring this in after what had been said, or what does it establish? I for my part do not see how "the energies differ from one another as much as the works differ from one another" establishes that not all things are the works of the same one, but that some came into being from one and others from another. For we have learned from Scripture that heaven and angel and star and man and everything thought of in creation are all the works of one. But the argument of their doctrine establishes that the Son and the Spirit are not the works of one: the Son is the work of the energy that accompanies the first substance, and the Spirit is in turn another work of that work. What fellowship, then, have heaven and man, angel and star, now taken in alongside by his argument, with his construction there? Let him say, or anyone who shares his secret wisdom. For in these words the impiety is plainly carried in what is said, while the construction of the impiety is out of tune with itself. To think that there is as great a difference in the Holy Trinity as one may observe between the heaven that encloses all creation and a single man, or a star appearing in the heaven, has its impiety in plain view; but the coherence of the thoughts and the logical sequence of the construction on this very point, I say, is easy to see neither for me nor perhaps for the father of the blasphemy himself. If he had reasoned thus about creation, that heaven is the work of some superior energy, the star the product of the energy that accompanies heaven, the angel of that one, and man of this one, his argument would have had some means of establishing the doctrine by setting like beside like. But if he too agrees that these things came into being through one (unless he is fighting outright against the voice of the Scriptures), while he defines some other manner for the making of those, what fellowship have the things brought in with what went before? But let it be granted that these have something in common toward proving the variation of the substances, for that is what he desires to establish by what he says. Let us hear how he joined what follows to what was said. "As much," he says, "as the works are older and more honorable than the works, so much one reasoning piously would say that the energy has surpassed the energy." Now if he says this of sensible things, the argument is far from what was proposed. For what need has one who set out to say something about doctrines to philosophize about the order of the things fashioned in the making of the world, and to insist that the energies of the Creator are higher and lower in proportion to the size of each thing that came into being? But if he is speaking of those, and calls the things formed by him (now, in the doctrine, that is, the Son and the Holy Spirit) works older and more honorable than works, perhaps it is better to loathe the argument in silence than, by grappling with it, to make it seem to be an argument at all. For how could a more honorable be found where there is no less honorable?

For if he goes so far in his ease and readiness toward evil as to suggest both the word and the notion of "less honorable" in the case of any of those believed in within the Holy Trinity, it is right to stop one's ears and flee, as far as one can, from an evil hearing, so that the hearer may have no share in the defilement, as though the argument were being poured from some vessel full of uncleanness into the hearts of those who listen. For how would anyone dare to say anything of the kind about the divine and transcendent nature, by which a "less honorable" is established in argument by comparison? "That all," it says, "may honor the Son, even as they honor the Father." Since this utterance lays down equality of honor by law (for the divine utterance is law), this man sets aside both the law and the lawgiver himself, and assigns more honor to one and less to the other, though I do not know how he discovers the measures of the excess of honor. In human custom, differences of rank determine the honors paid to those in power, so that subjects do not approach kings and lesser officials with the same and equal bearing; rather, the greater or lesser display of fear and reverence on the part of those who approach shows the lack or excess of honor in those honored. It is chiefly by this, by the disposition of their subjects, that one can find who are held in higher honor, when a man, in order to be more fearsome to those around him, is evidently accorded more reverence than the rest. But in the case of the divine nature, because all perfection in goodness is implied in the very name of the Godhead, one cannot find, at least by our understanding, any way of preferring in honor. Where no excess or deficiency is conceived of power, of glory, of wisdom, of love for humankind, or of any conception of goodness at all, but all the good things the Son has are the Father's, and all that is the Father's is seen in the Son, how shall we dispose ourselves so as to show the greater honor to the Father? If we take royal power in its dignity into our thought, the Son is king; if we think of a judge, all judgment belongs to the Son; if we take the grandeur of creation into our soul, all things came into being through him; if we consider the cause of our life, we know the true Life that came down even to our nature; if we learn of our transfer out of darkness, we are not ignorant of the true Light through whom we were estranged from darkness; and if wisdom seems precious to anyone, Christ is the power of God and the wisdom of God. Since our soul, then, is moved to wonder at such great marvels of Christ, as much as it can contain, what excess of honor can be found, offered exclusively to the Father alone, in which the Lord will fittingly have no share? For the honor that human beings pay to the divine, reasonably considered, is nothing other than a loving disposition and the acknowledgment of the good things that belong to him; and it seems to me that the saying that the Son must be honored as the Father is honored was laid down by the Word in place of love. For the law commands that the honor fitting to God be rendered by loving God with the whole heart and strength; and here the Word, legislating equality of love, says that the Son must be honored as the Father is honored. Great David too fulfilled this manner of honor toward the Lord in an opening of his psalmody, confessing that he loves the Lord and going through the reasons for his love, calling him strength and stronghold and refuge and deliverer and God the helper and hope and shield and horn of salvation and protector, and the like. If, then, the only-begotten Son has not become these things to men, let the excess of honor be withheld from him according to the law of the heresy. But if we have believed that the only-begotten God both is and is called all these things and more, equal, in every conception of good thing and thought, to the greatness of the goodness in the Father, how could anyone say it is reasonable either not to love such a one or to dishonor the one beloved? No one would say that love must come from the whole heart and strength, but honor from half of it. If, then, the Son is honored from the whole heart, by our devoting all our love to him, what conception will find a greater honor, when the whole heart, as far as it can contain, brings him as its gift the measure of honor through love? So he who teaches a "more honorable" among things honorable by nature is foolish, and by such a comparison he presents the notion of a "less honorable."

To speak of "older" in the case of creation is indeed true. Since the sequence of the works is shown in the order of the days, one might say that heaven is so much earlier than the making of man, and measure the time between by the interval of days. But in the case of the first nature, which transcends every temporal notion and leaves every comprehending conception behind, to think that one goes before in seniority of time and another comes after belongs to the wisdom that has now appeared. For he who declares the Father older than the hypostasis of the Only-begotten declares nothing other than that the Son himself is younger than the things that came into being through the Son, if indeed it is true to say that all ages and every temporal interval came into being after the Son and through the Son. And besides this (and this refutes the absurdity of the doctrine still more), not only will such an argument establish a temporal beginning of existence for the Son, but by the same sequence they will not spare even the Father from being made out to have had his beginning from time. For if some mark lies beyond, by which the generation of the Son is recognized, that mark will evidently also define for the Father the beginning of his hypostasis. For clarity's sake it is perhaps not out of place to examine the argument more carefully. He who teaches that the Father's life is older than the Son's separates the Only-begotten from the God over all by some interval; and he will suppose this interval in between either to be infinite or to be bounded by certain limits and clear marks. But the very notion of a middle will not allow him to call it infinite, or else he will wipe out the notion of Father and Son altogether in his argument. He will not even conceive it as a middle so long as it is infinite and bounded on neither side, since above, the notion of the Father does not cut off the advance of the infinite, and below, the Son does not cut short its infinity; for this is the notion of the infinite: to be poured out in its nature on every side and enclosed by no limit anywhere. Therefore, if the belief that the Father and the Son exist is to remain firm and unchanged, there will be no room to conceive of the interval as infinite; of necessity they will separate the Only-begotten from the Father by a finite one. This, then, is what I say: this argument will make out that the God over all is not from eternity, but has had his beginning from some definite point. What I mean is this, and I will state it by making the thought clear through familiar examples, so that what is unknown may become plain to us through what is seen. When we say, from the scripture of Moses, that man came into being on the fifth day after heaven, we have by this statement implied, without saying it, that before the number of these days heaven did not exist either. Thus what came into being after something defines, by the interval before it, the existence of what is thought of as earlier as well. If we have not made the argument clear enough by this example, the thought can be shown through others too, as when we say that the law given through Moses is four hundred and thirty years later than the promise to Abraham. If, starting from the law, we pass back in our reckoning through the time behind it and reach the end of the years counted, we clearly understand that before that time the promise of God did not yet exist. Many such things could be said, but I will decline to go through each one, as tedious. Let us, then, examine the argument before us as well, following what was said in the examples. According to our opponents' supposition, it was this: to say that, in the hypostasis of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, one is older or younger than another. When, then, we pass beyond the generation of the Son, as the argument of the heresy directs, and then go up through the interval between (which the vain conceit of those who teach these things supposes, since they reckon that something lies between the Son and the Father), if we reach that outermost point at which they bound the interval in between, there we find the life of the God of the universe halting at its upper end as well, so that it necessarily follows that before that point we are not to believe him to be God eternally existing. If you still doubt, let us consider the argument again through examples. Take two rods, one shorter and the other longer. We make the bases of both level and recognize the excess at the tops: setting the end of the shorter beside the other, we know from that point the surplus of the longer; and by measuring off with some measure what the shorter lacks up to the end of the greater, we find how far the greater stands beyond the lesser, whether a cubit or whatever the amount may be. So, if according to our opponents' argument there is some excess of the Father's life over the life of the Son, it is certainly in some definite interval; and they will not admit that this excess lies in what comes after.

For even the enemies of the truth agree that each is alike immortal; but they conceive this difference as lying upward, not making the Son's life equal to the Father, but extending the notion of the Father by the interval of his life. Since, then, an interval is bounded by two limits, it is entirely necessary that the two points that mark the limits of the interval they have conceived be grasped as well. As the one end, according to them, has its beginning from the generation of the Only-begotten, so the other end too will certainly terminate at some other limit, at which the interval, completed, marks itself off. What this limit is, let them say themselves, if they are not ashamed to follow their own arguments. But the argument admits no doubt: they will not find the other end, at the other end of the interval they have fabricated, unless they suppose some beginning of the Unbegotten altogether, from which they mark off in argument the space between, as far as the generation of the Son. This, then, is what we say: he who says that the Son is later than the Father's life by some extension of interval will give the Father too a definite beginning of existence, bounded along with the interval conceived as lying between. And so the much-vaunted unbegottenness of the Father will be found to be stolen away by such a construction at the hands of the very champions of unbegottenness, so that they say the unbegotten God is not eternal and make out that he had the beginning of his being from some beginning; for what has a beginning of being is not without beginning. But if it is right by every means to confess that the Father is without beginning, let no one busy himself about some definite point in the Son's life from which he began to be and is cut off from life beyond that point. It is enough to conceive of the Father before the Son only in the sense of cause, and not to conceive of the Father's life as ever separate and private before the generation of the Son, so that no notion of interval may enter into this supposition before the manifestation of the Son, measured against the life of the Begetter. From that it would necessarily follow that some beginning of the Father's life too is set further back, at which the interval fabricated before him, going upward, will halt, marking off with itself the beginning of the Father's life conceived as prior. Rather, we who confess "from him" should not deny "with him" as well, even if it seems a bold thing, since we are led to this thought by Scripture in its teachings. For when we hear from Wisdom of "a radiance of everlasting light," we contemplate the radiance together with the everlastingness of the archetypal light, conceiving of the cause of the radiance but not admitting an "older." In this way the doctrine of piety will be kept safe for us: the Son's life does not fall short upward, nor is the Father's everlastingness cut short by supposing a defined beginning of the Son. But perhaps one of those who oppose the argument will say that creation too has an acknowledged beginning, and yet the things made are not conceived together with the Creator's everlastingness, nor do they halt, by their own beginning, the boundlessness of the divine life, as the argument, when examined in the case of the Son and the Father, showed the absurdity to do. So it follows from this, he will say, either that creation is coeternal with God or that we may say without fear that the Son too is later; for the argument of the interval will show the absurdity equally when measured from creation to its Maker. But whoever raises such an objection, perhaps without attending carefully to the sense of the doctrine, fights against what was said with things foreign and wholly unrelated to the subject. If he could point to something above creation that had the beginning of its hypostasis at some point of interval, and if all agreed that it is possible to conceive of interval even before creation, he might perhaps have had occasion to try to undo by such arguments the everlastingness of the Only-begotten demonstrated by what has been said. But it is agreed by all the votes of the pious that of all things that exist, some are through creation and some are before creation; that the divine nature is believed to be uncreated, in which the doctrine of piety teaches that the cause and what is from the cause have their hypostasis without interval; and that creation is seen in some extension of interval. All temporal order and sequence of things made is grasped through the ages; but the nature before the ages has escaped the distinctions of older and younger, because none of the things that reason sees as proper to creation is seen together with the divine and blessed life. For all creation, as has been said, having come into being in a certain sequence of order, is measured by the interval of the ages; and if anyone goes up in thought through the sequence of created things to the beginning of things made, he will bound his search by the foundation of the ages.

But the substance above creation, being separate from every notion of interval, has escaped all temporal sequence: it neither sets out from any such beginning nor ends at any limit, found in any manner or in any order. To one who has passed beyond the ages and all that has come into being in them, the contemplation of the divine nature appears to his reasoning like some vast open sea, and it will give no mark in itself indicating any beginning to one who stretches his comprehending imagination to what lies beyond. So the man who busies himself with what is older than the ages and goes up to the beginning of things can halt his reasoning nowhere, since what he seeks always runs on ahead and shows no resting place to the curiosity of his mind. The point is clear even to one who has given the nature of things moderate thought: nothing measures the divine and blessed life. It is not in time; time is from it. Creation, by contrast, starting from some beginning acknowledged in every way, travels toward its own goal through temporal intervals, so that it is possible, as Solomon says somewhere, to examine its beginning and end and middle, marking the sequence of what happens in it by divisions of time. But the transcendent and blessed life, since no interval travels along with it, has nothing that measures it or encloses it. All things that have come into being are circumscribed within their own measures, as pleased the wisdom of the Creator, enclosed as by a boundary in the fitting measure for the harmony of the whole. Therefore, even if the things seen in creation are beyond the reach of weak human reasoning, it is not doubted that all things are bounded by the power of their Maker and lie within the limits of creation. But the power that made things, which circumscribes within itself the nature of all that has come into being, has itself nothing that contains it. It shuts up within itself every thought that hastens to go up to the beginning of the divine life, and outruns all the busy curiosity that strives to reach the end of the unbounded. All the ascent and effort of the mind beyond the ages will rise only so high as to see that what it seeks cannot be traversed. The age and what lies within it seem to be a kind of measure and boundary of the movement and activity of human reasoning, while what lies beyond them remains ungraspable and inaccessible to reasoning, pure of everything that can come under human comprehension. For where no form, no place, no size, no measure of time, nor anything else comprehensible is conceived, the comprehending power of the mind, seeking something to lay hold of, necessarily slips off the incomprehensible nature on every side and seeks among the ages and the creation in them what is akin to itself and of its own kind. I think this is known to everyone who has considered existing things even moderately: that the Maker of the universe laid down beforehand the ages and the space within them as a kind of receptacle for the things that come into being, and creates all things in them. None of the things that have come or are coming into being through creation can have its being otherwise than in place or in time. But the nature that lacks nothing, everlasting and containing all that exists, is neither in place nor in time; it is before these and above them in an ineffable way, contemplated by itself through faith alone, neither measured by ages nor running alongside times, but standing by itself and established in itself, seen together neither with the past nor with the future. Nor is there anything beside it, outside it, by whose passing something goes by and something is yet to come. These are the experiences proper to things in creation, whose life is split by the division of time into hope and memory. But to that lofty and blessed power all things are always equally present, as in the present, and what is still awaited is seen as held fast by the power that contains all things. This, then, is the substance in which, as the Apostle says, all things hold together, and in which we who each share in being live and move and are; which is higher than every beginning and offers no marks of its own nature, but is known only in its being incomprehensible. For this is its most proper mark: that its nature is higher than every characterizing thought. Creation, then, because it does not have the same account as the uncreated, is by this very fact separated from comparison and fellowship with its Maker: by the difference in substance, I mean, and by admitting in itself an account of its own that expresses its nature, having nothing in common with the one from whom it came to be. But the divine nature, being foreign to all the marks seen as peculiar to creation, leaves beneath itself the divisions of time (older and younger, I mean) and notions of place, so that not even "higher" can properly be said of it.

For everything conceived in the uncreated power is above, is beginning, and holds the place of what is most sovereign. It has been shown by what has been said that the only-begotten Son and the Spirit of God are not to be searched for within creation but believed to be above creation. Creation, then, may perhaps be grasped at some beginning proper to it by the inquisitiveness of those who are eager to search out such things; but what is above it would not come any further into knowledge by these means, since no indicative mark is found in it before the ages. If, then, the marvelous realities and names, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, are conceived in the uncreated nature, how is it possible to think that what the mind grasps by busying and meddling with things below, placing one before another by comparison through some temporal interval, holds also for the uncreated substance that is before the ages? In it the Father is conceived as without beginning, unbegotten, and always Father. From him, immediately and without interval, the only-begotten Son is conceived together with the Father. Through him and with him, before any empty and unsubsisting thought can slip in between, the Holy Spirit too is at once grasped in conjunction. The Spirit does not come after the Son in existence, so that the Only-begotten might ever be conceived without the Spirit; but having the cause of its being from the God of the universe, from whom the only-begotten Light also is, and shining forth through the true Light, it is cut off from the Father or the Only-begotten neither by interval nor by otherness of nature. For there is no interval in the nature before the ages, and there is no difference in substance. It is not possible to conceive a difference of the uncreated from the uncreated; and the Holy Spirit is uncreated, as was shown in the preceding arguments. Since all who accept the plainness of the simpler preaching hold these things to be so, what occasion is there to try to undo the conjunction of the Son with the Father by means of creation, as though it were necessary either that the Son be coeternal with creation as well or that he be thought later? For neither is the generation of the Only-begotten within the ages, nor is creation before the ages. In no way, then, is it fitting to divide the nature that is without interval, or to insert some suspicion of interval in the cause that made all things by saying that he who gave being to all once was not. The argument given before is therefore true: with the unbegottenness of the Father the everlastingness of the Only-begotten is conceived together, as begotten; but if any interval were supposed between, by which the generation of the Son is cut off from the life of the Father, that interval would also define a beginning of the life of the God over all, which is absurd. But nothing prevents creation, which in its own nature is something other than the Creator, from being conceived as starting from a beginning proper to it, as we said, in no way coinciding with the pure nature that is before the ages. To say that heaven or earth or anything else seen in creation came into being from what is not, or, as the Apostle says, from things that do not appear, brings no discredit on the Maker of the universe, since we have learned from the divine Scripture that these things neither are from eternity nor will remain forever. But if anything believed in the Holy Trinity were believed not always to coexist with the Father, and some notion were conceived, according to the argument of the heresy, that at some time stripped the God over all of the glory of the Son and the Holy Spirit, then, according to the argument of the heresy, God will be shown to be separated from nothing less than every good and divine thing and thought. But if the Father, who exists before the ages, is always glorious, and the Son before the ages is the glory of the Father, and likewise the Spirit of Christ, always contemplated with the Son and the Father, is the glory of the Son, from where did this wise man, and from what schooling, learn to declare an "older" among things timeless and a "more honorable" among things honorable by nature, placing one above the other by comparison and dishonoring the next by his preference for one? For the contrast with "more honorable" plainly shows where it tends. And what does he add to what he has said, and what follows? "Since," he says, "the same energies bring about sameness of works, and differing works show that the energies too differ." Well has the noble fellow come to the unassailable defense of his argument! "The same energies bring about sameness of works," he says. Let us look at the argument, then, in the case of real things. The energy of fire, by heating, is one; but let us consider what agreement its works have. Bronze melts; clay hardens; wax is consumed; other living creatures, if they get into it, are destroyed, but the salamander is brought to life; tow burns; asbestos is washed clean by the flame as if in water.

Such is the sameness of the works that come from the one energy! And what of the sun? Does it not also, warming all things alike by the same power, make one plant grow and another wither, the result of its energy varying with the capacity of what receives it? One plant on the rock it dried up, while another, from deep soil, it made yield a hundredfold. If you go into the works of nature and see how many things it works with artistry in bodies, you will learn still better how circumspect is the man who says, "The same energy brings about sameness of works." One energy is the cause of conception, yet the compound of what is formed within is so manifold that no one could easily count the different qualities in the body. Again, in infants the drawing in of milk is one energy; but what speech could go through the variety of the results of such nourishment? The milk passes from the mouth as through a pipe into the passages that receive it, and the altering power of nature brings it fittingly to each of the members, breaking the nourishment up by digestion into countless differences and making what suits each part kindred to the parts that receive it. From the same food are nourished arteries, veins, brain, membranes, marrow, bones, nerves, ligament, tendons, flesh, skin, cartilages, fat, hair, nails, sweat, vapors, phlegm, bile, and whatever other superfluous and useless things depend on the same cause. And if you name the members, both the organs and the senses, and whatever else fills the bulk of the body, from one and the same energy of nourishment it is altered into all these differences. If anyone considers the arts as well, he will find through them too how carefully examined this doctrine is. In every art, for the most part, we see one energy in those who make something by hand: the movement of the hand itself. But let us consider what the results have in common. What has the building of a temple in common with a cloak, though in each the art is carried out by the movement of the hand? The housebreaker moves his hand, and so does the well-digger; earth is mined, and a man is murdered; all are works of a movement of the hand. The soldier in battle works the slaughter of the enemy by hand, and the farmer in turn breaks up the clod by hand with the hoe. How then does our dogmatist declare that the same energies bring about sameness of works? Yet even if what he said is granted to have some truth, this too establishes all the more the kinship in substance of the Son with the Father and of the Spirit with the Son. If there were some variation in the energies, so that the Father worked what he pleased in one way and the Son in another, it would be right to infer from the variation of the energies a variation also in the substance worked by each of them. But the Son does all things in the same way that the Father works, according to the Lord's own words and to reason. One does not work without a body and the other through a body, nor one from this matter and the other from another; nor does one accomplish what he wills in a different time or place from the other; nor do differences of instruments produce any variation. The mere motion of the will and the impulse of choice suffices, having concurrent with it, and following upon it for the existence of things, the power that brings all things into existence. If, then, in all things alike the Father, from whom are all things, and the Son, through whom are all things, work by the very same kind of energy, how does this man think he proves a difference in substance in the case of the Son and the Spirit from a variation of the energy of the Father and of the Son, separated from each other? The opposite, as we said, follows. Since no kind of variation of energies is seen in Father and Son, the sameness of the power that brought them into existence shows that there is no separation in the substances of the Son and the Spirit, as the speech-writer's own testimony confirms. His words are these: "Since," he says, "the energies bring about sameness of works." So if sameness of works is achieved by likeness of energies, and according to them the Son is the work of the Father and the Holy Spirit the work of the Son, then the likeness in manner of the energy of the Father and of the Son will certainly show the sameness of the substance produced. But he adds: "and differing works show the energies too to differ." Let us again consider this too, where its strength lies, and, if you like, understand it through clear examples.

Is not the energy of commanding one, the energy of him who established the whole world and everything in it by will alone? "He spoke, and they came to be; he commanded, and they were created." Did not the command take substance alike in all things, and was the will alone not enough to bring into existence what was not? How then, when so great a difference is seen to come from the one energy of commanding, can this man, as though he did not see the facts, say that the variation of the works shows a variation of the energy? On the contrary, everything in the world would have to be uniform, if, as the dogmatist says, the variation of the energies is shown by the difference of the works. Or does he see all these things as alike, and observe unlikeness only in the Father and the Son? Let him consider now, if not before, the difference among the elements, and how each of the things in the world that contribute to the constitution of the whole has been drawn off toward a nature opposite to the others. Some are by nature light and tend upward, others heavy and weigh downward; some always stand still, others are in constant motion. And among moving things, some move unvaryingly in one direction, like the heaven and the planets, whose course turns back against that of the whole; others, spreading out on every side, are always carried as chance falls, like the air and the sea and the whole nature of liquid substance. What should one say of the opposition of hot to cold, or the difference of moist from dry, or the distance of above from below? How many unlikenesses of nature are there among living creatures? And in plants, the variations in shape and size and in their fruits and qualities: what human speech could go through them? Yet this wise man declares to us that differing works show the energies too to differ. Either he has not yet learned the kind of the divine energy, of which Scripture says that by the word of command all things came to be, or he is dim-sighted toward the difference of the things that have come into being. And so, speaking to us without circumspection, he legislates about divine doctrines, perhaps never having heard from anyone that every assertion that is not wholly unassailable and agreed concerning the matter in question, in which the dogmatist speaks with authority about things to which no one who has examined them would agree, is no different from telling dreams or myths over wine. Such is the incoherence of what he has said. People who in the fantasy of a dream think they see something they eagerly pursue when awake cling eagerly to what does not exist and think they have it, because desire for what appears persuades them through their deluded sight. So he too, imagining through this dreamlike sketch of doctrines that what he has said holds good, affirms that these things are so and tries to build the rest upon them. It is worth setting out his very words, which run thus: "These things being so, and maintaining in their relation to one another an unbroken connection, it surely befits those who conduct the inquiry according to the order natural to the realities, and do not mix all things together and confuse them by force, if any dispute arises about the substance, to establish what is being shown and to resolve what is doubted from the first energies, those closest to the substances; and to resolve doubt about the energies from the substances." Now I think that the very words of impiety are enough to prove the absurdity of what is said. One who describes in words a face disfigured by disease would show it better by stripping the coverings from the disease, so that those who see the sight need learn nothing by words. So I think this ugly and mutilated heretical doctrine is made plain enough to those with discerning souls, uncovered by the mere reading. But since one must bring a demonstrating argument like a finger to the rotten parts of the doctrine and make the deformity in it plainer to the many, I will take up what he said again in order. "These things being so," he says. What does the dreamer mean? Which are "these things," and how are they? That the substance of the Father alone is sovereign and highest, while the next is consequently not sovereign at all, and the third still less so? For he laid this down in what he said. Or that some energy accompanies the first substance, whose result and work is the only-begotten Son, bound by the measure of the energy that brought him into existence? Or that the substances are conceived as lesser and greater because they are somehow laid within one another and the smaller is contained by the more spacious, as happens with jars set one inside another, the sense in which he sees greater and lesser substances, though they are enclosed by no limit or boundary? Or that the differences of the things fashioned also show the otherness of the fashioners, as though it were impossible for different products to come from like energies?

Is anyone, then, so sunk in stupor in the senses of his soul that on hearing such doctrines he would at once agree with the man who affirms, "These things being so, and maintaining in their relation to one another an unbroken connection"? I think it is the same madness to say such things and to listen without examination to those who say them: that things split apart from one another by unlikeness of nature are kept in line by some connection through their relation to one another. Either they are united by the substance, as our doctrine holds, and so will maintain an unbroken connection in their relation to one another; or they stand apart from one another by estrangement of nature, as he thinks. And then what relation in connection, keeping it unbroken, will be found among things that are foreign to one another? And what is the "order natural to the realities" according to which he legislates that the inquiry be conducted? If he looked to the doctrine of the truth and reckoned the difference of the realities believed in the Holy Trinity only by their order in sequence, this natural order, as he calls it, making the distinction of the hypostases unconfused, so as to hold that they share the substance and are divided by the account of hypostasis, he would certainly not have been ranked among our opponents, since he would be saying what we champion. As it is, his whole argument looks the opposite way and makes the order he has conceived here impossible to understand. There is surely a very great difference between things that come about by prior deliberation and things whose end comes about spontaneously from some natural necessity. Heat is natural to fire, brightness to the ray, flowing to water, downward motion to a stone, and many such things can be mentioned. But if someone built a house, or pursued an office, or set out on a trading voyage, or undertook any other thing achieved by deliberation and preparation, one cannot properly say of him that a natural order belongs to what he has done. The order is brought in by those who carry out each thing, according to the will of the one who chooses and the usefulness of the thing done. Here, then, the argument of the heresy splits the Son off from natural kinship with the Father, and thinks the same of the Spirit, as estranged from union with the Son and the Father; in every argument it establishes that the Son is the work of the Father and the Spirit in turn the work of the Son; and all works are results of choice, not of nature. How then does this man define a work of the will as a natural order of realities? I do not know what he has in mind in his argument. That the God of the universe fashioned this nature in the case of the Son and the Holy Spirit, and made the superiority among the substances such that the one is subject to the other? And if he means this, why did he not make clear on what ground we are to know these things of God beforehand? So that God's power might be shown the greater in the smallness of his works? But who will agree that a great cause and power is seen in the smallness of its products, and not rather that it is shown to be unable to bring into existence along with itself what is perfect in all that comes from it? And how does what is highest and most sovereign bear witness to him, if he shows his power to be less than his choice? Or does he say that God did not even intend the account of the perfect to belong to what is from him, lest the honor and glory of the one honored for his superiority be in any way diminished? And who is so wretched as to reckon that not even the divine and blessed nature is free of the passion of envy? What fitting cause, then, is there for these things to have been so ordered by the God of the universe in the case of the Only-begotten and the Spirit? "But not from that source," he says. From where else, then, is the natural order seen in them, if they are not akin in nature? But perhaps he calls the inferiority of substance in the Son and the Spirit the natural character of the order. But I need to learn the cause of this very thing: why the Son is lessened in substance, when substance and energy are found to have equal and identical marks and properties. And if the account of substance and that of energy are not the same, but what is signified differs in each, how are proofs of what is sought drawn from things foreign and alien? It is as if, when human substance was being investigated and the question was whether man is an animal capable of laughter or receptive of grammar, someone took as proof of the proposition the building of a house or a ship, which the builder or the shipwright constructed, and then insisted with this wise argument that we know substances by their energies, and the energy of man is the house and the ship.

Do we learn from these things, simplest of men, that man is broad-nailed and capable of laughter? "But that," someone might say, "is not the question, whether man has some motion and energy; the question is what the very thing that acts is by nature." And that I am far from learning from your answer. If I wanted to learn something about the wind, you would not have given a complete account of what I was seeking by pointing to a heap of sand piled up by the wind, or a stack of chaff, or a scattering of dust. The account of the wind is a different one, and the things shown in place of what is sought are other things. How then does this man show substances by energies, and present the account of the being of what is from the things that came into being from what is? Let us consider this as well: what is the work of the Father through which, he says, the substance of the one who acted is grasped? He will certainly say the Son, if he says what he usually says. But this Son, most wise sir, measured on your account by the energy that worked him, shows that energy alone; and what is sought remains no less obscure, since you yourself have testified that the energy is one of the things that accompany the first substance. The energy extends along with the work it produced, as you say, and is shown through the result; yet not even the energy itself is shown as to what it is by nature: only a quantity of it is seen in the work. It is not the whole power of the smith, set in motion, that made the gimlet; the art worked through the craftsman's hand only as much as was proportionate to making the tool, though it was able to make many things of every kind. So what came into being from the energy shows in itself the measure of the energy. But what is sought is not the quantity of the energy but the very substance of the one who exerted it. By the same reasoning, if he should say that he has grasped the nature of the Only-begotten through the Spirit (whom he calls the work of the energy that accompanies the Son), the argument has no standing, since here too the energy extends along with the result but does not show, through what it produced, either its own nature or that of the one who acts. But let us concede this too: let it be granted that substances are known by energies. Then the first substance is known through the work that comes from it, and the work produced by the second likewise shows the second. Tell us, then, most wise sir, what shows the third, since no such work of the third substance is to be seen. If, as you say, substances are grasped by energies, you will have to confess that the nature of the Spirit is incomprehensible, since you have no such immediately connected energy, and have shown none, by which to infer the nature of the Spirit. Either show some substantial work of the Spirit, through which you claim to have grasped the substance of the Spirit, or your whole spider's web will dissolve at the touch of reason. For if, on the premise we are now granting, the substance is known from its immediately connected energy, and there is no substantial energy of the Spirit such as you say the Father has in the Son and the Son in the Spirit, then by these premises the nature of the Spirit is admitted to be wholly unknowable and incomprehensible, since no energy conceived as subsisting gives any indication of it. And if the Spirit has escaped comprehension, how is the substance above it grasped through what has not been grasped? If the work of the Son, which they say is the Spirit, is unknown, the Son too will certainly not be known, overshadowed by the obscurity of what gives evidence of him. And if the substance of the Only-begotten is hidden in this way, how will the highest and most sovereign substance be made manifest through one that is hidden, when the obscurity of the Spirit is passed back through the Son to the Father? So these premises clearly prove, even by the testimony of our enemies, that the substance of the Father is wholly incomprehensible. How then does this sharp-sighted man, who sees things that do not exist, himself see the nature of things invisible and incomprehensible through one another, and command us to do the same, saying that substances are grasped from works and works from substances? But let us examine his next statement too: he says one should resolve the doubt about the energies from the substances. How could anyone lead him away from his vain suppositions? He thinks it possible to resolve doubts about the energies by comprehending the substances. How does he bring what is doubted to certainty through things that have not been comprehended? If the substance had been comprehended, what need would there be to busy ourselves about the energy, as though through it we were to be brought to comprehend what is sought? But if the examination of the energy is necessary for this very reason, that through it we may be guided to understand the substance that exerts it, how can a nature not yet known resolve for us the doubt about the energies?

When anything is in doubt, proofs are made through what is agreed. But when what is unclear lies equally in both things sought, how can Eunomius say that things unknown in themselves are grasped through each other? When the substance of the Father is in doubt, he says that what is sought is made manifest through the energy that accompanies him and the work brought about by that energy. And again, when the question is what the substance of the Only-begotten is (whom he calls either an energy or the result of an energy, for he uses both expressions), he says that the dispute about the Only-begotten is easily resolved from the substance of his Maker. I should gladly learn this from him too: does he say that the doubt about energies is resolved from the substance that worked them only in the case of the divine nature, or does he also recognize the nature of things made through the substance of the maker in the case of everything with which some productive power coexists? If he declares such a doctrine of the divine power alone, let him show how he resolves the dispute about the works of God through the nature of the one who worked them. Here is an undisputed work of God: heaven, earth, sea, the whole world. Let the substance of one of these be sought, for the sake of argument, and let heaven be set before the contemplation of reason. Since the substance of heaven is in doubt because of the various opinions about it among those who philosophize about nature, each as it seemed to him, how does the contemplation of the Maker of heaven bring us a resolution of the doubt about what is sought? He is immaterial, invisible, without form, unbegotten, remaining forever, admitting no corruption, change, alteration, or anything of the kind. How then will one who has formed such a notion of the one who worked be led to the knowledge of the nature of heaven? How will he come to understand what is sought from everything opposite to it: the visible from the invisible, the corruptible from the incorruptible, what has its constitution from time from what exists unbegottenly, what possesses a temporary existence from what remains forever? Let the man who has examined existing things with precision say; let him say how things unlike in nature can be known through each other. And yet through these very things that he says, if he had known how to follow his own arguments, he would have been led to assent to the doctrine of the church. For if the nature of the maker shows what came into being from it, as he says, and according to them the Son is a thing made by the Father, then whoever has understood the nature of the Father has certainly come to know through it the nature of the Only-begotten as well, if indeed the nature of the one who worked indicates what he worked. So that, if on the argument of unlikeness the Only-begotten were cut off from the works of providence, there would be no need to busy oneself about his generation or to force a proof of the Only-begotten's unlikeness from that source; for the difference of choices would itself suffice to reveal the otherness of nature. Since even our opponents agree that the first substance is simple, one must necessarily conceive its choice as running together with its nature; and since its choice is shown to be good by its providence, the nature from which the choice comes is shown to be good as well. If the Father alone worked what is good, and the Son did not choose the same things (I speak hypothetically, for our opponents' sake), the difference in substance would be obvious, attested by the variation of their choices. But if the Father provides for all things and the Son likewise provides (for "what he sees the Father doing, the Son also does likewise"), the sameness of their choices certainly shows the common nature of those who choose the same things. Why, then, is the account of providence slighted, as though it gave no help toward what is sought? Yet many examples from life support our argument, examples, I mean, familiar to everyone. One who has seen the light of fire and experienced its power to warm, if he comes near another such light and such heat, will clearly be brought to the notion of fire, led from the likeness of what appeared to him to the kinship of the nature that produced them; for nothing that was not fire would work in every respect what fire works. So if we see the same account of providence, like and equal, in the Father and in the Son, we conjecture through what reaches our knowledge about what exceeds our comprehension too, since a being of a different nature would not be grasped through equal and like workings. However the marks that appear in each are related to one another, so necessarily will the underlying realities be. If the marks are opposite, one must certainly reckon the things made known through them opposite as well.

And if the marks are alike, the realities are not otherwise. The Lord too says in a figure that fruits are the signs of the nature of trees, since such things are not exchanged against nature: the good do not suit the bad, nor, conversely, the opposite the good. "By their fruits," he says, "the trees are known." So too, when the fruit of providence shows no difference, we see one nature that put forth these fruits, even if the fruit is put forth from different trees. Through what is known to our comprehension, then (and the account of providence is known to us, seen alike in Father and Son), the likeness and fellowship in nature of the Only-begotten with the Father becomes beyond doubt, recognized by the sameness of the fruits of providence. But so that this may not be thought, he says, as though forced by some necessity, that he withdraws from the works of providence and is led back to the manner of generation, "because," he says, "the manner of likeness follows the manner of generation." What compelling proofs! How forcibly the abundance of his rhetorical skill compels us to agree with what he says! He says that the manner of likeness follows the manner of generation. How skillful and circumspect the assertion! Then if the manner of generation were known, the manner of likeness would be shown along with it. Now the manner of generation of all, or most, animals born through flesh is the same, and according to them the manner of likeness follows the manner of generation; so all things born in the same manner will certainly be alike to things born alike. If, then, the manner of generation, as the argument of the heresy says, makes what is born like itself, and this manner does not change at all in the varied differences of living creatures but is the same in most of them, the assertion, made universally and without any qualification, will be found to make all things like one another because their generation is alike: man, dog, camel, mouse, elephant, leopard, and all the others that are born naturally in like manner. Or he says that things born in a like way are not like one another, but each is like only the one from whom it has its generation. But if he wished to say this, he should have declared that what is born is like the one who begets it, not that the manner of likeness follows the manner of generation. Yet what is reasonable and seen in nature, that the begotten is of the same kind as the begetter, he does not accept, lest his construction be turned against him. For if he said that what is born is like the begetter, all that he laboriously put together about the unlikeness of the substances would be refuted as vanished and without substance. As it is, he says that the manner of likeness follows the manner of generation; and to those who know how to examine the sense of a thought precisely, this will be found wholly unintelligible. What we are to understand on hearing "manner of generation" is very hard to say. Does he mean the posture of the one giving birth, or the impulse, or the disposition, or place, or time, or the completion of the embryo through conception, or does he mean the generative organs themselves? Or none of these, but something else observed in birth? And how are we to learn what is meant? The impropriety and emptiness of the word "manner" makes us hesitate over what is signified, since everything falls equally under suspicion and each is equally unconnected with the subject. Likewise his "manner of likeness," said in this way, we suspect to be foreign to all sense, when we look to examples familiar from ordinary experience. For what is born is not like the form or manner of the birth. Birth, in generation through flesh, is a dilation of the body that brings out the living creature completed in its formation in the womb; what is born is a man or a horse or an ox, or whatever comes into existence through generation. How then the manner of the offspring's likeness follows the manner of generation, let him say himself, or anyone trained by him in the art of midwifery. Birth is one thing and what comes from birth another, and the account of each is different. That what he says is false in the case of beings born through flesh, no one with sense would deny. But if he calls making and constructing a "manner of generation," which, he says, the manner of likeness of what is made follows, here too the argument parts company with reason. Let us consider it through examples. Iron is shaped by blows, formed by the craftsman for some use in life. How the shape of the blade, say, is like the craftsman's hand, or the manner of making, the hammers, coals, bellows, and anvil by which the craftsman shaped it, no one could say. And what is said of this one example applies to everything produced by some construction: what comes to be is in no way like the manner of its generation.

For what has the form of a cloak in common with the spool, or the rods, or the shuttle, or in general with the manner of the weaver's work? And what has a bench in common with the working of the wood, or anything else that comes to be with the posture of the one who worked it? In sensible and bodily things, I think even our opponents agree, this argument is idle. It would remain to consider whether it contributes anything to the construction of the blasphemy. What, then, was the question? Whether the Son should be confessed to be like or unlike the Father in substance. Because he could not learn this, he says, from the accounts of providence, he went up to the manner of generation, so as to learn through it, not whether the one begotten is like the begetter, but some manner of likeness; and because this is unknown to most people, he busied himself about the begetting substance. Has he then forgotten his own definitions, in which he says that substances must be grasped from works? The begotten substance, which he calls the work of the one above it, has not yet been shown as to how it is in nature. How then does he pass over what he himself calls the lower, and therefore closer to the comprehension of those who inquire, and fasten upon the most sovereign and highest? And though in his own argument he maintains that he knows the divine sayings exactly, he now makes little account of them too, as though he did not know that one cannot come to the knowledge of the Father without drawing near through the Son. For "no one," it says, "has known the Father except the Son, and anyone to whom the Son wills to reveal him." But this man, whenever he means to insult the pious notions of the Only-begotten that befit his Godhead, says in bare words that he is less; yet in his account of the knowledge of divine things he establishes, without noticing it, that the Son is the greater, if he takes the substance of the Father as more readily understood and tries to track down and infer the nature of the Son through it. At any rate he goes up to the begetting substance and through it examines the begotten, because, he says, the manner of generation is shown by the natural dignity of the begetter. Again this, thrown out simply and without qualification, makes the inquirer's thought spread over all things alike. For doctrines laid down universally are such that their meaning extends to everything and nothing is exempted from the comprehensive assertion. If, then, the manner of generation is known in every case by the natural dignity of the begetter, and the differences of dignity among those who beget are many and are grasped under many conceptions (for there are born a Jew, a Greek, a barbarian, a Scythian, a slave, a free man), what follows from this? That however many differences of natural dignity there are among begetters, so many manners of generation will reasonably be found; so that generation is not fulfilled in the same manner for all, but natures change along with the dignities of the begetters, and for each one born some peculiar manner of generation must be newly devised according to the difference of ranks. For in every case certain natural dignities are seen in each individual, differing from one another as better or worse, as falls to each: race, rank, religion, country, power, slavery, wealth, poverty, freedom, subjection, all the things that make the differences of dignity in life. If, then, the manner of generation is shown by the natural dignity of the begetter, as Eunomius says, and the differences of dignity are many, then on the dogmatist's view the manners of generation too will certainly be found to be many, since the difference of dignity lays down for nature the law of birth. If he does not admit that such dignities are natural, since they are seen outside nature, we do not object either; but he will surely agree that human life is separated from irrational life by some natural dignity. Yet the manner of birth shows no variation corresponding to the difference of natural dignity, since nature brings rational and irrational creatures alike into life through generation in the same manner. But if he finds the natural dignity only in that substance which he himself calls most sovereign and highest, let us see what he means by saying this. As our doctrine holds, the natural dignity of God is Godhead itself, wisdom, power, being good, judge, just, strong, long-suffering, true, creator, ruler, invisible, endless, and whatever else is said in praise by the divinely inspired Scripture; all of which we say are seen properly and naturally in the only-begotten Son too. We recognize the difference only in the notion of being without beginning, and even this we do not cut off from the Only-begotten in every sense. But let no one tear our argument to pieces by slander, as though we were trying to show that the true Son is unbegotten; for we hold that those who say such things are no less impious than those who teach that the Son is unlike.

But since the word "beginning" has many senses and suggests many ideas, there are some senses in which we say that the title "without beginning" is not unfitting for the only-begotten Son as well. When "without beginning" is understood to mean not having one's hypostasis from any cause, we confess this to be proper to the Father alone. But when the inquiry concerns the other meanings of "beginning" (since a beginning is conceived of creation, of time, and of order), in these we bear witness that the Only-begotten too is higher than beginning, believing that he through whom all things came to be is above every beginning of creation, every notion of time, and every sequence of order. So he who, in the account of his hypostasis, is not without beginning has, by common confession, being without beginning in all other respects. The Father is both without beginning and unbegotten; the Son is without beginning in the manner described, but not unbegotten. To what natural dignity of the Father, then, does he look, in order to infer the manner of generation through it? He will certainly say, to unbegottenness. Then if we are to say that all the names we have learned for glorifying the God of the universe are idle and meaningless to you, the enumeration of such words, brought out in a bare list, is superfluous and redundant, if none of the other titles presents the natural dignity of the God over all. But if in each of the things said a distinct notion is recognized that befits the conception of God, then clearly the natural dignities of God are seen to be as many as the names; and through them the likeness of the substances is established, if indeed the dignities natural to substances make known the realities underlying them. And since the same dignities appear in each, the sameness in substance of the realities underlying the same dignities is clearly shown. For if the variation of one name is thought enough to show strangeness of substance, how much more will the sameness of countless names avail to show the commonness of nature? What, then, is the reason why the other names are overlooked and generation is judged by this one alone? And why do they lay down unbegottenness alone as the natural dignity of the Father, pushing aside the rest? So that by its contrast with the begotten they may villainously contrive their mode of unlikeness; but this too, when called to account at the proper time, will be found as feeble, unsubstantial, and worthless as what was said before. That all his constructions look to this is shown by what follows, where he congratulates himself on having taken that road properly to build the blasphemy: he did not strip bare the intent of his argument at once, nor assail ears still untrained with impiety before he had fitted together the construction of his deceit, nor declare at the outset of his discourse that unbegottenness is substance and harp on the otherness of substance. He says, word for word: "Or, as Basil legislates, we should have begun from the very things in question, declaring incoherently that unbegottenness is substance, and harping on otherness of substance, or sameness." After going through much on these matters in between, with jests, abuse, and insults (for this is how the wise man knows how to contend for his own doctrines), he takes up the argument again and, ostensibly addressing his opponent and laying on him the blame for what is said, speaks thus: "Since you before all others are guilty of these faults, you who have allotted the same substance to the begetter and the begotten. Therefore you have fashioned against yourselves the reproach for these things, like an inescapable snare, justice, as is fitting, casting its vote against you by your own words. For either you suppose that these substances are without beginning and separate from each other, and bring one of them into the rank of Son through generation, and insist that what is without beginning came to be from what is; and so you are subject to your own reproaches, for you attribute generation from another to him whom you imagine to be unbegotten. Or, confessing one and only one substance without beginning, and then circumscribing it into Father and Son by generation, you will say that the unbegotten substance itself was begotten from itself." What he wrote before the passage just read, since it contains mere shamelessness against our teacher and father and contributes nothing to the purpose at hand, I will pass over. But in what he says here he has cleverly sharpened against us these two-edged refutations on both sides and holds them out by means of dilemmas, so we too must not receive this war against the doctrine in silence; we must come to the aid of the argument as far as we can, and show that this fearsome two-edged sword he has whetted against the truth is feebler than the figures that appear in scene-paintings. He slanders the commonness of substance with a double notion. He says that either we name two unbegotten principles ranged against each other, the one Father and the other Son, saying that what is was begotten from what is; or that one and the same substance, conceived as one, takes each of the names in turn, becoming both Father and Son, brought forth from itself by generation.

I write this in my own words, not misrepresenting his meaning but correcting the bombast and crabbed density of his expression, so that his intent may be plain to all, uncovered by clear wording. For the man who mocks our lack of learning and reproaches us for coming to the argument without adequate preparation so adorns his own discourse with brilliance of expression, so polishes his words to a nicety, as he himself puts it, and so embellishes his treatise with this superfluous elegance, that he captures the hearer at once with the pleasure of his diction. The passage just read is of this kind, among many others; if you like, I will read it again: "Therefore you have fashioned against yourselves the reproach for these things, like an inescapable snare, justice, as is fitting, casting its vote against you by your own words." See the flowers of ancient Attica! How the smooth, polished diction flashes in the arrangement of the words! How elegantly and variously it is decked with the bloom of style! But let that be as anyone pleases. Let our course turn again to the sense of what was said, and, if you like, let us go through the speech-writer's words themselves: "For either you suppose that these substances are without beginning and separate from each other, and bring one of them into the rank of Son through generation, and insist that what is without beginning came to be from what is." That is enough. He says we champion two unbegotten substances. How can he say this, when he accuses us of mixing up and confusing everything by confessing one substance? If our doctrine too championed two natures foreign to each other in being, as those who teach the "unlike" do, it might well be thought to imply a division of the nature into two principles without beginning. But if we confess one nature in distinct hypostases, and the Father is believed in and the Son glorified, how can our opponents slander such a doctrine as championing two principles? Then he says that we bring one of these two principles down into the rank of Son. Let him show the champion of this doctrine, and we will be silent: whether he can convict some person who uttered these things, or simply knows this doctrine to be current in the church. Who is so deranged in his reasoning, so out of his mind, as to speak of Father and Son and then think there are two unbegotten beings, and again suppose that the one came to be from the one? And what necessity drives the doctrine to such suppositions? From which of our statements has he made this out, so that this absurdity necessarily emerges? If he had brought forward something we confess and then advanced such a slander from it, whether sophistically or with some demonstrative force, he might perhaps have had occasion to bring such things forward to discredit the doctrine. But if there is no such statement in the church, nor ever will be, if no one who said it is convicted and no one who heard it is pointed out, and no necessity is found that produces this absurdity by any logical consequence, I do not see what his shadow-boxing means. A man raving in a fever might think he is grappling with someone when no one is wrestling him, and then, throwing himself down in his eagerness, think he has thrown his opponent. The wise speech-writer has suffered something of the kind, fabricating suppositions unknown to us and fighting shadows shaped by his own reasonings. Let him say what necessity carries one who confesses that the Son was begotten of the Father into notions of two unbegotten beings. Or whose part is it rather to make out two unbegotten beings: his who makes out that the Son is so called falsely, or his who affirms that the name is truly borne out by the title? One who does not accept the true generation of the Son, yet confesses that he exists at all, might more fittingly be suspected of calling unbegotten one who exists but does not have his being through generation. But one who defines the distinguishing mark of the hypostasis of the Only-begotten as this very thing, that he subsists by generation from the Father, how could he be carried off into thinking him unbegotten? And yet on your view, you wise men, so long as it holds that the Son was not begotten by the Father, he too will properly be called unbegotten in one of the senses of "unbegotten." For since some things are born and others are constructed, nothing prevents us from saying that what does not subsist through generation subsists unbegottenly, in the sense of generation alone. And this is what your argument makes out about the Lord, when it defines him as a creature. So, most wise men, it is on your view, not according to our doctrine, that the Only-begotten will be called unbegotten by such a consequence; and justice, as you call it, is found casting its vote against us with your own words. It is fitting to spit back at the filth of the doctrine from the mire of his own words; for the other branch of his dilemma, too, is full of equal madness.

"Or," he says, "confessing one and only one substance without beginning, and then circumscribing it into Father and Son by generation, you will say that the unbegotten substance itself was begotten from itself." What is this new tale of marvels? How can anyone be begotten by himself, having himself as father and becoming in turn his own son? What nausea is this? What derangement? To think the ceiling is turned downward and to have the floor above one's head? This is what men heavy-headed with drink imagine, when they shout and insist that the earth is not firm beneath them, that the walls are running away, that everything whirls round in a circle and nothing they see stands still. Perhaps the speech-writer wrote with his soul in such a swell; he deserves pity for what he has written rather than loathing. Who is so unacquainted with the divine doctrines, who is so far from the mysteries of the church, as to accept such a notion against the faith? Or rather, it is perhaps too little to say that no one suspects the faith of this absurdity. Who, in the case of human nature or of anything else perceived by the senses, on hearing of a common substance, either supposes that all things that agree with one another in the account of substance are without beginning, or says that something comes to be from itself, giving birth to itself and being begotten by itself at once? The first man and the one who came from him had their being in different ways, the one from the union of parents, the other from formation by Christ; yet both are believed to be two and are not split from one another in the account of substance. Neither are they said to be two substances without beginning ranged against each other, nor were the two ever thought to be one in such a tale of marvels that each was considered his own father and his own son. This one is a man and so is that one, and the account of substance is common to the two: each is mortal, both are rational, both alike are capable of mind and knowledge. If, then, the account of humanity in Adam and Abel is not changed by their different generation (neither order nor mode of existence making any variation in their nature), but it is acknowledged by the common assent of sober people that they are alike (and no one would contradict this unless he badly needed hellebore), what necessity is there to construct this unreasonable notion against the divine nature? Having heard "Father" and "Son" from the Truth, we have been taught the unity of nature in two subjects, signified naturally by the names through their relation to each other and again by the Lord's own words. When he said, "I and the Father are one," what else does he present than both that he is not without beginning, by acknowledging the Father, and that the nature is common, by his unity with the Father? So, I think, by these words the account of the faith is kept pure of deviation toward either heresy. Sabellius has no room to confuse the distinctness of the hypostases, since the Only-begotten plainly distinguished himself from the Father in saying "I and the Father"; nor can Arius make out that the nature is foreign, since the unity admits no division of nature. What is signified by "unity" in this saying, in the case of Father and Son, is nothing else than unity in the substance itself. For as to the other good things seen in the nature, one would not be wrong to say that they are set before all in common, even before things that came into being by creation. For example, the Lord is called compassionate and merciful by the Prophet; and the Lord in turn wishes us too to become and be called these things: "Be compassionate," and "Blessed are the merciful," and the like. If, then, someone by attention and care has made himself like the divine will and become good, or compassionate and merciful, or meek and lowly in heart, as many of the saints are attested to have been in these excellences, are they therefore one with God, or joined to him through any of these? Not at all. What is not the same in all respects cannot be one with what differs from it in nature. That is why man becomes one with man when by choice, as the Lord said, they are perfected into one, the unity of choice being added to their natural bond. And the Father and the Son are one, their fellowship in nature and in choice running together into one. But if he were joined by will alone while divided in nature, how could he testify of himself to unity with the Father while split from him in what matters most? Hearing, then, "I and the Father are one," we are taught by these words both that the Lord is from a cause and that the Son and the Father do not differ in nature. We do not blend our notion of them into one hypostasis, but keep distinct the individuality of the hypostases, while not dividing the unity of substance along with the persons, lest two realities of different kinds be supposed in the account of first principle, and the doctrine of the Manichaeans gain entrance by this. For the created and the uncreated stand in diametrical opposition to each other in what they signify.

If, then, the two were ranked as first principles, Manichaeism would slip unnoticed into the church of God. I say this examining the argument rather curiously, out of zeal against our opponents. And perhaps no one would deny that the reasoning comes near to what is probable: if the created were equal in power to the uncreated, what is of a different kind in nature would somehow set itself against what is not like it; and so long as power failed neither of them, the two would be carried into some discordant strife against each other. For it is entirely necessary to acknowledge that the will corresponds to the nature and belongs to it; and if they were unlike in nature, their wills too would be unlike. Since the power of each would be sufficient, neither would fall short in fulfilling its own will; and if each could do as much as it wills, rule would become a matter of contest between them, advancing to rivalry through the unfailing sufficiency of power. And so the doctrine of the Manichaeans will slip in: two things opposed to each other appear in the account of first principle, cut apart toward opposition by the difference of nature and will; and their construction of inferiority becomes the beginning of Manichaean doctrines. For discord of substance brings the doctrine round to two principles, as the argument showed, divided into created and uncreated. But many will perhaps fault this as a forced construction of the absurdity, and think it not worth writing at all with the rest. Let it be so; we do not object. It was not by our own impulse but because of our opponents that we were led by the sequence of the argument to carry it into such curiosity. But if these things should not be said, much sooner should our opponents' argument be silenced, since it provides the occasions for such a refutation; for there is no other way to restrain one who contradicts what is evil than by removing the occasion of the contradiction. I would gladly advise those so disposed to step a little outside their contentiousness, not to fight too passionately for the suppositions by which they happen to be already prejudiced, nor to search everywhere for how they might get the better of their adversaries, but, since the race is run for their soul, to side only with what is profitable and give the prize to the truth. If, then, someone gives up contentiousness and examines the argument by himself, he will easily find the absurdity apparent in the doctrine. Let us suppose it granted, according to our opponents' argument, that unbegottenness is substance, and likewise that generation is taken as substance. Then if anyone follows the sense of what they say precisely, the Manichaean doctrine will be fashioned for them by this road, if indeed the Manichaeans hold an opposition of evil to good, of light to darkness, and of all such things by contrariety of nature. That what I say is true, I think anyone who has not run carelessly through the argument will readily agree. Let us consider it thus. In each subject certain inherent marks are always seen, by which the peculiar character of the underlying nature is recognized, whether you examine the matter in the differences of animals or in all other things. Wood and animal are not characterized by the same marks; nor do the distinguishing signs of man belong in common to the irrational nature among animals; nor again do the same marks show life and death. In all things whatever, as has been said, the distinction of subjects is unmixed and without sharing, in no way confused by any sharing of the marks seen upon them. Following this line, then, let our opponents' argument be examined. They say unbegottenness is substance, and they likewise make generation substance. But as the marks of a man and of a stone are different and not the same (for in defining what each is you would not give the same account of the animate and the inanimate), so they will certainly grant that the unbegotten is known by some signs and the begotten by others. Let us, then, consider the properties of the unbegotten God, all that we have learned from the Holy Scripture to say and think of him piously. What are they? I think no Christian is ignorant that he is good, kind, holy, just and righteous, invisible and immortal, admitting no corruption, change, or alteration, powerful, wise, benefactor, Lord, judge, and all such things. Why prolong the argument by dwelling on what is agreed? If, then, we grasp these in the unbegotten nature, and being begotten is opposite in notion to not being begotten, those who define unbegottenness and generation as substance must necessarily agree, by the logic of the opposition of begotten to unbegotten, that the distinguishing marks of the begotten substance are also opposite to those seen in the unbegotten nature.

For if they should say the same things of the Son, the different character of the underlying natures will no longer be established, since the marks seen in them are the same. Of things that are differently constituted the marks too must certainly be thought different, while whatever is alike in the account of substance is evidently characterized by the same signs. If, then, they bear witness to the same marks in the Only-begotten, they conceive, as has been said, no difference in the subject. But if they persist in their blasphemous arguments and make out a variation of nature in the difference between begotten and unbegotten, the consequence that appears is easy to see. Since, by the opposition of the names, the nature of the things signified by the names is also thought to be opposite to itself, it is entirely necessary that what is seen in each should be carried over to the contrary as well. The opposites of what is said of the Father would then apply to the Only-begotten: of Godhead, holiness, goodness, incorruption, everlastingness, and whatever else presents the God over all to us through pious thoughts. Everything incongruous, contrasted with each of the things conceived as belonging to the better, would be thought proper to the begotten substance. For clarity's sake we must dwell on this point a little longer. Take hot and cold, which are opposite in nature; let fire and ice be supposed for the argument. Each is what the other is not, and the things that appear as peculiar to each of them are certainly different from each other: cold is proper to ice, and heat to fire. So if, by the opposition of the names "unbegotten" and "begotten," the nature shown by the names also stands apart in opposition, the powers of things opposite in nature cannot be like one another, just as cold cannot arise in fire nor burning in ice. If, then, goodness is conceived in the unbegotten substance, and the unbegotten, as they say, stands apart from the begotten in the account of nature, the property of the unbegotten will certainly stand apart along with it from what is peculiar to the begotten; so that if the good is in the one, what is opposed to the good is conceived in the other. And so, through these wise dogmatists, Mani will come to life again for us, ranging the nature of evil against the good and teaching, from the otherness of the substances, an opposition in their powers. And if one must speak frankly without holding back, Mani might reasonably be thought more pardonable than these men: Mani, who, they say, first ventured upon the doctrines of the Manichaeans and named the heresy after himself. I say this as if one were choosing which is kinder to man, the viper or the asp; yet since even among wild beasts there is a choice to be made, do not their doctrines, when tested, show that the Manichaeans are more tolerable than these? Mani thought he was pleading the cause of the very author of good things, so that no cause of evils should take its beginning from him; and for that reason he attached the cause of everything reckoned on the worse side to another, separate principle, as though defending the God of the universe, thinking it impious to blame the source of good things for the faults committed against reason. Through smallness of soul he did not understand that it was possible neither to think God the maker of evils nor to imagine anything else without beginning besides God. There is much to say on these matters, and it would not suit the present occasion. Why then have we mentioned them? Because Mani thought it necessary to remove the beginning of evil from the God of the universe, while these men construct this outrageous blasphemy against God more grievously even than the Manichaeans. They teach the nature of evils much as the Manichaeans do, through opposition in substance; but in declaring the God of the universe to be the maker of such a fabrication, since they say that the substance produced by his generating is alien in nature to the one who made it, they exceed those we have mentioned in impiety. Not only do they give existence to what is by nature opposite to the good, but they say that the good God is the cause of another God who differs in nature, all but crying out openly in their doctrine that there is something opposed to the nature of the good which has its existence from the good itself. For since the substance of the Father is believed to be good, and that of the Son, because it is not like the Father in the account of nature, as the heresy holds, is consequently found among the opposites, what is established by this? That what is opposed to the good exists, and that what is contrary in nature arose from the good itself. This, I say, is more horrible even than the absurdity of the Manichaeans.

But if they deny in words the blasphemy that the consequence of their doctrine shows, and say that the Only-begotten has inherited the good things of the Father, though he is not truly Son, as the impious hold, but has his existence through creation, let us examine this too, whether such a supposition can stand by reason. If it is granted, on their argument, that one who is not truly Son has inherited lordship over all, but was created and made to rule over beings of his own kind, how will the rest of creation accept it and not rise in revolt, thrust from equality into subjection, if, though it has nothing less in nature (for it too is created, as he is), it is then condemned to serve and bow down to one of its own kind? Such a thing is like tyranny: to assign power not by superiority of substance, but, while the nature remains equal in honor, to divide creation into slavery and lordship, so that one part of it rules and another is subject, as though the same rank had been distributed by lot and precedence over equals had fallen by chance to the one who drew it. Not even man received his rule over the irrational creatures by lot, as one equal in honor with the nature subject to him; he is lord over the others because he surpasses them in reason, set over them because his nature differs from theirs for the better. Human dominions undergo sudden reversals for this very reason: what is equal in honor by nature does not accept having no equal share in the higher position, but a natural desire is implanted in all to be made equal to the one in power, when he is of the same race. And how will it be true that all things came into being through him, if it is true that the Son himself is one of the things that came into being? Either he will have made himself, so that what is written, "All things came into being through him," may not be false; and so the absurdity they devised as a sophism against our doctrine, saying that he came into being by himself, will hold against them. Or, if this is unreasonable and impossible in nature, the insistence that all creation came into being through him will be shown to be utterly untenable, for the exception of one thing makes the statement about all false. So by defining the Only-begotten as created, their argument will by no means escape one of two evil and absurd consequences: either he is not the cause of all things that came into being, if he whom they insist is one of the works is himself excepted from all; or he is shown to be his own maker, if the one who proclaimed that nothing that came into being came into being without him does not lie. Such, then, are their views. But if anyone, attending to sound teaching, believes that the Son is from the divine and pure nature, everything will appear in harmony with the doctrine of piety: that the Lord is the maker of all things; that he reigns over all that exists, not set over his own kind by lot or by some tyrannical dominion, but holding power over all by the superiority of his nature; and further, that the doctrine of the monarchy is not divided into different principles separated by otherness of nature, but that we believe in one Godhead, one principle, one authority over all. The Godhead is contemplated in the harmony of like with like, and leads the mind through like to like, since the principle of all things, who is the Lord, shines upon souls through the Holy Spirit. For it is impossible for him to be truly contemplated except in the Holy Spirit, as the Apostle says; and through the Lord, who is the principle of all things, we find the one who is beyond every principle, the God over all. It is not possible to know the archetypal good in any other way than as it appears in the image of the invisible. Then, as runners turning back in the double race after reaching the summit of the knowledge of God, I mean the God over all himself, we run back through what lies close and is proper to our thought, from the Father through the Son to the Spirit. Having been established in the conception of the unbegotten light, from there we conceived, as immediately adjoining, the light that is from it, like a ray coexisting with the sun, whose cause of being is from the sun, but whose existence is together with the sun, not added later in time but appearing from it as soon as the sun is seen. Or rather (for there is no need to be enslaved to the image in every respect and give slanderers a hold against the argument through the weakness of the illustration), let us conceive not a ray from the sun but another sun from the unbegotten sun, shining forth with it, as begotten, together with the conception of the first, and like it in every respect: in beauty, power, radiance, size, brightness, and everything seen in the sun. And again, another such light in the same way, not cut off from the begotten light by any interval of time, but shining forth through it, while having the cause of its existence from the archetypal light; yet itself light, shining after the likeness of the light conceived before, illuminating, and doing all the other things that light does.

For there is no difference of light from light in this very respect, when one is seen to lack or fall short in nothing of the grace of illumination, but, raised to the very highest in every perfection, is contemplated with the Father and the Son, is numbered after the Father and the Son, and through itself grants access to the light conceived in the Father and the Son to all who are able to partake of it. But enough of this. Since he is very fluent in abuse, makes insult the foundation of every principle, and brings in reviling in place of every proof of what is disputed, come, let us also discuss briefly all that he hurled against our teacher, both against the man himself and against his argument, slandering him over the word "unbegotten." He quoted our teacher's words on these matters, which run thus: "For my part, even the title 'unbegotten,' though it seems very much to agree with our notions, nevertheless, since it is nowhere found in Scripture and is the first element of his blasphemy, I would say rightly deserves to be passed over in silence; for the word 'Father' has the same force as 'unbegotten,' besides bringing in along with itself, through the relation, the notion of the Son. For he who is truly Father, and alone Father, is from no other; and 'from none' is the same as 'unbegotten.'" Let us hear what proof he adds that this was badly said: "He mixes inconsistency of words into his own arguments from rashness no less than shameless wickedness, carried about by the instability of his judgment and the weakness of his reasonings." See how well the answer hits the mark, how skillfully, with that logical expertise of his, he undoes the force of what was said and puts the more pious opinion in its place! Inconsistent in speech, he says, rash no less than wicked in judgment, unstable, carried about by weakness of reasoning. Whence these things, and what provoked this man of stable judgment and sound reasoning to say them? Which of the things said does he especially condemn? That Basil accepts the notion of "unbegotten" but says that the word, wrongly taken up by perverters, deserves silence? Is the safety of the faith endangered only in words and utterance, with no concern for exactness of thought? Or does not the word of truth prepare us above all to keep our hearts pure of evil thoughts, and to use words for showing the motions of the soul, whatever words can display the hidden thoughts of the mind, without quibbling over this or that sound of the voice? Saying a thing this way or otherwise is not the cause of the thought within us; the hidden thought of the heart is what gives rise to such words. "For out of the abundance of the heart," it says, "the mouth speaks." We make speech the interpreter of our thoughts; we do not, conversely, gather our thinking from what we say. If both come together, thinking rightly and expressing it, the man is complete in both; but if one is lacking, the loss in speech to the unlearned man is small, so long as the knowledge in his soul is well fitted to the good. "This people," it says, "honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me." What does this mean? That with God the judge, who hears the groanings that cannot be uttered, the disposition of the soul toward the truth counts for more than propriety of language. Words can be used for the opposite purpose too, as the speaker pleases, the tongue readily serving what he wishes; but the disposition of the soul, whatever it may be, is seen as it is by him who sees in secret. Why then is he inconsistent, and rash no less than wicked, who both understands and accepts what is piously meant by the word "unbegotten," but bids that what contributes to impiety for those who transgress in doctrine be passed over in silence? If he had said that God must not be thought unbegotten, Eunomius might have had occasion to use these reproaches against him, and harsher ones still. But if he confesses this, in keeping with the common belief of the pious, and gives what amounts to advice befitting a teacher's disposition, "Keep away from this word, since it is from here that the ground of ruin takes its beginning," while bidding us hold the notion that God is unbegotten through other names as well, he deserves none of these reproaches for it. Or have we not been taught by the Truth to do this very thing, and not to cling even to very precious things if any of them contributes to evil, when he bids us cut off the right eye, and the foot and the hand alike, whenever any of these causes us to stumble? What else does he counsel us to do through this figure?

Does he not make even things that seem good idle and useless, if through the folly of those who use them they lead a man away to some evil, since it is more profitable to be saved with the members that lead to sin cut off than to cling to them and perish through them? And what of Paul, the imitator of Christ? He too, in the depth of his wisdom, teaches the same. He who called all things good, and nothing to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving, sometimes, because of the conscience of the weak, sets aside some of the very things he had accepted and bids us refuse them. "If my brother is grieved because of food," he says, "I will never eat meat." This, then, is what Paul's imitator does too. He saw the deceit of those who teach the "unlike" by means of this word strengthened through the heresy's wicked use of the term "unbegotten," and he advised us to preserve in our souls the pious notion of the unbegotten, but not to be too eager about the word, since it had become a provision for sin to those who are perishing. For the title "Father," in what it signifies, conveys to us sufficiently the meaning of "unbegotten" as well. When we hear "Father," we at once conceive of the cause of being for all things; and if he had some other cause above him, he would not properly be called Father, since the proper title of Father would pass up to the cause conceived before him. But if he himself is the cause of all, and all things are from him, as the Apostle says, clearly nothing can be conceived before his existence; and that is to believe that he exists unbegottenly. But the man who does not deign to let even the truth seem more persuasive than himself does not grant that this is well said; he legislates against it, contradicts it, and mocks the argument. If you like, let us examine the inescapable syllogisms and the varied twists of sophistry by which he thinks he refutes the argument. Yet I fear that the pettiness and meanness of what he says may in some way discredit the argument that corrects it as well. To grapple with lads who challenge one to a contest brings grown men more blame for contending with such opponents than praise for seeming to win. Still, this is what he says. As for what he said in insult, with that customary fine diction of his, things befitting him to say and set before us as an exercise in patience, we treat them as worthy of silence and oblivion. I do not think it seemly to sow the ridiculous things he said among our serious concerns and dissolve our zeal for the truth into disorderly and vulgar laughter. One cannot keep from laughing on hearing these things, when we hear him speak from the heights of that grand and gifted eloquence: "Of those whose addition of words amounts to an addition of blasphemy, silence is lighter by half than speech." But let such things be laughed at by those who know what deserves acceptance and what deserves laughter. Let us consider the sharpness of the syllogisms with which he drags our argument about. "For if," he says, "'Father' is the same in force as 'unbegotten,' and names that have the same force naturally signify the same thing, and 'unbegotten,' according to them, signifies that God is from none, then of necessity 'Father' also signifies that God is from none, and not that he has begotten the Son." Is it no longer signified by the word "Father," then, if the same title also presents to us by itself the Father's being without beginning? If the one excluded the other, as opposites do by nature, the positing of one would necessarily bring about the removal of the other. But if nothing prevents the same one from being both Father and unbegotten, and if through the title of Father we also, in a certain sense, understand "unbegotten," what necessity is there that the relation to the Son should no longer be known through the word "Father"? It is not so with the other names either, which have fellowship with one another and agree in their notions throughout. We call a king both sovereign and subject to no master, and the same man the ruler of his subjects; and it is neither false to say of him that the word "king" signifies being subject to no master, nor do we say it follows of necessity, if sovereignty and independence are signified by this word, that power over his subjects is no longer signified by kingship. The name of kingship, lying midway between both notions, shows independence in one respect and rule over those subordinate in another. So too here. If some other Father is conceived before the Father of the Lord, let those who boast of secret wisdom show it, and then we will agree that the notion of "unbegotten" cannot be conveyed by the title "Father." But if the first Father has no cause of his constitution above him, and along with the Father there is certainly understood also the

hypostasis of the Only-begotten, why do they try to frighten us with these artful entanglements of sophistry, wishing to persuade us, or rather to cheat us, into thinking that if the unbegottenness of the God over all is confessed through the title "Father," the notion of the Father is split off from his relation to the Son? Let us spit on this childish and superficial attempt of theirs and confess manfully what they bring forward as an absurdity: the name "Father" signifies the same as "unbegotten"; "unbegotten" presents the Father as being from none; and "Father" brings in with itself, conjointly through the relation, the notion of the Only-begotten. For this phrase too stood in our teacher's text, and this fearsome and invincible combatant stole it from what was written, making his rebuttal easy for himself by removing what had been said with care. Our teacher's statement runs thus, word for word: "For my part, even the title 'unbegotten,' though it seems very much to agree with our notions, nevertheless, since it is nowhere found in Scripture and is the first element of their blasphemy, I would say rightly deserves to be passed over in silence, since the word 'Father' has the same force as 'unbegotten,' besides bringing in conjointly with itself, through the relation, the notion of the Son." But this noble champion of the truth, with the freedom natural to him, took away what had been added to the statement for safety's sake (I mean the words "besides bringing in conjointly with itself, through the relation, the notion of the Son"). Having broken up the sense of what was written, he grapples with what remains; having mutilated the connected body and made it, as he thought, weaker and easy for him to attack, he deceives his followers with a cold and feeble sophism. He makes out that what shares a meaning in some respect shares it in every respect, and so carries off the superficial hearing of these people. For when we had said that the word "Father," in a certain sense, also conveys the meaning of "unbegotten," he made a total exchange of the meaning, departing from the usual sense of the names, and so drives the argument, as he supposes, into absurdity, as though this title would no longer show the relation to the Son if the notion of "unbegotten" were also signified by it. It is as if someone had learned two notions about bread, that it is made of wheat and that it becomes nourishment for the one who eats it, and then fought with the one who said so, using the same kind of sophism against him: that the account of its being made of wheat is one thing and the account of nourishment another; so if it is granted that bread is from wheat, it will no longer properly be called nourishment. Such is the sense of his syllogism. "For if 'unbegotten,'" he says, "is signified by the title 'Father,' this word no longer presents his having begotten the Son." But it is perhaps timely for us too to apply to what he says that solemn period of his. Such words certainly befit such people: he would have gained more toward seeming sensible if he had secured his safety in total silence. For one whose addition of words amounts to an addition of blasphemy, or rather of utter folly, silence is lighter not by half but by the whole of speaking. Perhaps someone may be brought to the truth of what we say more easily by things from his own experience. So let us leave the crooked tangle of sophisms and discuss the subject in a plainer and more ordinary way. Your father, Eunomius, was certainly a man; but this same man also became the cause of your being. Did you then use this wise reasoning in his case too, so that your father, if he accepted the definition of his nature by being a man, could no longer signify his relation to you? For he would certainly have to be one of the two: either a man or Eunomius's father. And yet in your case it is not permitted to apply the names of your own relatives other than in their proper sense. Though you would bring a charge of outrage against anyone who mocked you by swapping the names, do you not shudder when you laugh at the doctrines of the mysteries as though there were no danger? Your father shows his kinship with you, and his being a man is in no way hindered by this; no one in his senses, instead of calling the one who begot you your father, would give the definition of man; nor, asked about his kind and having confessed that he is a man, would he say that this confession prevents him from also being your father. So too in the case of the God of the universe, the pious man will not deny that the title "Father" signifies both that he exists unbegottenly and, in another sense, his kinship with the Son.

But the man who mocks the truth says that the title "Father" no longer signifies having begotten the Son if we are also taught by the same word that he is unbegotten. Let us bring in this too to refute the absurdity of what he said, a thing that I say no one is ignorant of, not even very young children led by a schoolmaster and tutor into the technical study of nouns. Who does not know that some names are absolute and without relation, while others are given with reference to some relation? And among these, again, some lean toward either, according to the intention of those who use them: said by themselves they show a simple force, but when transferred they often become relative. So as not to lengthen the argument with examples far from the subject, I will make my meaning clear from the doctrines themselves. God is called Father and king, and is named by the Holy Scripture with countless other names. Of these names, some can be said simply, by themselves, in an absolute sense: incorruptible, for instance, eternal, immortal, and anything else of the kind. These, even if no other notion is understood with them, mark out in themselves a complete conception of God. Other names signify only usefulness to something, such as helper, shield, protector, and whatever is found with such a meaning; if you take away what needs help, the power shown in the name is idle. And some, as was said before, are used both by themselves and with relative terms, such as "God" and "good" and the like; the notion of these does not always remain absolute. God in general often becomes the particular God of the one who calls on him, as we can hear from the saints, who make their own the nature that has no master: "Holy is the Lord God." So far there is no relation; but the one who added "our" no longer allowed the name to be understood by itself, appropriating its meaning by the relation to himself. Again, "Abba, Father," the Spirit cries: this is the word freed from particular relation. But we have also been commanded to call the Father in heaven "our Father": this again is the relative meaning. As, then, one who has made the universal God his own has in no way obscured his dignity over all, so nothing prevents the title "Father" from signifying, together, that the Father has begotten the Son, the one from himself whom he showed forth as the firstborn of all creation, and from expressing by the same word that he is not from a cause above him. For one who said "the first Father" pointed to the one conceived before all. He is beyond; he is that one, with nothing before himself to look to and no limit after himself at which to end. Being always alike on every side, passing beyond the boundary of an end and the notion of a beginning by the infinity of his life, he has everlastingness understood along with every title. But Eunomius, great in the contemplation of the incomprehensible, does not accept this plain usage, nor does he grant that the meaning of "Father" is twofold: one, that all things are from him, and before all things the only-begotten Son through whom are all things; the other, that he has no cause above him. Even if he spits on the argument, we, counting his mocking laughter as nothing, will boldly answer what we have already said: "Father" is the same as "unbegotten"; it signifies having begotten the Son and presents being from none. But he contends further against what was said, and says: "And yet the argument turns round again to the opposite. For if God is Father because he has begotten the Son, and 'Father' and 'unbegotten' have the same meaning, then God is unbegotten because he has begotten the Son." Let us look, then, at the argument of his conversion, and see how, resolving the composition of the earlier sophism into its opposite, he hems us in again by this one too with inescapable necessities. The earlier syllogism contained this absurdity: if "Father" signifies that God is from none, of necessity it will no longer show that he has begotten the Son. This one, by the conversion to the opposite, promises us another absurdity against our doctrine. What, then, is his resolution of what was shown there? "If," he says, "God is Father because he has begotten the Son." The earlier syllogism did not present this to us; the course of that syllogism ostensibly showed only that the title cannot signify the relation to the Son if the Father's unbegottenness is signified. That God is Father for this reason, because he has begotten the Son, the construction of the earlier sophism did not lay down at all. What it is, then, that his dialectical and technical shrewdness converts, I do not yet understand.

Nevertheless, let us consider the sense of what he says: "If God is unbegotten because he has begotten the Son, then before he begot him he was not unbegotten." Again the reply of the truth is ready and simple: the title "Father" shows both that he has begotten the Son, as we have already shown above, and that the begetter is not conceived as from any cause. If you look to what is from him, the hypostasis of the Only-begotten is made known through the title "Father"; if you examine what is before him, the title "Father" shows that the one who begot the Son is without beginning. But to say that before begetting the Son God was not unbegotten brings a double charge against the speech-writer: slander against us and insult against the doctrine. He mocks as though it were agreed something said neither by our teacher nor now by us; and he says that God at some later time became Father, having previously been something else and not Father. By the very words with which he mocks the absurdity of our argument he proclaims his own lawlessness about the doctrine. As though it were agreed that God was formerly something else and afterwards by progress both became and was named Father, he says that before begetting the Son, and so being called Father, he was not even unbegotten, if unbegottenness is known by the notion of Father. How much folly this contains needs no one, I think, to refute it; it shows itself sufficiently to those who have sense. If God was something else before he became Father, what will the champions of the doctrine say? In what state will they say he was seen? What name will they give to his manner of life then: boy, infant, babe, youth? Or will they say none of these, blushing perhaps at the plainness of the absurdity, and not deny that he was perfect from the beginning? Then how was he perfect, when he was not yet able to be Father? Or will they not take his ability away, but say that it was not fitting for him to be Father at the same time as he was? And if it was neither good nor fitting for him to be Father of such a Son from the beginning, how did he acquire what was not good as he went on? "But it is good now, and befitting God's majesty, to become Father of such a one." Then they make out that at first he had no share in the good; and as long as God did not have the Son (may God be gracious to the argument), they will say that he had neither wisdom, nor power, nor truth, nor any of the other things that the only-begotten Son both is and is called under different conceptions. But may these things fall on the heads of those responsible. We must return to where we left off. "If God is Father," he says, "because he has begotten, and 'Father' signifies 'unbegotten,' then before he begot him he was not unbegotten." Suppose he were saying this according to human custom. Among men it is impossible for anyone to acquire the habit of several pursuits at the same time without taking up each of the things he pursues in some order and sequence of time. If one had to reason in the same way about the God of the universe, that he has unbegottenness now, afterwards takes on power, then incorruption, then wisdom, and as he goes on becomes Father, and again just, and next everlasting, acquiring everything seen in him by some sequence, it would perhaps not be very absurd to think that one of the names concerning God comes before another, and to say that he was first unbegotten and afterwards became Father. But as it is, who is so low in mind and so uninitiated in the grandeur of the divine doctrines that, having taken the cause of all things into his mind, he does not take up the thought of everything piously conceived of God at once, gathered together, but thinks that one thing came later, another at the beginning, and another in between in some sequence of order? It is not possible, having passed in reasoning through any one of the things piously said of God, to come upon another reality or notion that can rise above the antiquity of what was said. Rather, every divine name, every lofty thought, every word and supposition that fits our notions of God, is joined and united with the others; and all our conceptions of God are grasped continuously, together and gathered with one another: fatherhood, unbegottenness, power, incorruption, goodness, authority, and all the rest. None of these is conceived separately, by itself, cut off from the rest at some interval of time, as preceding or following another; whatever lofty and pious name may be found is shown together with the everlastingness of God.

As, then, one cannot say that God was once not good, or powerful, or incorruptible, or immortal, in the same way it is impious not to bear witness to his fatherhood as eternal, and to say instead that it was added later. He who is truly Father is always Father. But if "always" is not part of the confession, and some notion vainly conceived as prior cuts off and truncates the notion of the Father upward, it will no longer properly be confessed that he is truly Father, since that notion conceived as prior to the Son sets aside the everlastingness and continuity of the fatherhood. How is it possible for what came to be at some later time to be conceived as what it is now said to be? If, then, he was first unbegotten and afterwards became and was named Father, he certainly was not always what he is now called. But God is what he is now and always is, becoming neither worse nor better by addition, nor taking on one thing in place of another and being altered; he is always the same with himself. If, then, he was not Father from the beginning, neither did he become Father afterwards. But if he is confessed to be Father, I will take up the same argument again: if he is now, he also always was; and if he always was, he also always will be. Therefore the Father is always Father, and the Son is certainly conceived together with the Father; for the title of Father cannot be made firm unless the name of Son is borne out as true. And all that is seen in the Father is beheld also in the Son. For "all that the Father has is the Son's, and the Father has all that is the Son's." He said, "the Father has what is the Son's," so that the slanderer might not be able to include spitefully among "all" either the Son's not being begotten, by saying that the Son has all that is the Father's, or the Father's being begotten, by saying that all that is the Son's is seen in the Father. For the Son has all that is the Father's, yet he is not Father; and conversely, all that is the Son's is seen in the Father, yet he is not Son. If, then, all that is the Father's is in the Only-begotten, and he is in the Father, and fatherhood is not cut off from unbegottenness, I for my part do not see what can be conceived about the Father separately, by itself, at some interval, before the notion of the Son. We may, then, take courage and close fearlessly with what is brought against us by the sophism; and, not at all terrified by the Gorgon of a syllogism contrived to frighten children, we may say that God is holy, immortal, Father, unbegotten, everlasting, all of these at once; and if you suppose, for argument's sake, that any one of the things piously said of him is not so, all of them are removed together with that one. If he is not immortal, the rest cannot be either; and what is said of one part, let it be understood of all. There is, therefore, nothing in him earlier or younger; otherwise he would be found to be older and younger than himself. For suppose God is not always all things, but in some order and sequence one thing is and another comes to be. Yet there is no composition in him; whatever he is, he is wholly. If, then, according to the heresy's argument, he is first unbegotten and afterwards becomes Father, since no accumulation of acquirements is conceived in him, he becomes nothing other than, wholly, both older and later than the whole of himself: preceding himself as unbegotten, and becoming second to himself in the notion of Father. But if, as the Prophet says of God, he is the same, then he speaks vainly who says that before begetting he was not unbegotten; for neither name is found without the other, neither "Father" nor "unbegotten." The two come together, and the notions arise with each other in the minds of those who reason piously. God is Father from eternity, and an everlasting Father, and all that is piously said of him is named in the same way, since this temporal sequence and order, as we said, has no place in the nature that is before the ages. Let us look also at the rest of his dialectical dexterity, which he himself says is both ridiculous and pitiable. He says this well; truly broad is the laughter at what is said, or rather great the lament over the deceit that holds his soul. Since "Father," in a certain sense, also includes the notion of "unbegotten," as our argument says, he exchanges the proper meaning of "Father" for "unbegotten" and says: "For if it is the same to say 'unbegotten' or 'Father,' we shall be allowed to leave the word 'Father,' substitute 'unbegotten,' and say: 'The unbegotten is unbegotten of a Son.'"

"For as the unbegotten is Father of a Son, so conversely the Father is unbegotten of a Son." It occurs to me after all to admire the man's resourcefulness, and to think that the versatility and variety of his training in doctrine is beyond the capacity of most. What our teacher said is a single statement, briefly bounded: that unbegottenness can also be signified through the title "Father." But this man's statements are so many, and their number lies not in any difference of thought but in the circling and turning about of the same words. As those who go round the mill with their eyes covered travel a long way and stay in the same place, so he always turns about the same things and never leaves them. He said once in mockery, "'Father' signifies not having begotten but being from none." Again he wove the like: "If 'Father' signifies 'unbegotten,' then before begetting he was not unbegotten." Then a third time he comes back to the same: "For it is permitted," he says, "substituting 'unbegotten,' to say: 'The unbegotten is unbegotten of a Son.'" And at once he took up again what he had often vomited forth, and says: "For as the unbegotten is Father of a Son, so conversely the Father is unbegotten of a Son." How many times has he run back to his own vomit! How many times has he taken it up again, how many times spewed it out! Shall we not become burdensome to most people ourselves, dragging our own argument about with the emptiness of what he brings forward? Perhaps silence is more fitting in such matters. But lest anyone think that our argument gives way through weakness of speech, we will answer what was said thus. You are not permitted to say that the Father is "unbegotten of a Son," even if the title "Father" signifies that the begetter is not from a cause. In the example we gave, on hearing the dignity of a king we conceived two things from the name: that he who is preeminent in authority is subject to no one, and that he rules over his subjects. So too the title "Father" gives us a double meaning in the case of God: the one conceived in relation to the Son, and that he depends on no cause conceived before him. In the case of the king one cannot say that, since two things are signified by the same title, ruling his subjects and having no one above him, it is permitted to call him not the ruler of the nation but "unkinged of his subjects"; nor, combining the two, to say that as he is called king of a nation, so he will be named unkinged of the nation. In the same way, since the word "Father" both points to the Son and presents the notion of "unbegotten," it is not permitted to transfer the meaning improperly and glue the notion of "unbegotten" ridiculously onto the kinship with the Son by saying "unbegotten of a Son." After saying such things, as though he had trampled on the truth and refuted the absurdity of his opponents, he speaks with great boasting: "And who in his senses ever thought it right to pass over the natural notion in silence and to honor the derangement?" No one, most wise sir; nor, then, did our argument, which said that the title "unbegotten" agrees with our notions and should be kept unmoved in our hearts, but that, instead of the word that has been perverted, the title "Father" is sufficient and leads to that notion. Remember the words you yourself quoted: he did not think it right to pass over the natural notion in silence and honor the derangement, as you call it. He advises that only the title "unbegotten," that is, its utterance in syllables, be safely passed over in silence, since it has been taken in a bad sense and is not said in Scripture either; the meaning, he says, very much agrees with our notions. Such, then, is our view. But he who slanders the Sophists, arms his argument with truth, and accuses our faults, does not blush to play the wit with sophisms in arguments about doctrine, imitating those who draw laughter at banquets with witticisms. See the weight and deliberation of his syllogism's weaving (for I will mention the same words again): "For if it is the same to say 'unbegotten' or 'Father,' we shall be allowed to leave the word 'Father,' substitute 'unbegotten,' and say: 'The unbegotten is unbegotten of a Son.' For as the unbegotten is Father of a Son, so conversely the Father is unbegotten of a Son." This is like the following. Suppose someone said, with right and sound reason, that it makes no difference whether one calls Adam the father of all men or the first man formed by God, since the same is signified by both. Then one of Eunomius's dialecticians, pouncing on what was said, imitated this kind of weaving: "If it is the same to say that he was formed first by God or that he is father of those after him, we shall be allowed to leave the word 'father,' substitute 'first-formed,' and say: 'Adam is not the father of Abel, but first-formed.'

For as the first-formed is father of a son, so conversely the father is first-formed of a son." If this were said in a tavern, what applause and laughter would burst from the drinkers, guffawing at the cleverness of the invention! With such arguments the wise theologian makes his stand against us and runs down the doctrine, when in truth he needs a tutor and a cane, so that he might learn that not everything predicated of something looks in its meaning to one and the same thing, as the example we gave of Abel and Adam shows. It is true to call Adam both the father of Abel and the work of God; but it does not follow, because he is both, that both are said with reference to Abel. So too in the case of the God of the universe: the title "Father" shows what is properly signified by such a word, that he has begotten the Son, and it also indicates that no cause is conceived before the true Father. But it is not necessary, whenever we mention the Son, to stop saying "Father" and call him "unbegotten of the Son"; nor again, if being without beginning is passed over in silence when we speak of the relation to the Son, to cast unbegottenness out of our thought of God. Yet he rejects such usage of names and, like the mimes of the comic stage, mocks the argument, making a joke of the doctrines with the outlandishness of his sophisms. Let me recall his words once more: "If it is the same to say 'unbegotten' or 'Father,' we shall be allowed to leave the word 'Father,' substitute 'unbegotten,' and say: 'The unbegotten is unbegotten of a Son.' For as the unbegotten is Father of a Son, so conversely the Father is unbegotten of a Son." But let us laugh back at him too, if you like, turning the sophism round against him. If "Father" is not the same as "unbegotten," the Son of the Father will not be Son of the unbegotten; for since he has relation to the Father alone, he will be wholly alien in nature to one who is something else and does not coincide with the notion of Father. So if the Father is something other than the unbegotten, and the title "Father" does not include the meaning of "unbegotten," the Son, being one, cannot be divided into relations with two realities and be the same Son of both the Father and the unbegotten. And as it was thought absurd to call God "unbegotten of a Son," an equal absurdity will certainly be found in the converse, in calling the only-begotten Son "Son of the unbegotten." So one of two things follows. Either "Father" is the same as "unbegotten," so that the Son of the Father is also Son of the unbegotten, and our argument was mocked in vain; or, if the Father is something other than the unbegotten, the Son of the Father is estranged from relation to the unbegotten. And if this prevails, that the Only-begotten is not from the unbegotten, the logical sequence will certainly show that for them the Father is begotten; for what exists, but does not exist unbegottenly, certainly has a begotten existence. If, then, according to them the Father is begotten, being something other than the unbegotten, where is that much-vaunted unbegottenness? Where is the foundation and base of the heretical tower-building? It is gone and has vanished through the slipperiness of the sophisms. Unbegottenness has slipped from the grasp of those who till now seemed to hold it; and the construction of the "unlike," like a dream, has melted away and escaped the touch of reason, flying off together with unbegottenness. So it is when a falsehood is honored above the truth: even if it flourishes a little while by deceit, it quickly collapses upon itself and is dissolved by its own constructions. But we have brought these things forward only so far as to smile at the cleverness of the retort made by the party of the "unlike." It is time to bring the argument back to its course. Eunomius does not want the meaning of "unbegotten" to be conveyed also by the word "Father," so that he may establish that the Only-begotten once was not. Indeed this question is often heard from his disciples: "How can he who is be begotten?" The cause of this, I think, is their unwillingness to depart from the human usage of names even in thinking about divine things. But let us kindly straighten out the very fiction of their supposition, by saying what we know on this point. Names signify one thing among us, Eunomius, and convey another meaning in the case of the transcendent power. In all other respects too the divine nature is walled off from the human by a great gulf, and experience shows nothing here like what is conjectured of that nature by guesses and suppositions. In the same way, in the things that names signify, even if there is a sameness of name between human things and the eternal, the things signified by the names are separated according to the measure of the distance between the natures.

For example, the Lord in a parable calls God a man who is master of a house; but this name is common in ordinary life as well. Is the account the same, then, of the man among us and of that man? Is our house like that great house of which the Apostle speaks, in which are vessels of gold and silver and those reckoned of other materials? Or are those vessels of another kind, which no one could easily recognize, seen in incorruption and blessedness, while ours are of another, coming from earth and dissolving into earth? So too in almost everything else there is a sameness of name between our things and divine ones, which, with the identity of names, shows a great difference in the things signified. That is why we find the names of members and of the senses applied alike to us and to the divine life, which all men confess to be beyond the senses: fingers, arm, hand, eye and eyelids, hearing, heart, feet, sandals, horses, horsemanship, chariots, and countless such things are transferred figuratively by Scripture from human life to show divine things. As each of these names is said in a human way but is not meant in a human way, so too the name "father," even if it is said alike of our nature and of the divine, varies in what the word signifies according to the measure of the difference between the realities underlying the names. We conceive generation among men in one way, and we form our conjectures about divine generation in another. A man is born in time, and some place certainly receives his life; without these he cannot exist by nature. For this reason temporal divisions are necessarily found in a man's life: what is before him, what is with him, and what comes after. It is true to say of anything begotten that, not having existed once, it now is, and that at some time it will cease to be again. But in the generation before the ages these temporal notions, since they have nothing akin to that nature, do not enter in for those who reason soberly. He who considers the divine life, passing beyond "once" and "later" and "earlier" and all that signifies this temporal extension, will contemplate lofty things loftily, and will not think that the nature that has no master is subject to everything he sees in human generation. Here, passion precedes the constitution of a human being, and certain bodily materials are laid down for the making of the living creature. Nature, which works such wonders, serves the divine will, gathering from every side what is proper and suited to the completion of what comes into being: from the elements of the world as much as suffices of each, the measure of time's cooperation, and, from the nourishment of those who form the offspring, as much as is proper to what is being formed. In a word, nature, passing through all the things by which human life is constituted, brings what is not into birth; and that is why we say that what is not comes to be, because, not existing at one time, it begins to exist at another. But in divine generation the mind does not admit the service of nature, nor the completion of time contributing to what comes to be, nor anything that reason observed in generation here below. One who does not tread upon divine things with fleshly thoughts will not fall in with any of these low notions, but will seek a thought that befits the greatness of what is signified. He will not conceive of passion in the impassible; he will not reckon that the Maker of all nature needs the cooperation of nature; he will not admit temporal extension in the eternal life. Having understood divine generation as pure of all these, he will agree that only this is shown by the meaning of "Father": that the Only-begotten is not without beginning, in the sense that he has from the Father the cause of his being, but without reckoning a beginning of his hypostasis, since no mark of such a beginning can be conceived. For since earlier and younger and all such notions are found in temporal intervals, if you take away time in thought, all such marks are taken away with it and drawn off together with time. Since, then, he who exists with the Father before the ages, in the ineffable manner, does not admit "once," he exists as begotten, yet does not begin to be at any time. He has his life neither in time nor in place; and when place and time and every such notion are removed in the case of the hypostasis of the Only-begotten, what is conceived before him is the Father alone.

But the Only-begotten, being in the Father, as he himself says, cannot by nature admit the suspicion that he once was not. If the Father too once was not, the everlastingness of the Son would necessarily be cut off upward along with the nonexistence of the Father. But if the Father always is, how can the Son once not be, when he cannot be conceived by himself apart from the Father, but is always named with the Father, though unspoken? The title "Father" carries the meaning of both persons equally, since the notion of the Son enters of itself with this word. When was the Son not? In what was his not-being found? In place? There was no place. In time? The Lord is before all times. If, then, he was before these, when was he not? And if he was in the Father, in what was he not? Tell us, you who see the unseen. What did your reasoning shape in between? What void of the Only-begotten did you conceive, whether a reality or a notion, which extends alongside the Father and shows his life to be longer than that of the Only-begotten? And why do I say this? Not even in the case of human beings can one properly say that someone was begotten when he did not exist. Levi was tithed by Melchizedek many generations before his own birth in the flesh. So says the Apostle: "Levi, who receives tithes, has been tithed"; and he added the proof of what he said: "he was in the loins of his father when Abraham met" the priest of the Most High. If, then, according to the apostolic testimony, a man is begotten while in a certain way already existing, having pre-existed in his begetter through the commonness of substance, how do they dare to bring this phrase against the divine nature, saying that he who is in the Father was begotten when he was not, when the Lord says, "I am in the Father, and the Father in me"? Clearly each is said to be in the other in a different sense: the Son in the Father, as the beauty of the image in the archetypal form; the Father in the Son, as the archetypal beauty in its own image. In hand-made images the time between certainly separates the form taken over from the archetype. But there it is impossible to separate the one from the other, as the Apostle says: neither the stamp from the hypostasis, nor the radiance from the divine glory, nor the image from the goodness; whoever has thought of one of these has received in his thought, conjointly, what is conceived with it. "Being," he says, "the radiance of the glory": being, not becoming. By this the impiety on either side is clearly dismissed. We are not to think the Only-begotten unbegotten, since he says "radiance of the glory" (for the radiance is from the glory, and not conversely the glory from the radiance); nor that he once began to be, since the testimony of "being" expresses the continuity and everlastingness of the Son and his transcendence of every temporal meaning. What occasion, then, have our opponents to bring forward this petty question to the ruin of piety, putting it to us as invincible for establishing their own doctrine, and asking, "Is he who is begotten?" We can boldly answer them that he who is in the unbegotten was begotten from him, having from him the cause of his being ("For I," he says, "live because of the Father"), but that his beginning cannot be stated. Since there is no intervening reality, or notion, or temporal interval by which the being of the Son is distinguished and separated from the Father, no point is conceived from which the Only-begotten, disjoined from the Father's life, appears from some beginning of his own. If, then, there is no other beginning that governs the Son's life, but the pious account sees only the Father before the hypostasis of the Son, without interval, and the Father is without beginning and unbegotten, as even our opponents' testimony agrees, how does he who is seen in the one without beginning receive a beginning of being? And what harm comes to the doctrine of piety from agreeing with the words our opponents put forward as absurd, when they say, "Was he who is begotten?" We do not say that he who is receives generation in the manner of Nicodemus's crude perplexity before the Lord, when he thought it impossible for one who exists to come to a second birth. We say that the Son, having his being dependent on the one who is always and without beginning, rising together with anyone who busies himself about what is older and reaching beforehand the furthest point of the mind's inquisitiveness, blended with all our notions of the Father, neither begins to be nor is unbegotten, but was both begotten and was: confessing his generation from the Father by the account of cause, and not admitting "once he was not" by the everlastingness of his life.

But the man of superfluous sophistries opposes what we have said and splits the substance of the Only-begotten off from the nature of the Father, because the one has been begotten and the other is unbegotten. There are so many names piously contemplated in the divine nature in which no variation is seen in the Son, and all apply equally to both; yet he mentions none of the others by which what is common is known, but fastens on the name of unbegottenness alone. And he does not accept even its usual and customary meaning, but makes a new notion of "unbegotten," setting aside the common understanding of the word. What, then, is the reason for this? It is not without some great reason that he draws the argument away from the usual meaning of names and makes it strange by altering the meaning of words. He knows precisely that if the use of names were kept to ordinary custom, he would find no strength for overturning sound doctrine; but if the words were moved away from their common and customary meanings, he could easily corrupt the doctrines along with his perversion of the word. Let us come to the very words that are being wronged. If, in keeping with the common understanding of doctrine, he had accepted that God is called unbegotten because he has not been begotten, the whole engine of their heresy would have collapsed, with the sophism about unbegottenness pulled out from under it. Suppose he had been persuaded by this reasoning, in agreement with almost everyone who belongs to the church of God, that as the God over all is conceived as invisible, impassible, and incorporeal, so also as unbegotten; and suppose he had agreed that each of these names signifies what in no way belongs to God: no body, no passion, no color, no having one's being from a cause. If he had supposed these things to be so, their argument of unlikeness would have had no force, since in everything else seen about the God of the universe even our opponents grant the likeness of the Only-begotten to the Father. To prevent this, he sets the name of unbegottenness before all the names concerning God, those, I mean, that indicate the transcendent power, and has made it the base from which to attack our doctrine. He transfers the opposition in utterance between "begotten" and "unbegotten" to the persons to whom the names are applied, and through this he sophistically makes out the otherness of the substances from the difference of the names. He does not agree that one is called begotten because he has been begotten, or unbegotten because he has not been begotten, but says that the one has his substance from generation; I do not know what kind of wisdom led him by the hand to such an understanding. If anyone studies the meanings of the names by themselves, removing in thought the persons to whom the names seem to be assigned, he will find how empty is the sense of what Eunomius says. Let no one think it right, because the Father is conceived before the Son according to the true account of the faith, that the order of the names too should be arranged according to the dignity and order of the persons underlying them. Rather, let him consider the names by themselves: which of them comes first in the order of conception (the name, I say again, not the reality signified by the name), and which of them indicates the positing of some notion, and which the removal of what was posited. For example (for clarity's sake I think the argument should be set out through similar cases): education and lack of education, passion and freedom from passion, and everything of this kind; which of these is conceived first? Those that present the removal of what was posited, or those that present the positing of the subject? I say the latter. Education, anger, and passion are conceived first, and then the removal of what was conceived. So too with generation and ungeneration. And let no one slander the argument through self-made religion, as though it placed the Son before his begetter. We are not making out that the Son is placed before the Father and conceived before him, if the argument deals with the meaning of "begotten" and "unbegotten." Generation, then, signifies the positing of some reality or notion, and ungeneration, as I said, the removal of what was posited; so that in every way the name "generation" is conceived before the name "ungeneration." Why then do they force themselves to apply to the Father what is second in order among the names, and think that a notion which removes something indicates and comprehends the substance of the name? And they are vexed and provoked with those who expose the unsoundness of their arguments. See how he bears a grudge against the one who detected the unsoundness and weakness of his mischief, and how he retaliates as he can; and he can do so only by abuse and insult, a power of which he has a great surplus. As writers who aim at fine style use certain particles to fill out what is lacking in the rhythm, putting harmony and euphony into the arrangement of their diction, so in most of what he says he embroiders his treatise with abuse, as if adorning himself with the abundance of his power to insult.

Once again we are fools; once again we miss right reasoning, undertake the argument without the preparation the task demands, and fall short of the speaker's meaning. All these things and more are what our teacher is called by that steady mouth. And perhaps his anger is not without cause; the speech-writer has a just grievance. Why did Basil have to vex him by exposing the weakness of this argument, stripping bare and making plain to the simpler folk the blasphemy concealed under the plausibility of his sophisms? Why did he not cover the rotten parts of the doctrine with silence, instead of pillorying the poor wretch, when he ought to have pitied him and covered the indecency of his argument in quiet? Instead he exposes and makes a public spectacle of a man who is in some way honored among his own disciples for wisdom and shrewdness. Eunomius said somewhere in his discourses, "Unbegottenness follows God." Our teacher took him up on the word, pointing out that what "follows" belongs among things observed from outside, while substance indicates the meaning not of anything external, but of being itself, as it is. For this the gentle and invincible man is indignant and pours out reproaches in abundance, because Basil heard what was said and perceived its sense as well. What wrong did he do, if he followed the meaning of what was written attentively? If he did not take what was said according to its sense, then your words stand, and we shall stay in ignorance. But if you blush at the refutation, why do you not erase the words from what you wrote, instead of abusing the one who quotes them? "Yes," he says, "but he did not understand the intent of the argument." What wrong do we do, then, if, being men, we guessed the meaning from what was said, since we have no comprehension of what is hidden in the heart? It belongs to God to see the unseen, to look upon the characters of things that cannot be comprehended in any way, and to recognize the unlikeness of invisible things; we judge only by what we hear. It was said, then, "follows God"; and following along, we supposed that he meant unbegottenness. Again it is said, "or rather unbegottenness itself is substance." Here we could no longer understand the coherence, since we perceived much that was incongruous and odd in the meanings. If unbegottenness follows God, and unbegottenness is substance, the argument constructs the notion of two substances in the same subject: God exists, in the way he is believed to exist, and has another substance following him, which they call unbegottenness, something other than the one of whom it is a consequence, as our teacher says. If he bids us understand these things so, let him forgive us simple men, who cannot attend to such subtle speculations. But if he rejects this account and denies that he speaks of a double substance in God, one known from his Godhead and the other from his unbegottenness, then let this man, who is neither rash nor wicked, advise himself not to give much room to abuse in contests for the truth, but to explain to us uneducated people how what follows and what precedes are not one thing and another, but both become one. For in what he now says in defense of his argument the absurdity remains much the same, and, as he himself says, the addition of those few words corrects nothing of the incoherence of what was said. What teaching is to be found in them I have not yet been able to see. His very words shall be quoted verbatim. "We said," he says, "'or rather it is itself unbegotten,' not combining with being what was shown to follow, but fitting 'follows' to the title and 'is' to the substance. When these are put together, the whole statement would be this: that the name 'unbegotten' follows, since he is himself unbegotten." What interpreter shall we bring in for what he says? "Not combining with being," he says, "what was shown to follow." Perhaps some solvers of riddles would say that by "combining" he meant "connecting." But how could anyone recognize the sense and coherence of the rest? What appeared from the sequence, he says, belongs properly not to the substance but to the title. But the title, most wise sir: what is it? Is it out of tune with the substance, or does it agree with it in meaning? If the name is foreign to the substance, how is the substance characterized by the title "unbegotten"? But if, as you yourself say, the substance is aptly comprehended by unbegottenness, how is it divided here, so that the name of the substance follows one thing, and the substance itself another? And what is the composition of the whole statement? "The name 'unbegotten' follows God," he says, "since he is himself unbegotten." Does he say that this name follows God as being something other than the unbegotten?

And how does he define the Godhead by unbegottenness? Or does he say, again, that the unbegotten follows God, who exists unbegottenly? Who will solve for us the puzzle of these riddles? An unbegotten that precedes and an unbegotten that follows; a title of the substance now aptly fitted to it and now following as something foreign! And what is this great alarm of his over the name of unbegottenness, so that he attributes the whole nature of the Godhead to it, and if God is so named nothing is lacking to piety, but if not, the whole doctrine of the faith is in danger? If no one thinks it superfluous and redundant to discuss these matters briefly, we will treat the argument as follows. The everlastingness of the divine life, if one were to sketch it by enclosing it in a definition, is this: it is grasped as always being, and it does not admit the account of once not being or once not going to be. Geometers of plane figures say that the beginning of a circular figure is indeterminate, since the line, equidistant from the center throughout, is turned back on itself, and is drawn out neither to an acknowledged end nor to a visible beginning, but, united to itself at equal distances from the center on every side, escapes showing any beginning or end. So too (and let no one slander the argument as though we likened the unbounded nature to a bounded figure; we look not to the circumference of the circle but to its likeness to the life that is ungraspable on every side) we say that this is the notion of the everlasting. Extending and turning our thought on every side from the present now, as from a center and point, toward the infinity of life, we are drawn round in a circle equally and alike by its incomprehensibility, finding the divine life continuous and unbroken with itself on every side, and able to recognize no limit and no part in it. This is what we say about the everlastingness of God, which we have heard from prophecy: that God is king before the ages, and reigns forever and ever and beyond. For this reason we define him as higher than every beginning and exceeding every end. Holding, then, this notion of him as befitting the God of the universe, we express what we conceive by two titles, "unbegotten" and "endless," presenting the infinity, continuity, and everlastingness of God's life. If only one of these were taken for this notion and the other passed over in silence, the meaning would certainly limp where something was lacking. Neither of them alone can soundly present the meaning contained in both. One who said "endless" showed only the absence of an end, but said nothing about a beginning; and one who said "without beginning" showed that what is signified is beyond beginning, but left the question of an end in doubt. Since, then, as I said, these names present equally the everlastingness of the divine life, it is time to examine how these men divide the meaning of "everlasting": they say that the notion which removes a beginning is substance, not something seen about the everlasting, while they reckon that which admits no end among things outside the substance. I do not know with what thought they make such an allotment, placing having no beginning in the substance and rejecting having no end as outside the substance. Since the two are seen together in it, they ought either to receive both into the account of the substance or, if they judged the one fit to be rejected, to reject the other along with it. But if they are set on dividing the notion of the everlasting, ranking one part in the substance of the divine nature and reckoning the other among things that are not, since they wish to judge such things by low reasonings and do not fly up to the height of thoughts about God, like birds that have lost their feathers, I for my part would advise them to reverse their doctrines: to reckon endlessness as substance, and rather to overlook being without beginning in favor of endlessness, giving the first place to what is to come and to what we hope for rather than to what is past and stale. For (I say this for the sake of small souls, willingly bringing the argument down to the understanding of children) the past part of life is nothing to one who has lived it, while all the eagerness of the living is directed toward what is to come and is expected; so endlessness would be more honorable than being without beginning, since immortality is carried toward what is to come and is expected. So either let their thoughts about the divine nature be lofty and befitting God, or, if they judge such things by human reasonings, let the future be more honorable to them than the past, and let them define the substance of God by that.

since everything that is past already vanishes with the passing of time, while what is expected has its existence through hope. But I bring these things forward as ridiculous and childish, as if to children sitting in the marketplace at play; for one cannot examine how groveling and earthbound the heresy's doctrines are without being brought down to some boyish game. But I say it is well to add this to the argument. Since the meaning of "everlasting" is filled out by both together, as we said, by the absence of a beginning and the absence of an end, if they define the substance of God by one alone, their account of the substance will turn out half-finished and cut in two, conceived only in being without beginning and not possessing endlessness in itself as substance. But if they put both together and complete the account of the substance with both, let us consider in turn the absurdity that appears along with the argument; for they will find God alien not only to the Only-begotten but also to himself. The argument is clear and needs no great attention. The account of beginning and that of end are each opposite to the other, and what is signified by each is different, as with other things diametrically opposed to one another, between which there is no middle. One who is asked for the account of a beginning will not give the same as the definition of an end, but will take the definition of beginning in the opposite direction. Therefore what is opposed to each of these will also differ from each other in equal measure of opposition: "without beginning," which is opposed to what "beginning" shows, will be confessed to be one thing, and "endless," which removes the end, another. If, then, they bring these two, endless and without beginning, and dedicate them to the substance of God, they will show their God to be a concurrence of two opposite and discordant things. For the notion opposed to each of these also shows in itself the opposition of end to beginning; things contrary to opposites are certainly contrary to one another. It is true that all things set against things naturally opposite are also opposite to one another, as can be seen from examples. Water is set against fire; so the powers that destroy these will also be opposed to each other. For if moisture extinguishes fire and dryness destroys water, the qualities opposed to these preserve in themselves the opposition of water to fire, so that moisture is acknowledged to be opposite to dryness. So too, since beginning and end are opposed, the names opposed to them, "without beginning" and "endless," conflict with one another in notion. If, then, they define only one of these as indicating the substance (for I will take up the same argument again), they will bear witness to God's being only by half, saying that his substance is bounded by being without beginning alone and not extending it to endlessness. But if they bring both into the account of the substance and set them there, they will declare nothing other than that it is composed of opposites, divided in substance, in the way described, into endless and beginningless by the opposition of end to beginning. And so their God turns out to be a varied and composite thing, compacted of opposites. But there is not, nor will there ever be, any such doctrine in the church of God as to declare the simple and uncompounded not only manifold and varied but even composed of opposites. The simplicity of the doctrines of truth supposes God to be what he is: unable to be comprehended by name, or by thought, or by any other comprehending conception; remaining higher not only than human but also than angelic and all supramundane comprehension; ineffable and unutterable, above all meaning conveyed by words; having one name that makes his own nature known: that he alone is above every name. This has also been granted to the Only-begotten, because all that the Father has is the Son's as well. And the account of piety confesses that these words, "unbegotten," I mean, and "endless," indicate his everlastingness, not his substance: "unbegotten" shows that no beginning and cause lies above him, and "endless" signifies that his kingdom will stop at no limit. "For you," it says, "are the same, and your years will not fail": by "are" signifying that he did not come into existence from any cause, and by what follows showing the unceasing and endless blessedness of his life.

But perhaps one of the more cautious, attending to what we have examined about the everlasting, will say that it is hard to pass through the account of the Only-begotten without stumbling, given what has been said. Of two incongruous doctrines, one will certainly be fallen into: either we shall make out that the Son too is unbegotten, which is absurd, or we shall not grant him everlastingness either, which is the mark of blasphemers. For if everlastingness is known by being without beginning and endless, it is entirely necessary either to be impious by not confessing the Son's everlastingness, or to be carried into supposing unbegottenness in our notions of the Only-begotten. What then do we say? If the one who contemplates the Father before the Son only in the account of cause were to set some temporal notion beyond the hypostasis of the Only-begotten, our account of the Son's everlastingness would reasonably be endangered. But as it is, the nature before the ages does not admit, equally and alike, any "once he will not be" in our confession of the life of the Father, of the Only-begotten, or of the Holy Spirit. Where there is no time, "once" is removed as well. If the Son is always grasped as being, appearing together with the notion of the Father, what fear is there in bearing witness to the everlastingness of the Only-begotten, who has neither beginning of days nor end of life? As he is light from light, life from life, good from good, wise and just and powerful and all the rest likewise, such from such, so also he is certainly everlasting from everlasting. But the contentious and quarrelsome man snatches at the argument, as though this sequence made one suppose unbegotten from unbegotten too. Let the fighter be sober in heart and attend to his own words: one who confesses "from the Father" has dismissed any suspicion of unbegottenness in the case of the Only-begotten, and there is no fear in calling him everlasting and not unbegotten. Because the Son's being is not bounded by a temporal interval, but before the ages and after them the infinity of his life is poured out on every side, he is properly named by the title "everlasting"; and because, again, being and being called Son, he allows the notion of the Father to be contemplated conjointly with him, he escapes by this the appearance of being unbegotten, being always with the Father who always is. So said that inspired voice of our teacher: that he is joined, as begotten, to the unbegottenness of the Father. Our account of the Holy Spirit is the same, differing in order alone. As the Son is joined to the Father and, though he has his being from him, does not come after him in existence, so again the Holy Spirit is joined to the Only-begotten, who is contemplated before the hypostasis of the Spirit in thought alone, by the account of cause; but temporal extensions have no place in the life before the ages. So, the account of cause excepted, the Holy Trinity is in no respect out of harmony with itself. To it be glory.

The faith of Christians, which was proclaimed to all the nations by the disciples according to the Lord’s command, is neither from human beings nor through a human being, but through our Lord Jesus Christ himself. He, being the Word and life and light and truth and God and wisdom and all that he is by nature, for this reason above all came to be in the likeness of a human being and shared our nature, in all things according to likeness, without sin. And the likeness lies in his taking up the whole human being, with soul and body, so that our salvation might come about through both. He was seen on earth and lived among human beings, so that human beings might no longer hold opinions about Him who Is according to their own judgments, making doctrine of the suppositions that come to them from guesswork, but, persuaded that God was truly manifested in the flesh, might believe that this alone is the true mystery of godliness which was handed down to us through the Word and God himself, who spoke through himself to the apostles. The teaching about the transcendent nature that comes from the older Scripture, from the law and prophecy and the proverbial teaching, given as through a mirror and in a riddle, let us receive as a testimony to the truth revealed to us, taking the sense of the words reverently, so that it agrees with the faith set out by the Master of all. This faith we guard word for word, pure and untampered, as we received it, and we judge even a slight distortion of the words handed down to be the utmost blasphemy and impiety. We believe, then, as the Lord set out the faith to his disciples, he who said, “Go and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them into the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” This is the word of the mystery, in which, through the birth from above, our nature is transformed from the corruptible to the incorruptible, being renewed from the old man according to the image of the one who in the beginning created the godlike likeness. Since this faith, then, was handed down by God to the apostles, we make neither subtraction nor alteration nor addition, knowing clearly that whoever dares to twist the divine utterance by sophistical malice is of his father the devil, who abandons the words of truth and speaks from his own, becoming the father of lies. For everything said contrary to the truth is entirely a lie and not true.

Since, then, this doctrine is set out by the Truth itself, whatever the inventors of wicked heresies devise besides it to set aside this divine utterance (such as calling the Father, instead of Father, creator and maker of the Son; and the Son, instead of Son, a work and a creature and a thing made; and the Holy Spirit, instead of Holy Spirit, a creature of a creature and a work of a work; and everything else that those who fight against God see fit to say of him), all such things we call a denial and a transgression of the Godhead revealed to us in this doctrine. For once for all we have learned from the Lord, through whom the transformation of our nature from the mortal to the immortal comes about, what we must look to with the mind; and this is the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. We say, then, that it is fearful and ruinous to misconstrue these divine utterances and to devise in their place expressions invented to set them aside, as though correcting God the Word, who laid down that we should hold these utterances in the faith. For each of these titles, understood in its proper meaning, becomes for Christians a rule of truth and a law of godliness. For although there are many other names by which the divine is signified, in history and prophecy and law, Christ the Master, who is able to bring us to faith in Him who Is, passed over them all and set forth these utterances, declaring that it is enough for us to hold fast to the title of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit for the understanding of Him who truly Is, who is both one and not one. For in the definition of substance it is one; that is why the Master laid down that we should look to one name. But by the properties that make the hypostases known, it is divided into faith in the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, parted without separation and united without confusion. For when we hear “Father,” we take up this sense: that this name is not understood by itself alone, but by its own implication also signifies the relation to the Son. For a Father could not be conceived as separated by himself, without a Son joined to him through the very utterance of “Father.” Having learned “Father,” then, by the same word we were taught faith in the Son as well. Since, then, the divine by nature is always the same in what it is and as it is, neither ever having been without being what it now is, nor ever going to be what it now is not,

and since the true Father has been named Father by the Word, and with the Father the Son is shown as well, we necessarily believe that he who admits no turning or alteration in his nature always and certainly was what he now is; or, if at some time he was not something, neither is he that now. Since, then, he is named Father by the true Word, he certainly always both was and is Father, and will be as he was. For it is not lawful, in the case of the divine and pure nature, to say that the good is not always present to it. For if what it now is it was not always, it has certainly changed, either to the worse from the better or to the better from the worse; and the impiety of each is equal, whichever of the two is said of the divine nature. But the divine admits no change or alteration. Therefore everything that is beautiful and good is always seen in the fountain of the beautiful. And the only-begotten God, who is in the bosom of the Father, is beautiful and beyond every beauty; and he who is in the bosom is not one who came to be in it.

It has been shown by these things, then, that the Son is contemplated from eternity in the Father, in whom he is, being life and light and truth and every good name and thought; and to say that the Father ever existed by himself apart from these is the utmost impiety and madness at once. For if the Son, as Scripture says, is the power of God and wisdom and truth and light and sanctification and peace and life and the like, then before the Son existed, as the heretics hold, these too certainly did not exist. And if they did not exist, they will think of the Father’s bosom as entirely empty of such goods. So that the Father may not be thought bereft of his own goods, and the doctrine may not fall into this absurdity, faith in the Son is necessarily contemplated together with the eternity of the Father, according to the Master’s word. For this reason, passing over all the names that are used to point to the transcendent nature, he sets forth for us in the faith the title of Father as more expressive of the truth, a title which, as has been said, by its relational sense shows the Son together with itself. And since the Son, who is in the Father, always is what he is (as was also said in the preceding discussion, the divine by nature does not admit increase toward the greater, for it sees no other good outside itself by sharing in which it might take on more, but is always the same, neither casting off what it has nor taking on what it has not; for it has nothing that could be cast off, and whatever is blessed and pure and true and good is entirely around it and in it), we necessarily see that the Spirit, good and holy, does not come to him by acquisition: the Spirit who is upright, governing, life-giving, who holds together and sanctifies the whole creation, who works all things in all as he wills. So we are to conceive no interval between Christ and the anointing, or between the king and the kingship, or between wisdom and the Spirit of wisdom, or between truth and the Spirit of truth, or between power and the Spirit of power. But as the Son, who is wisdom and truth and counsel and strength and knowledge and understanding, is contemplated in the Father from eternity, so from eternity the Holy Spirit too is contemplated with him, who is the Spirit of wisdom and truth and counsel and understanding, and all the other things that the Son is and is called.

For this reason we say that the mystery of godliness was handed down to the holy disciples as at once joined and distinct: that we must believe into the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. For the distinctive property of the hypostases makes the distinction of the persons clear and unconfused, while the one name placed at the head of the statement of the faith clearly interprets to us the unity of substance of the persons in the faith, I mean of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. For through these titles we are taught no difference of nature, but only the properties that make the hypostases known; so that we know that the Father is not the Son, nor the Son the Father, nor is either the Father or the Holy Spirit the Son, but recognize each in the distinctive character of his hypostasis, in boundless perfection, both contemplated by himself and not divided from that to which he is joined. What, then, does the unnamable name signify, of which the Lord spoke, saying,

“baptizing them into the name,” he did not add the very word of meaning that is indicated by “name”? Our understanding of it is this. All the things that exist in creation are comprehended through the meaning of names. For when someone says “heaven,” he leads the hearer’s mind to the creature indicated by the name; and whoever mentions a human being or one of the animals by name at once imprints the form of the animal on the one who has heard; and all other things likewise are painted, through the names applied to them, on the heart of the one who has received through hearing the designation applied to the thing. But the uncreated nature alone, which is believed in the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, is above every meaning a name can carry. For this reason the Word, in handing down the faith, said “name” but did not add what it is. For how could a name be found for a thing that is above every name? But he gave us authority, so that whatever name our mind, moving reverently, is able to find as indicative of the transcendent nature, it should apply this equally to the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, whether “the good” or “the incorruptible,” whatever each thinks fit to be used to point to the pure nature. And this too, it seems to me, the Word lays down through this statement: that we should be convinced that the divine substance is ineffable and incomprehensible. For it is plain that the title “Father” does not present the substance, but signifies the relation to the Son. So, if it had been possible for human nature to be taught the substance of God, he who wills all to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth would not have kept silent about the knowledge of it. But now, by saying nothing about the substance, he showed that knowledge of it is impossible; and when we learn what we can grasp, we have no need of what cannot be grasped, since in the faith of the teaching handed down we have what suffices for our salvation. For to learn that he is Him who truly Is, together with whom, through the relational sense, the majesty of the Son is also shown, is the most perfect teaching of godliness; the Son, as has been said, shows together with himself the Spirit of life and truth, since he himself is both life and truth.

These things being thus distinguished, anathematizing every heretical notion about the divine doctrines, we believe, as we were taught by the Lord’s voice, into the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, confessing together with this faith also the economy that the Master of creation carried out for human beings. Being in the form of God, he did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave; and having become flesh in the holy Virgin, he redeemed us from death, in which we were held, sold under sin, giving as the price of the redemption of our souls his precious blood, which he poured out through the cross; and through himself he made a way for us to the resurrection from the dead. For he will come at his own times in the glory of the Father to judge every soul in righteousness, when all who are in the tombs will hear his voice, and those who have done good will come out to the resurrection of life, and those who have done evil to the resurrection of judgment.

So that the heretical difference now being sown abroad by Eunomius may not fall unexamined on any of the simpler people and harm their pure faith, we shall of necessity set out the statement that they circulate and try to expose the wickedness of their doctrine. The wording of the doctrine runs thus: “We believe in the one and only true God, according to the teaching of the Lord himself, not honoring him with a false name (for he does not lie), but as truly being one God in nature and in glory, without beginning, eternally, without end, alone.”

Let him who professes to believe according to the Lord’s teaching not twist the statement of faith made by the Master of all toward his own opinion, but follow the utterances of the Truth. Since there the formula of faith contains the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, what agreement have the words now composed with the Master’s utterances, that such a doctrine should be referred to their teaching? Where, then, in the Gospels did the Lord say that one must believe in the one and only true God? They could not show it, unless they have some new Gospel; for the one that has been read in the churches in succession from of old until now does not contain this utterance saying that one must believe or baptize into the one and only true God, as these men say, but into the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

But as we were taught by the Master’s voice, this is what we say: that “one” does not signify the Father alone, but shows the Son together with the Father, since the Lord said, “I and the Father are one.” Likewise the name of Godhead too is applied equally both to the beginning in which the Word was and to the Word who was in the beginning; for he said, “And the Word was with God, and the Word was God,” so that in what Godhead signifies the Son too is contemplated equally with the Father. Besides this, “true” cannot be understood as anything other than the truth; and that the Lord is the truth no one at all will dispute, unless he is a stranger to the truth. If, then, the Word is in the One, and is God and truth, as is proclaimed in the Gospels, to what teaching of the Lord does he refer his doctrine who uses these distinguishing expressions? For “only” is contrasted with one who is not only, “God” with one who is not God, and “true” with one who is not true. If, then, they make this opposition of words looking to the idols, we too agree; for the name of Godhead is given to the idols of the nations by equivocation, “for all the gods of the nations are demons,” and in that case the word rightly sets the one over against the many, the true over against the false, and those who are not gods over against the God who is. But if the opposition is made against the only-begotten God, let these wise men learn that truth is contrasted only with falsehood, and God with one who is not God. But since the Lord, who is truth, is God, and is in the Father, and is one with the Father, these distinguishing expressions have no place in the doctrine. For whoever truly believes in the One sees in the One him who is united with him through all things, in truth and Godhead and substance and life and wisdom, and in everything whatever. Or, if he does not see in the One him who is these things, he has his faith in nothing; for without the Son the Father neither is nor is called Father, nor indeed is the powerful one without power, nor the wise without wisdom; for Christ is the power of God and the wisdom of God. So whoever imagines that he sees the One apart from power, or truth, or wisdom, or life, or the true light, either sees nothing or certainly sees evil; for the removal of the goods becomes the positing and existence of evil.

“Not honoring him with a false name,” he says, “for he does not lie.” I pray that Eunomius may abide by this statement, bearing witness to the truth that he does not lie. For if he thinks thus, that everything said by the Lord is free of falsehood, he will certainly be persuaded that he speaks truly who said, “I am in the Father and the Father is in me,” that is, whole in whole, the Father neither exceeding in the Son nor the Son falling short in the Father; and that “so the Son must be honored as the Father is honored”; and that “he who has seen me has seen the Father”; and that “no one has seen the Son except the Father”; and that “no one knows the Father except the Son.” Through all these, those who have received these words as true suspect no difference of glory, or of substance, or of anything else between Father and Son.

“Being truly,” he says, “one God in nature and in glory.” What truly is is contrasted with what does not truly be. Each existing thing truly is in so far as it is; but what seems to be only as far as some appearance and supposition, and is not, does not truly exist, like a dream, a phantom, or the man in a picture. For these and the like, existing only as far as appearance goes, do not truly exist. If, then, in line with the Jewish supposition, they argue that the only-begotten God does not exist at all, they rightly testify that the Father alone truly is. But if they do not deny that the maker of all exists, let them be persuaded not to deprive him who is of truly being, he who in the theophany given to Moses named himself “He who Is,” saying, “I am He who Is,” as Eunomius in his following words agrees, saying that it was he who appeared to Moses. Then he says “one God in nature and in glory.” Whether God exists apart from being God by nature, he who says this may know; but if one who is not God by nature is not God, let them learn from the great Paul that those who serve beings that by nature are not gods do not serve God. But we serve the living and true God, as the Apostle says; and he whom we serve is Jesus the Christ.

For the apostle Paul too boasts of serving him, saying, “Paul, a slave of Jesus Christ.” We, then, who no longer serve those that by nature are not gods, have come to know him who is God by nature, to whom every knee bends, of things in heaven and on earth and under the earth. And we would not have served him had we not believed that he is the living and true God, to whom every tongue confesses that Jesus is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

“One God,” he says, “without beginning, eternally, without end, alone.” Again, “understand cunning, you simple ones,” says Solomon, lest you be deceived and fall away into denial of the Godhead of the Only-begotten. Without end is what does not admit death and corruption; likewise what is not temporary is called eternal. Whatever, then, is neither eternal nor without end is certainly seen in the corruptible and perishable nature. So whoever ascribes being without end to the one and only God, but does not include the Son in the meaning of “without end” and “eternal,” by such a statement makes out the one he contrasts with the eternal and endless to be corruptible and temporary. But we, even if we hear that God alone has immortality, understand the Son by “immortality,” for immortality is the life. And if it is said that he dwells in unapproachable light, again we do not doubt that the true light, which falsehood cannot approach, means the Only-begotten, in whom we have learned from the Truth itself that the Father is. From these let the hearer choose the more reverent: whether one should hold this opinion about the Only-begotten, as befits God, or call him corruptible and temporary, as the heresy teaches.

“Not,” he says, “separated as to the substance by which he is one into several, nor becoming now one, now another, nor departing from being what he is, nor shaped out of one substance into a threefold hypostasis. For he is one altogether and once for all, remaining alone in the same respects and in the same way.” From these quoted words the intelligent hearer ought first to distinguish the empty words thrown into the statement without sense from those that seem to have some meaning; then, after this, to examine the sense found in the remainder of what was said, to see whether it agrees with godliness toward Christ. The first of the quoted words are wholly devoid of any sense, good or bad. For what sense has “not separated as to the substance by which he is one into several, nor becoming now one, now another, nor departing from being what he is”? I think neither he himself could say, nor could any of his allies find, a shadow of sense in what is said. “Not as to the substance by which he is one”: does he mean that he, being separated from his substance, is not separated, or that the substance is not parted from him? This meaningless statement is a noise, an empty sound put together at random. And why should one linger over the examination of these senseless words? For how can anyone separated from his own substance remain in being? Or how is someone’s substance, once parted, displayed by itself? Or how is it possible to go out from that in which one is and become another, having come to be outside oneself? “Nor,” he says, “shaped out of one substance into three hypostases. For he is one altogether and once for all, remaining alone in the same respects and in the same way.” That what is said is senseless is plain to everyone, I think, even before our words; but let whoever thinks there is some mind or sense in the words dispute them. For whoever has made a study of judging the force of a statement will disdain to grapple with things that have no substance. For what force has it against our doctrine to say, “Not separated as to the substance by which he is one, or parted into several, or becoming now one, now another, or departing from being what he is, nor shaped out of one substance into three hypostases”? These things are neither said by Christians, nor believed, nor understood as following from what we confess. For who ever said this, or heard anyone say in the church of God, that the Father is separated or parted as to substance, or becomes now one, now another, coming to be outside himself, or is shaped into three hypostases? Eunomius says these things to himself, not fighting against us but stringing together his own nonsense, mixing much folly into the impiety of what he says. For we say that it is equally impious and godless both to call the Master of creation created, and to think that the Father, as he is, is separated or cut, or goes out of himself, or is shaped into three hypostases, like some clay or wax molded into different forms. But let us examine the words that follow: “For he is one altogether and once for all, remaining alone in the same respects and in the same way.”

If he says this of the Father, we too agree. For the Father is truly one, alone, and altogether once for all the same in the same respects and in the same way; and there is no time when he either was not or will not be what he is. If, then, such an expression looks to the Father, let him not fight against the doctrine of godliness, since in this part he agrees with the church. For whoever confesses that the Father is always the same, being one and only, strengthens the word of godliness, seeing in the Father the Son, without whom the Father neither is nor is called Father. But if he fashions some other God besides the Father, let him argue with the Jews or with the so-called Hypsistarians, whose difference from Christians is this: they confess that there is a God, whom they call the Most High or the Almighty, but do not accept that he is Father. But a Christian, unless he believes in the Father, is not a Christian.

What he adds next is this: “Not having,” he says, “a partner in the Godhead, nor a sharer in the glory, nor a co-heir of the authority, nor one enthroned with him in the kingdom. For the almighty God is one and alone, God of gods, King of those who reign, Lord of those who rule.” Since no strange and alien nature is admitted, I do not know whom Eunomius has in view when he protests that the Father shares the Godhead with no one. For if he says such things with reference to the vain idols and the deluded supposition of idolaters, as Paul too cries out that there is no agreement of Christ with Beliar, nor fellowship of the temple of God with idols, we too agree. But if by what he says he cuts off the only-begotten God from the Father’s Godhead, let him learn that he is building against himself a dilemma that convicts him of impiety. For either he denies altogether that the Only-begotten of God is God, so as to keep the Father’s Godhead unshared with the Son, and by this he is convicted as a transgressor, having denied the God of the Christians; or, if he grants that the Son too is God, though not agreeing in nature with the true God, he must necessarily profess and confess gods split apart from one another by the difference of their natures. Let him choose which of these he wishes: either to deny the Godhead of the Son, or to bring gods into the doctrine; for whichever of them he chooses is equal in impiety. For we, initiated by the inspired words of Scripture, see in Father and Son not a sharing of Godhead but a unity, as the Master taught by his own words, in which he says, “I and the Father are one,” and “He who has seen me has seen the Father.” For if he were not of the same nature, how could he either have had in himself what is alien, or how could he have shown in himself what is unlike, the character of what is of another kind?

He says that he has no sharer in the glory. This he says as it is, even if he does not know what he says. For the Son does not share out the glory with the Father, but has the whole glory of the Father, as the Father too has all the glory of the Son. For thus he said to the Father, “All mine are yours, and yours are mine.” Therefore he also says that at the time of judgment he will appear in the glory of the Father, when he is to repay each according to his works; and by this word he shows the unity of the nature. For as there is one glory of the sun and another glory of the moon, because the nature of these elements does not agree with each other (so that if there were the same glory in both, no difference in their nature would have been supposed), so he who foretold that he would appear in the glory of the Father showed, by the identity of glory, the sharing of nature.

To say that the Son is not enthroned with the Father in the kingdom bears witness to Eunomius’s great study of the divine oracles! From his excessive attention to the inspired Scriptures he has never yet heard, “Set your minds on the things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of the Father,” and that he has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God, and many other such things whose number one could not easily count; not yet having learned them, Eunomius forbids that the Son be enthroned with the Father. As for “co-heir of the authority,” one should pass it by as senseless rather than refute it as impious. For what sense the word “co-heir” has cannot be found from the common use of language. They cast a lot for the Lord’s clothing, as Scripture says, not wishing to tear the Master’s tunic but to make it the property of one of them, whomever the lot favored.

Those, then, who cast lots with one another for the tunic may perhaps be called co-heirs. But here, in the case of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, the authority lies in the nature. For the Holy Spirit blows where he wills and works all things in all as he wills; and the Son, through whom all things came to be, visible and invisible, in the heavens and on the earth, has done all that he willed and gives life to whom he wills; and the Father has set the times by his own authority, and from “the times” we understand that all things that have come to be in time are under the Father’s authority. If, then, it has been shown, as we said, that the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit have authority to do what they will, what sense has the expression “co-heir of the authority”? It cannot be seen. For the heir of all things, the maker of the ages, who shines out with the glory of the Father and expresses in himself the hypostasis of the Father, is all that the Father himself has, and is Lord of all authority; the dignity does not pass from the Father to the Son, but both remains with the one and is in the other. For he who is in the Father is clearly in the Father with all his own power, and he who has the Father in himself contains all the Father’s authority and power. For he has the whole Father in himself, and not a part of him; and he who has the whole certainly has his authority too. What, then, does Eunomius have in mind when he declares that the Father has no co-heir of his authority? His disciples in folly might perhaps say; for whoever knows how to understand words confesses that he cannot make sense of what is said without sense. “The Father,” he says, “has no co-heir of the authority.” Who is it that says the Father and the Son contend with each other, casting lots for the authority as co-heirs? Between them the holy Eunomius mediates by a friendly settlement and, without any lot, assigns the precedence in authority to the Father alone! See how ridiculous and childish this groveling statement of doctrines is. Does he who bears all things by the word of his power, who speaks what he wills to come to be and makes what he wills by the power of his command, whose power runs together with his will and whose will becomes the measure of his power (“for he spoke,” it says, “and they came to be; he commanded, and they were created”), who made all things through himself and holds them together in himself, without whom nothing that exists either came to be or remains in being, does he wait to obtain his authority from some casting of lots? Judge, you who hear, whether the one who says these things is in his right mind.

“For the almighty God,” he says, “is one and alone.” If, then, by the title “Almighty” he points to the Father, he states our doctrine and not a foreign one; but if he means some other almighty besides the Father, let him, the champion of Jewish doctrines, proclaim circumcision too, if he pleases. For the faith of Christians looks to the Father. And the Father is everything: Most High, Almighty, King of those who reign, Lord of those who rule; and all that belongs to exalted meaning is proper to the Father. But all that is the Father’s is the Son’s. So, this being so, we accept those titles too. But if, setting the Father aside, he speaks of another almighty, he says what the Jews say, or else follows the words of Plato. For they say that that philosopher too says there is a creator and maker high above certain lower gods. As, then, in Jewish and Platonic doctrines one who does not accept the Father is not a Christian, even if he holds to some almighty in his doctrine, so Eunomius too bears the name falsely, judaizing in his thinking, or holding the doctrines of the Greeks while slipping on the name of Christians.

The same argument will apply to what is set out next. For he says, “God of gods.” Adding the name of the Father, we make the expression our own, knowing that the Father is God of gods. And all that is the Father’s is certainly the Son’s. And “Lord of those who rule”: the same argument applies to this. And “Most High over all the earth”: for whichever of them you take in thought, he is most high over all the earth, since oversight of earthly things from above comes equally from the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. And also what is placed next: “Most high in the heavens, most high in the highest, heavenly, true in being what he is and remaining so, true in words, true in works.” All these the eye of Christians sees equally in Father and Son and Holy Spirit.

If, then, Eunomius assigns these to only one of the persons handed down in the faith, let him dare to say that he is not true in words who said, “I am the truth,” or that the Spirit of truth is not; or let him refuse to agree that he is true in works who executes judgment and righteousness, or the Spirit who works all things in all as he wills. For if he does not attest these to the persons handed down in the faith, he cancels the faith of Christians altogether. For how will anyone think worthy of faith one who is false in his words and not true in his works?

But let us go on to what follows in the statement. For he says, “Higher than all rule, subjection, authority.” This statement is ours and proper to the catholic Church: to believe that the divine nature is higher than every rule and has under its hand everything conceived among existing things. And the divine nature is the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. But if he attests this power to the Father alone, and if he declares him alone free of turning and change, and if he calls him alone pure, what is built up from these is plain: that whoever does not have these things is certainly subject to turning and corruptible and changeable and perishable. This, then, is what Eunomius lays down as doctrine about the only-begotten God and the Holy Spirit; for he would not have used the contrast, setting the Father over against them, unless he had this thought about the Son and the Spirit. For the rest, brothers, test whether one who thinks thus is not a persecutor of the faith of Christians. For who will consent to judge what turns and changes and perishes worthy of his worship? So the whole aim of one who builds up such notions is to cast faith in the Son and the Holy Spirit out of the Church; by these notions he makes out that neither the truth itself nor the Spirit of truth is pure, or unchanging, or unalterable.

Let us see also what sort of thing he adds to what has been said. “Not,” he says, “dividing his own substance in begetting, and himself begetting and begotten, or himself becoming Father and Son; for he is incorruptible.” Such perhaps is what the prophet says of the ungodly, that they weave a spider’s web. For as with that there is the shape of a woven thing but no substance in the shape (whoever touches it touches nothing that subsists, since the spider’s threads perish at the touch of the fingers), such too is this unsubstantial weaving of empty expressions. “Not,” he says, “dividing his own substance in begetting, and himself begetting and begotten.” Should one call what is said a statement, or rather a mass of phlegm coughed up from some dropsical overflow? For what is “dividing one’s own substance in begetting” and “being the same”? Who is so out of his mind as to make this statement, against which Eunomius thinks he is fighting? For the Church believes that the true Father is truly Father of his own Son, as the Apostle says, not of another’s. For so he declared in one of his letters: “who did not spare his own Son,” by the addition of “own” distinguishing those who have been granted adoption by grace and not by nature. But what does he say who slanders this view of ours? “Not dividing his substance in begetting, nor himself begetting and begotten, or the same becoming Father and Son; for he is incorruptible.” Who, hearing of the Word who was in the beginning, and that the Word was God, and of the Word who came forth from the Father, thinks thus of one begetting and begotten? Who is so deranged? Who so defiles the pure doctrine with these shameful and stinking notions, saying, “He does not divide his substance in begetting”? Oh, the loathsomeness of these shameful and filthy notions! How does one who says such things not understand that God, when he was manifested through flesh, did not admit the passion of human nature for the formation of his own body, but a child was born to us from the Holy Spirit and the power of the Most High; and neither did the Virgin suffer, nor was the Spirit diminished, nor was the power of the Most High divided off? For the Spirit is whole, and the power of the Most High remained undiminished; and the child was born whole and did not spoil his mother’s incorruption. So flesh was born from flesh without passion; yet Eunomius will not have the radiance of the glory be from the glory itself, since glory, in begetting the light, is neither diminished nor divided! And a human word is born from the mind without division, but God the Word cannot be born from the Father unless the Father’s substance is divided!

Is anyone, then, so foolish as not to see the irrationality of the doctrine? “Not dividing,” he says, “his own substance in begetting.” Whose own substance is divided in begetting? For substance in the case of human beings is human nature; in the case of irrational animals it is, generically, the irrational nature, and specifically, in cattle and sheep and all the irrational animals, it is considered according to the differences of their properties. Which of these, then, divides its own substance through giving birth? Does not the nature in each of the animals always remain intact through the succession of those that come after? Then a human being, bearing a human being from himself, does not divide the nature; it is whole both in the begetter and in the begotten, not split off from the one and transferred to the other, nor maimed in the one when it becomes complete in the other, but being entire in the one and found entire in the other. For before begetting the one from him, the man was a rational animal, mortal, capable of mind and knowledge; and when he begot such a man, so that all the properties of the nature were shown in him, he did not lose being a man by begetting a man from himself, but what he was before he remained after, having lessened nothing of the nature from him by the coming to be of the man from him. A man, then, is born from a man, and the nature of the begetter is not divided; but Eunomius does not accept that the only-begotten God, who is in the bosom of the Father, is truly from the Father, fearing that he might mutilate the pure nature of the Father through the hypostasis of the Only-begotten. But after saying “not dividing his substance in begetting,” he added, “or himself begetting and begotten, or himself becoming Father and Son,” and thinks by these disjointed words to weaken the true word of godliness or to supply some strength to impiety, not knowing that by the very means with which he means to build up an absurdity he is found an advocate of the truth. For we too say that he who has all that is his own Father’s is that whole, except being Father; and he who has all that is the Son’s shows the whole Son in himself, except becoming Son. So the absurdity that Eunomius now builds up becomes an ally of the truth, once the thought has been distinguished more clearly by us, following the guidance of the Gospel word. For if he who has seen the Son sees the Father, the Father begot another himself, neither going out of himself and yet appearing whole in him. So, through these things, what seems to have been said against godliness has been shown to be an ally of sound doctrine.

“But neither,” he says, “dividing his own substance in begetting, and himself begetting and begotten, or himself becoming Father and Son. For he is incorruptible.” What a compelling conclusion! What are you saying, most wise one? Because he is incorruptible he does not divide his own substance in begetting the Son, nor beget himself and be begotten by himself, nor become at once his own Father and Son, since he is incorruptible! So, if anyone is of corruptible nature, he cuts his substance in begetting, and is begotten by himself, and begets himself, and becomes father and son of himself, because he is not incorruptible. But if this is so, Abraham, because he was corruptible, did not beget Ishmael and Isaac, but begot himself through the slave girl and the lawful wife; or, by the argument’s other piece of trickery, he divided his own substance among those begotten. First, at the birth through Hagar, he is divided into two pieces, and in one of the halves becomes Ishmael, while in the other half Abraham remains. After this, what was left of Abraham’s substance was divided into Isaac’s twin offspring, so that an eighth came to be in each of the grandchildren. How could one chop it up into parts among the twelve patriarchs, thinning out the eighth, or among the seventy-five souls with whom Jacob went down into Egypt? And why do I say this, when one ought to refute the folly of these words from the first man? For if it belongs only to the incorruptible not to divide its nature in begetting, and Adam, to whom it was said, “Earth you are, and to earth you will go,” was corruptible, then according to Eunomius’s argument he certainly divided his own substance, being cut up among those born from him. And since by the multitude of descendants the piece of substance found in each was necessarily divided by the number of those born, Adam’s substance was spent before Abraham’s hypostasis came to be, used up beforehand among the countless myriads from him, scattered through those thin and indivisible particles; and no remnant of substance would any longer be found to have passed from Adam to Abraham and those from him, through the fineness of the pieces into which the nature was cut among the myriads who came before him.

See the folly of one who does not know what he says, nor about what he makes confident assertions. For in saying that, since he is incorruptible, he neither divides his substance, nor begets himself, nor becomes his own Father, he has granted, by consequence, that in everything subject to corruption there happen in begetting all those things which he insisted do not belong to the incorruptible alone. But though there are many other things able to show the emptiness of what he says, I think what has been said suffices to prove his folly. This, at any rate, is entirely agreed among those who know how to look to the consequence: that by attesting incorruptibility to the Father alone, he makes everything conceived after the Father corruptible by its contrast with the incorruptible, so as not to show even the Son free of corruption. If, then, he sets the Son over against the incorruptible, he not only defines him as corruptible, but also builds up about him all the other things which he says do not belong to the incorruptible alone. For necessarily, if the Father alone neither begets himself nor is begotten by himself, everything that is not incorruptible both begets itself and is begotten by itself and becomes father and son of itself, its substance being shifted to each of the two. For if being incorruptible belongs to the Father alone, and it is proper to the incorruptible not to be these things, then according to the argument of the heresy the Son is certainly not incorruptible, and all these things are certainly true of him: dividing the substance, bearing himself and being begotten by himself, becoming father and son of himself.

But perhaps it is vain to linger longer over senseless things; let us pass on to what follows in the statement. For he adds to these: “Not needing, in making, matter or parts or natural instruments; for he is in need of nothing.” This thought, even though Eunomius sets it out rather feebly in its wording, we nevertheless do not reject as foreign to godliness. For having learned that “he spoke and they came to be, he commanded and they were created,” we know that the Word is the maker of matter, at once bringing about the qualities together with the matter, so that for him the impulse of his all-powerful will is everything and stands in place of everything: matter, instrument, place, time, substance, quality, whatever is conceived in creation. For at the same moment he willed what ought to come to be, and the power that works out existing things ran together with the thought, making the will a deed. For so the great Moses teaches about the divine power in the account of the world’s coming to be, ascribing the making of each of the things that appear in creation to words of command. “For God said,” he says, “Let there be light, and there was light”; and about the others likewise; he mentioned neither matter nor the service of instruments. So in this part Eunomius’s statement is not to be rejected. For God, in creating whatever had its coming to be by creation, needed neither any underlying matter nor instruments for its construction; for the power and wisdom of God needs no help from another. And Christ is the power of God and the wisdom, through whom all things came to be and without whom nothing that exists is, as John testifies. If, then, all things, visible and invisible, came to be through him, and the will alone suffices for the existence of things (for the will is power), Eunomius has stated our doctrine, in feeble wording. For he who bears all things by the word of his power, what instrument and what kind of matter would he need in bearing the existence of things by his all-powerful word?

But if what we have believed about the Only-begotten with respect to creation he builds up with respect to the Son, as though the Father had created him in the same way as creation came to be from the Son, we take up again now the argument stated earlier: that such a view is a denial of the Godhead of the Only-begotten. For we have learned from the great voice of Paul that it is the mark of idolaters to revere and serve the creature rather than the Creator; and David says, “There shall be no new god in you, nor shall you worship a foreign god.” This rule and measure we use for recognizing what is to be worshiped, so as to be convinced that that is truly God which is neither new nor foreign. Since, then, we were taught to believe that the only-begotten God is God, by believing that he is God we also confess that he is neither new nor foreign. If, then, he is God, he is not new; and what is not new is certainly eternal. So the eternal is neither new nor foreign to the true Godhead, since he is from the Father, and in the bosom of the Father, and has the Father in himself. Therefore whoever splits the Son off from the Father’s nature either sets worship of him aside altogether, so as not to worship a foreign god, or reveres an idol, setting up a creature and not God as the object of his worship and giving the idol the name of Christ.

That this is the thought he has in view in his notion of the Only-begotten will become clearer from what he sets out about the Only-begotten himself, which runs as follows: “We believe also in the Son of God, the only-begotten God, the firstborn of all creation, true Son, not unbegotten, truly begotten before the ages, not named Son without a begetting before he existed, come into being before all creation, not uncreated.” I think the mere reading of what has been set out suffices, even without our examination, to reveal the impiety of the doctrine. For having called him firstborn, so as to leave the hearers no doubt that he is created, he immediately added “not uncreated,” so that the meaning of “Son” might never be understood as it naturally is and some reverent thought about him arise in the hearers. For this reason, having first confessed him Son of God and only-begotten God, he immediately, by what he adds, turns the judgment of the hearers away from the reverent view to the heretical sense. For whoever hears “Son of God” and “only-begotten God” is necessarily led up to the loftier implications, guided by the meaning of these words, since no difference of nature is brought in by the word “God” or by the meaning of “Son.” For how could he who is truly Son of God, and himself God, be thought of as anything other than the Father’s nature? But so that the thoughts of godliness might not first be imprinted on the hearers’ hearts through these names, he immediately calls him firstborn of creation, “not named Son without a begetting before he existed, coming into being before all creation, not uncreated.”

So that it may be plain, then, that the evildoer holds out his first words to people as bait, so that the poison may be accepted, sweetened as with honey by the more reverent names, let us dwell a little on the statement. Who does not know how great the difference in meaning is between “only-begotten” and “firstborn”? For neither is the only-begotten conceived of with brothers, nor the firstborn without brothers. The firstborn is not only-begotten, for he is certainly the firstborn of brothers; and the only-begotten has no brother, for he would not be only-begotten if counted among brothers. Further, of whatever substance the brothers of the firstborn are, the firstborn will certainly be of the same. And this word signifies not only this, but also that both the firstborn himself and those who come after him have their being from the same source, the firstborn contributing nothing to the begetting of those after him. So by these things the word of John, which testifies that all things came to be through him, is made out to be false. For if he is firstborn, he certainly differs from those who came to be after him only by seniority in time, there being another through whom both he and the rest received the power to be.

But so that we may give no slanderer ground to suspect that we do not accept the inspired words against which we argue, we shall first set out the understanding we have of these names, and then leave the judgment of the better to the hearers. The great Paul, knowing that the only-begotten God, who has the first place in all things, is the author and cause of every good, bears witness to him not only that the creation of existing things came to be through him, but that when the ancient creation of human beings had grown old and vanished, as he himself calls it, and another, new creation had come to be in Christ, no other led the way in this either; of all the creation of human beings that came about through the Gospel he himself is the firstborn. And so that the thought about this may become clearer, we shall treat the matter thus. The divine Apostle mentions this word four times: once saying, “firstborn of all creation”; again, “firstborn among many brothers”; a third time, “firstborn from the dead”; and after these he sets the word down by itself and without a pairing, saying, “And when he again brings the firstborn into the world, he says, ‘And let all the angels of God worship him.’” Whatever sense, then, we perceive in the other pairings of this name, we shall consistently apply the same to the firstborn of creation as well; for since the word is one and the same, the meaning signified must necessarily be one as well. How, then, does he become firstborn among many brothers, and how firstborn of the dead? Is not this entirely plain? Because we had become blood and flesh, as Scripture says, he who for our sake became as we are and shared flesh and blood, intending to transform us from the corruptible to the incorruptible through the birth from above, through water and Spirit, himself led the way in such a birth, drawing the Holy Spirit upon the water by his own baptism, so that he became firstborn of all who are spiritually reborn and called brothers those who have shared in a birth like his through water and the Spirit.

And since he also had to deposit in our nature the power of the resurrection from the dead, again he becomes the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep and the firstborn from the dead, the first to loose by himself the pangs of death, so that for us too the rebirth from death might be made a road, the pang of death in which we were held having been loosed through the Lord’s resurrection. As, then, by sharing in the rebirth through the washing he becomes firstborn of brothers, and again, by making himself the first fruits of the resurrection, he is called firstborn from the dead, so, having the first place in all things, after all the old things have passed away, as the Apostle says, he becomes firstborn of the new creation of human beings in Christ through the twofold rebirth, that of holy baptism and that of the resurrection from the dead, becoming for us in both the author of life, the first fruits and the firstborn. This firstborn, then, also has brothers, of whom he says to Mary, “I am going to my Father and your Father, and my God and your God.” For by these words he sums up the whole aim of the economy for humanity. For human beings, having revolted from God, served those that by nature are not gods, and, though they were children of God, attached themselves to the evil and falsely named father. For this reason the mediator of God and human beings, having taken up the first fruits of all human nature, sends his brothers the message not as in the divine person but as in ours, saying: “I am going, to make through myself the true Father, from whom you were separated, your Father, and to make through myself the true God, from whom you revolted, your God; for through the first fruits that I have taken up I bring all humanity in myself to the God and Father.” Since, then, the first fruits made Him who is God its God, and the good Father its Father, the good is accomplished for the whole nature, and through the first fruits he becomes the Father and God of all human beings. “And if the first fruits is holy,” he says, “so is the lump.” And where the first fruits is, Christ (and Christ is the first fruits), there also are those who belong to Christ, as the Apostle says. In the places, then, where he has mentioned the firstborn in a pairing, mentioning the dead and creation and brothers, he suggests that we understand these things and the like. But where he says without such an addition, “And when he again brings the firstborn into the world,” the addition of “again” foretells the appearance of the Master of all that will take place at the end. For as at the name of Jesus every knee bends, of things in heaven, on earth, and under the earth, although the Son does not have the human name, being above every name, so he says that the firstborn, so named for our sake, is worshiped by all the creation above the world when he enters the world again, when he judges the world in righteousness and peoples in uprightness.

Thus the meaning of “firstborn” and that of “only-begotten” are distinguished by the word of godliness, each of the names keeping its appropriate sense. But he who carries the name “firstborn” back to the existence before the ages, how does he preserve the notion of “only-begotten”? Let the intelligent hearer consider whether these agree with each other, since the firstborn is not conceived of without brothers, nor the only-begotten with brothers. For when he says, “In the beginning was the Word,” by this we understood the Only-begotten; and when he adds, “The Word became flesh,” by this we received the Firstborn in thought. And so the word of godliness remains unconfused, keeping for each of the names its proper meaning, so that in “only-begotten” we see what is before the ages, and through “firstborn of creation” the manifestation through flesh of him who is before the ages.

Let us take up Eunomius’s statement again, word for word: “We believe also in the Son of God, the only-begotten God, the firstborn of all creation, true Son, not unbegotten, truly begotten before the ages.” That he shifts the implication of begetting to the meaning of creation is plain from his expressly calling him created, saying that he came into being and is not uncreated. But so that his heedlessness and lack of education in doctrines may be shown most clearly, we will leave off complaining of the obviousness of the blasphemy and treat the matter by a methodical division. For it seems to me right to examine with more careful scrutiny the very meaning of begetting. That this name presents being from some cause is plain to everyone, and I think there is no need to contend about it. But since the account of things that exist from a cause differs, I think it fitting to clarify this by a methodical division. Of things that have come to be from some cause, then, we have grasped these differences. Some are from matter and art, like the construction of buildings and other works, which come about through the matter suited to each, with some art leading the way and bringing what was proposed to its own aim; others are from matter and nature.

For nature builds up the births of animals from one another, working its own work through the material substance in bodies. Others are from material efflux, where what goes before remains as it is and what flows from it is seen by itself, as with the sun and its ray, or the lamp and its brightness, or with spices and perfumes and the quality given off from them. For these, while remaining undiminished in themselves, at once have accompanying them, each, the natural property given off from them: the sun its ray, the lamp its brightness, the spices the fragrance they produce in the air. There is also another kind of begetting besides these, whose cause is immaterial and incorporeal, while the begetting is perceptible and through bodies: I mean the word born from the mind. For the mind, being incorporeal in itself, brings forth the word through the organs of sense. So many are the differences of begetting that we have observed, in a kind of survey of begetting.

These ways of begetting being thus distinguished by us, it would be time to see how the loving economy of the Holy Spirit, in handing down the divine mysteries, gives the teaching that is beyond reason through things we can grasp. For all the kinds of begetting that human understanding knows the inspired teaching takes up for presenting the ineffable power, without admitting along with them the bodily implications of the names. When it speaks of the constructive power, it names such activity begetting, because the word must come down to the lowliness of our capacity; yet it does not also indicate all that is seen together with constructive begetting among us (not place, not time, not preparation of matter, not the help of instruments, not the aim in what comes to be), but, leaving these to us, it attests to God the coming to be of existing things grandly and loftily, where it says, “He spoke and they came to be, he commanded and they were created.” Again, when it interprets the ineffable existence of the Only-begotten from the Father, which is beyond reason, because human poverty cannot contain teachings beyond reason and thought, there too it uses our terms and names him Son, the name our usage gives to those born of matter and nature. But just as the word, speaking of begetting by creation in the case of God, although among us it comes about through some matter, did not add the substance of matter and place and time and all such things, declaring that the power of God’s will is these, so here too, in saying “Son,” it let go all the other things that human nature sees in begetting here below (I mean passions and dispositions, and the cooperation of time, and the need of place, and above all matter), without all of which begetting below from nature does not take place. And since all such material and extended substance is left out of the meaning of “Son,” the nature alone remains. For this reason the word “Son” expresses, in the case of the Only-begotten, the intimacy and genuineness of his manifestation from the Father. And since such a kind of begetting was not enough to give us an adequate image of the ineffable existence of the Only-begotten, it also includes the other kind of begetting, that from material efflux, to signify the theology of the Son, and says “radiance of glory,” and “fragrance of ointment,” and “vapor of God,” which in the classification we have set out our usage calls material efflux. But as in what was said before neither the begetting of creation nor the meaning of “Son” admitted time or matter or place or passion, so here too the word, setting aside every material notion from the meaning of “radiance” and of the other things mentioned, takes only what befits God in such a kind of begetting and shows by the implication of this expression that he must be thought of as from him and with him at once. For neither does “vapor” present the spreading into the air from an underlying matter, nor “fragrance” the passing into the air from the quality of the ointment, nor “radiance” the efflux from the body of the sun through the rays; but this alone of all, as has been said, is shown through such a mode of begetting: that he is from him and is thought of with him, with no interval between the Father and him who is from him.

Since, out of greater loving-kindness, the grace of the Holy Spirit arranged that divine notions about the Only-begotten should come to be in us from many sides, it added the remaining kind of those seen in begetting, that from the mind and the word. But here the lofty John uses greater forethought, so that the hearer may not, through weakness and smallness of soul, sink to the common notion of word, so that the Son should be thought a sound uttered by the Father. For this reason he testifies that the Word exists substantially in the first and blessed nature itself, proclaiming the message thus: “In the beginning was the Word, and with God, and God,” light and life; and all that the Beginning is, he too was.

These, then, are the ways of begetting, that is, of things that exist from a cause, known in our usage and also taken up by Holy Scripture for teaching about transcendent things, so that each of them is reverently transferred, as is fitting, to presenting divine notions. It would be time to consider also in what meaning Eunomius’s statement takes the implication of begetting. “True Son,” he says, “not unbegotten, and truly begotten before the ages.” The maliciously tampered sequence in the contrast it is fitting, I think, to pass over, since it is known to everyone. For who does not know that, while the contrast is of Son with Father and of begotten with unbegotten, this man passes over the Father and sets the unbegotten in contrast with the Son? He ought, if he cared for truth, not to have turned the statement away from the relational sequence, but to have said “true Son, not Father.” In this way godliness too would have been preserved along with the sequence of the statement, the nature not being split along with the distinction of the persons. But he replaced the true and scriptural use of “Father,” handed down by the Word himself in the formula of faith, and named him “unbegotten” instead of Father, so that, separating him from the natural intimacy with the Son that is seen in the title of Father, he might make him common to all the things that appear in creation, which are equally contrasted with the unbegotten. “Truly begotten,” he says, “before the ages.” By whom, let him say. He will certainly say, “by the Father,” unless he is shameless toward the truth. But since the Son’s eternity cannot be separated from the eternal Father, the meaning of “Father” certainly showing the Son as well, for this reason he rejects the title of Father and shifts the statement to “unbegotten,” since the meaning of this name has no relation to the Son and nothing in common with him. And so, leading the hearers astray so that they do not contemplate the Son together with the Father, by the exchange of the name he opened a road for malice, paving the way for impiety by inserting “unbegotten.” For those who, according to the Master’s command, have their faith in the Father, as soon as they hear “Father,” have received the Son together with him in thought, the mind not stepping across any empty interval from the Son to the Father. But those who have been carried off to the title “unbegotten” instead of Father take up the bare notion of this name, learning only that he did not come to be, not that he is Father.

Even so, for those who understand intelligently, the faith remains unconfused even with this sense. For “not having come to be” is said equally of the uncreated nature, and the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit are equally uncreated, since the whole creation, perceptible and above the world, is believed by those who follow the divine words to have its existence from the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. For whoever has heard that “by the Word of the Lord the heavens were established, and by the Spirit of his mouth all their power” has not taken the Word to be a spoken word nor the Spirit a breath, but has formed through these words an image of God the Word and of the Spirit of God. And the same thing cannot both create and be created; but, existing things being divided in two, into what makes and what comes to be, each is by nature other than the other, so that neither is what comes to be uncreated, nor is that created which works out the nature of the things that come to be. For those, then, who have believed, according to the Master’s statement of the faith, into the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, it is equally confessed that none of these came to be, and the meaning of “unbegotten” in no way harms the sound faith. But for the thick-skinned and undiscerning this name becomes the start of a turning away from the sound doctrine. For not understanding the true implication of the name, that the word “unbegotten” signifies only not having come to be, and that not having come to be is common to everything that is above creation, they set aside faith in the Father and put the name “unbegotten” in the Father’s place; and since, as has been said, the hypostasis of the Only-begotten is not shown together with this name, they set a limit to the Son’s being from some fixed beginning, saying what this man has now added to what was said: “not named Son without a begetting before he existed.” What is this empty marvel-mongering again? Does he know that he is speaking about God, who was in the beginning and is in the Father, and there is no time when he was not? He does not know what he says.

nor about what he makes his assertions, but, as though tracing the genealogy of some human being, he tries to apply to the Master of all nature what is properly said of nature here below. For Ishmael, say, was not before his begetting into being, and before their begetting there is certainly, I mean, an interval of time. But in the case of the radiance of the glory, “before” and “after” have no place. For before the radiance there was certainly no glory either; for as soon as the glory exists, the radiance certainly shines out with it, and it is not in the nature of things that the one be separated from the other. Nor is it possible to see the glory by itself before the radiance; for whoever says this makes out the glory by itself to be lightless and blind, if the radiance from it does not shine out with it. This is the malice of the heresy: to remove the only-begotten God from his unity with the Father by means of what is thought and said of human beings. That is why he says, “Before his begetting into being he was not Son.” But the sons of rams, whom the Prophet mentions, are not they too called sons after they have come to be? What the word sees in the sons of rams, then, that before their begetting into being they were not sons of rams, this the reverend theologian now ascribes to the maker of the ages and of all creation, who has the eternal Father in himself and is contemplated in the eternity of the Father, as he himself says, “I am in the Father and the Father in me.” But those who cannot see through the malice in the statement, and have not been trained in any understanding of logical consequence, follow these disjointed phrases, taking what is put before them as consistent. For he says “come into being before all creation”; and as though this word did not suffice to show his impiety, he keeps the blasphemy in reserve for the next words, saying “not uncreated.” How, then, does he call one who is not uncreated a true Son? For if it is fitting to call what is created a true son, the heaven too is certainly a true son, for it too is not uncreated; so too the sun is a true son, and everything that creation contains, small and great, is certainly worthy of the title of true Son. And how does he call one who came to be only-begotten? For all things that have come to be are certainly brothers of one another, I mean in respect of the very principle of coming to be. And by whom did he come to be? For all things, whatever has come to be, certainly came to be by the Son. For so John testifies, saying, “All things came to be through him.” If, then, according to Eunomius’s statement the Son too came to be, he too is certainly in the nature of the things that have come to be. If, then, all the things that came to be came to be through him, and the Word is one of the things that came to be, who is so senseless as not to see the absurdity of what has been laid down: that this new dogmatist declares the Master of creation to have come to be as his own work, by saying outright that the Lord, the maker of all creation, is not uncreated? Let him say where he gets this boldness. From what inspired utterance? What evangelist, what apostle let fall such a word? What prophet or lawgiver or patriarch, or anyone else of those borne along by the Holy Spirit, whose utterances are written down, led the way in such a saying? Did we learn from the Truth, in the handing down of the faith, Father and Son and Holy Spirit, or that we ought to believe him to be created? How did the Truth, handing the mystery down to us, lay down faith in the Son and not in the creature? And how does the divine Apostle, who worshiped Christ, rule that those who serve the creature rather than the Creator are idolaters? For either he would not have worshiped him if he were created, or he would not have ranked with idolaters those who serve the creature, lest he too seem to be an idolater by offering worship to what is created. But he knows that the one he worships is God over all; for so he names the Son in his letter to the Romans. Those, then, who cut the Son off from the Father’s substance and call him created, why do they mockingly grant him the falsely named title, vainly attaching the word “God” to one foreign to the true Godhead, as to Bel, or Dagon, or the dragon? So let those who define him as created either not confess him God, so that they may be shown to be judaizing, or, if they confess that the created one is God, let them not deny that they are idolaters.

But they will certainly bring forward the saying of Proverbs, which says, “The Lord created me as the beginning of his ways, for his works.” How this stands could be set out more clearly at length, but it would also be possible to convey the meaning in a few words to the fair-minded. For some of those accurately educated in divine things say this too, that “created” is not written among the Hebrews; and we have read in older books “acquired” written instead of “created me.”

And “acquisition,” through the proverbs and riddles, certainly points to the slave, who for our sake took up the form of a slave. But if anyone puts forward the reading that prevails in the churches in this passage, we do not reject the word “created” either. For this too, through the riddle, looks to the meaning of slave, since “all creation serves,” as the Apostle says. For this reason we say that this word too has a reverent sense. For he who for our sake became as we are was truly created in the last of the days, he who in the beginning was Word and God, and afterwards became flesh and man. And the nature of the flesh is created; he shared in it in all things according to likeness, without sin. And he was created according to God, not according to man, as the Apostle says, in a new way and not according to human custom. For we have learned that it was from the Holy Spirit and the power of the Most High; yet this new man was created, whom Paul, the guide into ineffable mysteries, bids us put on, naming the garment in two ways: now saying, “Put on the new man, created according to God,” and again, “Put on the Lord Jesus Christ.” For so, for us who have put him on, he who said “I am the way” becomes the beginning of the ways of salvation, so that he may make us works of his own hands, refashioning us from the evil formation of sin to his own image again. The same becomes our foundation before the age to come, according to the word of Paul, who says, “No one can lay a foundation other than the one that is laid”; and “before the springs of waters came forth, and before the mountains were set in place, and before he made the depths, and before all hills, he begets me.” For each of these, taken in the manner proper to proverbs, can be applied to the word in a figurative sense. For the great David calls righteousness the mountains of God, and the judgments depths, and the teachers in the churches springs, saying, “Bless God the Lord from the springs of Israel”; and he calls hills the innocence that he showed by the skipping of the lambs. Before these, then, the man created for our sake is born in us, so that the creation of such things too may find room in us. But I think we must pass over the discussion of these things, the truth having been sufficiently shown in a few words to the fair-minded.

Let us go on to what follows in Eunomius’s words. “Being in the beginning,” he says, “not without beginning.” Oh, how he understands the divine words, he who thinks himself wiser than others! He interprets “being in the beginning” as “having a beginning,” and does not know that if he who is in the beginning has a beginning, the beginning too certainly has another beginning. For whatever one says of the beginning, he will necessarily confess also of him who is in the beginning. For how will what is in the beginning be separated from the beginning? And how will anyone conceive “was not” before “was”? For however far one stretches his mind upward to grasp the beginning, he certainly grasps together with it the Word who is in it, who cannot be separated from the beginning in which he is, and never either begins or ceases to be in it. But let no one split the doctrine into two beginnings because of this. For the beginning is truly one, in which the Word, united with the Father through all things, is inseparably contemplated. Whoever thinks this will give the heresy no entry to harm godliness through the novelty of the name “unbegotten.”

In what is set out next, his statement is like bread with much sand mixed in. For mixing heretical notions with what is soundly said, he makes even the nourishing part inedible by the stone mixed in. For he calls the Lord “living wisdom, and active truth, and subsistent power, and life.” Up to here it is nourishing; but he puts the venom of the heresy into what has been said. For calling the life “begotten,” by its contrast with the unbegotten life he means something else and does not suppose the Son to be the life that truly is. Then he says: “As Son of God, giving life to the dead, true light, light that enlightens every man coming into the world, good and supplier of good things.” Holding out all these to the simpler sort like honey, he hides the poison under the sweetness of these words. For he immediately adds his destructive thought, saying: “Not sharing his dignity with the one who begot him, not sharing the Father’s substance with anyone, but become glorious from his begetting, and Lord of glory, and receiving glory from the Father, not partaking of his glory; for the glory of the Almighty is incommunicable, as he said, ‘My glory I will not give to another.’” These are the drugs of death, which only those discern who have the senses of the soul trained.

Their deadly wickedness is uncovered more plainly in the last of the words: “Receiving glory from the Father,” he says, “not partaking of his glory; for the glory of the Almighty is incommunicable, as he said, ‘My glory I will not give to another.’” Who is that other, of whom God said, “My glory I will not give”? The prophet speaks of the adversary, but Eunomius refers the prophecy to the only-begotten God himself. For the prophet, having said in the person of God, “My glory I will not give to another,” added, “nor my praises to carved images.” For since human beings, through deceit, were offering to the adversary the service and worship owed to God, revering God’s enemy in the statues of carved images, he who took many forms among human beings through the idols, he who heals the sick took pity on human ruin and foretold through the prophet the loving-kindness that he would show at a later time in the destruction of the idols, saying: “When the truth has been made manifest, my glory will no longer be given to another, nor will my praises be offered to carved images; for human beings will no longer serve those that by nature are not gods, once they have recognized my glory.” Whatever, then, the prophet says in the person of the Lord about the adverse power, this the fighter against God refers to the Lord himself, who uttered these words through the prophet. What persecutor of the faith among the tyrants is recorded to have been such? Who ever constructed this: that he who appeared through flesh for the salvation of our souls, as we have believed, is not true God, but the adversary of God, who works deceit against human beings in carved images and idols? For what was said of that one through the prophet Eunomius transfers to the only-begotten God, not understanding even this, that the Only-begotten himself is the one who uttered these words in the prophet, as he himself says in what follows, that this is the one who spoke in the prophets.

Why should I go through these things at greater length? For what was said before them clings to the same blasphemy: “Receiving glory from the Father,” he says, “not partaking of his glory; for the glory of the almighty God is incommunicable.” For my part, even if the statement were about Moses, who was glorified in the ministry of the law, not even so would I have tolerated such a statement, even granting that he had no glory of his own and appeared suddenly glorious to the Israelites through the gift that came to him from God. For the very glory that came to the lawgiver was not another’s but God’s own, which the Lord in the Gospel bids all to seek, when he blames those who make much of human glory but do not seek the glory that comes from the only God. For in commanding them to seek the glory from the only God, he promised that what is sought can be obtained. How, then, is the glory of the Almighty incommunicable, if one must ask for the glory from the only God, and everyone who asks receives, according to the Lord’s word? And whoever says of the radiance of the glory that it has the glory by receiving it says nothing other than that the radiance of the glory is in itself without glory and needs to receive glory from another, so that thus at some time he too may become Lord of some glory. Where, then, shall we put the words of the Truth, both the one that says that he will be seen in the glory of the Father, and again, “All that the Father has is mine”? To whom should the hearer attend: to him who says that he who is heir of all that is in the Father, as the Apostle says, has no share in the Father’s glory, or to him who confesses that he has all that the Father has? And among “all” the glory too is certainly included. But he says that the glory of the Almighty is incommunicable. This neither Joel testifies nor the great Peter, who made the prophetic word his own in his address to the Jews. For both the prophet and the apostle say in the person of God, “I will pour out of my Spirit on all flesh.” He, then, who did not begrudge all flesh fellowship in his own Spirit, how does he not share his own glory with the only-begotten Son, who is in the bosom of the Father and has all that the Father has? Or perhaps one might say that Eunomius speaks the truth in this, even without wishing to? For “communicating” is properly said in the case of one who does not have glory of his own, to whom having it comes from elsewhere and not from nature; but where one and the same nature is grasped, he who is by nature what the Father is believed to be does not need someone to communicate each thing to him. Or rather, it is well to say it more clearly and plainly:

What need of the Father’s glory has he who has the whole Father in himself, nothing that is seen in the Father being taken away? And what is the dignity of the Almighty in which Eunomius declares that the Son has no share? Let those who are wise in their own eyes and understanding in their own sight speak their earthly doctrines, those who, as the Prophet says, speak from the earth. But let us, who worship the Word and are disciples of the truth, or rather pray to be, not pass this word by either without examining it. For we know that of all the names by which the divine is signified, some indicate the divine majesty, being said and understood by themselves, while others are named from the activities toward us and the whole creation. For when the divine Apostle says, “to the incorruptible, invisible, only wise God,” and the like, he indicates by these names the thoughts that present the transcendent power. But when the Scriptures say “compassionate and merciful,” “abounding in mercy,” “true,” “good,” “Lord,” “physician,” “shepherd,” “way,” “bread,” “spring,” “king,” “creator,” “maker,” “protector,” “he who is over all and through all,” “who is all in all,” these and the like contain the implication of the things worked in creation by the divine loving-kindness. The name “Almighty,” then, is found by those who examine it accurately to signify nothing else in the divine power than this: the implication of “Almighty” shows that the activity that holds sway over the things seen in creation stands in relation to something. For as he would not be a physician except for the sake of the sick, nor be called merciful and compassionate and the like except because of one who needs compassion and mercy, so neither would he be Almighty unless all creation needed one to hold it fast and preserve it in being. So as a physician is a physician to one who needs healing, so Almighty to one who needs to be held; and as those who are strong have no need of a physician, but those who are sick, so it is consistent to say that he whose nature is unerring and unfailing no longer needs one to hold him. So when we hear the word “Almighty,” we understand this: that God holds together in being all things, both those that are intelligible and those of material nature. For this reason he holds the circle of the earth, for this reason he has the ends of the earth in his hand, for this reason he encloses the heaven with his span, for this reason he measures the water with his hand, for this reason he contains the whole intelligible creation in himself: he is Almighty so that all things may remain in being, held fast by his embracing power.

Let us examine, then, who it is that works all things in all. Who made all things, without whom nothing that exists is? Who is it in whom all things were created and in whom existing things have their continuance? In whom do we live and move and have our being? Who has in himself all that the Father has? Do we still not know from what has been said that the Almighty is the God over all, as Paul so names him, our Lord Jesus the Christ? He, having in his hand all that is the Father’s, as he himself says, certainly grasps all things with his capacious palm, and holds what he grasps, and no one snatches from the hand of him who holds all things in his hand. If, then, he has all things and holds what he has, how is he who holds all things anything other than Almighty? But if the heresy says that the Father holds the Son and the Spirit too, let them first show that the Son and the Holy Spirit are of changeable nature, and then let them set the one who holds over what changes, so that, by help coming from above, what is held may remain without falling into evil. But if the divine nature does not admit evil, is unchangeable and unalterable and always the same, for what will it need one to hold it? It holds all creation by itself, while itself needing no one to hold it, because it is unchangeable. For this reason at the name of Christ every knee bends, of things in heaven and on earth and under the earth; for it would not have bent unless it certainly recognized him who holds it for its salvation.

To say that the Son was begotten by the goodness of the Father is nothing other than to set him in equal honor with the lowest things of creation. For what did not come to be through the goodness of its maker? To what is the formation of human nature to be reckoned, to the wickedness or to the goodness of its maker? And to what the coming to be of animals, the nature of plants and shoots?

There is nothing that did not have its coming to be through the goodness of its maker. So what reason sees in all things, Eunomius graciously bestows on the Son out of kindness! As for his not sharing the substance or the dignity with the Father, and all the other such nonsense he goes through, it has already been refuted in advance in the discussion of the Father, as thrown out by him idly and without sense. For not even in us, who are born of one another, does a division of substance take place; for the account of the substance remains whole in each, in the begotten and in the begetter, the account of the substance admitting neither diminution in the begetter nor increase in the begotten. And a division of dignity or kingship, in the case of him who has all that is the Father’s, has no sense except as an exposure of impiety. So it would be superfluous to grapple with such things and stretch the discussion out without measure. Let us go on to what follows.

“Glorified,” he says, “by the Father before the ages.” The word of truth has been proved, strengthened by the testimony of its enemies. For this is the sum of our faith, that the Son is glorified by the Father from eternity. For “before the age” is the same in sense as “eternal,” as the prophecy interprets God’s eternity to us, where it says, “He who exists before the ages.” If, then, existing before the ages is beyond every beginning, whoever ascribes to the Son a glory before the ages has much earlier attested his existence from eternity; for it is not what is not but certainly what is that is glorified.

After this he lays down for himself the seeds of blasphemy against the Holy Spirit, not to glorify the Son but to insult the Holy Spirit. For wishing to show that the Holy Spirit is part of the angelic power, he threw in this, saying, “Glorified by the Spirit through the age, and by every rational and begotten substance,” so that there is no difference between the Holy Spirit and everything that has come to be, if the Holy Spirit glorifies the Lord in the way that all the other things do which the Prophet goes through: the angels and the powers, and the heavens of heavens, and the water above the world, and all things from the earth, dragons, depths, fire, hail, snow, ice, stormy wind, the mountains and all the hills, fruit trees and all cedars, the wild beasts and all the cattle, creeping things and winged birds. If, then, he says that the Holy Spirit glorifies the Lord together with these, the God-fighting tongue declares that it too is certainly one of them.

What is attached next, disjointedly, I say we do well to pass over, not as blameless, but as things that could be said by the reverent too, if they were detached from their perverse implication. For if he has added anything that tends toward godliness, such a thing is held out to the simpler sort as bait, so that the hook of impiety may be swallowed along with it. For having said some things that a churchman too might say, he adds: “Obedient for the making and coming to be of existing things, obedient for all governance, not having acquired being Son, God, from his obedience, but from being Son and having been begotten only-begotten God, become obedient in words, obedient in works.” Yet who among those familiar with the divine words does not know when the great Paul said of him, and this only once, that he became obedient? For when he came to fulfill the mystery of the cross, he who emptied himself in the form of a slave and humbled himself in the likeness and fashion of a man, found as a man in the lowly nature of human beings, then he becomes obedient, he who took up our weaknesses and bore our diseases, healing human disobedience by his own obedience, so that by his stripe he might heal our wound and by his own death abolish the common death of human beings. Then for our sake he becomes obedient, as he also became sin and curse because of the economy on our behalf, not being this by nature but becoming it out of loving-kindness. But from what Scripture did he learn the catalogue of so many obediences? On the contrary, all inspired Scripture attests to him a sovereign and self-ruling authority, saying, “He spoke, and they came to be; he commanded, and they were created.” For it is plain that the Prophet says this of him who bears all things by the word of his power, whose authority established all substance and nature and all things conceived and seen in creation by the impulse of his will alone. What moves Eunomius, then, to fasten obedience on the King of creation in countless ways, saying, “obedient for all making, and obedient for all governance, obedient in words and works”?

Yet it is plain to everyone that only he becomes obedient to another in words and works who has not yet achieved in himself the authority to act accurately or speak blamelessly, but, looking to his teacher and guide, is trained by his instructions in accuracy of words and works. But to think that Wisdom needs a supervisor and teacher to direct its consistency or righteousness to what is required belongs to Eunomius’s imagination alone. And of the Father he says, “faithful in words, and faithful in works,” but to the Son he did not attest faithfulness in what is done and said; he declared him obedient in words, and not faithful; so that through everything he says the blasphemy against him is the same. As for the folly and senselessness of the phrase inserted between these, it is perhaps fitting to pass it over in silence, lest some heedless person laugh at its vanity, when one ought rather to weep over the ruin of their souls than laugh at the folly of their words. For this wise and circumspect dogmatist says that he did not acquire being Son from obedience. What sharpness! How necessarily he defines for us about these things that he did not first become obedient and then Son, and that we must not think his obedience older than his begetting! If he had not added this definition, who would have been so foolish and silly as to suppose that begetting was given him by the Father as a reward for obedience, as to one who had shown docility and obedience before his begetting? But so that no one may be too readily carried off to laughter by the folly of what is said, let him understand that the folly of the words has something worthy of tears. For what he wishes to establish by these words is this: that obedience is his nature, so that even if he wished it, it would not be possible for him not to be obedient. For he says that he was so made that his nature is suited to obedience alone, like a tool shaped to a certain pattern, which necessarily stamps on the material the form that the smith put into the making of the tool, and which has no power either to make a straight mark on what receives it if its working is curved, or to show a circle by its stamp if the tool happens to be shaped straight. How blasphemous such a thought is, why need our words reveal, when the heretical utterance itself cries out its absurdity? For if he is obedient because he was made such, he is not even on an equal footing with human nature. For our soul is self-determining and without a master, choosing what it pleases with sovereign authority; but he, yoked under the necessity of nature, performs obedience always, or rather undergoes it, his nature not allowing it even if he did not wish to do so. “For from being Son and having been begotten so, he became obedient in words, and obedient in works.” Oh, the senselessness of the doctrine! You make the Word obedient to words, and you conceive other words before the Word who is; and another word mediates for the Word who is in the beginning, ferrying across to him the will of the beginning. And there is not one only: there are several words inserted by Eunomius between the beginning and the Word, which misuse his obedience as they please.

But why linger over the vanity of what is said? It is plain to everyone that even when Paul said he became obedient (and he said he became so as he became flesh and slave and curse and sin for our sake), not even then did the Lord of glory, who despised the shame and accepted the passion in the flesh, estrange himself from his sovereign authority, saying, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up”; and again, “No one takes my life from me; I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it again.” And when, on the night before the passion, those armed with iron and clubs came near him, he threw them all backward by saying, “I am”; and again, when the robber begged to be remembered by him, he showed his authority over all, saying, “Today you will be with me in paradise.” If, then, not even at the time of the passion is he separated from his authority, where does the heresy see subjection in the King of glory? And what is this manifold mediation that he keeps babbling of God, calling him “mediator in doctrines, mediator in the law”? We were not taught this by the lofty voice of the Apostle, who says that, having abolished the law of commandments by his own decrees, this is the mediator of God and human beings,

having said this word: “One God, and one mediator of God and human beings, the man Christ Jesus.” Here, through the word “mediator,” he has comprehended and revealed to us the whole aim of the mystery. And the aim is this. Humanity once revolted through the malice of the adversary, and, enslaved to sin, was also estranged from the true life. After this the Lord of the creature calls back his own creature, and becomes man while being God, being wholly the one and becoming wholly the other; and so humanity was blended with God, the man in Christ accomplishing the mediation, in whom, through the first fruits taken up for us, the whole lump was blended with the power. Since, then, a mediator is not of one, but God is one, not divided among the persons handed down in the faith (for the Godhead in Father and Son and Holy Spirit is one), for this reason the Lord becomes mediator once for all, of God and human beings, joining humanity to the Godhead through himself. And through the notion of the mediator we have also been taught the reverent sense of the faith: for as the mediator of God and human beings received fellowship in human nature, not being thought a man but having become one in truth, so too, being true God, he has not been honored with a bare title of Godhead, as Eunomius would have it.

What he adds to what has been said clings to the same folly, or rather malice. For having called him Son, whom a little before he plainly defined as created, and having named him only-begotten God, whom he counted with the rest of the things that came to be by creation, he said that he is like the one who begot him, “by a special likeness only, according to the peculiar sense.” We must first, then, distinguish the meaning of “like,” in how many ways it is said in loose ordinary usage, and then come to the examination of what is before us. First, there are things that deceive our senses: not being the same as one another in nature, but, through some of the accidents of the subjects (I mean shape and color and sound, and whatever produces the deception through taste and smell and touch), being different in nature yet pretending to be something other than they are, these usage says are alike. For example, when lifeless matter is formed by art into an imitation of some animal, by carving or painting or modeling, the imitation is called like the original. For here the nature of the animal is one thing, and that of the matter that deceives the sight by color and shape alone another. Of the same kind of likeness is the image in a mirror, which bears clear impressions of the original form but is not in nature what the original is. Likewise the hearing can be affected in the same way, when someone imitating the nightingale’s song with his own voice persuades the hearing that it is listening to a bird. Taste too suffers such deception, when the juice of the fig imitates the pleasure of honey; for the juice of the fruit has something like the sweetness of honey. So too smell can sometimes be deceived by likeness, when the scent of the chamomile plant, imitating with its fragrance the sweet-smelling apple itself, deceives the sense. In the same way, in touch too, likeness variously belies the truth, since a silver or bronze coin of the same size as a gold one and alike in weight may be taken for gold, when sight does not judge the truth. These things have been stated generally and in a few words: things that through some likeness produce deception in the senses, being thought other than they are. One might, by a more laborious examination, broaden the discussion through the things themselves that are of different kinds from one another but are thought like one another through some accident. Does he, then, babble of some such kind of likeness in the Son? But he would not come to such madness as to see a deceptive likeness in the case of the Truth. Again, we were taught another likeness in the inspired Scripture by him who said, “Let us make man according to our image and according to likeness.” But I do not think Eunomius sees this kind of likeness in the Son and the Father, so as to declare the only-begotten God the same as man. We know another kind of likeness too, which the word in the account of the world’s making states about Seth: “Adam begot Seth according to his form and according to his likeness.” If Eunomius says this, we do not reject the statement; for here the nature of the things likened to each other is not different, and the character and form have fellowship. These and the like are what we have understood about the varieties of “like.”

Let us see, then, what Eunomius has in view when he attests that special likeness of the Son to the Father, saying that he is like the one who begot him “only by a special likeness, according to the peculiar sense, not as Father to Father, for there are not two Fathers.” Having promised to show the special likeness of the Son to the Father, he builds up in his statement how one ought not to think him like. For having said that he is not like as Father to Father, he made out in his statement that he is not like. And again, adding “nor as unbegotten to unbegotten,” he forbade us for this reason too to think of the Son’s likeness to the Father; then, adding “nor as Son to Son,” he brought in a third thought, by which he altogether carries off the meaning of “like.” He, then, follows his own words, making his proof of likeness by building up unlikeness. But let us examine the wisdom and frankness that he displays in his definitions. For having said that the Son is like the Father, he secures the hearing, so that we must not think that the Son resembles the Father as a Father resembles a Father. But who among human beings is so senseless that, having learned that the Son is like the Father, he would be led in his reasonings to the likeness of a Father to the Father? “Nor as Son to Son,” he says. Again the shrewdness of the definition is equal: having said that the Son is like the Father, he adds the definition that he must not be like as to another Son. These are the mysteries of Eunomius’s reverend doctrines, by which his disciples become wiser than others: learning that the Son who resembles the Father does not resemble a Son, for the Father is not a Son; nor as unbegotten to unbegotten, for the Son is not unbegotten. But our mystery, when it says Father, certainly bids us think of the Father of a Son, and when it names Son, teaches us to think of the Son of a Father; and until now we have had no need of this superfluous wisdom, so as to suppose through Father and Son two Fathers or two Sons, like a pair of unbegottens.

What Eunomius’s great zeal for “unbegotten” intends has often been shown already, and now it will be said again in a few words. Since the meaning of “Father” shows no difference of nature from the Son, if he had stopped his statement there, the impiety would have had no strength, since the natural sense of the names does not admit what is foreign in substance. But now, saying “unbegotten” and “begotten,” since the opposition of these names to each other admits no middle, like that of mortal and immortal, rational and irrational, and all that are expressed in the same way, which stand against one another by contrary meanings, he opened a road to blasphemy through these names, so that the difference of mortal from immortal might be seen in the begotten as against the unbegotten. And as the nature of the mortal and that of the immortal differ, and the properties of the rational and the irrational are incompatible in substance, so he wishes to make out one nature for the unbegotten and another for the begotten; so that, as the irrational nature was made subject to the rational, so he may show the begotten yoked by natural necessity under the unbegotten. That is why he joins to “unbegotten” the name “Almighty,” taking the interpretation of “Almighty” not as providential activity, as our discussion showed earlier, but as tyrannical authority, so as to make the Son too part of the ruled and subject nature, serving with all things the one who holds all equally by tyrannical authority. And that he uses such distinctions of speech with this in view will be made clear from what follows. For he said those wise and circumspect things, that he is not like as a Father to a Father, nor as a Son to a Son (although there is no necessity at all that a father resemble a father and a son a son: for there is a father among the Ethiopians and a father among the Scythians, and a son of each, the Ethiopian’s black, the Scythian white-skinned and with golden-tinged hair; and none the more, because each is a father, does the Scythian turn black because of the Ethiopian, or the Ethiopian’s body change to white because of the Scythian). Yet, having said these things as he pleased, Eunomius added that “he is like the Father as Son.” But though such a statement shows kinship according to nature, as the inspired teaching testifies in the case of Seth and Adam, the dogmatist, caring little for intelligent hearers, added an empty interpretation of the title “Son,” defining him as image and seal of the activity of the Almighty. For he says, “The Son is image and seal of the activity of the Almighty.” Let him who has ears to hear consider this point first.

What is “the seal of the activity”? For every activity is seen in the one who is working at what he is busy with; but when what he was busy with is completed, it does not subsist by itself. For example, the activity of running is the motion of the feet; when the motion stops, the activity no longer exists by itself. So in every pursuit one can say the same: the activity ceases together with the effort of one who labors at something, and does not exist by itself, neither while someone is carrying out the effort before him nor if he ceases from it. What, then, does he say the activity is by itself, which is neither substance, nor character, nor hypostasis? So he has called him the likeness of what has no hypostasis; and what is like the non-existent certainly does not exist itself. This is the marvel of empty doctrines: believing in what is not. For what is not like what is, certainly is not.

O Paul and John, and the rest of the chorus of evangelists and apostles! Who are these that arm their venomous tongues against your voice? Who raise their froglike croaking against your heavenly thunders? What, then, does the son of thunder say? “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” And what does the one after him say, that other, who came within the heavenly sanctuary, who was initiated into things unspeakable in paradise? “Being,” he says, “the radiance of the glory and the character of his hypostasis.” What does the ventriloquist say after these? “Seal,” he says, “of the activity of the Almighty.” He makes him third after the Father, with that non-existent activity mediating, or rather stamped as non-existence pleases. A seal of an activity is he who is in the beginning, God the Word, contemplated in the eternity of the beginning of existing things, the only-begotten God, who is in the bosom of the Father, who bears all things by the word of his power, the maker of the ages, from whom are all things and through whom are all things, who holds the circle of the earth, who has measured the heaven with a span, who measures the water with his hand, who grasps all existing things, who dwells on high and looks on what is lowly (or rather looked on it, so as to make the whole world his footstool, imprinted with the footprint of the Word): the form of God is a seal of an activity! Then God is an activity, not a hypostasis! Yet Paul, interpreting this very thing, says that he is the character not of the activity but of the hypostasis. Or is the radiance of the glory a seal of an activity of God? Oh, the impious ignorance! What is there between God and his eternal form? By whom is the hypostasis mediated to its own character? What is conceived between the glory and the radiance? But when there are so many such words by which the majesty of the Master of creation is proclaimed by those entrusted with the proclamation, what does the forerunner of the apostasy set out about him? What does he say? “As image,” he says, “and seal of all the activity and power of the Almighty.” How does he cancel the words of the great Paul? Paul says that the Son is the power of God; this man calls him a seal of power, not power. And repeating the statement, what does he add to what has been said? He calls him the seal of the Father’s works and counsels. To what works of the Father is he like? He will certainly say the world and all things in it; but the Gospel has testified that all these are works of the Only-begotten. To what works of the Father, then, was he likened? Of what works did he become the seal? What Scripture called him the seal of the Father’s works? And if one grants him this too, to fashion statements at will as he pleases, even if Scripture does not agree, let him say what works of the Father there are, separate from those that came to be by the Son, of which he says the Son became the seal. All things visible and invisible are works of the Word: among the visible, the whole world and all things in it; among the invisible, the creation above the world. What works of the Father, then, remain, outside the visible and the invisible, seen by themselves, of which he says the Son became the seal? Or perhaps, hard pressed, he will return again to the stinking vomit of the heresy and say that the Son is a work of the Father? How, then, does the Son become the seal of these works, being himself, as he says, the work? Or does he call the same one both work and likeness of a work? Let these be granted; let him name the other works of which he says the Father is the maker, to which the Son was likened, if by “seal” he means likeness. And what other words of the Father does Eunomius know besides the Word who is always in the Father, whom he calls a seal, him who properly and truly and primarily is and is called Word?

And to what counsels, separate from the wisdom of God, does he look, to which the wisdom of God is likened, becoming the seal of the counsels? See how indiscriminate, heedless and jumbled the statement is, what he makes of the mystery, knowing neither what he says nor about what he speaks. For he who has the whole Father in himself and is whole in the Father, as Word and Wisdom and Power and Truth and character and radiance, is himself all things in the Father, and does not become image and seal and likeness of some other things seen in the Father before him. Then he grants him the destruction of human beings by water in Noah’s time, and the rain of fire on Sodom, and the just punishment of the Egyptians, as though attesting great things to him who holds the ends of the world in his hand, in whom all things hold together, as the Apostle says; as though he did not know that to him who contains all things and leads and carries as he pleases both what has already come to be and what will be, two or three miracles mentioned do not add as much to his glory as the silence about the rest takes away and damages. But even if these are passed over in silence, the one word of Paul suffices to show all things comprehensively by itself, which says that he is over all and through all and in all.

Then, “He legislates,” he says, “by command of the eternal God.” Who is the eternal God? And who is the one who serves him in giving the law? But this is plain to everyone, that God legislates through Moses for those who receive the law. And since Eunomius himself confesses that the only-begotten God is the one who gave the oracles to Moses, how does his present statement put the Master of all in the rank of Moses? And the meaning of “eternal God” he assigns to the Father alone, so that by the contrast with the eternal, the only-begotten God, the maker of the ages, may be shown to be not eternal but new. But this studious and retentive man seems to me to have forgotten that Paul says all this of himself, announcing among human beings the proclamation of the Gospel by command of the eternal God. What, then, the Apostle goes through about himself, this Eunomius is not ashamed to ascribe to the Master of prophets and apostles, so as to set the Lord in equal honor with Paul, his own slave. And why should I refute each point and bring a crowd into the discussion? In these things, one who reads what he has written rather simply will think that he says what Scripture allows, but one who can unfold each point by examination will show that none of it is free of heretical malice. For both the churchman and the heretic say, “The Father judges no one, but has given all judgment to the Son”; but each does not understand what is said in the same way. Through the same words the churchman understands authority over all, while this man builds up inferiority and subjection.

But we must add to what has been said that which they make a kind of foundation of their impiety in the discussion of the economy: they define that not the whole human being was saved by him, but half of the human being, I mean the body. Their aim in such malice about the doctrine is to make the lowlier words that the Lord utters from his humanity seem to have come from the Godhead itself, so that by these they may show their blasphemy to be stronger, strengthened by the Lord’s own confession. For this reason he says, “who became man in the last days, not taking up the man consisting of soul and body.” But I, having searched all the inspired and holy Scripture, do not see this word written: that the maker of all, at the time of the economy as man, took up into himself the flesh alone without a soul. Of necessity, then, looking to the aim of our salvation, and to the doctrines of the Fathers, and to the inspired words, I shall try to refute the impiety built up in this part. The Lord came to seek and to save the lost; and what was lost was not a body, but the whole human being, blended of soul and body. And if one must give the truer account, the soul was lost before the body. For disobedience is a sin of the will, not of the body; and the will is proper to the soul, from which the whole calamity of the nature had its beginning, as God’s truthful threat testifies to the words: that on whatever day they touched what was forbidden, death would be joined to the eating without delay. And since the human compound is twofold, death operates correspondingly on each part, the deprivation of the twofold life taking effect in what is put to death.

For the death of the body is the extinguishing of the senses and the dissolution into the kindred elements; but “the soul that sins,” it says, “shall itself die.” And sin is estrangement from God, who is the true and only life. So the first-formed man lived on for many hundreds of years after the disobedience, and yet God did not lie when he said, “On the day you eat, you shall die by death.” For through his being estranged from the true life, the sentence of death was ratified against him that very day; and afterwards, in later times, bodily death too followed for Adam. He, then, who came for this reason, to seek and to save the lost, which the shepherd in the parable calls a sheep, both finds what was lost and takes the whole sheep upon his own shoulders, not only the sheep’s skin, so as to make God’s man complete, blended with the Godhead through soul and body. And so he left nothing of our nature that he did not take up, he who was tempted in all things according to likeness, without sin. And the soul is not sin, but became receptive of sin through ill counsel; for this reason he sanctifies it by blending it with himself, so as to sanctify the whole lump together with the first fruits. For this reason the angel too, announcing to Joseph the destruction of the Lord’s enemies, says, “Those who sought the child’s soul are dead.” And the Lord says to the Jews, “You seek to kill me, a man who has told you the truth?” And it is not the body of a man that is called a man, but what is composed of both. And again he says to them, “Are you angry with me because I made a whole man healthy on the sabbath?” And he made plain the meaning of “whole” in the other Gospels, saying to the one let down on his bed into the middle, “Your sins are forgiven,” which is the healing of the soul, and “Rise and walk,” which looks to the flesh; and in the Gospel according to John, after giving health to the body, he also freed the soul from its own sickness, saying, “You have become healthy; sin no more,” so that he was healed in both, I mean in soul and body. For so Paul too says, “that he might create the two in himself into one new man.” And so, at the time of the passion, he foretells that his own soul would depart from his own body willingly, saying, “No one takes my soul from me, but I lay it down of myself. I have authority to lay down my soul, and I have authority to take it again.” And the prophet David too, according to the interpretation of the great Peter, foreseeing him, said, “You will not abandon my soul to Hades, nor let your holy one see corruption”; so the apostle Peter interpreted the text, that neither was his soul abandoned to Hades nor did his flesh see corruption. For the Godhead, before the flesh and in the flesh and after the passion, is always the same, being by nature always what it was and remaining so for ever. But in the passion of the human nature it fulfilled the economy on our behalf, separating the soul from the body for a time, yet itself not separated from either of those with which it had once been blended, and joining again what had been parted, so as to give to the whole human nature the sequence and the beginning of the resurrection from the dead, so that all that is corruptible may put on incorruption and the mortal immortality, our first fruits having been transformed into the divine nature through blending with God; as Peter said, “God made him Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified.” And there are many things from the holy Gospels that could be taken as allies for such a doctrine: how the Lord, reconciling the world to himself by the humanity in Christ, distributed between soul and body the benefit he gives to human beings, willing through the soul and touching through the body. But it would be superfluous to go through everything and bring a crowd into the discussion. Adding this further to what has been said, I will pass to what follows. “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” As we, through soul and body, become a temple of him who dwells and walks in us, so too the Lord names the two together a temple, whose destruction signifies the dissolution of the soul from the body. And if they bring forward the Gospel’s word, “The Word became flesh,” as though, because the soul is not mentioned with it, it is made out that flesh without a soul was taken up, let them learn that it is customary for Holy Scripture to include the whole in the part.

For he who said, “To you all flesh shall come,” does not say that flesh separated from souls will stand before the Judge. And hearing from the history that Jacob went down to Egypt with seventy-five souls, we understood the flesh too with the souls. So too, then, the Word, having become flesh, took up the whole human nature together with the flesh. Hence hungering and thirsting, being afraid and fearing, desiring, sleeping, being troubled, weeping, and all such things had a place in him. For neither does the Godhead in its own nature admit any such passion, nor does the flesh by itself come to be in them unless the soul is affected together with the body.

So much for the blasphemy against the Son. Let us see also what he goes through about the Holy Spirit. After this, he says, “We believe in the Paraclete, the Spirit of truth.” I think it is plain to all readers what he has in view in changing the statement of faith handed down by the Lord, in his words about the Son and the Father. That absurdity has been exposed; nevertheless I shall try now too to make the aim of his malice plain in a few words. For as there he did not say Father, so as not to show the Son together with the Father’s eternity, nor named the Son, so as not to present along with this word the kinship of nature, so now too he does not say Holy Spirit, so as not to confess, through this name, the majesty of his glory and his union in all things with Father and Son. For since Scripture applies equally to the Father and the Son both the title “Spirit” and the title “holy” (for “God is spirit,” and “the spirit before our face, Christ the Lord,” and “holy is the Lord God,” and “one is holy, one is Lord, Jesus Christ”), so that the hearers might not form through these a reverent view of the Holy Spirit, arising from his sharing in the glorious title with the Father and the Son, for this reason he beguiles the hearing of the senseless and changes the words of the faith set out beforehand by God in handing down the mystery, as though paving the way by this sequence for impiety against the Holy Spirit. For if he had said, “We believe in the Holy Spirit,” while “God is spirit,” anyone instructed in divine things would have objected: “If we must believe in the Holy Spirit, and God is named spirit, he is certainly nothing other in nature than that which is properly named by the same names.” For whatever things are signified by the same names, not falsely nor by misuse but properly, of these it is necessary to confess one and the same nature, signified by the same names. For these reasons, keeping silent about the word laid down by the Lord in the faith, he says, “We believe in the Paraclete.”

But I have learned from the inspired Scripture that this very name too is common to the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. For the Son names both himself and the Holy Spirit equally Paraclete; and the Father, through the things by which he works consolation, certainly claims the name of Paraclete; for while doing the work of the Paraclete he does not disdain the name of the work. For David says to the Father, “You, Lord, have helped me and comforted me”; and the great Apostle goes through the same about the Father, saying, “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who comforts us in all our affliction.” And John, in one of the Catholic Letters, expressly names the Son Paraclete. And the Lord himself, when he said that another Paraclete would be sent to us, speaking of the Spirit, certainly confessed this name of himself beforehand. And since the meaning of “to call to one’s side” (παρακαλεῖν) is twofold (one, when by respectful words and gestures we move someone to sympathy for whatever we happen to ask of him; the other, the idea of healing the sufferings of soul and body), Holy Scripture equally attests the sense of “Paraclete,” in each of its meanings, to the divine nature. Now Paul presents God’s healing power for us through consolation, saying, “He who comforts the lowly comforted us by the coming of Titus”; and again, writing to the Corinthians in the other sense, he says, “We are ambassadors for Christ, as though God were appealing through us; we beg you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.” This being so, however you understand the name Paraclete in the case of the Spirit, you will not separate him, in either of the meanings, from fellowship with the Father and the Son.

So in this part, even wishing to belittle the glory of the Holy Spirit, he has not been able to, since he attests to him what Holy Scripture ascribes to the Father and the Son as well. And by saying “Spirit of truth,” Eunomius himself, I think, wished to present subjection by such a word: since Christ is the truth, he named that one the Spirit of truth, as if one were to say that he is a possession of the truth and subject to it; not knowing that God is called righteousness, and surely we have not understood God to be a possession of righteousness. So, learning “the Spirit of truth” too, we received from the word the sense befitting God, guided toward the better by the words that follow. For the Lord, having said “the Spirit of truth,” immediately added, “who proceeds from the Father,” which the Lord’s voice attested of nothing conceived in creation: not of things seen, not of things unseen, not of thrones, not rulers, not authorities, not dominions, nor of any other name that is named, either in this age or in the age to come. That, then, in which all creation has no share would certainly be plainly proper and special to the uncreated nature.

But this man bids us believe in “the guide of godliness.” Then let him believe in Paul and Barnabas and Titus and Silvanus and Timothy and all those through whom we were guided to the faith. For if what guides to godliness must be believed in together with the Father and the Son, all the prophets and lawgivers and patriarchs, heralds and evangelists and apostles, shepherds and teachers have equal honor with the Holy Spirit, since they became guides of godliness to those after them. “Made,” he says, “by the only God through the Only-begotten.” He sums up all his impiety in these words. Again he names the Father only God, who used the Only-begotten as an instrument for constructing the Spirit. What shadow of such a thought has he found in Scripture, that he dares these things? From what beginning has he advanced his impiety by consequence to such an end? Which of the evangelists says it? Which apostle? Which prophet? On the contrary, all inspired Scripture, written by the inspiration of the Spirit, testifies to the Spirit’s Godhead. For example (for it is better to prove the statement by the testimonies themselves), those who received authority to become children of God testify to the Spirit’s Godhead. For who does not know the Lord’s word, that those born of the Spirit are children of God? For so he expressly attests to the Holy Spirit the birth of God’s children, saying, “As what is born of the flesh is flesh, so also what is born of the Spirit is spirit”; and as many as were born of the Spirit were called children of God. So too, when the Lord had given the Holy Spirit to the disciples by breathing on them, John says, “From his fullness we have all received”; and the great Paul testifies that the fullness of the Godhead dwells in him. And further, concerning the theophany given to the prophet Isaiah, when he saw the one sitting on a high and lifted-up throne, the older tradition says that the one seen was the Father; but the evangelist John refers the prophecy to the Lord, saying, about the Jews who did not believe, of the words spoken by the prophet about the Lord: “Isaiah said these things when he saw his glory and spoke about him.” And the great Paul attested this same saying to the Holy Spirit in the address he made to the Jews at Rome, when he says, “Well did the Holy Spirit speak about you: ‘You will indeed hear and not understand’”; showing, I think, by Holy Scripture itself, that every more divine vision, every theophany, and every word spoken in the person of God is understood of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. For this reason, when David said that they provoked God in the wilderness and embittered him in a dry land, the Apostle refers to the Holy Spirit what the Israelites did against God, writing thus: “Therefore, as the Holy Spirit says, ‘Do not harden your hearts as in the rebellion, on the day of testing in the wilderness, where your fathers tested me,’” and all the rest that the prophecy refers to God he ascribes to the person of the Holy Spirit. But those who babble that we have three gods because of such doctrines have perhaps not yet been taught even to count. For if the Son and the Father are not divided from each other into a meaning of two (for they are one and not two, according to the Lord’s word), and the Holy Spirit too is one, how is what is put together with the one split into a number of three gods?

Or is it not entirely plain that no one would charge us with a number of three gods unless he had himself first constructed a pair of gods in his own doctrine? For the one added to the two produces the triad of gods; but among those by whom one God is worshiped, in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, what place has the charge of three gods?

But let us take up again the whole of Eunomius’s statement. “Made,” he says, “by the only God through the Only-begotten, this too.” What proof is there, then, that this too is one of the things that are from the Only-begotten? They will certainly say that all things came to be through him, and that this too is included among all things. To them we shall say: “All things came to be through him”; and there came to be, as Paul says, things visible and invisible, thrones, authorities, rulers, dominions, powers; and among those enumerated, under thrones and powers Paul has listed the cherubim and the seraphim: so far is “all things.” But the Holy Spirit Paul passed over in silence in his enumeration of existing things, as being above the nature of things made, showing us by his words neither that he came to be nor that he was subjected. But as the Prophet names the Holy Spirit good and upright and governing, indicating his ruling character by “governing,” so too the Apostle, defining that he works all things in all as he wills, attests sovereign authority to the Spirit’s dignity; and the Lord makes plain his self-determining power and activity in his discourse to Nicodemus, saying, “The Spirit blows where he wills.” How, then, does Eunomius too define this as one of the things made by the Son, condemned to eternal subjection? For he says, “subjected once for all”; I do not know under what kind of subjection he has yoked what is governing and ruling. For such a word has many meanings in Holy Scripture and is understood and used in many ways. For the Prophet says that the irrational nature has been subjected, and brings those overcome in war under the same name; and the Apostle lays down that slaves be subject to their own masters, and orders those who preside in the priesthood to keep their children in subjection, since disorder on their part passes over to the fathers, as with the sons of Eli the priest. And the subjection of all human beings to God, when all, united with one another, become through faith one body of the Lord who is in all, the Apostle calls the subjection of the Son to the Father, since the worship offered with one accord to the Son by all, by those in heaven and on earth and under the earth, passes over to the Father’s glory; for Paul says, “To him every knee shall bow, of those in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue shall confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” When this has come to pass, the great wisdom of Paul affirms that the Son, who is in all, is subjected to the Father through the subjection of all in whom the Son is. What “subjection once for all,” then, does Eunomius babble of in the Spirit? It cannot be learned from the word he has thrown out: whether that of irrational beings, or of captives, or of servants, or of children being disciplined, or of those saved by subjection. For human beings’ subjection to God is salvation for those subjected, according to the word of the Prophet, which says that the soul is subjected to God, since salvation comes from him through subjection; so that subjection is a safeguard against destruction. As, then, medicine is practiced for the sick, so too subjection for those who need salvation. But the Holy Spirit, who gives life to all things, what life does he lack, that he should gain salvation for himself through subjection? Since, then, he can babble such a thing of the Spirit neither from any divine word nor from a sequence of reasonable arguments, but has uttered this blasphemy against the Holy Spirit, it would be plain to those who have sense that he sets out his impiety against him without an advocate, strengthened neither by any testimony of Scripture nor by a sequence of reasonings.

He adds to these: “Neither ranked with the Father nor numbered with the Father, for there is one and only Father, the God over all; nor made equal with the Son, for the Son is only-begotten, having no one of the same kind.” For my part, if he had only added to his statement that the Holy Spirit is not the Father of the Son, I would have thought it vain to linger over things that no one disputes, forbidding thoughts about him that not even a very foolish person would suspect. But since he tries to build up his impiety by unsuitable and unconnected statements, thinking that by these, by which he says that the Holy Spirit is not Father of the Only-begotten, he proves that he is subjected and subordinate, for this reason I have mentioned these words of his, to expose his folly,

who thinks he proves that the Spirit is subject to the Father because the Spirit is not Father of the Only-begotten. By what necessity is such a thing established, that if he is not father he must certainly be subjected? If it had been shown that father and tyrant are the same in meaning, it would follow, tyranny being understood of the father, that the Spirit is said to be subjected to the one who excels in authority. But if through “father” only the relation to the son is understood, and no tyrannical or authoritative thought is introduced by this word, how does it follow from the Spirit’s not being Father of the Son that he is subjected? “Nor made equal with the Son,” he says. How does he say this? For being unchangeable and wholly incapable of evil and always remaining the same in the good shows no variation in the Son and the Spirit. For the Spirit’s incorruptibility is equally estranged from corruption, and what is good by nature is likewise separated from its contrary, and what is perfect in every good likewise lacks nothing more. And the inspired Scripture teaches us to say all these things of the Spirit, attesting to the Spirit “good” and “wise” and “incorruptible” and “immortal,” and all the lofty thoughts and names befitting God. If, then, he is lessened in none of these, in what does Eunomius measure out the inequality of Son and Spirit? “For the Son is only-begotten,” he says, “having no brother of the same kind.” But that the Only-begotten must not be conceived with brothers we have treated in the discussion of the firstborn of all creation. What this man has now maliciously thrown into the statement, however, should not be passed over unexamined. For while the doctrine of the church proclaims one power and goodness and substance and glory and all such things in Father and Son and Holy Spirit, except the difference according to the hypostases, this man, when he wishes to make the substance of the Only-begotten common with creation, calls him firstborn of all creation with respect to his existence before the ages, declaring by this word that all things conceived in creation are the Lord’s brothers; for the firstborn is certainly firstborn not of those of another kind but of those of the same kind. But when he splits the Spirit off from union with the Son, he calls him Only-begotten, having no brother of the same kind, not so as to think of him without brothers, but so as to establish by this that the Spirit is foreign in substance. That the Holy Spirit is not to be called a brother we have learned from Scripture; but that the Spirit must not be called of the same kind as the Son is shown nowhere from the divine words. For if the life-giving power in Father and Son is shown in the Holy Spirit too, according to the Gospel’s word; if incorruptibility and unchangeability and being incapable of all evil, if goodness and uprightness and governing, and working all things in all as he wills, if all such things can be seen alike in Father and Son and Holy Spirit, how is it possible through identity in these to conceive difference of kind? So the word of godliness agrees that one must not see any brotherhood about the Only-begotten; but that the Spirit is not of the same kind as the Son, the upright with the upright, the good with the good, the life-giving with the life-giving, this has clearly been shown, from the sequence of the argument, to belong to heretical malice. What, then, of the Spirit’s majesty is cut down by these words? For among the thoughts befitting God there is nothing that can produce excess or deficiency; and since all of them are applied equally to the Son and the Spirit by Holy Scripture, in what does he see the inequality? He could not say. But he brings forward his impiety against the Holy Spirit bare, unproved, and dependent on no consequence.

“Nor ranked with anything else,” he says; “for he has surpassed all the works made through the Son, in origin and nature and glory and knowledge, as the first and mightiest work of the Only-begotten, greatest and most beautiful.” The uneducated and vulgar character of the wording I will leave to others to ridicule, judging it unbecoming to the gray hair of age to reproach with lack of education in words one who is impious toward the worshiped Word. But this I will add to the examination: if the Spirit “has surpassed all the works of the works of the Son” (I will use his solecistic and senseless expression, or rather, to make the thought clearer, I will present it in my own words), if he excels all the things that have come to be from the Son, the Holy Spirit is not ranked with the rest of creation.

And if he has the advantage, as Eunomius says, by coming to be before the others, one must necessarily confess that in the rest of creation too the things that come first in the order of origin are more honorable than those that follow. But the nature of the irrational animals existed before the formation of man; so by this he will certainly make out the irrational substance to be more honorable than the rational. So too Cain will be shown, according to Eunomius’s argument, to be better than Abel, since he was earlier in time by birth. So too the nature of the stars will be shown lesser and inferior to all the things that grow from the earth; for these sprang up from the earth on the third of the days, while the great lights and all the stars are recorded by Moses to have come to be on the fourth. But no one is so senseless as to reckon the earthly grass more honorable than the heavenly wonders because of seniority in time, or to give Cain the prize against Abel, or to subject man, who came to be after them, to the irrational animals. So what this man says has no sense: that because the Spirit came to be before the others, he has a nature more honorable than those that came to be after.

Let us see also what sort of things he bestows on the glory of the Spirit, he who has parted him from fellowship with the Son. “For he too being one,” he says, “and first and only, and excelling all the works of the Son in substance and natural dignity, accomplishing every activity and teaching according to the Son’s good pleasure, sent by him and receiving from him, announcing to those who are taught, and guiding into the truth.” He says that the Holy Spirit accomplishes every activity and teaching. What activity? That which both the Father and the Son work, according to the Lord’s word, he who is working human salvation until now, or some other besides this? For if he works those things, he certainly has the same power and nature as he, and difference of kind from God has no place in such a one. For as, if something worked the works of fire, shining and heating alike, it is certainly fire, so if the Spirit does the works of the Father, he is certainly confessed to be of the same nature as he. But if he works something other than our salvation and shows his activity toward something contrary, he will thereby be shown to be of another nature and substance. But the Word himself testifies that the Spirit gives life like the Father and the Son. So by the identity of the works it is shown that the Spirit is certainly not estranged from the nature of the Father and of the Son. And that the Spirit accomplishes the activity and teaching of the Father according to the Son’s good pleasure we do not dispute; for the fellowship of nature testifies that there is one will of Father and Son and Holy Spirit. So, if the Holy Spirit wills what pleases the Son, the fellowship of will clearly presents the unity of substance. But “sent,” he says, “by him, and receiving from him, and announcing to those who are taught, and guiding into the truth.” If he had not said these things beforehand about the Spirit, the hearer would certainly have thought they were said about one of the human teachers. For being sent is the same as being dispatched, and having nothing of one’s own but receiving from the grace of the sender, and ministering the words to those who are taught, and guiding the erring into the truth. For all these belong also to present shepherds and teachers: to be sent, to receive, to announce, to teach, to set forth the truth; and these are what Eunomius bestows on the Holy Spirit. And having said before these, “he too is one and first and only, and excelling all,” if he had stopped his statement there, he would have appeared an advocate of the doctrines of truth. For truly one is he who is contemplated inseparably in the One, and first he who is in the first, and only he who is in the only. For as the spirit of a man that is in him, and the man himself, are one man, so too the Spirit of God that is in him, and God himself, would properly be named one God, first and only, since he cannot be separated from him in whom he is. But now, by adding “excelling all the works of the Son,” he has shown his blasphemous statement to be a muddy overturning of itself, granting to him who blows where he wills and works all things in all a preference in comparison with the rest of the works. Let us see also what he has added to these: “Sanctifying the saints,” he says. Whoever says this of the Father and of the Son will speak truly.

For in those in whom the Holy One comes to be, he makes them holy, as the Good One too makes them good; and the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit are holy and good, as has been shown. “Initiating,” he says, “those who approach the mystery.” This is well said of Apollos, who watered what Paul planted. For the Apostle plants by instruction, and Apollos waters by baptizing, bringing those catechized by Paul to the mystery through the mystical rebirth. So he puts the one who perfects human beings through baptism in equal honor with Apollos. “Distributing,” he says, “every gift.” With this we too agree; for everything that is good is a share of the gifts of the Holy Spirit. “Working together with the faithful,” he says, “for the understanding and contemplation of what has been ordained.” By not adding by whom it was ordained, he has made his statement ambiguous, whether it is right or otherwise. But we will attach what is said to godliness by a small addition. For since, whether a word of wisdom, or a word of knowledge, or faith, or helping, or guidance, or anything else is written among the things that save us, the one and same Spirit works all these, distributing to each individually as he wills, for this reason we do not reject Eunomius’s statement, when he says that the Spirit works with the faithful for the understanding and contemplation of what has been ordained, by the Spirit himself, since all good teachings have been ordained for us by him. “Echoing to those who pray,” he says. It would be foolish to refute the sense of this phrase in earnest, since the ridiculous and senseless character of the expression is plain at once to everyone alike. For who is so deranged and out of his mind as to wait to learn from us that the Holy Spirit is not a bell or an empty jar, echoing and vibrating at the voice of the one who prays as at a blow? “Leading to what is profitable,” he says. This the Father and the Son do alike. For “he leads Joseph like a sheep,” and “he led his people like sheep”; and “the good Spirit leads us in a level land.” “Strengthening for godliness,” he says. David says it is God’s work to strengthen a person in godliness: “For you are my strength and my refuge,” says the Prophet; and “the Lord is the strength of his people”; and “he will give power and strength to his people.” So, if these words are said in the prophet’s sense, they are a testimony to the Godhead of the Spirit; but if they oppose the prophecy, the blasphemy is convicted by this very thing, that by his statement he holds opinions contrary to the holy prophets. Then he says, “enlightening souls with the light of knowledge.” The word of godliness ascribes this grace to Father and Son and Holy Spirit. For he is named illumination by David, and from there the light of knowledge comes to those who are enlightened. Likewise the cleansing of thoughts is proper, as the word says, to the power of the Lord; for the radiance of the glory and the character of the hypostasis made purification of our sins. And driving away the demons, which Eunomius says is proper to the Spirit, this too the only-begotten God, who says to the demon, “I command you,” attests to the power of the Spirit, saying, “But if I cast out the demons by the Spirit of God.” So the destruction of demons is not a lowering of the Spirit’s glory but a demonstration of his divine and surpassing power. “Healing the sick,” he says, “curing the infirm, comforting the afflicted, raising up those who stumble, restoring the weary.” These are the words of those who are reverent about the Holy Spirit; for no one would ascribe the working of each of these to anyone but God. If, then, the heresy affirms that what belongs to no one to do but God alone is worked by the power of the Spirit, we have for the things we strive for the testimony of our enemies too. How does the Prophet seek healing from God, saying, “Have mercy on me, Lord, for I am weak; heal me, Lord, for my bones are troubled”? It is to God that Isaiah says, “The dew from you is healing to them.” And the prophecy testifies that the turning of those who stray is God’s work: “They wandered in the wilderness in a waterless place,” it says, and it added, “and he led them in a straight way, to go to a city of habitation”; and, “When the Lord turned the captivity of Zion.” Likewise the comforting of the afflicted is referred to God, for Paul says, “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who comforts us in all our affliction.” And the Prophet says in the person of God, “In affliction you called on me, and I rescued you.”

And the raising up of those who stumble is referred by Scripture in countless ways to the power of the Lord: “I was pushed and overturned so as to fall, and the Lord helped me”; and “When he falls he will not be dashed down, for the Lord supports his hand”; and “The Lord raises up those who are dashed down.” And the restoring of the weary contains the confession of God’s loving-kindness, if indeed this man too understood what we learned from the prophecy, as the word says: “You laid afflictions on our backs; you made men ride over our heads; we went through fire and water, and you brought us out into refreshment.” Up to this point, then, the majesty of the Spirit is proved through the testimony of enemies; but in what follows the purity of godliness is again defiled by the heretical mud. For he says of the Spirit, “prompting those who contend.” This carries the charge of the utmost folly and impiety. For in the stadiums some preside over the games for those who are going to display athletic strength; others, surpassing the rest in power and skill, compete for victory, stripping for contests against one another; and the rest, divided in their goodwill toward the contestants, as each has zeal and affection for one of the athletes, call out prompts at the time of the grappling, either to foresee harm, or to remember a wrestling hold, or to keep oneself from being thrown by skill. Consider, then, from what has been said, in what rank Eunomius places the Holy Spirit. In the stadiums some preside over the games, some judge the lawful contest, some contend, and some prompt the contestants, who are admitted to be far inferior to the athletes; Eunomius sees the Holy Spirit as one of the spectators from the crowd, or one of those who attend the athletes, who neither presides over the games, nor judges the victory, nor contends against the adversary, but by prompting contributes nothing to the victory. For he neither contends alongside nor instills the power for it, but only wishes that the one he favors may not be shown second to his adversaries. And Paul contends against the rulers, against the authorities, against the world-rulers of darkness, and against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places; but the Spirit of power does not strengthen the athletes, nor distribute the gifts to the athletes, dividing to each individually as he wills, but has power only so far as prompting those who grapple!

Again, he says, “emboldening the fainthearted.” Here he follows, in his own statement, his preceding blasphemy against the Spirit, but the truth reveals itself even through the enemy’s mouth. For it belongs to no one else but God alone to put courage into the fainthearted, God who says to the fearful, “Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be afraid”; as the Prophet says, “For even if I walk in the midst of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.” And the Master himself says to the fearful, “Let not your heart be troubled, nor let it be afraid”; and “Why are you fearful, you of little faith?”; and “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid”; and again, “Take heart, I have overcome the world.” So even against Eunomius’s will godliness shows itself through the hostile voice itself. And the next statement agrees with the preceding: “Caring for all,” he says, “and bringing every care and providence.” For truly it belongs to God alone to care and take thought for all, as the great David says: “I am poor and needy; the Lord will take thought for me.” But if the remainder has been rattled out without sense, as noise, in empty words, let no one blame us, seeing him in most things feeble and untrained in any sensible thought. For what he means by “for the onward leading of the better disposed and the guarding of the more faithful,” neither he himself could say, nor those who senselessly admire his work. In Christ Jesus, to whom be the glory and the might for ever and ever. Amen.

For one who competes lawfully, the end of the labours in the contests is either that the opponent, giving up on the labours altogether, willingly yields the victory to the one who has prevailed, or that he is thrown three times according to the athletic rule; and by this the victor, at the judgment of those who award the prize, receives the glory of the crown through a splendid proclamation. Since, then, Eunomius, already thrown twice in the preceding books, does not yet concede to the truth the prize of victory over falsehood, but for a third time again, through his writing, dusts himself for the bout against godliness in his familiar wrestling-school of falsehood, having strengthened himself for the contests on behalf of deceit, of necessity the word of truth now too rises up through us to overthrow falsehood, having set its hopes on the one who gives victory and presides over the contest, and at the same time drawing strength from the very malice of the opponent’s holds. For we confess without shame that we have neither prepared any speech whetted by rhetoric for the contests, nor do we put forward the cleverness of dialectical sharpness as an ally against our opponents, a cleverness which among the inexperienced often turns even the truth into a suspicion of falsehood. But there is one power of the word within us against falsehood. First, the true Word himself, the strength of our word … [the book of Proverbs] commands that one first become wise through preliminary training, and only then take in the instruction that comes from the Proverb. For it says that the words of prudence disclose their aim through a turning. For what is not understood directly needs some turning to grasp what is hidden. And just as Paul announced that he would change his voice when he was about to transfer the history into a figurative contemplation, so here the disclosure of hidden things is called by Solomon a turning of the word, since the beauty of the thoughts cannot be perceived unless one turns what shows on the surface of the word the other way and sees the hidden radiance of the thought. It is as happens with the feather with which the peacock adorns its tail. One who looks at the back of the feather despises it altogether as a cheap sight, because it is without beauty and shapeless. But if someone turns it over and shows its other face, he sees nature’s many-coloured painting: the half-circle shining in purple dye at the centre, and the golden haze around the circle, girded and gleaming at its edge with many-hued rainbows. Since, then, there is no beauty on the surface of the wording (for “all the glory of the king’s daughter,” it says, “is within,” shining out in golden thoughts with a hidden adornment), Solomon of necessity sets before those who read this book the turning of the word, so that through it they may understand “a parable and a dark saying, words of the wise and riddles.” Since this proverbial teaching contains such things, no one of sound mind will accept anything put forward from this book without examination and contemplation, even if it is as clear and familiar as can be at first sight. For beneath even what seems obvious there lies some contemplation by way of the higher sense. And if the plain parts of this Scripture necessarily call for a more detailed examination, how much more those in which much is unclear and hard to perceive on an immediate understanding? Let us, then, examine from the context of the words in that passage whether reading what stands beside it yields anything clear. The passage first portrays Wisdom, speaking certain sayings in her own person; and the lover of learning surely knows what is said there: Wisdom makes counsel her dwelling and calls on knowledge and understanding, and says that she has strength and prudence as her possession; she herself is named understanding; she walks in the ways of righteousness and goes about in the midst of the paths of justice. She says that through her kings reign, potentates write righteousness, and tyrants rule their own land. That no reasonable person accepts any of these statements without examination, in their ready meaning, is clear to everyone. For if kings are advanced to power through her, and tyranny has its strength from her, wisdom must necessarily appear to us as a maker of tyrants and take upon herself the blame of those who have wielded royal power wickedly. But we know as kings those who are truly advanced by wisdom to the rule that has no end, the poor in spirit, whose possession is the kingdom of heaven, as the Lord, who is the Wisdom of the Gospel, promises. Such too we recognize as the potentates: those who hold power over the passions, those not enslaved to the power of sin, who write righteousness in their own life as on a tablet. So too the praiseworthy tyranny, having changed the democracy of the passions into the monarchy of the mind with the alliance of wisdom, enslaves what wrongly bolts toward freedom: I mean all bodily and earthly ways of thinking.

For “the flesh lusts against the spirit” and rises up against the rule of the soul. It is this earth, then, that such a tyrant masters, the earth over which he was appointed ruler by the Word at the first creation. As, then, all people of sound mind agree that these things are to be read with such a sense rather than with the one that shows on the surface of the words, so it is reasonable that the saying written directly after them, in sequence, should not be accepted simply and without examination by people of sound mind: “If I declare to you,” it says, “the things that happen daily, I will remember to recount the things from of old: the Lord created me.” What, someone will say to me about this saying (the slave of the wording, who sits by the sound of the syllables in Jewish fashion), does not the construction strike the ears of the more attentive as strange? “If I declare to you the things that happen daily, the Lord created me.” As though, if she does not declare the things that happen daily, she will consequently deny altogether that she was created. For one who says, “If I declare, I was created,” has given us to understand, by what is left unsaid, “I was not created if I do not declare.” “The Lord created me,” it says, “as the beginning of his ways, for his works; before the age he founded me in the beginning, before he made the earth, before he made the depths, before the springs of the waters came forth, before the mountains were settled; and before all hills he begets me.” What is this new order in the making of this creature? First it is created, after that it is founded, and then it is begotten. “The Lord made,” it says, “countries and uninhabited places, and the inhabited heights of the land under heaven.” What Lord does it call the maker of uninhabited country and of the inhabited world? Surely the one who also made wisdom. For this saying and that come from the same person: the one who says, “The Lord created me,” and the one who adds, “The Lord made countries and uninhabited places.” The Lord, then, will equally be the maker of both: of wisdom herself, and of the inhabited and uninhabited country. Where, then, is “all things came into being through the Son, and without him not one thing”? For if the same Lord creates both wisdom, which they advise us to understand as the Son, and every particular thing that creation contains, how does the sublime John speak truly when he says that all things came into being through him? For this Scripture contradicts the voice of the Gospel by ascribing to the one who created wisdom the making of the uninhabited and the inhabited country. So too everything that follows describes a throne of God set apart upon the winds; it says that the clouds above become strong, and the springs under heaven secure; and the context contains many such things, which call for much thought, the kind found in what has been said by a subtle and discerning mind. What is the throne set apart upon the winds? What is the security of the springs under heaven? How do the clouds above become strong? For if one judges the passage by appearances, he will find much conflict between the facts and what is said. Who does not know that the extremities of the land under heaven are uninhabitable, because they are either too close to the sun’s heat or exceedingly far from it, through excess in one direction or the other, some becoming dry and scorched beyond measure, others abounding in moisture and frozen solid, while only those parts are inhabited which are equally removed from either extreme? If the middle of the earth is occupied by human beings, how does the proverb say that the extremities of the land under heaven are inhabited? And what strength could be seen in the clouds, so that the saying which says that the clouds above have become strong is true in its ready sense? For the nature of a cloud is a rather thin vapour, spread through the air, which rides on the wind in the air, made light by its great fineness; but when it flows together upon itself by compression it falls through the wind that held it up, becoming a heavy drop. What strength, then, is there in things that offer no resistance to those who touch them? For the thinness and easy dispersal of air can be seen in the cloud as well. And again, how is the divine throne set apart upon the unstable nature of the winds? And to say that it is first created, at the end begotten, and in between founded: what reason could one say this has that agrees with common and ready notions? And the question raised before these in the passage: how does the declaring of the things that happen daily, and the remembering of the recounting of things from of old, become a kind of cause for saying that wisdom was created by God? Since, then, it has been clearly shown by what has been said that nothing in these words is such that the passage may be accepted without examination and contemplation, it would be well, as with the rest, not to interpret “The Lord created me” either according to the sense that arises in us at once from the word, but to seek with all attention and care what is to be understood through the saying in a godly way.

But to have grasped exactly the sense of these words would belong only to those who search out the depths by the Holy Spirit and know how to speak the divine mysteries in the Spirit. Our discourse will occupy itself with them only so far as not to pass over the aim within them wholly without contemplation. What, then, is our account? It is not possible, I think, that the wisdom which comes to someone from divine illumination should be present alone, apart from the other gifts of the Spirit; the grace of prophecy must certainly enter with it. For if the grasp of the truth of things that are is proper to wisdom, and prophecy contains clear knowledge of things to come, no one would possess the perfect gift of wisdom unless, through the cooperation of prophecy, he included what is to come in his knowledge. Since, then, Solomon claims for himself no human wisdom (he who said, “God has taught me wisdom,” and who ascribed every word of his own to God, where he says, “My words have been spoken by God”), it would be well to search out the prophecy mingled with wisdom in this part of the Proverbs. We say, then, that in the words before this, when he said that wisdom had built herself a house, he hints by the saying at the forming of the Lord’s flesh; for the true Wisdom did not dwell in another’s building, but built the dwelling for herself from the virgin’s body. Here he adds to the account what was united from both, from the house, I mean, and from the wisdom that built the house, that is, from the human element and from the Godhead mingled with the man; and to each of these he fits the corresponding and suitable expressions, as one can see happen in the Gospels too, where the language, conducted according to what suits its subject, shows the divine through the loftier sense befitting God, and the human through the lowly and humble. So one can see Solomon too moved prophetically in this part and handing down the whole mystery of the economy. First he speaks of the power and activity of wisdom before the ages, and here he agrees in a way with the Evangelist even in the very words. For as the Evangelist, with an all-embracing expression, proclaimed him the cause and maker of all things, so Solomon says that the particular things counted in the universe came into being through him. For he says that “God founded the earth by wisdom, and prepared the heavens by understanding,” and whatever follows in sequence keeping the same sense. And so that he may not seem to pass over without mention the gift of virtue among human beings, he speaks again in the person of Wisdom, saying what we mentioned a little earlier, “I made counsel and knowledge and understanding my dwelling,” and all that belongs to intellectual and scientific teaching. Having gone through these and the like, he brings in also teaching about the economy concerning man: why the Word became flesh. For it is plain to all that the God who is over all has nothing in himself created or brought in from outside: not power, not wisdom, not light, not word, not life, not truth, nor anything at all of what is contemplated in the fullness of the divine bosom, all of which the only-begotten God is, “who is in the bosom of the Father.” The name of creation, then, could not reasonably be applied to anything contemplated in God, so that the Son who is in the Father, or the Word who is in the beginning, or the light in the light, or the life in the life, or the wisdom in the wisdom, should say, “The Lord created me.” For if the wisdom of God is created, and Christ is the power of God and the wisdom of God, then God certainly had his wisdom brought in from outside, having acquired later, by making it, what he did not have at first. But he who is in the bosom of the Father never lets us think of the Father’s bosom as empty of himself; so he is not one of the things that have come to be in the bosom from outside. Being the fullness of every good, he who was in the beginning is certainly understood to be in the Father, not waiting to come to be in him through creation, lest the Father should ever be thought empty of good things. He who is understood to be in the eternity of the Father’s Godhead is always in him, being power and life and truth and light and wisdom and the like. The saying “He created me,” then, does not come from the divine and pure nature, but, as has been said, from what was mingled by the economy from our created nature. How, then, is the same one, called wisdom and understanding, who founds the earth, prepares the heavens, and breaks open the depths, here created as a beginning of works? Not without great cause, he says, is such an economy brought about.

“But since human beings, having received the commandment of the things to be kept, cast the grace out of their memory through disobedience and fell into forgetfulness of good things, therefore, so that I may declare to you again the things that happen daily for salvation, and remind you of the things from of old, recounting what you have forgotten (for I do not now announce some new Gospel, but am working for your restoration to the original state), for this reason I, who always am and need no creation in order to be, was created, so that I might become the beginning of ways for the works of God,” that is, for human beings. For since the first way had been corrupted, a new and living way had to be opened again for those who wander: myself, who am the way. And that the sense of “He created me” looks to the human element, the divine Apostle presents more clearly to us in his own words, where he commands, “Put on the Lord Jesus Christ,” and moreover where, taking up the same thought again, he says, “Put on the new man, created according to God.” For if the garment of salvation is one, and this is Christ, no one could say that the new man created according to God is anyone other than Christ. It is clear that he who has put on Christ has put on the new man created according to God. For only this one is truly and properly named a new man, who did not appear in human life through the known and customary ways of nature; in him alone a creation altered and peculiar to him was newly made. For this reason, looking to the wonder of his birth, he names the same one a new man created according to God; and looking to the divine nature mingled in the creation of this new man, he calls him Christ, so that the two expressions, “Christ,” I mean, and “the new man created according to God,” belong to one and the same. Since, then, Christ is the Wisdom, let the intelligent hearer consider the account of those who fight against us and our own, and judge which is more godly. Which better preserves in the text thoughts befitting God: the one who defines the Creator and Lord of the universe as made, and sets him on equal honour with the creation that serves, or rather the one who looks to the economy and keeps what suits both the conception of the divine and that of the human? The great Paul bears witness with this doctrine: in the new man he sees the creation, and in the true Wisdom the authority over creation. And the order of the passage agrees with the contemplation of the doctrine. For if the beginning of the ways had not been created in us, the foundation of the ages hoped for would not have been laid; nor would the Lord have become for us Father of the age to come unless, according to Isaiah, a child had been born to us and his name had been called, with all the other names the prophet gave, and with them all, “Father of the age to come.” First, then, came the mystery of the virginity and the economy of the passion; and then the wise master builders of the faith laid the foundation of the faith. This foundation is Christ, the Father of the age to come, on whom the life of the endless ages is built. When this had happened, so that in each believer the divine wills of the Gospel law and the varied gifts of the Holy Spirit might come to be (all of which the divine Scripture figuratively, by a fitting sense, names mountains and hills, calling righteousness “the mountains of God,” calling judgments “depths,” and calling “earth” what is sown by the Word and bears abundant fruit; or, as elsewhere in David, we are taught peace by the mountains and righteousness by the hills), wisdom is of necessity begotten in the faithful, and the Word is true. For he who is in those who have received him is not yet begotten in the unbelieving. So that these things may come to be in us too, their maker must be begotten in us. In this way we shall understand what follows as well, according to the same sequence. For if wisdom is begotten in us, then the country and the uninhabited place are prepared by God in each one: the country is the soul that receives the sowing and ploughing of the Word; the uninhabited place is the heart separated from evil inhabitants; and so our dwelling will be on the heights of the earth. For since the earth has a certain depth and a surface, when someone does not become subterranean or a cave-dweller by thinking on things below (such is the life of those who live in sin, stuck fast in the bottomless mud of the deep, for whom life is truly a pit, according to the psalm that says, “Let not the pit shut its mouth upon me”)…

If, then, anyone in whom wisdom has been begotten sets his mind on things above, touching the earth only so far as is necessary, he dwells on the heights of the land under heaven, not sinking deep into earthly thinking; wisdom is present to him as he prepares heaven in himself instead of earth. And when he makes the teaching of the clouds above strong for himself by putting its precepts into practice, and by an exact way of life marks off the great and broad sea of wickedness as with a shore, he prevents its salt water from going beyond its mouth. And if he is led down into springs by the gift of teaching, pouring out the stream of the word securely, so as not to give anyone a muddy stirring-up to drink instead of clean water; and if, raised above every earthly footing, he becomes airborne in his life, having stepped onto the spiritual way of life which the passage named “winds,” so that he is set apart as a throne for the one established in him (such was Paul, “set apart for the Gospel,” to become “a vessel of election to bear the name” of God, who became a kind of second throne for the Word, carrying the one established in him); when these and similar things have been achieved, so that he who has completed God’s inhabited world in himself now rejoices, rejoicing because he has become father not of wild and irrational beasts but of men (these would be the godlike thoughts, formed after the divine image through faith in him who was created and begotten in us; and faith, according to Paul’s word, is understood to be the foundation through which wisdom is begotten in the faithful and accomplishes everything that has been said), then the life of the one who has succeeded becomes truly blessed; with him wisdom is in harmony, and over him she rejoices at every season, as he rejoices daily in her alone. For “the Lord rejoices over his holy ones,” and in heaven there is joy over those who are saved; and Christ, as Father, holds a feast over the son brought back safe. Since these things have been said by us in passing, let the diligent reader who studies the ground of the divine Scripture fit the riddles to these contemplations, testing whether it is not far better to think that the sense of the riddles looks to this, and not to what is supposed at first sight. For the theology of John, which hymned all created things as the work of the Word, cannot be thought true if the one who created wisdom here is believed to have made all other things along with her. For then all things will no longer be through her; she will be counted with all the things that have come to be. That the riddling expressions look to this is clearly revealed by the passage that follows, which says, “Now then, son, hear me,” and, “Blessed is he who keeps my ways,” meaning by “ways,” plainly, the approaches to virtue, whose beginning is the acquiring of wisdom. Who, then, looking to the divine Scripture, will not agree that the enemies of the truth are at once impious and slanderers? Impious, because, so far as lies in them, they pull down the ineffable glory of the only-begotten God and attach it to creation, striving to show the Lord, whose power over all is unique, to be one of the things made by him. Slanderers, because, though Scripture gives them no starting-point for such suppositions, they arm themselves against godliness as if bringing their testimony from it. Since, then, they can show no saying from any of the holy Scriptures that counsels us to view the pre-eternal glory of the only-begotten God together with the creation subject to him, it would be well, now that this has been demonstrated by us, for the prize of victory over falsehood to be awarded to the account of godliness; and, rejecting all these verbal technicalities of theirs by which they fit the creature to the Creator and the thing made to the maker, to confess, as the Gospel from heaven teaches, a beloved Son, not illegitimate, not supposititious; and, accepting with the name “Son” all natural kinship, to call him true God from true God, and to believe likewise of him everything that is seen in the Father, because they are one, and the one is understood in the other, not exceeding, not falling short, not differing or altered in any character befitting God and good. Since, then, Eunomius’s fight with himself has become plain, in which he is refuted as contradicting himself, now saying that he must be named Son because he was begotten by nature, and again that because he was created he must be called no longer Son but a thing made, I think it fitting for one who listens sensibly and attentively, since truth cannot be found equally in each of two statements that fight one another, to reject from both what is impious and blasphemous, I mean the language of creature and thing made, and to assent only to what looks to godliness, the statement that confesses that the name of Son belongs to the only-begotten God by nature, so that the account of godliness may gain support even through the voice of its enemies.

Speaking again, he takes up the statement of his which I set out at the beginning: “Since the Son is begotten,” he says, “we do not refuse to call him also offspring, since the begotten substance itself and the name of Son make such a relation of the names appropriate.” For the moment, then, let the one who listens critically to what is said remember this: he speaks of the begotten substance, so that neither unbegottenness nor begetting is any longer taken in place of substance; rather, the substance is taken by itself, and its having been begotten, or not begotten, is understood separately, through the properties contemplated in it. Let us consider his statement on this point more diligently. He says that a substance has been begotten, and that “Son” is the name of the begotten substance. But here our argument will refute two things in our opponents’ statement: the one, the attempt at mischief; the other, the weakness of the attack on us. He works mischief by speaking of a begetting of substance, in order to establish the opposition of the substances to one another, split into a difference of nature by “begotten” and “unbegotten.” But the weakness of the attack is exposed by the very means by which the mischief is constructed. For one who says that the substance has been begotten clearly defines begetting as something other than the substance, so that what “begetting” signifies could not be fitted to the definition of substance. For he has not done here what he contrived in many places, so as to say that the begetting itself is the substance; he admits that the substance was begotten, so that a distinct notion arises in the hearers from each word. For one notion arises in someone who hears that something was begotten, and another through the name “substance.” Our argument may become clearer through examples. The Lord said in the Gospel that when the pangs draw near the woman is in sorrow, but afterwards she rejoices with joy “because a man has been born into the world.” In this passage, then, we learn from the Gospel two distinct notions: one, the birth, which we understood through “born”; the other, what comes into being from the birth itself; for the man is not the birth, but the man is through the birth. So here too, since Eunomius has admitted that the substance was begotten, we have been taught by the first word that it is from something, and by the next we have understood the subject itself, whose hypostasis is from something. If, then, what “substance” signifies is one thing, and the word “begetting” suggests another to the mind, their clever devices have collapsed all at once, like earthen vessels knocked against one another and shattered by one another. For they will no longer be able, when they transfer the distinction of begotten from unbegotten to the substance of the Son and of the Father, to transfer along with it to the realities the conflict of the names with one another. For since Eunomius has admitted that the substance was begotten, just as the Gospel example explains this sense (where, having learned that a man was born, we did not understand the man to be the same as the birth, but received a proper notion for each of the names), the heresy will no longer have any room at all for teaching the difference of the substances through such terms. That our account of these matters may be revealed more clearly still, let us take up the subject again in this way. He who established the universe made human nature at the beginning along with all things, and after Adam came into being, he then laid down for human beings the law of begetting from one another, saying, “Increase and multiply.” Since, then, Abel came into existence by begetting, who of sound mind would not say that, in the very sense of human begetting, Adam came into existence unbegotten? Yet the first man had in himself the whole definition of human substance, and the one begotten from him is described by the same definition of substance. If the begotten substance were made out to be other than the one not begotten, the same definition of substance would not have fitted both. For where the substance differs, the definition of the substance is not the same either. Since, then, the substance of Adam and that of Abel are characterized by the same properties, it must by all means be agreed that there is one substance in both, but one and another person shown in the same nature. For Adam and Abel, in the definition of their nature, are one, the two of them; but in the properties contemplated in each they have an unconfused distinction from each other. It cannot properly be said, then, that Adam begot a substance other than himself, but rather that from himself he begot another himself, with whom the whole definition of the begetter’s substance was brought forth. What we have learned in the case of human nature, then, through the guidance shown us by reason following its sequence, this I think we must take as a guide also to the pure understanding of the divine doctrines.

For if we shake off every fleshly and material notion of the divine and lofty doctrines, we shall have, through the thought that remains once it is cleansed of such things, the safest guidance by the hand toward what is lofty and inaccessible. For it is admitted even by our opponents that the God who is over all both is and is called Father of the Only-begotten; and the only-begotten God, who is from the Father, they name begotten because he was begotten. Since, then, among human beings the name of father carries certain implications from which the pure nature is far removed, it is fitting to leave behind all the material notions that come in with the fleshly sense of “father,” and to impress on the mind, in the case of the God and Father, a sense befitting God that expresses only the genuineness of the relation. Now since not only what the flesh suggests is included in the notion of a human father, but a notion of interval is also certainly understood along with human fatherhood, it would be well, in the case of the divine begetting, to cast away the notion of interval together with bodily defilement, so that, the material property being washed away on every side, the transcendent begetting may be pure of every notion, not only of passion but also of interval. Whoever, then, says that God is Father will include, with the notion that God is, his being something as well. For in a being whose existence is from some beginning, its being something certainly also begins from some point; but in one whose existence did not begin, neither does anything else contemplated about him have its beginning from any point. But God is Father; therefore he is from eternity what he is. For he did not become Father, but is Father; for in God what was, also is and will be; and if he once was not something, he neither is it nor will be. For he is not believed to be Father of anything such that it is pious to say that God was ever by himself without it. For the Father is father of life, of truth and wisdom, of light and sanctification and power, and of all such things as the Only-begotten is and is named. When, then, our enemies contrive that the light once was not, I do not know whose loss is greater: the light’s itself, when the light is not, or its possessor’s, when he does not have the light. So too concerning life and truth and power and all the other things with which the Only-begotten fills the Father’s bosom, being all things in his own fullness. For the absurdity is equal in either case, and the impiety against the Father balances the blasphemy against the Son. For in saying that the Lord once was not, you will not simply assert that power was not, but you will say that God’s power was not, the power of the Father of power. Your argument’s contrivance that the Son once was not, then, establishes nothing other than the Father’s deprivation of every good. See to what end the shrewdness of the wise is overturned! How true, here too, is the Lord’s word that says, “He who rejects me rejects him who sent me”! For by the same means by which they reject the Only-begotten’s eternal existence, they dishonour the Father, stripping the Father’s glory, in their account, of every good name and notion. The weakness of the writer’s mischief, then, has been plainly detected through what has been said: in attempting to establish the opposition of the Only-begotten’s substance to the Father’s by calling the one unbegotten and the other begotten, he has been refuted as trifling with untenable things. For it has been shown through his own words, first, that the name of substance is one thing and that of begetting another; and second, that no new substance, differing from the substance of the Father, came to exist for the Son. Rather, what the Father is in the definition of nature, that also is he who is from him, an offspring, the nature not being changed into something different in the hypostasis of the Son, according to the truth of the argument shown us earlier. [As the begetting] did not make a change of nature in Abel’s substance, so too in the pure doctrines the only-begotten God, coming forth from the Father and being in the Father, as the Gospel says, altered nothing in himself of the substance of the one who was not begotten through his own begetting. Rather, according to the simple and unlearned account of our faith, he is light from light, true God from true God, being all that the other is, except being that one, the Father. As for the aim for which he goes through these technicalities, I think there is no need to speak of it now: whether it is bold and dangerous, or permitted and safe, to remodel the words that signify the divine nature from one form into another, and to call the one begotten “offspring”…

… I pass over these things, so that our discourse, occupied beyond what is needed with the fight over lesser matters, may not neglect the greater. But I say that this must be examined exactly: whether the natural relation brings in the use of these names. For this is certainly what he says: that kinship in substance is brought in along with the kinship of the appellations. For he would not say that bare names by themselves, cut off from the meaning of what they signify, have any relation or kinship with one another; it is in the meanings shown by the words that we distinguish what is kin and what is foreign in the appellations. If, then, he admits that the Son has a natural relation to the Father, let us leave the appellations and consider the force of what they signify: whether what is understood in the kinship is foreignness of substance, or what is akin and proper. To say “foreign” is plain madness. For how could anyone keep a connected and kindred order in the names of things alien and without communion, “since the begotten substance itself,” as he says, “and the name of Son make such a relation of the names appropriate”? But if he were to say that kinship is signified by these appellations, he will of necessity appear, through the kinship of the names, as an advocate of the community of substance. And in establishing that the connection of the subjects is signified (and he does this in many places of his writing), he does not know what he is doing. For by the very means by which he tries to pull down the truth he is often dragged unwillingly into advocacy of the doctrines he is fighting. It is something like what we heard from the history about Saul: when once he was moved with anger against those who were prophesying, he was overcome by the grace and became one of those possessed by God, the prophetic Spirit, I suppose, wishing to instruct the apostate through himself. Hence the strangeness of the occurrence became a proverb for later life, the history telling of it with astonishment: “Is Saul also among the prophets?” In what, then, does Eunomius take the side of the truth? Where he says, “The Lord himself, being Son of the living God, not ashamed of his birth from the Virgin, often named himself Son of Man in his own words.” This is the very statement we too bring forward as proof of the community of substance: that the name “Son” shows an equal communion of nature in both cases. For as he is called son of man because of the kinship of his flesh with her from whom he was born, so too he is certainly understood to be Son of God because of the connection of his substance with that from which he came to exist; and this statement is the greatest weapon of the truth. For nothing shows the mediator between God and men, as the great Apostle named him, so well as the name “Son,” fitted equally to each nature, the divine and the human. For the same one is Son of God and became Son of Man by the economy, so that by his communion with each he might join in himself what is separated by nature. If, then, on becoming Son of Man he had had no share in human nature, it would follow that, being Son of God, he should not be said to share in the divine substance either. But if the whole human compound was in him (for “he was tempted in all things according to likeness, without sin”), it is altogether necessary to believe that every property of the transcendent substance is also in him, since the word “Son” bears witness to both alike in him: in the man, to the human; in God, to the divine. If, then, the appellations, as Eunomius says, show kinship, and kinship is seen in the realities, not in the bare sounds of names (by realities I mean the Son and the Father understood in themselves, if it is not bold to speak so), who could deny that the very champion of blasphemy has been dragged of his own accord into advocacy of godliness, overturning his own arguments by himself and proclaiming the community of substance in the divine doctrines? For the statement thrown out by him unwillingly on behalf of the truth does not lie about these things: that he would not have been called Son if the natural sense of the names did not confirm the calling. For as a pedestal is not called the son of the craftsman, and no sensible person would say that the builder begot the house, nor do we name the vineyard the offspring of the vinedresser, but the construction is a man’s work, and the one born from him is a man’s son (so that, I think, what is suitable may be signified in the subjects by the names), so too, taught that the Only-begotten is Son of God, we have not understood through this appellation a creature of God, but what the word “Son” truly shows by its meaning.

And if wine too is named by Scripture the “offspring of the vine,” not even so will the word be taken over from this shared name into the doctrines of godliness. For we do not call wine the offspring of an oak, nor the acorn the offspring of a vine, but only where there is some communion of nature between the offspring and what it comes from. For the moisture in the vine, drawn up through the base of the root by the pith, is water in potency; but travelling in a certain sequence through the paths of nature, and flowing over from the lower parts to what lies above, it changes into the quality of wine, the sun’s ray also cooperating somewhat, which, drawing the moisture by its heat from the depth to the shoot, makes the sap into wine by a proper and corresponding ripening. So by nature the moisture in the vine has no foreignness to the wine begotten from it; for this liquid is from that liquid, and no one could name another cause of the wine’s liquidity than the moisture naturally present in the branches. The differences of quality do not produce a change in the liquid; rather some property distinguishes the liquid in the wine from that in the branch, astringency or sweetness or [sourness] attending one of the two, so that they are the same in their subject but differ in their differences of quality. As, then, having heard from Scripture that the only-begotten God is Son of Man, we have learned through the relation of the name his kinship with true man, so too, even if the Son is called “offspring,” as our opponent says, we learn through this no less his kinship in substance with the one who begot him, since wine too, called the offspring of the vine, is found to be not foreign, in respect of its liquid, to the natural power present in the vine. Indeed, what our opponents say, if one examines it soundly, looks toward our doctrine; but their intention contradicts their own constructions, since they strive everywhere to establish foreignness of substance. And yet it is altogether impossible to guess where they were led to such suppositions from. For if the appellation “son” does not signify simply being from something, but properly presents through its meaning a kinship by nature, as Eunomius himself says; and if wine is not called the offspring of an oak, and the “offspring of vipers,” as the Gospel says, are snakes and not sheep; it is clear that in the case of the Only-begotten too the appellations “Son” and “offspring” would not have their kinship with something of another kind. But if, as our opponents say, he is also called offspring, and the calling of “Son” is, as they admit, according to nature, then the Son is certainly of the substance of the one who begot him, not of anything else contemplated outside his nature. And if he is truly from there, he is certainly not estranged from what he is from; as was shown in other cases too, everything that is begotten, having come to exist from something, is certainly of the same kind as that from which it has come. If anyone should demand of us some interpretation, description, and explanation of the divine substance, we shall not deny that we are ignorant of such wisdom, confessing only this much: that what is by nature unlimited cannot be grasped by any conception expressed in words. For the prophecy cries aloud, proclaiming plainly that the divine greatness has no limit: “Of his majesty, of his glory, of his holiness, there is no end.” If what is about him is boundless, much more is he himself, whatever he is in substance, enclosed by no limit in any respect. If, then, interpretation through names and words somehow encloses its subject by its meaning, and the unlimited cannot be comprehended, no one could reasonably blame our ignorance, since we are not bold about what may not be dared. For by what name shall I enclose the incomprehensible? By what word shall I proclaim the unspeakable? Since, then, the Divine is greater and higher than the meaning of names, we have learned to honour with silence what is beyond word and thought. And even if one who thinks more highly than he ought to think tramples on this reverent caution of speech, making a mockery of our ignorance about incomprehensible things, and claims to recognize the difference, by way of unlikeness, of what is without shape, limit, size, or quantity (I mean the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit), and brings forward as a refutation of our ignorance what is constantly put forward by the disciples of deceit, “You worship what you do not know,” if you do not know the substance of what is worshipped, we will not fear the reproach of fools, as the prophet counsels, nor, because of their disparagement, will we speak boldly about the unspeakable. We make Paul, “unskilled in speech,” our teacher of the mysteries that are beyond knowledge, who is so far from thinking the divine nature to lie within human comprehension that he says God’s judgments are unsearchable and his ways untraceable, and insists that what has been promised to those who love him for their good deeds in this life is beyond comprehension, so that it is not possible for the eye to receive it, or the ear to take it in, or the heart to contain it.

Having learned these things from Paul, then, we declare with confidence that not only are the judgments of God higher than the power of those who attempt to search them, but the ways of knowledge too remain to this day untrodden and inaccessible. For we think the Apostle wished to signify this when he called “untraceable” the ways that lead to the incomprehensible, showing by the word that that knowledge is inaccessible to human reasonings, and that no one has yet set his mind on such a journey of reason, or marked on what cannot be grasped any trace or sign of an approach that grasps it. Having learned these things, then, from the greatness of the Apostle’s mind, we reason from what has been said that, if the judgments cannot be searched out, and the ways are not traced, and the promise of good things lies beyond every guess and conjecture, how much more, in proportion to its being unspeakable and unapproachable, is the Divine itself higher and loftier than the things understood about it, of which the God-taught Paul declares there is no knowledge? And for this reason we confirm in ourselves the doctrine that is mocked, confessing that we are less in knowledge than what surpasses knowledge; and we say that we truly worship what we know. We know the height of the glory of him who is worshipped by this very fact, that we cannot grasp it with our reasonings, considering how inconceivable his greatness is. And the word spoken by the Lord to the Samaritan woman, but brought forward against us by our enemies, would more properly be said to them. For the Lord says, “You worship what you do not know,” to the Samaritan woman, who was preoccupied with bodily notions in her opinions about God; and the word fittingly rebukes her, because the Samaritans, thinking that they worshipped God, and then supposing that the Divine was bodily settled in a place, were pious only as far as the word, worshipping something else and not God. For nothing understood within a boundary is divine; it is proper to the Godhead to be everywhere, to pervade all things, and to be enclosed by nothing. So the word brought forward against us turns round to accuse the fighters against Christ. For as the Samaritans, thinking that the Divine was contained in some local boundary, were rebuked by what they heard (“You worship what you do not know,” and your worship that looks to God becomes profitless to you; for a God thought to be settled in some place is not God), so it would properly be said to the new Samaritans too: since you suppose that the divine substance is enclosed in the name of unbegottenness as in a kind of place, you worship what you do not know, serving God, yet ignorant that God’s unlimitedness surpasses every meaning and comprehension that comes from names. But our discourse has been carried further than the matter before us, following what keeps being found in its sequence; let us, then, take up the sequence again. For I think it has been sufficiently shown by what has been said that the statement he put forward is contrary not only to the truth but also to itself. For if, according to them, the natural relation to the Father is established by the appellation “Son,” and that to the begetter by “offspring” (their wisdom, through some grammatical nonsense, reshaping the words that signify the divine nature into a form of names), no one could any longer doubt that the relation of the names to one another, established by nature, becomes a proof of their kinship in substance, or rather of their identity. But let our argument not twist the opposing statement, so that the doctrine of godliness may not seem to be strengthened only by the weakness of its opponents, but to have its strength above all in itself. As far as possible, then, let the opposing argument be confirmed by ourselves with a more vigorous advocacy, so that the surpassing power [of the truth] may be recognized with full confidence, as we bring forward to an exact testing of our truth even what our opponents have omitted. For perhaps someone who takes our opponents’ side will say that the calling “son” and “offspring” does not always present kinship by nature. For in Scripture someone is called a “child of wrath,” and a “son of perdition,” and “offspring of a viper,” and surely no community of nature appeared along with such names. For Judas, named “the son of perdition,” is not the same in subject as perdition itself in its meaning; what is signified by “Judas” is one thing, and what is signified by “perdition” another. Likewise the argument could build the same case from the opposite side. For those called “sons of light” and “sons of day” are not the same as light and day in the definition of nature; and stones become children of Abraham when through faith and works they make kinship with him their own; and “those who are led by the Spirit of God,” as the Apostle says, are called “sons of God,” though they are not the same as God in nature. And many such things can be gathered from the God-inspired Scripture, by which deceit, like a picture decorated with scriptural testimonies, plays the part of truth’s likeness.

What, then, do we say to this? The divine Scripture knows how to use the word “son” in both senses, so that for some this appellation comes from nature, and for others it is added from outside and acquired. For when it speaks of “sons of men” and “sons of rams,” it signifies the relation in substance of what is begotten to that from which it came; but when it speaks of “sons of power” or “children of God,” it presents the kinship that comes from choice. And indeed, in the opposite sense too, the same persons were named both “sons of Eli” and “sons of pestilence,” the appellation “sons” fitting either notion well. For by being called sons of Eli they were attested to have natural kinship with him; but in being named sons of pestilence they were accused of the wickedness of their choice, as men who did not emulate their father in their life but made their choice akin to vice. In the lower nature, then, and in our own affairs, since what is human leans toward either side, toward vice, I mean, and toward virtue, it is in our power to become sons either of night or of day, while the nature, in what is primary, remains within its own bounds. For neither was he who became a child of wrath through vice estranged from human birth, nor did he who made himself akin to the good by choice reject his descent from human beings through the refinement of his pursuits; but while the nature stands firm in both, the differences of choice put on the names of kinship, as they become children of God through virtue or of the adversary through vice. But in the divine doctrines, how does Eunomius, he who “preserves the natural order” (for I will use the writer’s own words), and “abides by what is known from above,” and “does not refuse to call the begotten offspring, since the begotten substance itself,” as he says, “and the name of Son make such a relation of the names appropriate,” how does he estrange the begotten from kinship in substance with the begetter? For in the case of sons or offspring so called in reproach, or again where some praise accompanies such names, it cannot be said that anyone called a child of wrath was truly begotten by wrath; nor again did anyone have the day bodily for his mother, so as to be named its son; but the difference of choices makes the names of such kinship. Here, however, Eunomius says, “Since the Son is begotten, we do not refuse to call him offspring, since the begotten substance,” he says, “and the name of Son make such a relation of the names appropriate.” If, then, he admits that such a relation of the names is appropriate because the Son is truly offspring, how is it fitting to apply such a ground for the names both to things said by metaphor, in a stretched sense, and to those for which the natural relation, as Eunomius says, makes such a calling appropriate? Such a thing, then, is true only of those whose nature stands on the border between virtue and vice, among whom someone often takes contrary names, becoming a child now of light, now of darkness, through his kinship with the good or with its opposite. But where the opposite has no place, one could no longer say that the word “son” is applied by metaphor, like those who acquire the calling by choice. For no one would come to this argument: that just as a man, having put away the works of darkness, becomes a child of light through a seemly life, so too the only-begotten God by a change from the worse takes the better in exchange. For one who is a man becomes son of God by being joined to Christ through spiritual birth; but he who makes man son of God through himself does not himself need another son to grant him adoption, but is by nature what he is also named. A man changes himself, exchanging the old for the new; but God, into what will he be changed, so as to acquire what he does not have? A man, having stripped himself off, puts on the divine nature; but he who is always the same, what does he put off or put on? A man becomes son of God by taking on what he does not have and casting off what he has; but he who never came to be in vice has neither anything to take nor anything to leave. Again, a man can in one way truly be called someone’s son, when one speaks with a view to nature, and in another way by a stretched use, when the choice of his life imposes the name. But God, being one good in a simple and uncompounded nature, always looks to the same, and is never changed by the impulses of choice; he always both wills what he is, and certainly is what he wills.

So he is properly and truly named Son of God in both respects: his nature has the good in itself, and his will is not broken away from the better, so that this word would not be applied to him by a stretched use. The things, then, which we set against ourselves in the person of our opponents have no place at all to be brought forward by them to discredit the natural kinship. But I do not know how, or why, hating and turning away from the truth, they name him Son, yet, so that community of substance may not be attested by this word, they separate the word from the meaning contained in the name and leave to the Only-begotten the name of Son empty and meaningless, granting him only the noise of the word. That I am saying what is true, and am not missing our opponents’ aim, may be learned plainly from the very arguments with which they attack the truth. For this is the kind of thing they bring forward to establish their blasphemy: that we have been taught by the divine Scripture many names of the Only-begotten (stone, axe, rock, foundation, bread, vine, door, way, shepherd, spring, tree, resurrection, teacher, light, and many others like them), but none of these is it pious to say while understanding it of the Lord in its ready sense. For it would be most absurd to think that what is bodiless and immaterial, simple and without shape, is given form by the meanings that some of the names display; so that on hearing “axe” we should think of iron of such a shape, or of “light” as the light in the air, or of “vine” as the plant grown from cuttings, or of each of the others as custom suggests. Rather, transferring the implications of these names to what better befits God, we understand something else, even if we name him so, not as if he were any of these things in the definition of his nature, but as being called these things while something else besides them is understood through what is said. And if such names are truly applied to the only-begotten God and do not contain an indication of his nature, they say that it follows that we should not take what “Son” signifies, according to prevailing custom, as an interpretation of his nature either, but should find for this word some meaning other than the common and ready one. These and such things they philosophize in order to establish that the Son is not what he both is and is called. Our discourse was hastening toward something else: to show Eunomius’s recent writing to be false and incoherent, agreeing neither with the truth nor with itself. But since, through what we are accusing in their doctrine, a kind of advocacy for the blasphemy has been brought into the discussion, it would be well to treat this briefly first, and then to return to the sequence of what was written. What, then, can we say to such things without missing what is fitting? That though the names which Scripture applies to the Only-begotten are many, as they too say, none of the others, we say, has a natural fitness in reference to the one who begot him. For we do not speak of him as stone, or resurrection, or shepherd, or light, or any of the others, with reference to the God of all, as we speak of him as Son of the Father. One can, as by a kind of art and rule, divide the meaning of the divine names in two. Some show the lofty and unspeakable glory; others show the variety of the providential economy, so that, by hypothesis, if there were no one benefited, the words that show the benefaction would not have been assigned to him. But all those that express what befits God are fitted naturally and properly to the only-begotten God even apart from the things administered. That such a doctrine may be revealed to us more clearly, the contemplation will be on the names themselves. The Lord would not have been named vine, except for the planting of those rooted in him; nor shepherd, unless the sheep of the house of Israel had been lost; nor physician, except for the sake of the sick; nor would he have accepted the rest of the names for himself, unless he made the words his own suitably for those benefited through some providential activity. Why need one lengthen the discussion by going through them one by one in matters that are agreed? But Son, and Right Hand, and Only-begotten, and Word, and Wisdom, and Power, and all such names as are said in relation to something, are said of him as named together with the Father in a kind of relative pairing. For he is named power of God, and right hand of God, and wisdom of God, and Son of the Father, and Only-begotten, and Word with God, and the like. It follows, then, from what has been said, that we should see in each of the names a meaning corresponding and fitting to its subject, so that we may not offend against the account of godliness by missing the right sense.

Just as, then, in transferring each of the others to what befits God, we reject their ready sense, so as to think of neither material light, nor a trodden way, nor bread from farming, nor a word made of sounds, but instead of these the things that present the majesty of the power of God the Word, so if anyone rejects the customary and natural meaning of “son,” by which we learn that he is from the substance of the one who begot him, he will certainly transfer the name to some interpretation more befitting God. For since the transfer of each of the others to what is more glorious fitted them to show the divine power, it certainly follows that the meaning of this name too should be transferred to something loftier. What sense more befitting God could there be in the appellation “Son,” if the natural relation to the begetter were rejected, as our opponents argue? For presumably no one is so bold in impiety as to think that, in speaking of the divine nature, what is low and grovelling is more fitting than what is lofty and great. If, then, they find some sense more magnificent than this, so that it seems unworthy to think of the Only-begotten as being from the nature of the Father, let them say whether they know anything, by their secret wisdom, loftier than the Father’s nature, so that by raising the only-begotten God to that they may lift him above his relation to the Father. But if the majesty of the divine nature lies above every height and surpasses every power of wonder, what reason is left that could carry the interpretation of the calling “Son” to something greater? Since, then, it is admitted that every word signifying something about the Only-begotten, even if it is named from lower usage, is properly said when transferred in meaning to what is more majestic, and it is shown that no sense more magnificent can be found for the appellation “Son” than the one that presents his genuineness toward the one who begot him, I think there is no need to linger on this point any longer, since it has been sufficiently shown by what has been said that the appellation “Son” ought not to be reinterpreted like the other names. But we must bring our examination back to the book. It is not for the same people both not to refuse to call the begotten “offspring” (for I will use their own words), “since the begotten substance itself and the name of Son make such a relation of the names appropriate,” and again to transfer the natural names into figurative shifts of meaning. So one of two things follows: either the first of their arguments has collapsed, and they take refuge in vain in the order of nature to establish that the begotten must be called offspring; or, if this is said rightly, the other argument will be dissolved by what was established before. For he who, according to them, is called offspring because he was begotten cannot, for this very reason, be called a thing made and a creature. For the meanings of these two names surely differ very greatly, and one who uses words reasonably ought to use his terms with an eye to the subject, so that we may not fall into some confusion of notions by exchanging words unsuitably for the things they signify. For this reason we name what is produced by art a craftsman’s work, but we call one born from a man that man’s son. No sensible person would call the work a son, or the son a work. For this belongs to one who confuses and muddies the true meaning by a wandering use of names. So one of these two things must be true of the Only-begotten: if he is Son, he is not called a creature; if he is created, he is estranged from the appellation of Son, just as heaven and earth and sea and all particular things, being creatures, do not take the calling of son. But since Eunomius bears witness that the only-begotten God is begotten (and the testimony of enemies is the stronger for establishing the truth), by saying that he is begotten he has also borne witness that he is certainly not created. So much on these matters. For since many arguments flood in upon us, we shall be content with these on the points proposed, lest their number run to excess.

It would be profitable also to examine in our discussion the natural science of “offspring” which he has philosophized with such care. He says (I will quote word for word the statement he has written so elegantly against the truth): “For who is so careless, and so unobservant of the nature of things, as not to know that, among the bodies on earth that are considered in begetting and being begotten, in acting and being acted upon, the begetters impart their own substance and the begotten naturally receive the same, since the material cause is common, and the supply flows in from outside; and the begotten are begotten by passion, and the begetters do not have their activity pure by nature, because their nature is yoked with passions of every kind?” You see how fittingly he who examines the nature of things with exactness takes in, in his contemplation, the pre-eternal begetting of God the Word who was in the beginning: bodies on earth, material cause, the passion of begetters and begotten, and all such things, at which a person of sense would blush even if they were said about us, our passible nature being pilloried by the account. Such, then, is the writer’s brilliant natural science about the only-begotten God. But let us leave off complaining (for what more could our groaning contribute toward undoing the wickedness of our enemies?) and, as far as we are able, make public the sense of what has been said. About what kind of begetting was the inquiry proposed: the one that subsists according to the flesh, or the one that concerns the only-begotten God? For since the contemplation is twofold, concerning the divine, simple, and immaterial life and concerning material and passible existence, and since begetting is said alike of both, it would be necessary to make a clear and unconfused distinction of the meanings, lest the shared name “begetting” mislead the truth. Since, then, the one proceeds through passion, while what is bodiless, intangible, formless, and free of material admixture is foreign to every passible condition, we should consider which begetting the inquiry was about, the pure and divine or the passible and defiled. But no one would say that it was not the pre-eternal existence of the only-begotten God that was set before the discussion. Why, then, does he linger over this bodily natural science in the foul arrangement of his discourse, defiling nature and making public the passions of human begetting, leaving the subject proposed? For we did not need to learn about this animal begetting that takes place through the flesh. Who is so foolish that, seeing himself and understanding within himself that the passage of human flesh into being is something material and through passion, he would seek another interpretation of his own nature, and need to learn the necessary passions that are seen with the begetting of the body: that the one who bears is in passion in one way and the one born in another, so that a man might learn from this teaching that he himself begets through passion and that passion began his own birth? For these things are the same whether kept silent or spoken: whether one goes through them making secret things public or covers the unspeakable in silence, we have not been ignorant that our nature proceeds through passion. But what we seek is to have the account made clear of the lofty and unspeakable existence of the Only-begotten, by which he is believed to be from the Father. While this is the inquiry before us, the new theologian adds to his discussion flux and passion and material cause and an activity not pure of defilement and a supply flowing in from outside and all such things. I do not know what has come over him: he who says that by the surpassing greatness of his wisdom he has left nothing incomprehensible outside his own knowledge, and who promises to explain the unspeakable begetting of the Son, has departed from the subject and plunges like an eel into the slimy mire of his reasonings, like that Nicodemus who came by night, who, when the Lord was teaching the birth from above, was dragged down in his reasonings to the bosom of the womb, and was at a loss how one could come again a second time into the womb, saying, “How can this happen?” He thought that because an old man cannot be carried again in a mother’s bowels, he could prove the spiritual birth untenable. But the Lord corrects his mistaken supposition too, saying that the properties of the flesh and of the spirit do not mix. Let this man too, if he will, correct himself in similar matters. For one who cares for truth must, I think, consider the subject from what belongs to it, and not slander the immaterial with a charge against material things. For if a man, or an ox, or any other creature born through flesh is not pure of passion in begetting or being begotten, what has that to do with the impassible and pure nature? Neither does our being mortal annul the immortality of the Only-begotten, nor does the turning of human beings toward vice make the unchangeableness of the divine nature doubtful, nor is anything else of ours transferred to God; rather, the property of human life and that of the divine is unmixed and without communion, and their distinguishing marks are altogether different, so that neither are these perceived in that, nor, conversely, those in this.

How, then, does Eunomius, when the divine begetting is the subject of the discussion, leave the subject and go through things on the earth, about which we have no dispute with him? But the craftsman’s aim is plain: to annul the Lord’s begetting by slandering it as passion. In this matter, setting aside its blasphemy, I marvel at the man’s shrewdness: how well he remembers his own effort! Having established by what he said before that the Son must be and be called offspring, he now strives to show that one must not think of begetting in his case. For if every begetting, as he thinks, has the condition of passion yoked with it, it must altogether be admitted through these words that what is foreign to passion is certainly foreign to begetting as well. For if these two, passion and begetting, are understood as joined with each other, what has no share in one of them could have no communion with the other either. How, then, does he call “offspring,” because of his begetting, one who is shown by what he now says not to have been begotten? And on behalf of what does he fight against our teacher, who counsels us not to venture on coining names in the divine doctrines, but to confess that he was begotten while not remodelling this notion into the form of a name so as to call the begotten “offspring,” since this word is assigned by Scripture properly to lifeless things or to those taken as an image of wickedness? But when we say that the word “offspring” should be left unsaid, he brings out that invincible rhetoric, taking grammatical frigidity also as an ally; and by the technical derivation of names, or paronymy, or whatever these things ought to be called, he concludes his syllogisms, not refusing to call the begotten “offspring.” But when, accepting this, we consider the sense of the name as showing at the same time the community of substance, he takes back his own words and maintains that the offspring was not begotten, annulling the pure, divine, and impassible begetting of the Lord by the defiled natural science of bodily childbirth, as though, in his view, the two cannot meet in God, genuineness toward the Father and impassibility of nature, but if there is impassibility there is no begetting, and if anyone confesses genuineness he must certainly accept passion along with the begetting. Not so the sublime John, not so that voice of thunder which proclaims the mystery of theology: he both names him Son of God and cleanses the proclamation of every passible supposition. See how he prepares our hearing beforehand in the opening of the Gospel! How great is the teacher’s forethought that none of his hearers should fall into low suppositions, slipping through ignorance into absurd notions! For to lead the untrained hearing as far as possible from passion, he did not say “Son” in the opening, nor “Father,” nor “begetting,” lest anyone, hearing “Father” first, should be dragged down to the ready implication of the name, or, learning that a Son is proclaimed, should understand the name according to usage here below, or should stumble at the word “begetting” as at a stone of stumbling. But instead of “Father” he names “the beginning”; instead of “was begotten,” “was”; and instead of “Son,” “the Word”; and he says, “In the beginning was the Word.” Tell me, what passion is there in these: in “was” and in “Word”? Is “the beginning” passion? Is “was” in passion? Is “the Word” through passion? Or, since there is no passion in what is said, is kinship not shown in the proclamation either? And yet how could the community and genuineness of substance, and the Word’s co-eternity with the beginning, be shown more clearly than through these words? For he did not say, “The Word was begotten from the beginning,” lest he should separate the Word from the beginning by some notion of extension; but he proclaimed him together with the beginning, saying “was” of the beginning and of the Word in common, so that the Word might not come later than the beginning, but might reach the hearing in the proclamation first, coming together with faith in the beginning, before the beginning could be received alone by itself. Then he says, “And the Word was with God.” The Evangelist still fears our lack of training; he still fears our childish and uninstructed state. He does not yet entrust the appellation “Father” to our hearing, lest someone more fleshly, learning “Father,” should consequently picture a mother in his mind as well. Nor yet does he name a Son in the proclamation; for he still suspects our habit of mind toward the lower nature, lest anyone, hearing “Son,” should humanize the Divine through a passible supposition.

For this reason, resuming the proclamation, he named him “the Word” again, explaining these things from nature to you, the unbeliever. For as your word appears from your mind and is not mediated by passion, so there too, hearing “Word,” you will understand that he is from something, and will not understand passion. For this reason, taking up the proclamation again, he says, “And the Word was with God.” Oh, how he measures the Word alongside God; or rather, how he extends the infinite alongside the infinite! “The Word was with God”: the whole Word, certainly, with the whole of God. As great, then, as God is, so great plainly is the Word who is with him; so that if God is bounded, the Word too is certainly within a boundary. But if God’s infinity passes beyond every boundary, neither is the Word who is contemplated with him enclosed by boundaries and measures. For no one would say that the Word is not contemplated with the whole Godhead of the Father, as though part of God were in the Word and part were shown to be bare of the Word. Again the fatherly voice of John; again the Evangelist nurses the hearing of infants with his proclamation. We have not yet grown so much through the first words that on hearing “Son” we would not slip through its customary implication. For this reason the herald, crying out again in the third phrase, still proclaimed “Word,” not “Son,” saying, “And the Word was God.” First he said in what he was, then with whom he was; now he says what he is. By the third repetition he completes the aim of his proclamation. “For I proclaim,” he says, “not a word of the kind ordinarily understood, but God, under the title of the Word.” For this Word, who was in the beginning and was with God, was not something other than God, but was himself God. And the herald, constantly rising through the repetition to greater sublimity, says that this is the God made known beforehand in the proclamation: that it is he through whom all things came into being, and he is life, and the light of men, and the true light shining in the darkness and not dimmed by the darkness, coming to his own and not received by his own, and becoming flesh, and through the flesh tabernacling in human nature. Only after going through so many such things does he say “Father” and name the “Only-begotten,” when there was no longer any danger that one cleansed by so much would slip into some defiled notion from the meaning of “Father”: “For we beheld,” he says, “his glory, glory as of the Only-begotten from the Father.” Say to this, to the Evangelist, say these wise words of yours, Eunomius: “How do you name a Father and an Only-begotten in your account, since every bodily begetting is effected through passion?” The truth certainly answers you on his behalf: the mystery of theology is one thing, the natural science of flowing bodies another. These are walled off from each other by a great distance. Why do you join by your argument things that do not mix? How do you pollute the purity of the divine begetting with a defiled argument? How do you systematize the bodiless through the passions of the body? Do not make the things above a matter of natural science drawn from those below. I proclaim the Lord Son of God, because the Gospel from heaven also proclaimed it so through the bright cloud: “This is my beloved Son.” Yet because I have been taught “Son,” I have not been dragged down by the name to the meanings of “son” here below; rather, I know that he is from the Father, and I do not know passion. And I will add this too to what has been said: that I know also a bodily birth pure of passion, so that in this point too Eunomius’s natural science of bodily begetting is shown to be false, if a birth of a body is found that did not admit passion. Tell me, did the Word become flesh or not? You would not say that he did not. He became so, then, and there is no one who denies it. How, then, was God manifested in the flesh? “Through birth,” you will certainly say. What birth, then, would you mention? Surely that of virginity: that what was begotten in her was from the Holy Spirit, that the days were fulfilled for her to give birth, and she gave birth, and incorruption was nonetheless preserved together with the birth. Do you, then, believe that the birth from a woman was pure of passion (if indeed you believe it), and yet not accept the divine and pure begetting from the Father, lest you should think of passion in connection with the begetting? But I know clearly that it is not passion he is avoiding in his doctrine, which he does not see at all in the divine and pure nature; rather, in order that the maker of all creation may be thought a part of creation, he constructs these things to deny the only-begotten God, using his feigned reverence about passion as a helper.

And he shows this plainly by what he adds in contention to what has been said, saying that the substance of the Son was begotten by the Father, “not put forth by extension, not torn away by flux or division from the natural union with the begetter, not perfected by growth, not formed by alteration, but having obtained its being by the will alone of the begetter.” Who, among those who have not altogether closed the senses of the soul, does not know that through these words Eunomius establishes that the Son is a part of creation? For what prevents us from saying all these things, word for word as they stand, of each of the other things seen in creation as well? If you will, let us fit the statement to one of the things that appear in creation; and if it does not run in the same way, we will bring the verdict against ourselves, as examining the statement maliciously and not with the care that befits the truth. Changing the name of the Son, then, let us read the statement word for word: we say that the substance of the earth was begotten by the Father, “not torn away by extension or division from the natural union with the begetter, nor perfected by growth, not put forth by alteration, but having obtained its being by the will alone of the begetter.” Is anything said here unsuited to the existence of the earth? I think no one would say so. For neither did God put forth the earth by extending himself, nor did he give its substance existence by flowing or cutting himself off from union with himself; nor did he bring it to completion from small to great by gradual growth; nor did he undergo any change or alteration and take the form of earth; rather, his will sufficed him for the existence of the substance of the things that came to be. For “he spoke, and they were begotten,” so that even the name of begetting does not jar with the existence of the earth. If, then, it is true to say these things of the countless things of the world, what doubt is left about our opponents’ doctrine? That, naming him Son only so far as words go, they make him out to be one of the things that came into being by creation, set before the others only by precedence of rank. Just as one can say of smithing that all the things made of iron come from it, but that the tools of tongs and hammer, by which the iron is shaped for use, came into being before the making of the rest; yet because this comes first, there is not therefore any difference in material between the tool that shapes and the iron shaped by the tool: this and that are both iron, but one form came into being before the other. Such is the heresy’s theology about the Son: to think that the Lord himself and the things that came into being through him do not differ at all in substance, except for the difference of rank. Who, then, of those who belong in any way at all among Christians agrees that the definition of substance is the same for the parts of the world and for the one who made the world? For my part I shudder at the blasphemy, knowing that things whose definition is the same certainly do not differ in nature either. For as the definition of substance is common to Peter and John and the rest of men, and the nature is one, so in the same way, if the Lord were alike in nature to the parts of the world, they would necessarily confess that he too is subject to whatever they observe in them. But the world does not endure forever; so on their account the Lord too will pass away with heaven and earth, if he is of the same kind as the world. But if he himself is confessed to be eternal, it is altogether necessary to think that the world too has a share in the divine nature, if it agrees with the Only-begotten in respect of being created. You see where the argument is carried by this fine sequence, like a stone broken off from a mountain ridge and driven down the slope by its own weight. For it is necessary either that the elements of the world appear worthy of worship, as in Greek vanity, or that the Son not be worshipped either. Let us consider it thus. We say that creation came into being from what was not, both the intelligible creation and all that belongs to sensible nature; they proclaim this of the Lord as well. We say that all things that came to be were established by the will of God; they relate this of the Only-begotten as well. We have believed that neither the angelic creation nor that in the world is from the substance of the one who made it; they likewise estrange him from the substance of the Father. We confess that all things are subject to the will of the one who made them; they hold this same view of the Only-begotten. Necessarily, then, they will apply to the Only-begotten all the other things they think about creation, and whatever they believe about him they will suppose about creation too; so that if they confess the Lord to be God, they will deify the rest of creation as well.

But if they define these things as having no share in the divine nature, they will not deny the same supposition about the Only-begotten either. Yet no sensible person attributes Godhead to creation. Then neither… I keep silent about what remains, so as not to lend my tongue to the enemies’ blasphemy. Let those whose mouths are well trained for blasphemy say what follows from the sequence; the conclusion is plain even when we are silent. For one of two things will necessarily follow: either they will openly vote the only-begotten God out of office, so that among them he no longer both is and is called this; or, if they attribute Godhead to him, they will attribute the same to all creation as well. Or, what remains, fleeing the impiety that appears on either side, they will take refuge in the pious account and will certainly agree that he is not created, so that they may confess him to be truly God. Why need one spend time telling the other blasphemies that necessarily follow from this starting point in their account? For one who looks to the consequences will understand from what has been said that even the father of the lie, the maker of death, the inventor of wickedness, though created in an intellectual and bodiless nature, was not prevented by his nature from becoming, through change, what he is. For a changeable substance, moved freely to either side, has the power of its nature following the inclination of its will, so as to become whatever its will leads it to. They will define the Lord, then, as capable of opposites too, dragging him down by creation to equal honour with the angels. But let them hear the great voice of Paul, how he says that he alone has been called Son, because he is not of the angels’ nature but of the better one. “For to which of the angels did he ever say, ‘You are my Son’?” And when again he brings the Firstborn into the world, he says, “And let all the angels of God worship him.” And of the angels he says, “Who makes his angels spirits, and his ministers a flame of fire”; but to the Son, “Your throne, O God, is for ever and ever; a sceptre of uprightness is the sceptre of your kingdom,” and whatever else the prophecy goes through with these in speaking of God. He adds also from another hymn what is suitable: “You, Lord, in the beginning founded the earth, and the heavens are the works of your hands,” and all that follows down to “But you are the same, and your years will not fail,” by which he describes the unchangeableness and eternity of his nature. If, then, the Godhead of the Only-begotten lies as far above the angelic nature as the master differs from the slaves, how do they put the Lord of creation on a common level with sensible creation, or the one worshipped by the angels with the nature of the angels, when, concerning the manner of his existence, they go through things that will properly fit each of the things seen in creation, as we have already shown that the account of the Lord given by the heresy fits the making of the earth naturally and suitably? But so that nothing may be left doubtful to those who read our labours, since there are some who offer advocacy for the heretical doctrines from the divinely inspired Scripture, it would be worthwhile to set this too beside what we have examined. For perhaps they will say, from the very apostolic words we have mentioned: “How could he have been named firstborn of creation, if he were not what creation is? For every firstborn is firstborn not of things of a different nature but of things of the same kind; as Reuben, preceding in birth those counted after him, was a man firstborn of men; and many others are called firstborn of the brothers counted with them.” They say, then, that whatever substance we understand the whole of creation to have, we say that its firstborn is of the same. “If, then, the whole of creation is of the same substance as the Father of all, we will not deny that its firstborn is so too. But if the God of all differs in substance from creation, it is altogether necessary to say that its firstborn does not share God’s substance either.” Such is the construction of the objection, set against our argument by us, I think, no less nobly than our opponents would likely have brought it against us. What one must know in answer will now be made clear in our discussion, as far as we are able. The name “firstborn” is used four times by the Apostle in all his writings, but he mentions this name in different ways and not in the same manner. Now he says, “Firstborn of all creation”; again, “Firstborn among many brothers”; then, “Firstborn from the dead.”

In the Epistle to the Hebrews the name “firstborn” is mentioned absolutely, by itself. For he says thus: “When again he brings the firstborn into the world, he says, ‘And let all his angels worship him.’” Since these uses are distinguished in this way, it would be well to examine each of them separately by itself: how he is firstborn of creation, how among many brothers, and how, mentioned by himself apart from each of these, when he is brought again into the world he is worshipped by all his angels. Let us, then, if you will, begin our contemplation of these passages from the last. “When again,” he says, “he brings the firstborn into the world.” The addition of “again” shows by the meaning of the word that this is not happening for the first time; for we use this word for the repetition of things that have happened once already. By the saying, then, he signifies his fearful appearing at the end of the ages, when he is no longer seen in the form of the slave, but sits majestically on the throne of the kingdom and is worshipped by all the angels around him. For this reason he who once entered the world, becoming firstborn from the dead, of brothers, and of all creation, when he enters the world again as the one who “judges the world in righteousness,” as the prophecy says, does not cast off the name of firstborn which he once accepted for our sake; but as every knee bows in the name of Jesus, the name that is above every name, so too the whole fullness of the angels worships the one who has come in the name of the firstborn, rejoicing over the recall of human beings, whom, by becoming our firstborn, he called back again to the grace that was from the beginning. For since there is joy among the angels over those who are saved from sin (because until now that creation groans and travails together with our vanity, judging our perdition its own loss), when the revealing of the sons of God takes place, which they always eagerly await and look for on our behalf, and when the sheep is brought back safe to the hundred above (and all of us, human nature, are this sheep, which the good shepherd brought back safe by becoming firstborn), then especially, with heightened thanksgiving on our behalf, they will offer worship to God, who through being firstborn called back the one who had left his father’s hearth. When these things have been understood by us in this way, no one could any longer doubt about the rest, for what reason he becomes firstborn of the dead, or of creation, or among many brothers. For all these look to the same aim, even if each displays some meaning of its own. He becomes firstborn from the dead who first by himself loosed the pangs of death, so that he might make a way for all to the birth from resurrection. Again, he becomes firstborn among brothers who was born first, in the water, of the new birth of regeneration, whose pangs the flight of the dove brought to delivery; through which he makes those who share with him in a like birth his own brothers, and becomes firstborn of those born after him from water and the Spirit. In short, since there are three births in us by which human nature is made alive (one from the body, one according to the mystery of regeneration, and one through the resurrection from the dead for which we hope), he becomes firstborn in all three. Of the twofold regeneration, worked through both baptism and resurrection, he himself became the leader in each; and in the flesh he becomes firstborn, the first and only one who made new in himself, through virginity, the birth unknown to nature, in which no one in all the generations of men had gone before him. If these things have been rightly understood, then neither will the meaning of the creation of which he is firstborn be unknown. For we have come to know a twofold creation of our nature: the first, by which we were formed, and the second, by which we were formed anew. But there would have been no need of our second creation had we not made the first useless through disobedience. Since that one had grown old and vanished, there had to be a new creation in Christ, as the Apostle says. He does not allow us to look any longer at anything that has grown old in the second creation, saying, “Having stripped off the old man with his deeds and desires, put on the new man created according to God”; and, “If anyone is in Christ,” he says, “he is a new creation; the old things have passed away; behold, new things have come to be.” For one and the same is the maker of human nature both at the beginning and afterward: then, taking dust from the earth, he formed man; again, taking the dust from the virgin, he did not simply form a man, but formed a man around himself.

Then he created; afterward he was created. Then the Word made flesh; afterward the Word became flesh, so that he might transform our flesh into spirit by sharing with us in flesh and blood. Of this new creation in Christ, then, which he himself began, he was named firstborn, having become the firstfruits of all, both of those born into life and of the dead who are made alive through resurrection, so that he might be Lord of both the dead and the living, and through the firstfruits in himself sanctify the whole lump. For that “firstborn” is not fitted to the Son in respect of his pre-eternal existence, the appellation “Only-begotten” bears witness. For one who is truly only-begotten has no brothers. How, then, could anyone be only-begotten while counted among brothers? But as he is called God and man, Son of God and Son of Man (for he is form of God and form of a slave, the one being his by the nature he has, the other having come about by the economy of his love for humankind), so too, being only-begotten God, he becomes firstborn of all creation: Only-begotten, being in the Father’s bosom, and among those saved through the new creation both becoming and being called firstborn of creation. But if, as the heresy would have it, he is called firstborn because he was made before the rest of creation, the name does not agree with what they establish about the only-begotten God. For they do not say that the Son and all things came into being from the Father alike; they say that the only-begotten God is the Father’s thing made, and all other things are his. By the same reasoning, then, by which, teaching that the Son was created, they name God the Father of the creature, they would certainly, in saying that all things were made by the only-begotten God, name him not firstborn of the things that came into being through him but, more properly, Father, since the same relation to the creatures in both cases produces, by consequence, the same appellation. For if the God over all is properly named not firstborn but Father of his own creature, by the same reasoning the only-begotten God too will properly be named Father, not firstborn, of his own creatures; so that the appellation “firstborn” is in every way improper and superfluous, having no place in the heretical notion. But we must return to those who join passion to the divine begetting and for this reason deny that the Lord was truly begotten, lest they should think of passion. For to say that passion is yoked with the begetting of all things, and that for this reason we must think of the Son as foreign to the notion of begetting, so that the Divine may remain purely outside passion, might perhaps seem to have some reason to the easily deceived; but for those instructed in the divine mysteries the refutation is ready from what is agreed. For who does not know that there is a birth that leads us up to the true and blessed life, not the same as the one constituted from blood and the will of the flesh, in which there is flux and change and gradual completion and whatever else is seen in that birth? The other is from God and heavenly and, as the Gospel says, is believed to be from above, and it does not admit the passions of flesh and blood. Or let our opponents dare to declare one of two things: either that there is no birth from above, or that it is through passion. But they agree that it exists, and they find no passion in it. So not every birth is naturally joined with passion: the material is passible, but the immaterial is pure of passion. What necessity is there, then, to rub the properties of the flesh onto the pure begetting of the Son, and, by mocking the lower birth with an indecent natural science, to shut the Son out of kinship with the Father? But if even in our case a birth leads off each life, the one through flesh, of a passible life, the other spiritual, of a pure life (and no one counted in any way among Christians would contradict the account), how can one who thinks of begetting in the pure nature reckon passion in with it? Let us examine this too in addition to what has been said. If because of the passion connected with the flesh they disbelieve the impassibility of the divine begetting, then on the same examples, I mean those in us, let them not believe God to be an impassible creator either. For if they judge the divine by our things, they will confess that God neither begets nor creates, since neither of these is effected in us without labour and matter. Let them, then, either separate both from the divine nature, creating and begetting, so as to keep God’s impassibility in both, and cast faith in the Only-begotten altogether out of their doctrine, so that the Father may be kept outside passion, not defiled in begetting; or let them grant that the one is effected impassibly by the divine power, and not quarrel about the other.

[…let them not] quarrel. For if he creates without labour and matter, he certainly also begets without labour and flux. And again I have Eunomius himself as my advocate for this argument too. I will state his nonsense briefly, running over his whole meaning in a few words: “Human beings do not make materials for us, but only devise the form for the material.” This is the meaning of what they have said with so much nonsense. If, then, thinking of conception and formation in the lower begetting, he forbids for this reason the pure notion of begetting, then consistently, by the same reasoning, since making here below labours over the form but cannot supply matter along with the form, let him for this reason forbid us to think that the Father is a creator either. But if he will not think of creating in God according to the measure of human power, let him not slander the divine begetting on the basis of human things either. That his exactness and circumspection in what he says may be made more evident, we will take up again a little of what they have said. He says that what acts and what is acted upon share nature with each other, and after begetting from bodies he sets out the craftsmen’s making from materials. Let the shrewd hearer consider, then, how he falls away from his own aim, wandering after whatever turns up at each moment. In things that come to be through flesh he sees the agent and the patient in the same substance, the one imparting the substance and the other partaking of it. So well does he know how to see the truth exactly in the nature of things that he separates the one who imparts and the one who partakes from the substance, and says that each of them is another, by himself, apart from the substance. For the one who receives or imparts is certainly other than what is shared and given; so that one must first be understood by himself, seen in his own hypostasis, and only then may one say of him that he gives, or has, or receives what he did not have before. And having spat out this argument so ridiculously, the wise man does not notice that he overturns himself again by what follows. For one who shapes the underlying material by art as he pleases certainly does something by his activity, and the material receives the shaping from the one who exercises the art by being acted upon. For the material does not receive the form from the art while remaining impassive and resistant. If, then, even in things effected by art nothing could come to be unless passion and activity concur with each other toward what comes to be, how can one think that the writer pays attention to his own words, when, by declaring community of substance in passion and activity, he runs the risk not only of somehow attesting for the begotten the community of substance with the begetter, but also of making all creation consubstantial with its maker, if indeed he defines agent and patient as being of the same kind by nature? By the very means by which he constructs what he wishes, then, he overturns what he is striving for, making the doctrine of the consubstantial stronger by his own fighting. For if begetting from someone shows the substance of the begetter in the begotten, and craftsmanship, accomplished through activity and passion, on his account brings the maker and what comes to be into community of substance (and the writer establishes in many places of his writings that the Lord was begotten), then by the very means by which he estranges the Lord from the Father’s substance he attests his connection with it. For if on his account a separation of substance is seen neither through begetting nor through making, then whatever he grants the Lord to be, whether created or offspring, he has attested his kinship in substance through both, having argued technically for community of nature in agent and patient, begetter and begotten. But let us turn to what follows in his discourse. I ask my readers not to be annoyed at the exactness of the examination, which brings our discussion to an unintended length. For the danger is not about trivial matters, such that, if we hurried past something that needed more laborious contemplation, we would suffer only a small loss; we are in danger concerning the very sum of our hope. For the choice before us is either to be Christians, not carried away by the heretical ruin, or to be dragged down altogether into Jewish and Greek suppositions. So that we may suffer neither of these forbidden things (neither agreeing with Jewish doctrines by denying the truly begotten Son, nor falling with the fall of the idolaters by worshipping the creature), we must first spend time on the account of these things, setting out Eunomius’s statement itself, which runs thus: “These things being so distinguished, one might reasonably say that the most proper and first and only substance that subsists by the activity of the Father receives into itself the appellations of offspring, thing made, and creature.”

And a little later: “The Son alone,” he says, “constituted by the activity of the Father, has a nature and a relation to the one who begot him that are shared with no other.” But in what precedes he says that he does not refuse to call the begotten “offspring,” “since the begotten substance itself and the name of Son make such a relation of the names appropriate.” Since, then, the contradiction in what has been said is so evident, I cannot help marvelling at the shrewdness of those who praise this doctrine. For it would be hard for them to find which of his statements they could turn to without offending against the other. His former argument established that the begotten substance and the appellation of Son make such a relation of the names appropriate; the present technical reasoning says the opposite, that the Son has a relation to the one who begot him which is shared with nothing. If they believe the first, they will certainly not accept the second; if they lean to this, they will take a stand against the first supposition. Who will resolve their battle? Who will mediate in the civil war? Who will reconcile the faction into agreement, when their very soul is divided against itself by what is said and drawn apart into contrary doctrines? Or perhaps this is the riddle of the prophecy that David speaks of the Jews: “They were divided and were not pricked to the heart.” For see, even when divided into contrary doctrines they have no sense of their fault, but are carried by the ears, like jars carried round by their handles to wherever the one who moves them pleases. It pleased him to say that the begotten substance naturally has the appellation of Son: at once, like men dozing, they nodded assent to what was said. He shifted his argument again to the opposite and denies the Son’s relation to the begetter: again the dear fellows nod along with this too, as the shadows of bodies change their shape by spontaneous imitation along with the movement of the one who goes before. Wherever he wishes, they lean that way, accepting even this, though he fights with himself. This is some other Homeric potion, which does not change the bodies of those drugged into the shapes of brutes, but works on their souls a transformation into brutishness. For of those the story says that their mind remained firm while their form was changed into that of beasts; here, while their bodies remain in their natural state, their souls are reshaped into brutishness. And just as the poetic marvel there says that those drugged were changed into the shapes of different beasts, as pleased the woman who used her sophistry on nature, so the same happens now from this Circean bowl. For those who drink of the bewitched deceit from the same treatise are changed into the shapes of different doctrines, formed now by this one, now by the other. And besides this, the dear fellows, as in the plot of the fable, still love the one who leads them into such brutishness. Like the fruit of the cornel or the acorn, they stoop and pick up the words he throws about, rushing greedily like swine at the doctrines cast on the ground, having no nature to gaze at what is lofty and heavenly. For this reason they do not see the argument turning to contrary positions, but snatch up without examination whatever comes to them. And as they say that the bodies of those stupefied by mandrake are held fast by a kind of torpor and sluggishness, in the same way the senses of the soul are disposed in these men too, numbed toward the understanding of the deceit. It is a terrible thing, then, to be caught unawares in hidden snares through some fallacy; still, the misfortune is pardonable when it is involuntary. But to draw the experience of evil upon oneself by forethought and eagerness, not ignorant of the disaster, surpasses every extreme of misfortune. How is it not right to lament, when we hear that even greedy fish flee the bare iron when it comes near, but, deceived by the bait, swallow the hook in hope of food? To desert willingly to this destruction where the evil is evident is more wretched even than the senselessness of fish. For the fish were led by gluttony to a hidden destruction; but these gape open-mouthed around the bare hook of impiety, loving their destruction through some irrational passion. For what could be more evident than this contradiction: to say that the same one both was begotten and is a creature, both has the natural fitness of the name Son and again is estranged from the meaning of Son? But so much for this. It might perhaps be useful to see in order the whole meaning of the statement of Eunomius quoted by us, running back to the beginning of the passage. For what has now been examined, because of the evident contradiction in what was said, moved us readily to begin our refutation from the end.

Eunomius, then, has said this: “These things being so distinguished, one might reasonably say that the most proper and first and only substance that subsists by the activity of the Father receives into itself the appellations of offspring, thing made, and creature.” First, then, I wish to remind those who attend to the argument that in his first book he says the substance of the Father too is most proper, advancing his argument through these words: “The whole account of our doctrines is completed from the highest and most proper substance.” And here he calls the substance of the Only-begotten most proper and first. Putting together, then, the words of Eunomius from each book, we shall present the man himself as a witness to the community of substance, the man who declared somewhere else that things whose appellations are the same do not differ in nature at all. For he who fights with himself would not have signified things differing in nature by the identity of appellations. But since the definition of substance in Father and Son is one, for this reason he certainly says that that substance is most proper and this one most proper too. Human usage too bears witness to the argument, applying “most proper” to nothing of which the name is not true together with the nature. For example, we call a likeness a “man” by an extended use, but properly we name by this word the living being shown in nature. And likewise the word of Scripture knows how to call an idol, and a demon, and the belly “god”; but these do not have the proper sense, and all the rest likewise. Someone is said to have eaten in the imagination of a dream, but one cannot call the imagination proper eating. As, then, when two men subsist equally according to nature, we properly call each of them by the word “man,” but if someone, putting a lifeless image beside the real man, were to count them, he would say “two,” the one who really is and the likeness, but would no longer attest the proper sense of the word to both; so if the nature of the Only-begotten were supposed to be something other than the Father’s substance, the writer would not have named each of the substances “most proper.” For how could anyone signify things differing in nature by identity of names? But it seems that the truth is made manifest even through those who fight it, falsehood being altogether unable to overpower truth even in the words of enemies. For this reason the account of godliness is proclaimed by the mouth of opponents who do not know what they say, as in the case of Caiaphas too the Lord’s saving passion for us was foretold, though he did not know what he said. If, then, being “most proper” is common to the substance of both, I mean of the Father and of the Son, what room is there to say that the substances differ from each other? Or how is a difference toward the more powerful, greater, and more honourable seen in them, when the most proper substance admits no diminution? For what is imperfect, whatever it may be, is not properly that thing: not nature, not power, not dignity, nor anything else among things considered individually. So the Father’s superiority in substance, as the heresy would have it, proves the imperfection of the Only-begotten’s substance. If, then, it is imperfect, it is not proper; but if it is most proper, it is certainly perfect too. For what is deficient cannot by nature be named perfect. But neither, when perfect is set beside perfect in comparison, can any difference by excess or defect be conceived. For the perfection in both is one, as on a ruler, neither hollowed by lack nor uneven by excess. Eunomius’s advocacy for our doctrine, then, may be seen sufficiently from what has been said; or rather not his zeal for us but his fight with himself. For by the very words with which he supports our doctrine, he turns his devices against himself. But we shall again follow what was written word for word, so that it may become plain to all that, apart from the wish to do mischief, their argument has no strength for wickedness. Let us hear, then, what was said: “One might reasonably say that the most proper and first and only substance that subsists by the activity of the Father receives into itself the appellations of offspring, thing made, and creature.” Who does not know that what separates the Church from the heresy is the word “creature” said of the Son? Since, then, the difference in doctrine is agreed by all, what would have been more reasonable for one attempting to show his own suppositions truer than ours? Plainly, to establish his own argument by whatever means he could, demonstrating that one must think the Lord created.

Or, passing this over, to lay down the law for his hearers that they should speak of disputed things as agreed? For my part I say the former; and perhaps all who have a share of understanding will look for this from those who argue against us: that they first set the beginning of their argument on some indisputable foundation, and only then contend about what follows. But this man, passing over the proof that we must think him created, goes through what comes next, fitting the sequence of his reasonings to an unfounded premise, just like those who sink deep in their souls into vain desires, letting their thoughts spread out toward a kingdom or some other object of their eagerness. They do not consider how any of the things they desire might come about, but arrange and manage their good fortune for themselves as they please, as though it were present, wandering with a kind of pleasure among things that do not exist. So too our wise writer, having put his much-talked-of dialectic to sleep somewhere, before he proves anything about the question, tells this deceptive and unsupported nonsense of his own doctrine as one tells stories to children, setting it out like some drunken tale. For he says that the substance that subsists by the activity of the Father receives the appellation of offspring, thing made, and creature. What argument has shown that the Son came to exist by some activity of making, while the nature of the Father remained inactive with respect to the Son’s existence? For this was what was disputed and sought: whether the substance of the Father begot the Son, or something accompanying the nature from outside produced him. The Church, according to the divine teaching, believes that the Only-begotten is truly God and abhors polytheistic superstition, and for this reason does not accept a difference of natures, lest by the variation of substances the godheads should fall under number, which is nothing other than to bring polytheism back into life. Since, then, the Church teaches these things in plain language, that the only-begotten God, from the substance of the true God, is true God in substance, how ought one who opposes what is known to overturn the established conviction? Is it not by establishing the opposing argument, demonstrating the doubtful point from some agreed principle? I do not think any sensible person would look for anything other than this. But this man starts from what is disputed, and, as if it had been proved, makes it the starting point for the following argument. For had it first been proved that the Son came to exist through some activity, what battle would there be about what follows, the statement that the substance which came to exist through some activity receives into itself the appellation of thing made? But as long as the premise is unsupported, let the advocates of deceit say how what follows has any strength. For if one grants by hypothesis that a man has become winged, the consequences will no longer be disputed: the one who has become winged will somehow fly, and will raise himself aloft above the earth, carried on wings through the air; but one must consider how one who was not given an aerial nature could become winged. If this is not so, it is vain to go through what follows. Let him too, then, first show that the Church has believed in vain that the only-begotten Son truly is Son, not adopted by a father falsely so called, but being by nature, by begetting, from the one who is, not estranged from the nature of the begetter. Let him first refute these things as false, and then he will be persuasive when he goes through the consequences. But as long as the first remains unproved, it is nonsense to linger over the second. And let no one object to me that what we hold should also be confirmed by argument. For it suffices as proof of our account that we have the tradition that has come to us from our fathers, like an inheritance handed down in succession from the apostles through the saints who followed. But those who change the doctrines into this novelty would need much support from reasonings, if they meant to win over not the dusty and easily blown-about sort of people, but those who are weighty and steady in their minds. As long as their argument is brought forward unsupported and unproved, who is so foolish and brutish as to make the teaching of the evangelists and apostles, and of those who have shone after them in the churches, weaker than unproved nonsense? But let us see the most remarkable feature of the writer’s shrewdness, how by the abundance of his dialectical experience he cleverly draws the more simple-minded to the opposite. To the appellations “thing made” and “creature” he has thrown in the word “offspring” as well, saying that the substance of the Son receives these names into itself. And as if addressing an assembly of drunkards, he thinks that his mischief about the doctrine will be obvious to no one. For by joining “offspring” to “creature” and “thing made” he thinks to steal away the difference in the meaning of the names through combining things that have nothing in common. These are the wise devices of dialectic. But we who are unskilled in speech do not deny that we are this, as far as voice and tongue go, as the argument shows about us.

But we confess that our ears too, as the Prophet says, have been fitted for intelligent hearing. Therefore we are not led into confusing the things signified by the joining of names that have nothing in common. Even if the great Apostle names together wood and hay and straw, gold and silver and precious stones, we both reckon up the number of the things mentioned in total and shall not be ignorant of the nature of each thing named in particular. So now too, when “offspring” and “thing made” are mentioned together, passing from the words to the things signified, we do not see the same sense in each of the names. For a creature is one thing, and “offspring” signifies another; so that even if he mixes what does not mix, the intelligent hearer will hear “creature” and “offspring” distinctly, and will show that it is impossible for one nature to receive into itself both the appellation of offspring and that of creature. For if one of these is true, the other will necessarily be false: so that if he is a creature, he is not offspring; and conversely, if he is called offspring, he is estranged from the title of creature. But Eunomius says that the substance of the Son receives into itself the appellations of offspring, thing made, and creature. Has he then, by what remains, secured this headless and rootless argument, which was laid down through his first words with no power toward what he was establishing? Or does the rest too hold to the same vanity, having obtained no strength in advance from any support of reasonings, but containing a rambling and unsupported exposition of blasphemy, as in the telling of dreams? For he says, adding to what has been said: “…having its begetting without mediation, and preserving undivided its relation to the one who begot, made, and created it.” If we leave aside “without mediation” and “undivided” and consider the sense of the words by itself, we shall find that everywhere the silliness of the teaching, strengthened by no argument, is thrown at the ears of the deceived. “The one who begot,” he says, “and created and made.” These, though they seem three, have the meaning of two notions, since two of the words are equivalent to each other in sense. For to make is the same as to create; but begetting is something other than what has been said. Since, then, the common understanding of mankind divides into different notions according to the meaning of the words, what argument has shown us that the thing made is the same as the begetting, so that we should fit the one substance to the difference of the words? For as long as the customary meaning of the terms prevails, and no argument is found that changes the implications of the words into the opposite, it is not possible for one nature to be split between the notion of thing made and that of offspring. For since each of these, said by itself, has its own interpretation, it is altogether necessary that the relative pairing proper and akin to the names be understood along with them. For the other relative terms too have their kinship not with what is foreign and unsuitable; but even if what the term is said in relation to is left unsaid, its correlative is heard of itself along with the primary term: for example, maker, slave, friend, son, and the like. For all things contemplated in reference to another present, each of them, through its appellation, its proper and connected kinship with what is shown, admitting no communion with what is of a different kind. For neither is the name of maker yoked to son, nor is the word slave referred to maker, nor did friend indicate slave, nor son master; but we recognize the clear and distinct pairing of each of these with its correlative, understanding through “friend” another friend, through “slave” the master, the work through “maker,” and the father through “son.” So too “offspring” has its proper implication in relation to something. The begetter, then, is yoked to the offspring, the creator to the creature. And we must certainly, if we are not to produce some confusion of things by exchanging names, keep for each relative term what is properly signified along with it. Since, then, the sense of these terms is plain in what it looks to, how is it that one who advances doctrines by logical technique did not perceive the proper sense of relatives in these names? But he thinks to fit the offspring to the maker and the thing made to the begetter, saying that the substance of the Son receives into itself the appellations of offspring, thing made, and creature, and preserves undivided its relation to the one who begot, made, and created it.

For it is not in the nature of one thing to be divided among different relations. But the Son is akin to the Father, and the begotten to the begetter, while the thing made has its reference to the maker; unless someone should think that some loose use in an undiscriminating habit of speech is more proper than the natural meaning. By what reasonings, then, and of what kind, using that invincible dialectic of his, has he changed the opinions of the many to the opposite, so that he goes through these things with such high-handed authority: that, while the God over all is both thought of and called Creator and Father, the Son is suited to both appellations, being called creature and offspring equally? For the usage and exactness of language properly distinguish such names, applying the name of begetting to things begotten from the substance itself, and that of creation to things that subsist outside the nature of the one who makes them. And for this reason the divine doctrines, in handing down the knowledge of God, have handed down Father and Son, not creator and work, so that there might be no slipping into blasphemy by pushing the Son out to what is alien and foreign to such an appellation, and so that the godless doctrines that separate the Only-begotten from kinship in substance with the Father might find no entrance. One who says that the appellation “thing made” fits the Son will certainly say, consequently, that the calling “son” naturally belongs to the thing made as well. So, if the Son is a creature, heaven too is a son, and each of the things that have come to be is properly named by the appellation “son,” according to the writer. For if he has the name not by sharing the nature of the begetter, but is named Son inasmuch as he is created, the same reasoning will grant that the lamb, the dog, the frog, and everything that came to exist by the will of the maker be named by the appellation “son.” But if each of these is neither a son nor called God, because it is outside the nature of the Son, then consequently the one who is properly Son, because he is from the very nature of the begetter, is Son and is confessed to be God. But he loathes the notion of begetting and excludes it from the divine doctrines, slandering the name by a fleshly natural science. Our discussion has already shown sufficiently on these matters that, as the Prophet says, “they fear a fear where there is no fear.” For even among human beings not every begetting was shown to take place through passion: the material one is through passion, but the spiritual one is pure and undefiled. For what is born of the Spirit becomes spirit and not flesh, and no passible condition is seen together with the spirit. Since the writer has thought it necessary to reckon the divine power from examples drawn from us, let him persuade himself from the other mode of begetting to think of the divine begetting as impassible. But by confusing these three appellations with one another, two of which are equivalent, he thinks to sweep his hearers along, through the shared meaning of the two words, into thinking the same of the third as well. For since the appellations “thing made” and “creature” show that what was made is outside the nature of the maker, he attaches to them the word “offspring,” so that it too may be interpreted along with the former. But such a form of argument is called mischief and deceit and trickery, not a considered and technical demonstration. For only that which makes the unknown manifest through what is agreed is called demonstration. But to reason falsely through mischief, to steal away the refutation, and with superficial deceptions to confuse the understanding of those who, as the Apostle says, are corrupted in mind: no sensible person would call that a technical demonstration. But let us pass on to what follows. He says that the begetting of the substance is without mediation, and that it preserves undivided its relation to the one who begot, made, and created it. If, then, having said that the substance is undivided and without mediation, he had stopped his statement there, he would not have turned aside from the pious conception, since we too confess the Son’s connection with the Father and its lack of mediation, so that nothing is inserted between them, found in the midst of the Son’s connection with the Father: no notion of interval, not even that instantaneous and indivisible point which, when time is cut in two into past and future, is understood by itself, without parts, in the present, unable to become part either of the past or of the future, because it is altogether without extension and indivisible, and adds nothing perceptible to whatever it is added to.

What is purely without mediation, then, we say is mediated by nothing of this kind. For what is separated by some intermediate would no longer be without mediation. If, then, he too, having said that the Son’s begetting is without mediation, had added none of what follows, he would have been teaching the Son’s connection with the Father as it is piously understood. But since, as if repenting of what he had said, he immediately added that “it preserves its relation to the one who begot, made, and created it,” he defiled what came first with what came second, vomiting the blasphemous word over the pure statement. For it is clear that there too “without mediation” does not look to what is pious. It is as if one were to say that the hammer mediates between the nail and the smith, but that the hammer’s own making is without mediation: since tools had not yet been invented by the art, the hammer was made first by the craftsman, by some device, without any other tool, and then the other things through it. This is what the term “without mediation” shows the writer to think about the Only-begotten as well. And Eunomius is not alone in having gone astray in this absurd doctrine; one can find the same in the writings of Theognostus, who says that God, wishing to make this universe, first brought the Son into existence as a kind of rule for the making. Nor did he see the absurdity in his statement: that what exists not for its own sake but for the sake of something else is certainly less honourable than that for which it comes to be; as we make the farming implement for the sake of life, yet the plough is not honoured equally with life. So too, if the Lord exists for the sake of the world, and not all things for his sake, all the things for whose sake they say he came to be would be more honourable than the Lord. This is what they establish now too by their argument, by which they insist that the Son has his relation to the one who created and made him without mediation. But he is generous to what remains, and says that he “is compared with none of the things that came into being through him and after him.” Such is the bodyguard the enemies of truth provide for the Lord, by which the blasphemy is established more plainly. For tell me, which of the rest of the things in creation admits comparison with another, since the property seen in each does not admit communion at all with things of a different kind? There is no comparison of heaven with earth, nor of this with the stars, nor of the stars with the seas, nor of water with stone, nor of animals with trees, nor of land animals with birds, nor of four-footed beasts with swimming creatures, nor of irrational with rational. And why should one spend time going through particulars, showing that what was thrown to the Only-begotten as something exceptional, having no comparison with any of the things made after him and through him, can be said equally of each of the things seen in creation? For it is plain that whatever you think of by itself is incomparable with the whole and with each particular. And what can truly be said of any chance creature, as if this were sufficient and enough for honour and glory, is allotted to the only-begotten God by the enemies of the truth. And having constructed such things, he again in what remains exalts him with empty honours, calling him Lord and Only-begotten; but so that no pious thought may arise in his hearers through these names, he at once mixes blasphemies with the expressions of better sense. The text runs thus: “Since,” he says, “the begotten substance leaves no room to any other for communion (for it is only-begotten), nor is the activity of the maker seen as shared.” What insolence! As though haranguing irrational or senseless people who have no understanding, he leads his argument around through contraries at will; or rather he suffers the same as those deprived of sight, for they too often behave indecently before the eyes of those who see, because they do not see themselves and suppose that they are not seen. For who cannot see the contradiction in what has been said? “Because it was begotten,” he says, “the substance leaves no room for communion to others, for it is only-begotten”; and having said this as if in truth, either not seeing himself or not thinking himself seen, he adds, as if consistent with what was said, things that have no communion with it, fitting the maker’s activity to the substance of the Only-begotten. For the begotten certainly has his reference, by consequence, to the begetter, and the Only-begotten to the Father; and one who looks to the truth sees, in the correlation of the Son, not a maker’s activity but a begetter’s nature. But he, as if speaking of plants or seeds or some other thing in creation, sets the activity of the maker beside the existence of the Only-begotten.

For if a stone or wood or something else of that kind were the subject of our contemplation, it would follow that we should think first of the maker’s activity. But if the only-begotten God is admitted even by our opponents both to be Son and to have come to exist by begetting, how do the same words fit him and the lowest of the parts of creation? What can truly be said of the ant or the gnat, this they think it pious to say of the Lord too. For if someone learned the nature of the ant, in what it is peculiar compared with the other animals, he would not speak outside the truth in saying that the activity of the maker that made it is not seen to be shared with the others. What is said of such things, then, they declare of the Only-begotten too. And as hunters are said to intercept the path of wild beasts with pits, hiding the snare by covering the mouths of the pits with flimsy and unsupported things, so that to one passing by the pit seems to be level ground, the heresy contrives something of the kind against men, covering the pit of impiety with these well-sounding and pious names as with a superficial roof; so that the more thoughtless, supposing because of the agreement of the words that their proclamation is the same as the true faith, run onto the bare name of Son and Only-begotten and step onto emptiness over the pit, since the meaning of the appellations does not support their footing but carries them down into the abyss of the denial of Christ. For this reason he mentions a begotten substance that leaves room to none for communion, and names him Only-begotten. These are the coverings of the pit. But when someone, standing by before he is caught in the chasm, applies to the statement the test of reason like a hand, he sees the ruin of idolatry dug beneath the doctrine. For approaching him as God and Son of God, he finds a creature of God set before him for worship. For this reason they carry the name of the Only-begotten up and down, so that ruin may be readily accepted by the deceived, as if someone mixed poison with bread and so welcomed with death those who needed food; they would not have accepted the destructive poison bare, had they not been baited by what appeared. Wisely, then, as far as his own purpose goes, he looks to what he is striving for. For if he had cast the word “Son” altogether out of his doctrine, the deceit would have been unacceptable to men, since the denial would have been shouted openly in a plain proclamation; but as it is, by leaving only the name and transferring its meaning to the notion of creation, he both succeeds in idolatry and steals away the refutation. But we have not been commanded to honour God with the lips, nor is godliness judged by the sound of a voice; rather, the Son must first be believed with the heart unto righteousness, and then confessed with the mouth unto salvation; and those who say in their heart that there is no God, even if they confess “Lord” with the mouth, have become corrupt, as the Prophet says. For this reason I say that we must look to the sense of those who put forward what are supposedly the words of the faith, and not be baited by the sounds. If, then, one who says “Son” does not look by the word to a creature, he is ours and not of our opponents. But if anyone gives the name of Son to a creature, he will be ranked among the idolaters. For they too named Dagon, and Bel, and the dragon “god,” but did not for that reason worship God; for the wood and the bronze and the beast are not God. But why need we conjecture their meaning and uncover in our discussion the hidden deceit, and perhaps give our hearers grounds for thinking that we bring these charges against our enemies untruly? For see, he sets out his blasphemy before us bare, hiding his trickery behind no veil, but speaking boldly of absurdities with a free voice. What he wrote runs thus: “We, then,” he says, “finding nothing other than the substance of the Son that receives the begetting, think that we must assign the appellations to the substance itself, if indeed we are not to say ‘Son’ and ‘begotten’ as bare words, which we would if we separated these from the substance; and starting from these we are also confident that the substances are at variance with each other.” I think there is no need for the absurdity of what has been said to be refuted by our arguments; the very reading of what was written is enough to pillory the blasphemy. Let us consider it thus. He says that the substances of the Son and of the Father are at variance with each other. What, then, is signified by “at variance”? Let us first examine the implication of the word in itself, so that the blasphemy may be uncovered more clearly by interpreting the term. The word “variance” is used, in the extended use of ordinary speech, of bodies, when through paralysis or some other affliction a limb is turned aside from its natural harmony. For when we compare the afflicted with the healthy, we call the turn for the worse of the part that has received the affliction a “variance.”

In the case of those who differ in character by virtue and vice, when the licentious life is set beside the pure and temperate, or the unjust man beside the just, or the angry, warlike, and unrestrained in wrath beside the gentle, peaceable, and quiet, and in general whatever is charged with vice in comparison with the better is said to be at variance, because the marks of the two, I mean of the good and of the worse, do not agree with each other. Again, we say that the qualities seen in the elements are at variance, those that stand opposite one another as contraries, having destructive power against each other, such as hot and cold, or dry and wet, or in general whatever stands opposed to another as its contrary; and we express their incompatibility by the word “variance.” And in general everything that disagrees with another in the marks observed in it is among things at variance: as health is at variance with sickness, life with death, war with peace, virtue with vice, and all things of like kind. These things having been thus distinguished by us, let us consider also in the case of the writer how he says that the substances of the Father and of the Son are at variance with each other. What does he mean by saying this? Does he mean that the Father is according to nature, but the Son deviates from nature? Or does he express by this word a deviation from virtue, separating by the name of variance the bad from the better, so as to see this substance in the good and the other in its opposite? Or, on the principle of the opposition of the elements, does he maintain that the divine substance too is at variance, the one from the other? Or does he see in the substances, as war stands to peace and life to death, the conflict found in all such things, so that they could not come together with each other, because the mixing of contraries has a power that consumes the things mixed, as the proverbial Wisdom says of such a principle, that “water and fire will never say, Enough,” expressing by the riddle the equally matched and equally balanced nature of contraries and their destruction of one another? Does he say that the variance to be seen in those substances is according to none of these? Then let him say what is meant besides these. But he could not say it, even if he repeats his usual statement that the Son is at variance with the begetter. For by this the absurdity of what he says is refuted all the more. For what is so naturally and fittingly implanted and fitted in another as the Son’s relative meaning to the Father? A proof of this: even if the two names are not both spoken, the correlative is signified along with the one; so implanted and fitted is the one in the other, and both are seen in the one, so that neither of them can be thought of by itself apart from the other. But what is at variance is understood and spoken of as the opposite of what fits. For example, the mason’s line fits the straight; but the crooked set beside the straight does not fit; and musicians commonly call the concord of tones “harmony,” and what deviates and is out of tune “inharmonious.” To say “at variance,” then, is the same as to say “not fitting.” If, then, the nature of the only-begotten God is at variance with the substance of the Father, as the heresy’s argument holds, it certainly does not fit with it either; and what is fitted could not come to be in that with which it cannot be fitted. For as, when there is one form both in the wax and in the engraving on a signet ring, the wax that was stamped by the ring, when it is put back into the ring, fits its own impressed character to what contains it, taking up its own impressions in the engraving, sinking into the hollows and receiving the projections of the engraving in its own impressions; but if some foreign and alien impression is put into the engraving of the ring, it roughens and confuses its own form, carving round the shape with characters that do not belong to it: so he who exists in the form of God was not formed with any character other than the Father’s, being the express image of the Father’s hypostasis; and the form of God is certainly the same as the substance. For as, coming to be in the form of the slave, he was formed in the substance of the slave, not taking up the bare form by itself, nor a form separated from the substance, but the substance being signified along with the form, so too the one who said that he is in the form of God certainly showed the substance through the form.

If, then, he is in the form of God, and, being in the Father, is sealed with the Father’s glory, as the voice of the Gospel says, “Him has the Father, God, sealed” (for which reason also he who has seen the Son sees the Father), then the “image of goodness,” and the “radiance of glory,” and all such names bear witness that the substance of the Son is not unfitted to the Father. Plainly, then, the incoherence of the opponents’ blasphemy is refuted by what has been said. For if things at variance do not fit together, and he who was sealed by the Father, who shows the Father in himself, who is in the Father and has him in himself, shows through all these his natural union and fitting harmony, then by these the absurdity of the opponents is refuted with all force. For as what is at variance was shown to be unfitting, so conversely it is indisputably agreed that what fits well is altogether without variance. For as what is at variance does not fit, so what fits is not at variance. But one who says that the nature of the Only-begotten is at variance with the good substance of the Father certainly sees the variance in the good itself. As to what variance from the good is, “Understand, you innocent, subtlety,” says the Proverb. But I will pass over these things in my discussion, since their absurdity is evident; let us examine what comes before them. He says that nothing other than the substance of the Son is found that receives the begetting. What does he mean by saying this? Having distinguished two names from each other and separated in his argument the things they signify, he sets out each by itself: one name is begetting, another name is substance. “The substance,” he says, “receives the begetting,” being plainly something other than the begetting. For if the begetting were substance, as he constantly declares, so that the two appellations were equivalent in meaning, he would not have said that the substance receives the begetting; for it would have been the same as saying that the substance receives the substance, or that the begetting receives the begetting, if the begetting were this substance. So he understands the begetting as one thing and the substance that receives the begetting as another; for what is received would not be the same as what receives it. This, then, is what the writer’s wise technical argument says. Whether any sense lies in what has been said, let one practised in judging consider the statement. I will take up again what was said. He says he finds nothing other than the substance of the Son that receives the begetting. But that no sense lies in these words is plain to anyone who understands speech at all; it would remain to bring into the open the blasphemy which he constructs through these senseless words. For he wishes, though he cannot because of his weakness of expression, to produce in his hearers this thought: that the Son’s existence is something constructed; and he calls the construction “begetting,” wrapping the horror of the blasphemy in a most well-sounding word, so that assent to the Lord’s having been created may be readily accepted when construction is indicated by the word “begetting.” He says, then, that the substance receives the begetting, so that, as every construction is seen in some underlying thing (for no one would say that what does not subsist has been constructed), so, presenting the nature of the only-begotten God as a kind of construction, he puts forward the making in his statement. If, then, “this substance receives the begetting,” he says, wishing to signify something like this: that it would not exist if it had not been constructed. But what else among the things seen in creation exists without having come to be? Heaven, earth, air, sea, everything whatever exists, has certainly come to be; none of them would exist if it had not come to be. How, then, did he see as something exceptional in the nature of the Only-begotten its receiving the begetting into its very substance? For that is how he names the construction, as though the bumble-bee and the gnat received their coming-to-be not into themselves but into something else besides themselves. It is admitted, then, through what he wrote, that they put the substance of the Only-begotten on a common level even with the smallest parts of creation, and every argument by which the Son’s estrangement from the Father is constructed has equal force for each particular thing. What need, then, has he of this intricate subtlety to construct an estrangement by nature, when he ought to turn to the short road of denial by openly declaring that the name of Son must not be confessed, nor the only-begotten God proclaimed in the churches, but that the Jewish worship should be judged more proper than the Christian confession; and, confessing only the Father as Creator and Maker, should bring all the rest under the name and notion of creation, and among these call the work set before the others a thing made, which came to be through some constructive activity, naming it “first-created” instead of only-begotten God and true Son?

For once these views have prevailed, it is very easy to bring the doctrines to the conclusion they aim at, since all are led, as one would expect, by such a starting point to the consequence that one who was neither begotten nor is Son, but came to exist through some activity, cannot share the substance of God. But as long as the words of the Gospels prevail, through which he is proclaimed Son, and Only-begotten, and from the Father, and from God, and the like, he will talk nonsense in vain, deceiving himself and his followers with such drivel. For since the appellation “Son” proclaims aloud the true relation to the Father, who is so foolish that, while John and Paul and the rest of the choir of the saints proclaim these genuine words, which show the kinship, he does not look to them, but, led by the empty rattles of Eunomius’s sophisms, thinks Eunomius truer than the teaching of those who speak mysteries through the Spirit and carry Christ in themselves? Who is this Eunomius? From where was he raised up to be the guide of Christians? But let these things be; and, as far as possible, let our zeal for the matters before us soothe our heart, which swells with zeal for the faith against the blasphemers. For how is it possible not to be stirred to anger and hatred when our God and Master, the giver of life, and Saviour, is insulted by these petty men? If someone reviled my father in the flesh, or was hostile to my benefactor, would it be possible to bear without feeling the anger on behalf of those I love? But if the Lord of my soul, who brought it into being when it was not and ransomed it when it was enslaved, who gave me a taste of the present life and prepared the life to come, who calls me to the kingdom and charges me how I may escape the condemnation of Gehenna (these are small things I am saying, and not yet worthy of the greatness of the common Master), who is worshipped by all creation, things in heaven, on earth, and under the earth, before whom stood myriads of the ministers in heaven, to whom everything that dwells here and has the desire for the good is turned: if he is exposed to the abuse of men for whom it is not enough to have attached themselves to the apostate’s portion, but who count it a loss not to drag others with them into the same abyss by their writing, so that those who come after may not lack guidance by the hand to destruction, will anyone blame the anger over these things? But let us run back to the sequence. In what follows he again slanders us as dishonouring the Son’s begetting by human likenesses, and he mentions what our father wrote on these matters, where he says that, since two things are signified by the word “son,” formation through passion and genuineness toward the begetter, the unfitting and fleshly sense is not to be admitted in divine discourse, but only so much as serves to bear witness to the glory of the Only-begotten is to be received into the lofty doctrines. Who, then, dishonours the Son’s begetting by human suppositions: the one who banishes what is passible and human from the divine begetting and joins the Son impassibly to the begetter, or the one who puts the one who brought all things into being on a common level with the lower creation? But this new wisdom, it seems, regards it as dishonour to make the Son akin to the majesty of the Father, and as great and lofty to bring him down to equal honour with the creation that is our fellow slave. What empty charges! Basil is slandered as dishonouring the Son, he who honours him as the Father is honoured; and Eunomius champions the honour of the Only-begotten, he who makes him vanish from the good nature of the Father. Paul too once met such a charge among the Athenians, accused before them of proclaiming foreign divinities, when he was refuting the error about demons of those mad for idols and leading them by the hand to the truth, proclaiming the resurrection in the Areopagus. The same charges the new Stoics and Epicureans now bring against the imitator of Paul, men who, as the history says of the Athenians, have leisure for nothing else but to tell or hear something newer. For what could be found newer than these: a Son of an activity, a Father of a creature, a newly made God springing up from what was not, and a good at variance with the good? These are the men who pretend to honour him with fitting honours by saying that he is not what the nature of the begetter is. Would Eunomius feel shame at this kind of honour, if someone said that he was akin by nature not to his own father but shared communion with something of another kind? If one who puts the Lord of creation on a common level with creation claims to honour him by this, then let Eunomius too be honoured by being put on a common level by nature with what is irrational or insensible. But if communion with the worse is grievous and insulting to him, how is it an honour to him who “rules by his power for ever,” as the Prophet says, to be ranked with the nature that is subject and in servitude? But so much for this.

Concerning the saying of the apostle Peter, it would be time to examine more diligently what has been said about it both by Eunomius himself and by our father. If the exact contemplation stretches the discussion to great length, the fair-minded hearer will certainly forgive, not blaming us for prolixity, but laying the blame on the one who gave the occasion. And let me be allowed to go through a few things briefly before examining the matter at hand; perhaps they are not out of keeping with the aim of our effort. The divine word has laid down for human beings that nothing that has come into being by creation is to be worshipped, as one can learn from almost the whole of the divinely inspired Scripture. Moses, the tablets, the law, the prophets in succession, the Gospels, the doctrines of all the apostles, all alike forbid looking to the creature. It would be long to set out one by one the passages that bear on this; but even if we set out a few of the inspired testimonies out of many, the argument is equally credible, since each of the divine sayings has equal force for showing the truth, even if it is very small. For since our conception of beings is divided in two, into the created and the uncreated nature, if what our opponents now strive for should prevail, so that the Son of God is said to be created, it is altogether necessary either that the Gospel proclamation be set aside and that God the Word, who was in the beginning, not be worshipped, because worship must not be offered to the creature; or, if the wonders in the Gospels put us to shame, by which we are led to revere and worship the one revealed in them, … to bring the created and the uncreated into equal honour. If, according to our opponents’ doctrine, the created God too were worshipped, though he has no precedence in nature over the rest of creation, and if this should prevail, the doctrines of godliness will be carried over into a kind of complete anarchy and democratic self-rule. For when human beings do not believe that the nature worshipped is one, but are carried away in their thoughts to different godheads, there is no one who will halt the notion of the Divine as it advances through creation; rather, what was thought divine in creation will become a starting point for the same notion about what is seen after it, and that again for what comes next, and through this sequence the error will be carried through everything, the first deception passing through what lies next to it down to the last things. And that I am not guessing at anything unlikely, I will present as a credible witness of the argument the error that prevails to this day among the Greeks. For since with an untrained and petty mind they were moved to wonder at the beauties of creation, not using the wonder at what appears as a guide by the hand and a leader to the understanding of the beauty that lies above it, but halting their thought at what can be grasped and marvelling at each part of creation separately, for this reason they did not settle their notion of the Divine on any one thing among those that appear, but thought everything seen in creation divine. And so among the Egyptians, the error working more on intelligible things, the countless forms of demons were counted as natures of gods; among the Babylonians the revolution of the fixed sphere of the heavens was thought to be God, whom they also named Bel. So too Greek vanity deified separately the seven next to it and bowed to one or another, according to some peculiar account of the deception. For having observed all these circles turning within one another, since they had gone astray about the highest, they consistently kept the same error down to the lowest. And besides these, they declared that the ether itself, and the air spread beneath it, the earth and the sea and the region under the earth, and of the earth itself everything useful and necessary for human life—nothing whatever—was without a share in the divine nature. But to each of these they bowed, through some one of the things in creation that first appeared to them enslaving themselves to all the parts of creation in turn. So that if from the beginning it had appeared unlawful to them too to look to the creature, they would not have strayed into this deception of many gods. So that we may not suffer the same, we who are taught by Scripture to look to the true Godhead have been instructed to think of everything created as outside the divine nature, and to serve and revere the uncreated nature alone, whose character and mark is that it neither began to be at any time nor ceases to be. So the great Isaiah, speaking of God through his lofty voice about these doctrines, says in the divine person: “I am the first, and I am after these things, and before me there was no God, and after me there will be no God.” For this great prophet knew more exactly than all the mystery of Gospel godliness: he who announced that wonder of the Virgin, who proclaimed the good news of the Child’s birth, and who clearly set forth that name of the Son. He, then, who by the Spirit embraced all truth in himself, so that the character of the divine nature, by which we distinguish what truly is from what has come to be, might be made as clear as possible to all, says this in the person of God: “I am the first, and I am after these things, and before me no God has come to be, and after me there is none.”

Since, then, neither what is before God is God, nor what is after God is God (for what is after God is creation, and what is beyond God is nothing, and nothing is not God; or rather, what is beyond God is he himself, defined over against nothing in his eternal blessedness); since, then, this spiritual saying was spoken by the prophetic mouth, we learn through it the doctrine that the divine nature is one, continuous with itself and inseparable, not admitting before and after in itself, even if it is proclaimed in a Trinity, having nothing older or more recent among the things contemplated in it. Since, then, the saying is God’s, whether you grant that the word is the Father’s or the Son’s, the doctrine of godliness is equally strengthened by either. For if the Father says this, he bears witness that the Son is not after him. For if the Son is God, and everything after the Father is not God, it is clear that the saying bears witness that the Son is in the Father and not after the Father. Or if someone grants that this saying, “Before me there has not come to be,” is the Son’s, it will be clear teaching that the one contemplated in the beginning is understood together with the eternity of the beginning. If, then, anything is after God, it is found through what has been said to be creation and not God. For “what is after me,” he says, “is not God.” Having first set out this view of beings, it would be time to examine the passage before us. It was said by Peter to the Jews, “God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified.” We say that it is not pious to refer “made” to the divinity of the Only-begotten, but to the form of the slave that came to be by the economy at the time of the presence in the flesh; but those who force the passage to the opposite say that by the word “made” the Apostle signifies the Son’s begetting before the ages. Setting the passage, then, before all, and examining both views with exactness, we shall leave to the hearer the judgment of the truth. Of our opponents’ sense Eunomius himself would be an adequate advocate, since he has fought not ignobly on this point; so, going through his statement word for word, we shall fully go through the argument on behalf of those who fight us. Of our own doctrine we shall be the champions as far as we can, following in the footsteps of what was set out before by the great Basil, as far as we are able. And let those who judge by reading in the interest of the truth, as one of the prophets says, “judge righteous judgment,” giving the prize not to contentious prejudices but to the truth shown by the examination. Let the accuser of our side come forward first, speaking, as in a court, what he has written: “Besides what has been said, refusing to take ‘made’ of the substance of the Son, and at the same time ashamed of the cross, he attributes to the apostles what none even of those most eager to revile them as foolish would, and clearly introduces two Christs and two Lords into his own doctrines and words. For he says that ‘God made Lord and Christ not the Word who was in the beginning, but him who emptied himself into the form of a slave and was crucified through weakness.’ And the great Basil writes expressly thus: ‘Moreover, the meaning of the apostle does not at all present to us the existence of the Only-begotten before the ages, which is the subject of the present discussion; for he clearly speaks not about the very substance of God the Word, who was in the beginning with God, but about him who emptied himself in the form of the slave, and became conformed to the body of our humiliation, and was crucified through weakness.’ And again: ‘This is known to everyone who has paid even a little attention to the intention of the apostolic saying, that he is not handing down to us a mode of theology but introducing the accounts of the economy. For “God made him,” he says, “both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified,” plainly resting with the demonstrative word on his humanity, visible to all.’ These things, then, says the man who has substituted his own mind for the intention of the apostles—for it is not lawful to say that he attended to it—lest anyone should condemn holy men, men chosen for the proclamation of godliness, of such madness as to insult their teaching, which falls short by such an excess. You who attribute your own nonsense to the memory of the holy, of what confusion are you not full? With what absurdity do you not teem, you who hold that a man was emptied into a man, and thereby make out that he who humbled himself by obedience to the form of the slave was conformed to men even before he took up this form?

“And who, having the form of a slave, takes up the form of a slave? How could anyone empty himself into what he is? You will find no device for this, though you are bold to say and think impossible things. And how are you not the most pitiable of all, holding that a man suffered for all men, and ascribing your own redemption to him? For if blessed Peter speaks not about the Word who was in the beginning and was God, but about the one who was seen and emptied himself, as Basil says; and the man who was seen emptied himself into the form of a slave; and the one who emptied himself into the form of a slave emptied himself into the coming to be of a man; then the man who was seen emptied himself into the coming to be of a man. But, O most careless of all, the very nature of things fights against these statements, and he too who hymned this economy with theology plainly contradicts them, saying that not the man who was seen, but the very Word who was in the beginning, and was God, took up flesh, which in other words is the same as taking the form of a slave. If, then, you think these things credible, turn from the error; stop holding that a man was emptied into a man. But if you are not able to persuade the unbelieving, undo the unbelief with another word and a second vote. Remember him who said, ‘who, being in the form of God, did not count it robbery to be equal with God, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave.’ For there is no one among men who will claim this saying for himself. None of the saints who ever lived was the only-begotten God become man. For this is what it is, being in the form of God, to take the form of a slave. If, then, blessed Peter speaks about the one who emptied himself into the form of the slave, and the Word who was in the beginning, being only-begotten God, emptied himself into the form of the slave, blessed Peter speaks about the one who was in the beginning and was God, and teaches that this one became Lord and Christ. This fight, then, Basil turns back upon himself, and he is clearly shown neither to have attended with his own mind to the intention of the apostles nor to keep the sequence of his own words. From these, either, perceiving the inconsistency, he will grant that the Word who was in the beginning and was God became Lord; or, joining conflicting things to conflicting things and remaining contentiously in them, he will add other things still more hostile, making out that there are two Christs and two Lords. For if God the Word who was in the beginning is one, and the one who emptied himself and took the form of a slave is another; and God the Word, through whom are all things, is Lord, and this Christ Jesus, who was crucified after all things had come to be, is also Lord; there are, according to him, two Lords and Christs. No argument will excuse him from so manifest a blasphemy. But if someone, establishing this, should say that the Word in the beginning and the one who became Lord are the same, but that he became Lord and Christ at the presence in the flesh, he will certainly be compelled to say that before the presence in the flesh the Son was not Lord. But even if two Lords and Christs are falsely proclaimed by Basil and the unbelievers who follow him, for us at least there is one Lord and Christ, through whom all things came to be, not having become Lord by advancement, but existing as Lord Jesus before all creation and before all ages, through whom are all things. All the saints with one voice teach us this, and have proclaimed it as the finest of doctrines. For blessed John teaches that God the Word, through whom all things came to be, came to be in flesh, saying, ‘And the Word became flesh’; and the most wonderful Paul, leading those who attend to him to humility, calls Christ Jesus the one who was in the form of God and emptied himself into the form of a slave and was humbled to death, even death on a cross; and again elsewhere he names the one crucified the Lord of glory: ‘For had they known,’ he says, ‘they would not have crucified the Lord of glory’; and much more nakedly than this he names the very substance ‘Lord,’ saying, ‘Now the Lord is the Spirit.’ If, then, the Word in the beginning, inasmuch as he is spirit, is Lord and the Lord of glory, and God made this one Lord and Christ, God made the spirit itself and God the Word, and not some other Lord of whom Basil dreams.” Such, then, is the accusation. It seems to me necessary first to go through each of the charges briefly by its heads, and then to call to account what was said, so that the indictment against us, to which we must answer, may be easy to remember for those who judge the truth, and we may resolve each of the charges in order and sequence. He says that we are ashamed of the cross of Christ, that we accuse the saints, that we say a man was emptied into a man, that we think the Lord had the form of the slave before the presence through the flesh, that we ascribe the redemption to a man, and that we speak of two Christs and Lords in our doctrine; or, if not that, that we say the Only-begotten was not Christ and Lord before the passion.

“So, to escape this blasphemy,” he says, “we must confess that the substance of the Son was made, as the apostle Peter too confirms such a doctrine by his own words.” These are the heads of the accusation; for whatever has been laboured over for abuse of us I will pass over in silence, as contributing nothing to the aim. For perhaps such a torrent of words, according to some technical theory, is customary for rhetoricians, devised to swell the bulk of an accusation. Let the sophist, then, insult us for the sake of his art, and rise to the height of his reproaches against us; let him parade his invective in the midst of the contest; let him call us most careless of all and most pitiable of all, full of confusion and absurdity; and let him disparage us with whatever he likes, at his pleasure, and we will bear it. For the shame for one who has sense is not in hearing a reviler, but in turning to what was said. Perhaps it even has some use that he has used his nature against us; for by keeping his slanderous tongue busy with us, he may make at least a small truce in his war against God. Let him, then, take his fill of insults at his pleasure, and there will be no one to contradict him. For if someone gives off a strange and foul smell because of a bodily imbalance or some pestilential and stubborn illness, he would not provoke a healthy person to envy his misfortune, so that he should wish to repay the stench of the one who smells with an equal one through a disease of his own. For common nature counsels us to pity such people, not to imitate them. Passing over, then, all such things as he has eagerly mixed into his discourse, mocking, complaining, resenting, reviling, let us examine only the argument about the doctrines. Taking them up, then, from the beginning, we will deal in turn with each of the charges. The first head of the accusation was that we are ashamed of the cross. But the charge of making the cross a matter of shame would more properly belong to those who have turned aside to such a supposition. For if the economy of the passion is believed alike by both sides, but we think we must honour God, manifested through the cross, as the Father is honoured, while for them the passion becomes a hindrance to glorifying the only-begotten God equally with the Father who begot him, then the charges turn against the sophist, and by the very things by which he thinks to accuse us he publishes his own impiety against the doctrines. For it is clear that he places the Father above the Son and exalts him with greater honours for this reason: that the shame of the cross is not seen in him. And for this reason he insists that the Son’s nature is at variance for the worse, because the reproach of the cross is referred to him alone, not touching the Father. And let no one think that I say this following only the sequence of the writing as to its sense. For having gone on through all the blasphemy carefully assembled in his discourse, I found this blasphemy set out by him plainly in bare words in what follows. If you will, I will set beside the sequence of my words what he wrote, which runs thus: “If he can show that the God over all, who is unapproachable light, came to be in flesh, or can come to be, came under authority, obeyed commands, lived as a citizen under human laws, bore a cross, let him say that the light is equal to the light.” Who, then, is ashamed of the cross: the one who even after the passion worships the Son equally with the Father, or the one who insults him even before the passion, not only by putting him on equal honour with creation, but by making out that he is of a passible nature, as if he would not have come to the experience of sufferings had he not had a nature capable of them? For we say that even the body in which he accepted the passion, being mingled with the divine nature, was made by the mingling to be what the nature that took it up is. So far are we from thinking anything small about the only-begotten God that, if anything of the lower nature was taken up for the economy of his love for humankind, we believe that this too was transformed into what is divine and pure. But he has made the passion of the cross a sign of variance in substance toward the lower, taking—I do not know how—the surpassing activity of the power by which he was able to do even this as proof of weakness, not understanding even this: that nothing moving according to its own nature is wondered at as a marvel, but whatever goes beyond the bounds of nature, these above all become a wonder; to these every ear turns, and every mind strains, marvelling at the unexpected. For this reason all who proclaim the word point out the wonder of the mystery in this: that God was manifested in the flesh, that the Word became flesh, that the light shone in the darkness, that the life tasted death; and the heralds cry out all such things, by which the wonder is increased of him who showed the abundance of his power through things beyond nature.

But even if it seems right to them to insult him on this account, and they cut the Son off from equal honour with the Father because of the economy of the cross, we, as those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word handed down to us, have believed through the holy Scriptures that the God who was in the beginning afterwards, as Baruch says, “was seen on the earth and lived among men,” and, becoming a ransom for our death, loosed the bonds of death by his own resurrection and made the resurrection a way for all flesh through himself; and being of one throne and one glory with his own Father, he will pass sentence on those who are judged in the day of judgment, according to the worth of the lives they have lived. This is what we have believed about the crucified one; and for this reason we do not cease exalting him above all, according to the measure of our power, because he who can be contained by none, because of his unspeakable and unapproachable majesty, except by himself and the Father and the Holy Spirit, was able to come down even to communion with our weakness. But they make the Lord’s being manifested through flesh and cross a proof of the Son’s foreignness by nature to the Father, as though the Father’s nature remained pure in impassibility, while the Son, because his nature varies toward the lower, was not incapable of coming to the experience of flesh and death; as though the change were not great, but in a way passed from like to what is akin and of the same race, since they suppose that human nature is created and the nature of the Only-begotten is created too. Who, then, is rightly accused of being ashamed of the cross: the one who says lowly things about him, or the one who contends for the loftier? I do not know whether the accuser, who so belittles the God made known on the cross, has heard Paul’s grand voice, what and how great things he goes through about the cross with his lofty mouth. For he who had so many and such great wonders by which to make himself known says, “Far be it from me to boast in anything else except in the cross of Christ.” And to the Corinthians he says that the word of the cross is the power of God to those who are being saved; and to the Ephesians he describes the power that holds and holds together the universe by the figure of the cross, where he wishes them, being lifted up, to know the surpassing glory of this power, naming height and depth and breadth and length, calling each arm of the figure of the cross by its own name: so that he calls the upper part height, and the part below the crossing depth, and signifies each of the transverse arms by the names length and breadth, so that through this the great mystery might be made manifest: that things in heaven and things under the earth and all the ends of existing things are ruled and held together by the one who displayed this unspeakable and great power in the figure of the cross. But I think there is no need to contend further with these charges, judging it superfluous to take pride in refuting a slander when the truth has been shown in a few words. Let us, then, pass in our discussion to another charge. He says that the saints are slandered by us. If he has heard it himself, let him state the words of the accusation; if he says we have said it to others, let him show the charge true through witnesses. If he proves it from what we have written, let him read what was said, and we will accept the charge. But he could not bring forward anything of the kind, for what we have written lies open to examination by anyone who wishes. If it was neither said to him, nor has he heard it from others, nor has he a proof from what is written, I think the one who defends himself on these points should keep silent; for against a groundless charge the fitting defence is silence. The apostle Peter says, “God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified.” Having learned these words from him, we say that the whole context of what is said looks to one thing: the cross itself, the human name, and the demonstrative word. For the word of Scripture says that two things happened concerning one person: from the Jews the passion, and from God the honour; not as though one suffered and another was honoured by the exaltation. And he explains this more clearly by what follows, saying, “Being exalted, then, by the right hand of God.” Who, then, was exalted, the lowly or the Most High? And what else is the Most High but the Divine? But God, being Most High, does not need to be exalted. So the apostle says that the human element was exalted; and it was exalted by becoming Lord and Christ.

And he became this after the passion. So the apostle does not present the Lord’s existence before the ages by the word “made,” but the transformation of the lowly into the lofty, which came about through the right hand of God. For through this word too the mystery of godliness is made clear. For he who said, “being exalted by the right hand of God,” plainly reveals the unspeakable economy of the mystery: that the right hand of God, which made all things that are, which is the Lord, through whom all things came to be and without whom nothing that is came to exist, itself raised the man united to it to its own height through the mingling, making him too what it is itself by nature. And it is Lord and King, for “Christ” means king; this it made him too. For as, coming to be in the Most High, he was highly exalted, so he became all the other things too: immortal in the immortal, light in the light, incorruptible in the incorruptible, invisible in the invisible, Christ in the Christ, Lord in the Lord. For in bodily minglings, when one part greatly exceeds in measure, the lesser is naturally transformed altogether into what prevails. This we are clearly taught in the mystical word too, through Peter’s voice: that the lowliness of him who was crucified through weakness (and the weakness signifies the flesh, as we have heard concerning the Lord), through its mingling with the infinite and unbounded good, no longer remained in its own measures and properties, but was lifted up together with the right hand of God and became, instead of a subject, Christ the King; instead of lowly, Most High; instead of man, God. What hold, then, has the one who pretends to fight us on behalf of the apostles found in what we wrote against the saints? But let this charge too be passed over in silence; for I think it small and ignoble to stand up against what is false and unproven in his statements. Let us pass on to the more vehement part of the accusation. He says that we say the man was emptied, and that he who humbled himself by obedience to the form of the slave was conformed to men even before he took up this form. Nothing has been altered in the wording; we have transferred his very words from his discourse to ours. If there is anything of the kind in what we have written (for I call the writings of our teacher ours), let no one accuse the orator of slander; I ask only for all care for the truth, and we will bear witness. But if there is nothing of the sort in what is written, and his account does not merely bring a charge but is indignant and angry as though at things plainly proven, calling us full of marvels and nonsense and confusion and inconsistency and the like, I do not see what one should do. As those at a loss before the groundless rages of the delirious do not know what to resolve, so I too find no device against this helplessness. The teacher says (for I will repeat his words again verbatim) that the apostle “is not handing down to us a mode of theology but the accounts of the economy.” But the accuser, starting from this, says that we make out that a man was emptied into a man. What communion is there between the one and the other? If we say that the apostle did not hand down to us a mode of theology but pointed out in his words the economy of the passion, are we for this reason slandered as speaking of the emptying of a man into a man, and of a form of a slave before the ages, and of the man from Mary as older than the presence in the flesh? But I think it superfluous to linger on things that are agreed, since the truth itself frees us from the charge. For one must stand up against accusers when someone has given the slanderer a hold against himself; but where there is no danger of being suspected of anything absurd, the accusation becomes a proof not of the slander against the accused but of the madness of the accuser. But just as, when we were charged with being ashamed of the cross, we showed by our examination that the charge turned against the accuser, so we will show that this charge too turns back upon the accusers, since it is they, not we, who teach the Son’s passing from like to like in the economy of the passion. For we will examine what each side says, setting the heads side by side. We say that the only-begotten God, having brought all things into being through himself, one of which is human nature, when that nature had slipped into wickedness and so had come to be in the corruption of death, drew it back again through himself to immortal life through the man in whom he dwelt, taking the whole human element to himself and mixing his life-giving power with the mortal and perishable nature, and transforming our deadness, through the mingling with himself, into living grace and power.

And this, we say, is the mystery of the Lord’s flesh: that the unchangeable comes to be in the changeable, so that, altering it for the better and changing it from the worse, he might make the wickedness mixed with the changeable condition vanish from the nature, consuming the evil in himself. For our God is a consuming fire, in which all the material of wickedness vanishes. That is our account. And what does the accuser say? That it was not the unchangeable and uncreated that was mingled with what came to be by creation and was therefore altered toward wickedness, but that he too, being created, came to what was akin to him and of the same race; that he did not, from a surpassing nature, put on the lowlier nature out of love for humankind, but became what he was. For by the general appellation, the name of creation is one over all things that came to exist from what was not, while the particular differences among the things seen in creation differ from one another by the variations of their properties. So, if he is created and man is created, he was emptied into himself, according to Eunomius’s words; and he passed not from the surpassing to the lowly but from like to what is of equal honour, except for the property of body and bodilessness. Against whom, then, will the just vote of the judges be cast? Or who will appear liable to those charges: the one who says that the created was saved by the uncreated God, or the one who ascribes the cause of our salvation to a creature? The judgment of the godly is not unclear. For one who knows exactly the difference between the created and the uncreated, whose variance is characterized by lordship and servitude (the uncreated God “ruling by his power for ever,” as the Prophet says, and all things in creation serving, according to the voice of the same prophet, who says, “All things are your slaves”), one who has considered these things with care certainly recognizes the one who moves the Only-begotten from servitude into servitude. For if all creation serves, according to Paul, and the substance of the Only-begotten is created, according to Eunomius, then our opponents certainly make out by their doctrines not that the Master was mingled with slaves, but that a slave came to be among slaves. But to say that the Lord was in the form of a slave before the presence in the flesh is equal to slandering us as saying that the stars are black, the sun murky, the sky low, water dry, and all such things. For let one who constructs nothing from what he has heard, but fashions what he pleases by his own impulse, not spare such charges against us either; for it is equal for us to be called to account for these and for those, since none of them has its starting point in what we have said. For how could one who defines the true Son as being in the glory of the Father insult the eternal glory of the Only-begotten with the form of a slave? Since, then, the writer is resolved to speak ill, and takes care to seem to construct plausible charges, it would not be superfluous and useless to contend with his groundless charges. For the next accusation contains a similar absurdity. He has charged us with speaking of two Christs and two Lords, having no ground for a refutation from our words, but using falsehood at will as he pleases. Since, then, it is in his power to say what he wishes, why is he so stingy with his falsehood, making out that we speak of only two Christs? Let him say at will, if he likes, that we champion ten Christs, and ten times as many, and let him stretch the number to a thousand, so as to take hold of his slander more boldly. For the blasphemy is equal whether two or more Christs are spoken of, and the unprovable character of the charges is likewise equal. Let him, then, show that we speak of two Lords and two Christs, and, as though he had proved it of countless ones, let him have the vote against us. But he says that he refutes us from our own words. Let us, then, examine again what was said by our teacher, by which this man thinks he moves the charges against us: “He is not handing down to us a mode of theology,” he says, “but the accounts of the economy, he who says, God made him both Lord and Christ, this [Jesus] whom you crucified, plainly resting with the demonstrative word on his humanity, visible to all.” This is what was written. From where, then, were the two Christs rolled in by Eunomius through what was said? Does saying that the demonstrative word rests on what appears contain the proof of a construction of two Christs? Then one ought also to deny that the Lord was highly exalted by him after the passion, lest we should be accused of speaking of two Most Highs, if the God Word who was in the beginning is Most High, and the one who rose from the dead was highly exalted after the passion, as the Apostle says.

For one of two things must necessarily be chosen: either, by saying that he was highly exalted after the passion, which is the same as becoming Lord and Christ, to bear an indictment for impiety before Eunomius; or, avoiding the accusation, to deny the confession of the exaltation of the one who suffered. But against these things we must again set up the accuser’s own statement as an advocate of our defence. We shall quote word for word what he set down, by which our account is established, in this way: “Blessed John,” he says, “teaches that God the Word, through whom all things came to be, came to be in flesh, saying, ‘And the Word became flesh.’” Does he add these things to his own argument understanding what he writes? I do not think that the same man could both know the sense of these words and fight against our account. For if one examines what is said exactly, he will find in them no conflict between what is said by us and what is said by him. For we both see what was done in the economy through the flesh by itself, and understand the divine power by itself; and he, like us, says that the Word in the beginning was manifested in the flesh, and neither has anyone else ever accused him, nor has he accused himself, of proclaiming two Words, the one who was in the beginning and the one who became flesh. For he certainly knows that the Word is the same as the Word, the one who appeared in flesh the same as the one who was with God; but the flesh is not the same as the Godhead, before this too is transformed into the Godhead, so that of necessity some things fit God the Word and others the form of the slave. If, then, he does not charge himself with a pair of Words for such a confession, how are we slandered as dividing the faith into two Christs, we who say that the one who was highly exalted after the passion became Lord and Christ through union with him who is truly Lord and Christ, knowing from what we have learned that the divine nature is always one and the same and unchanging, while the flesh by itself is what reason and sense grasp about it, but, mingled with the divine, no longer remains in its own bounds and properties, but is taken up into what prevails and surpasses? Yet the contemplation of the properties of the flesh and of the Godhead remains unconfused, as long as each of these is contemplated by itself. For example: the Word was before the ages; the flesh came to be in the last times. And no one could say, reversing it, either that this is before the ages or that the Word came to be in the last times. The flesh is of a passible nature; the Word of an active one. Neither is the flesh creative of beings, nor does the Godhead have a passible power. The Word was in the beginning with God; the man was in the experience of death. Neither is the human eternal, nor the Divine mortal. And all the other things are contemplated in the same way. The human nature does not make Lazarus alive, nor does the impassible authority weep for the one lying dead; the tear is proper to the man, and the life to the true life. Human poverty does not feed the thousands, nor does the almighty authority run to the fig tree. Who is it that is weary from the journey, and who is it that established the whole world without toil by his word? What is the radiance of the glory? What is pierced by the nails? What form is struck in the passion, and what form is glorified from eternity? These things are plain even if no one explains them in words: the blows belong to the slave, in whom the Master is; the honours to the Master, about whom the slave is; so that through the connection and union both become common to each, the Master taking the slave’s stripes upon himself, and the slave being glorified with the Master’s honour. For this reason the cross is called the cross of the Lord of glory, and every tongue confesses that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. If we must divide the rest too in the same way, let us consider what it is that dies and what it is that destroys death, what it is that is renewed and what it is that is emptied. The Godhead is emptied, so that it may become capable of being contained by human nature; and the human is renewed, becoming divine through its mingling with the Divine. For as air is not held fast in water when it has been dragged down by something heavier and left in the depth of the water, but runs up to what is akin to it, and the water is often lifted up along with the air as it rises, curved round it in a thin, membrane-like surface in an airy sphere; so too, when the true life that was in the flesh ran up to itself after the passion, the flesh around it was lifted up with it by the divine immortality, raised together from corruption to incorruption.

And as the fire in wood, often hidden within the surface, escapes the senses of those who see or touch it, but is manifested when it is fanned into flame; so too in the death which he brought about by his own authority, he who separated the soul from the body, who said to his own Father, “Into your hands I commit my spirit,” who, as he says, has authority to take it again, he who despised shame among men because he is Lord of glory, having as it were covered the spark of life with the nature of the body in the economy of death, kindled it again and fanned it into flame by the power of his own Godhead, warming what had been put to death, and so pouring the infinity of the divine power over that small firstfruits of our nature. What he himself was, he made that too: the form of a slave, Lord; the man from Mary, Christ; the one crucified through weakness, life and power; and he made in what was taken up by the Word all that is piously contemplated in God the Word; so that these things seem not to belong separately to each by division, but the perishable nature, re-made by its mingling with the Divine according to what prevails, shares in the power of the Godhead. It is as if someone were to say that a drop of vinegar mixed into the sea has been made sea by the mixture, because the natural quality of this liquid no longer remains in the infinity of what prevails. So our account, championing not a number of Christs, as Eunomius accuses, but the union of the man with the Divine, calls “making” the transformation of the mortal into the immortal, of the slave into the Lord, of sin into righteousness, of the curse into blessing, and of the man into Christ. What argument, then, is still left to the slanderers, that we proclaim two Christs in our doctrine, if we do not say that he who was from the beginning, uncreatedly from the Father, Lord and Christ and Word and God, was made? We maintain that blessed Peter, briefly and in passing pointing to the mystery of the flesh, speaks according to the sense shown before: that what was crucified through weakness, itself too, through the prevailing power of the one who dwelt in it, became what the indweller is and is named, Christ and Lord, as we have said.

But I perceive that I have lingered over this passage longer than was needed, since the force of the ideas led us up to this contemplation. We must take up again the sequence of the charges, so that we pass over none of the accusations brought against us without a defense. And first, if you please, let us consider how he charges us with saying that a common man brought about the salvation of the universe. For although this has already been shown sufficiently by what we have examined, yet, so that the suspicion may be cleared away in every respect among those who judge on the strength of slander, we will take it up again briefly. We are so far from referring the cause of the great grace, which is beyond reason, to a common man, that if anyone ascribes such a benefit even to Peter and Paul, or to an angel from heaven, we pronounce him anathema according to Paul’s law. For Paul was not crucified for us, nor were we baptized into a human name. Yet because we confess that the saving power of Christ is greater than human nature, the doctrine of our opponents against the truth is not thereby strengthened. For their aim is to establish by every means the estrangement of the Son’s substance from the Father’s, and they strive to prove the unlikeness in substance not only by the distinction between the begotten and the unbegotten but also by the contrast between the passible and the impassible. This is built up more nakedly in the last parts of his treatise, but it is no less plain from what is said now. For if he blames those who assign the suffering to the human nature, he certainly wishes to subject the Godhead itself to suffering. For since the supposition is twofold and ambiguous—whether it was the divine or the human that was in suffering—the accusation of the one is certainly the establishment of the other. If, then, they blame those who see the suffering in the man, they will certainly praise those who say that the Godhead of the Son is passible. And what is thus established becomes an advocate of the absurdity of their doctrine. For if, by their account, the Godhead of the Son suffers, while that of the Father is kept in complete impassibility as to its substance, then the impassible nature is alien to the one that admits suffering. Since, then, what is said is short in the compass of its words, but supplies the beginnings and occasions of all the wickedness concerning the doctrine, it would be fair for readers to demand not brevity in the answer but soundness.

We, then, neither attribute our salvation to a man nor admit that the pure and divine nature is passible and perishable. But since we must by all means believe the divine words, which proclaim that the Word who was in the beginning is God, and that afterward the Word, having become flesh, was seen on earth and lived among human beings, we receive by faith the meanings that fit the divine words. For when we hear that he is light, and power, and righteousness, and life, and truth, and that all things were made through him, we hold all these and the like as worthy of belief, referring them to God the Word. But when we hear of grief, and sleep, and want, and trouble, and bonds, and nails, and spear, and blood, and wounds, and burial, and tomb, and whatever else is of this kind, even if they are contrary to what was said before, we none the less accept them as worthy of belief and true, looking to the flesh, which by faith we received together with the Word. As the properties of the flesh cannot be observed in the Word who was in the beginning, so in turn the properties of the Godhead cannot be perceived in the nature of the flesh. Therefore, since the gospel teaching about the Lord is mixed, made up of lofty and God-befitting things and of lowly ones, we fit each of the meanings appropriately to each of the things understood in the mystery, the human to the human, the lofty to the Godhead. And we say that the Son, as God, is altogether impassible and incorruptible; and if any suffering is spoken of him in the Gospel, he wrought it altogether through the human element, which admits suffering. For the Godhead truly works salvation through the body that is about it, so that the suffering belongs to the flesh and the working to God. And even if some drag in the apostle as an advocate of the contrary doctrine when he says, “He did not spare his own Son,” and, “God sent his own Son,” and other such words that seem to look to the divine nature, and not to the human, in the economy of the suffering, we will none the less not let go of sound doctrine, since Paul himself has made this mystery plainer to us. For everywhere he assigns the economy of the suffering to the human part of Christ, saying, “For since death came through a man, through a man also came the resurrection of the dead”; and, “God, sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, condemned sin in the flesh”—in the flesh, he says, not in the Godhead; and, “He was crucified out of weakness,” signifying the flesh by the weakness, “but he lives by power,” indicating the divine by the power; and, “He died to sin,” that is, in the body, “but he lives to God,” that is, in the Godhead.

So it is established by these words that the man tasted death, while the immortal nature did not admit the suffering that belongs to death. And again: “Him who knew no sin he made sin for us,” once more calling the flesh sin. And though we say this in passing, the digression perhaps does not seem less useful than the matter in hand. For when the holy Peter says, “He made him Lord and Christ,” and again the apostle Paul says to the Hebrews that “he made him a priest,” Eunomius seizes on the word “made” as indicating his existence before the ages, and thinks that by it he must establish that the Lord is a thing made. Let him hear, then, Paul saying, “Him who knew no sin he made sin for us.” If he refers the word “made,” said of the Lord in the Epistle to the Hebrews and in Peter’s words, to a meaning before the ages, he would do well to refer the word here too, where it says that God made him sin, to the first hypostasis of the substance, and on that ground to try to prove that he was made, in line with the other testimonies, so that, in referring the word “made” to the substance, he may be consistent with himself and see the sin in the substance too. But if he is ashamed of this because the absurdity is so glaring, and says that the apostle, by saying “he made him sin,” indicates the economy of the last times, let him persuade himself by the same logic that there too “made” looks to the economy.

But let us return to the point from which we digressed. For countless other passages besides these could be taken from the same Scripture for our purpose. And let no one think that the divine apostle is divided against himself toward opposite positions, supplying from his own words material equally to those who fight over the doctrines, for an attack in either direction. For anyone who examines carefully would find that his discourse looks precisely to one thing and does not waver in its conceptions. For while he everywhere proclaims the blending of the human with the divine, he none the less discerns in each what is proper to it, since the human weakness was changed for the better through its communion with the incorruptible, and the divine power was not dragged down with it by the union of its nature with the lowly. When, then, he says, “He did not spare his own Son,” he distinguishes the true Son from those who were begotten and exalted and who rejected him—those, I mean, who were brought into being by command—marking by the addition of “own” his kinship by nature. And so that no one should attach the suffering of the cross to the incorruptible nature, he corrects such an error by other, clearer words, naming him “mediator between God and men,” and both man and God, so that, from the two being said of the one, what is fitting might be understood of each: of the divine, impassibility; of the human, the economy of the suffering—the conception thus dividing in thought what is united by his love for humankind. When he proclaims what is transcendent and surpasses every mind, he uses the loftier names, calling him “God over all,” and “great God,” and “power of God,” and “wisdom,” and the like. But when in his discourse he describes the whole experience of sufferings, which was necessarily taken on together with our weakness, he names the two together from what is ours, calling him man—not, by the word, making him common with the rest of nature, but so that reverence might be kept toward each: the human being glorified by the assumption, and the divine emptied by the condescension, yet giving over the human part to the sufferings while working the resurrection of what had suffered by the divine power. And thus the experience of death is referred to him who shared in the passible nature, because of the union of the man with him; and the lofty and God-befitting names come down to the man, so that he who appeared on the cross is even named “Lord of glory,” the grace of the names passing over from the divine to the human together with the blending of his nature with the lowly. For this reason Paul presents him in various and different ways: now as the one who came down from heaven, now as the one born of a woman, both God before the ages and man in the last days. Thus the Only-begotten God is believed to be impassible and the Christ to be passible, and the Word does not lie through the opposite statements, since he fits in thought what is appropriate to each of the names.

If, then, we have learned to think this from the God-inspired teaching, how do we attribute the cause of our salvation to a common man? And if we determine that the word “made” used by the blessed Peter looks not to the existence of the hypostasis before the ages but to the recent economy, what has this to do with the charge? For this great apostle says that what was seen in the form of the slave was made, through the assumption, that which he who assumed it was by his own nature. For in the Epistle to the Hebrews too one can learn the same from Paul, who says that Jesus was made apostle and high priest by God, “being faithful to him who made him.” For there too, having named as high priest him who made priestly propitiation for our sins by his own blood, he does not declare the first hypostasis of the Only-begotten by the word “made”; rather, wishing to set forth the grace customarily named at the appointment of priests, he says “made.” For Jesus—as Zechariah says, the great high priest—who offered his own lamb, that is, his own body, as a priest for the sin of the world; who, for the sake of the children who share in flesh and blood, himself likewise partook of blood—not inasmuch as he was in the beginning, being Word and God, and existing in the form of God, and being equal to God, but inasmuch as he emptied himself in the form of the slave and brought an offering and sacrifice for us—he became a priest, many generations later, according to the order of Melchizedek. Whoever has studied the Epistle to the Hebrews with care certainly knows the mystery concerning this. In the same way, then, he is said here to have been made priest and apostle, and there Lord and Christ: the one with regard to the economy on our behalf, the other because of the change and transformation of the human into the divine; for the apostle calls the transformation a making. So the slander of our opponents is plain, who spitefully snatch the words of the economy and apply them to the hypostasis before the ages. For we have learned from the apostle not to know Christ in the same way now and before, since Paul says, “Even if we once knew Christ according to the flesh, yet now we know him so no longer”—as if that knowledge denoted the temporary economy, and this the everlasting existence.

Our discourse, then, has made a sufficient defense against the charges: that we neither think there are two Christs or two Lords, nor are ashamed of the cross, nor hold that a common man suffered for the world, nor think that “made” bears on the constitution of the substance. And for this view of ours the argument receives no small support from the accuser himself, where, in the midst of lashing us with his tongue, he also puts forward this: “Basil, however, brings this conflict upon himself, and is clearly shown neither to have attended to the intention of the apostles nor to have kept the consistency of his own words; from which, either, perceiving the inconsistency, he will grant that the Word who was in the beginning and was God became Lord, or he joins contradictory things to contradictory.” For this is our doctrine too, which Eunomius also states when he says that the Word who was in the beginning and was God became Lord. For being what he was—God and Word, and life and light, grace and truth, and Lord and Christ, and every lofty and divine name—in the man who was assumed, who was none of these, he became both the other things that the Word was and, with the others, Christ and Lord as well, according both to the teaching of Peter and to the confession of Eunomius. This is not because the Godhead took on anything by progress, since every lofty dignity is seen in the divine nature. He thus becomes both Lord and Christ, not by his Godhead coming to an addition of grace—for the nature of the Godhead is confessed to lack no good—but by bringing the human into participation in the Godhead, which is what is signified by “Christ” and “Lord.”

Enough on these matters. As for what Eunomius says to slander our doctrine—that Christ was emptied into himself—it has already been examined sufficiently in what was said, where it was shown that he is fastening his own blasphemy onto our doctrine. For it is not he who confesses that the unchangeable nature entered the created and perishable nature who speaks of a passing from like to like, but he who conceives of no passing from the greatness of the nature to what is lowlier. For if, according to their account, he is created and the man is created, the wonder of the word is altogether stolen away, and there is nothing paradoxical in what is said, since creation has simply come to be in itself.

But we, having learned from the prophecy of “the change of the right hand of the Most High,” say that the right hand of the Father is the power of God that makes all things, which is the Lord—not as a part hanging from the whole, but as being from him, yet contemplated by itself in its own hypostasis. This we say: that neither does the right hand differ, in the principle of its nature, from him whose right hand it is, nor can any other change of it be spoken of besides the economy of the flesh. For the right hand truly was God himself manifested in the flesh, seen through the flesh itself by those of keen sight. Inasmuch as he did the works from the Father, he both was and was understood to be the right hand of God; but in that he was enveloped in the veil of the flesh, as far as sight went, he was seen as other than he was by nature. That is why he says to Philip, who was gazing only at what had been changed: “Look through what was changed at the unchanged, and if you see this, you have seen the Father himself, whom you seek to see. For he who has seen me”—not the one appearing in the change, but truly me, who am in the Father—“will have seen that very one in whom I am,” because the same stamp of the Godhead is seen in both. Since we believe, then, that the pure and impassible and uncreated nature came to be in what is passible in creation, and understand the change from this, how are we accused of saying that he was emptied into himself, by those who din their own doctrine into ours? For the communion of the created with the created is no change of the right hand. To call the right hand of the uncreated nature created belongs to Eunomius alone, and to those who think as he does. For whoever has an eye that looks to the truth will see the right hand of the Most High to be such as he sees the Most High to be: uncreated of uncreated, good of good, everlasting of everlasting, its being in the Father by way of begetting in no way impairing its everlastingness. So the accuser has failed to notice that he is using his own reproaches against us.

To those who stumble at the suffering, and by it establish the difference of the substances—as though the Father, because of the superiority of his nature, does not admit suffering, while the Son, because of his inferiority and difference, comes down to share in sufferings—I wish to add this to what has been said: that nothing is in truth suffering except what leads to sin. Nor would anyone properly call the necessary sequence of nature suffering, seeing the composite nature proceed on its way in a certain order and sequence. For the concourse of elements of different natures with one another in the structure of our body is a kind of composition fitted together out of many unlike things. And when, at the due time, the harmony that binds together the concourse of the elements is dissolved, the composite is resolved again into the things of which it was made up. This, then, is rather a work of nature, and not a suffering of it. For only what is understood as the opposite of the impassibility that consists in virtue do we properly call suffering; and we believe that he who grants us salvation remained without share in this even in his communion with our nature, he who “was tempted in every respect according to likeness, without sin.” In true suffering, then, which is a disease of the will, he had no share; for “he committed no sin,” it says, “nor was deceit found in his mouth.” But in the properties of our nature, which by a certain custom and misuse of language are called by the same name “sufferings,” we confess that the Lord shared: birth, and nourishment, and growth, sleep and toil, and whatever the soul is naturally disposed to feel along with the burdens of the body, as the desire for what is lacking stretches the appetite from the body to the soul; and the sense of grief, and fear in the face of death, and all such things—except whatever leads on to sin.

As, then, when we consider his power pervading all things, in heaven and air, and earth and sea, and whatever is in heaven and whatever is under the earth, we believe that he is everywhere and through all things, yet we say that he is none of the things in which he is—for he who has enclosed heaven in the span that grasps the universe is not heaven, nor is he who holds the circle of the earth earth, nor again is he who encompasses the liquid nature water—so too we do not say that he is passible because he passed through what are called the sufferings of the flesh. Rather, as the cause of all that is, who has grasped the universe, and by the ineffable power of his own majesty steers all that moves and keeps what stands firm on its fixed base, we say that he also came to be among us to heal the disease of sin, fitting the working of his medicine to the suffering and applying the cure as he knew would profit the ailing part of creation; and it was profitable to heal the suffering by touch, and so he healed it.

Yet he is not thought to have become passible himself because he heals the infirmity. For even in the case of human beings common usage does not allow us to say such a thing. For of one who touches a sick person to heal him we do not say that he himself shares in the infirmity; we say rather that he grants the sick person a return to health and does not share in the infirmity. For the suffering does not touch him; on the contrary, he touches the illness. If, then, one who by his skill works some good for bodies is called not sluggish and sickly but a lover of humankind and a benefactor and the like, why do they slander the economy on our behalf as lowly and inglorious, and use it to establish that the substance of the Son is different, as though the Father’s nature were above sufferings while that of the Only-begotten is not pure of suffering? For if the aim of the economy through the flesh was not that the Lord should become passible but that his love for humankind should be shown, and no one doubts that the Father too loves humankind, then the Father stands in the same case as the Son, if one is willing to look to the aim. And if it was not the Father who wrought the destruction of death, do not be surprised at all. For he has also given all judgment to the Son, himself judging no one—not because he is unable either to save the lost or to judge the sinner, and so does these things through the Son, but because he does these things too through his own power, through which he works all things; and the Son is the power of the Father. Those, then, who were saved through the Son were saved by the power of the Father, and those who are judged by him undergo judgment by the righteousness of God. For Christ is the righteousness of God, which is revealed through the gospel, as the apostle says. Whether you look at the whole world or at the parts of the world that make up the whole, all these are works of the Father, since they came about as works of his power; and so the Word speaks truly in both statements, when it says both that the Father works all things and that without the Son nothing that exists came to be. For the working of a power is referred to him whose power it is. Since, then, the Son is the power of the Father, all the works of the Son are works of the Father. That he came to the economy of the suffering not by weakness of nature but by the authority of his will, countless sayings could be adduced from the Gospel; I will pass them over in silence because the matter is plain, so that the discourse may not be lengthened by dwelling on what is agreed. If, then, what took place is evil, not only the Father but the Son too must be kept apart from the evil. But if the salvation of the lost is a good, and what took place is not suffering but love for humankind, why do you estrange the Father from the thanksgiving for our salvation, he who through his own power, which is Christ, wrought for human beings their freedom from death?

But we must return again to our vehement speech-writer and take up once more that strenuous rhetoric of his against us. He blames us for not saying that the substance of the Son was made, as though we contradicted Peter’s words, “He made him Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified.” He is long in his indignation and abuse on this point, and builds up arguments by which he thinks he refutes our doctrine. Let us see, then, the force of his attempts. “And who,” he says, “O most careless of all men, having the form of a slave, takes on the form of a slave?” No one in his right mind, we will say to him, would say such a thing, unless some are wholly estranged from the hope of Christians. And such are you, who accuse us of carelessness because we do not admit that the Creator is created. For if the Holy Spirit does not lie when he says through the prophet, “All things are your slaves,” and “All creation serves,” and if, according to you, the Son is created, then he is certainly a fellow slave with all things, since by sharing in creation he is dragged down with them to share in slavery. And you will certainly put the form of a slave on one who serves; for those who confess him a slave by nature should not be ashamed of the mask of slavery. Who, then, O keenest of orators, is it that moves the Son from the form of a slave into another form of a slave: he who bears witness that he is uncreated, which at the same time proves that he does not serve, or rather you, who cry out openly that the Son is the Father’s slave and is ruled by him even before the form of the slave? I need no other judges; I leave the vote on these matters to you. For I do not think that anyone is so shameless toward the truth as to oppose, out of sheer impudence, what is agreed.

For what is said is plain to everyone: that what is a slave by nature is marked by the properties of slavery, and to be created is a property of slavery. He, then, who says that the Son, being a slave, entered our form is certainly the one who moves the Only-begotten from slavery into slavery.

But he presses his attack on what was said, and says a little further on (for the matters in between I will now pass over, since they were examined sufficiently in what precedes), slandering us as reckless in saying and thinking impossible things, and calling us “most pitiable,” he adds this: “For if the blessed Peter is speaking not about the Word who was in the beginning and was God, but about the one who was seen and who emptied himself, as Basil says, and the man who was seen emptied himself into the form of a slave, and he who emptied himself into the form of a slave emptied himself into the birth of a man …” Perhaps the malice and the folly in the construction of the argument have already been detected at once, from what has been read, by the judgment of the hearers. Yet we too will add a brief refutation of what was said, not so much to overturn the uneducated sophism, which has overturned itself among those who have ears, as so that we may not seem to leave what was proposed unexamined under the pretext of despising the cheapness of the argument.

Let us examine the argument, then, in this way. What are the apostle’s words? “Let it be known,” he says, “that God has made him Lord and Christ.” Then, as if someone had asked about whom such grace had come to pass, he points out the subject as if with a finger, saying, “this Jesus whom you crucified.” What does Basil say about this? That the demonstrative word of the speech says that he was made Christ and Lord who had been crucified by the hearers themselves. “For you crucified,” he says; and it was likely that those who had demanded his murder were hearers of the speech, for the time from the cross to Peter’s address to the people was not long. What, then, does Eunomius put forward against this? “If the blessed Peter is speaking not about the Word who was in the beginning and was God, but about the one who was seen and who emptied himself, as Basil says, and the man who was seen emptied himself into the form of a slave—” Stop! Who says that the man who was seen emptied himself again into the form of a slave? Or who argues that the suffering of the cross took place before the appearing through the flesh? For neither was the cross before the body, nor the body before the form of the slave. Rather, God is manifested in the flesh, and the flesh that showed God in itself, after fulfilling through itself the great mystery of death, is transformed by the blending into what is lofty and divine, becoming Christ and Lord, transferred and changed into that which he was who had manifested himself in that flesh.

But if we were to say these things, [would it follow] that the one shown on the cross had been emptied into the birth of another man—which this champion of the truth makes out that we say, putting his sophism together, word for word, thus: “If the man who was seen,” he says, “emptied himself into the form of a slave, and he who emptied himself into the form of a slave emptied himself into the birth of a man, then the man who was seen emptied himself into the birth of a man”? Oh, how well he remembers the task before him! How much to the point he concludes his argument! Basil says that the apostle said that Christ was made with respect to the man who was seen; but this clever and shrewd overturner of what was said says: “If Peter does not say that the substance of the one who was in the beginning was made, the man who was seen emptied himself into the form of a slave; and he who emptied himself into the form of a slave emptied himself into the birth of a man.” We are beaten, Eunomius, by this invincible wisdom! It has been mightily refuted that the apostle’s word looks to him who was crucified out of weakness—by arguments from which we have learned that, if we believe this is so, the man who was seen becomes someone else again, being emptied into another human birth! Will you never stop making sport of what should not be dared? Will you not blush at loosening the fear of the divine mysteries with such ridiculous sophisms? Will you not turn now at least, if not before, to recognize that the Only-begotten God, who is in the bosom of the Father, being Word and King and Lord and every lofty name and thought, needs to become none of the goods, since he is himself the fullness of all goods? Into what, then, is he changed, so as to become what he was not before? As, then, he who knew no sin becomes sin, that he may take away the sin of the world, so again the flesh that received the Lord becomes Christ and Lord, being transformed by the blending into what it was not by nature.

From this we learn that God would not have been manifested in the flesh had the Word not become flesh, nor would the human flesh that was about him have been transformed into the divine had what appeared not become Christ and Lord. But they spit upon the simplicity of our preaching, those who intrude upon the substance of God with their syllogisms and want to prove that he who brought all things that are into being is himself part of creation; and as an ally in such an effort to establish their blasphemy they drag in the words of Peter, who said to the Jews, “Let all the house of Israel know that God has made him Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified.” This they put forward as their proof that the substance of the Only-begotten God is created. What, then, tell me? Were the Jews, to whom the word was spoken, before the ages? Was the cross before the world? Was Pilate before all creation? Was Jesus first, and the Word afterward? Is the flesh older than the Godhead? Does Gabriel bring the good news to Mary before the world began? Does not the man in Christ take his beginning by birth in the time of Caesar Augustus, while the Word who was in the beginning is God, “our King before the ages,” as the prophet testifies? Do you not see what confusion you bring into the argument, stirring everything upside down, as the proverb says? It was the fiftieth day after the passion when Peter addressed these words to the Jews, saying, “This one whom you crucified God has made Christ and Lord.” Indeed, “whom you crucified,” he says, “him God has made both Christ and Lord,” so that it is clear from this that Peter speaks not of what was before the ages but of what was after the economy. How is it, then, that you do not see that the whole sense of the passage turns on the one pointed out, but play the clown with the childish plaiting of your sophism, saying, “If we have believed that the one who appeared was made Christ and Lord by God, the Lord must be emptied again into a man and undergo a second birth”? How is your doctrine strengthened any further by this? How does what has been said prove that the substance of the King of creation is created? For my part I say the opposite: that our position is supported by those who fight against us, and that the orator, out of excessive attention, has not noticed that while he pushes the argument, as he supposes, into absurdity, he is fighting on the side of those he wars against by the very means through which he tries to overturn them. For if we must believe that the passing of Jesus took place from the transcendent to the lowly, and only the divine and uncreated nature is above creation, while man is created, then perhaps, seeing the truth through his own argument, he will change sides and agree that the uncreated came to be in the created out of love for humankind. But if he thinks he proves the Lord created by showing that, being God, he took part in human nature, many such passages will be found that establish the same thing and lend his argument the same support. For since he was the Word and was God, and afterward, as the prophet says, “he was seen on earth and lived among human beings,” it will be proved by this that he is one of the creatures! But if this is far from the point at issue, then neither are things like it at all suited to the matter before us. For it is the same in meaning to say that the Word who was in the beginning was afterward manifested to human beings through the flesh, and that he who existed in the form of God entered the form of the slave. If one of these is useless for establishing the blasphemy, the other must be thrown out with it.

But he kindly advises us to turn from our error, and points out the truth that he himself establishes: “The Word who was in the beginning and was God,” he says, “this one the apostle Peter teaches to have been made.” Now if he were interpreting dreams for us and professed the divination of dreams, there would perhaps be no danger in allowing him to bring the riddles of fancy round to whatever he pleased. But since he says he is expounding the divine words, it is no longer safe for us to give him free license to misinterpret the sayings. What does Scripture say? “That God has made this Jesus whom you crucified Lord and Christ.” Since, then, everything concurs on this one—the demonstrative word, the name given in human fashion, the accusation of those who had stained their hands with murder, the suffering on the cross—the meaning necessarily looks to what appeared. But he says that Peter says these things, yet indicates the substance before the ages by the word “made.” It is harmless to let nurses or old women play with children and bend the images of dreams to whatever they like; but when the God-inspired word is set before us for interpretation, the great apostle forbids us to admit old wives’ empty chatter.

For when I hear “cross,” I understand the cross; and when I am taught a human name, I see the nature that the name signifies. Having learned from Peter, then, that this one was made Lord and Christ, I do not hesitate to say that it is the one who came to be before our eyes. For the saints agree with one another, both in everything else and in this part too. For as Peter says that the crucified one was made Lord, so Paul too says that he was highly exalted after the passion and resurrection—not exalted in respect of being God (for what is higher than the divine height, that one could say God is exalted toward it?); rather, he says that the lowliness of human nature is exalted, the word showing, I think, the assimilation and union of the assumed man with the height of the divine nature. This, then, we believe the great Peter also signifies when he says that the one on the cross became Lord, having become, through the union with the divine in every respect, that which the divine is.

But even if one allows him to misinterpret the divine word in this, not even so will the argument reach the conclusion at which the heresy aims. For let it be granted that Peter says of him who was in the beginning, “God has made him Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified.” We find that not even so does the blasphemy gain any strength against the truth. “God has made him,” he says, “Lord and Christ.” To which of the things said, then, must “made” be referred? To which of the terms in the phrase shall we fit the word? For there are three before us: “this one,” and “Lord,” and “Christ.” To which of these does he join the word “made”? No one is so bold against the truth as to say that “made” does not refer to “Christ and Lord.” For Peter says that he, being whatever he was, became Christ and Lord by the Father’s act. The statement is not mine but that of the very man who fights against the statement. For in the very words set before us for examination he speaks thus: “The blessed Peter is speaking about him who was in the beginning and was God, and teaches that this one became Lord and Christ.” So Eunomius says that he who is, and was whatever he was, became Christ and Lord—just as the history says of David that, being the son of Jesse and tending the flocks, he was anointed king: the anointing did not then make him a man, but transferred him, being by his own nature what he was, from a private person to a king. How, then, is the making of the Son’s substance established any more by this, if, as Eunomius says, God made him, who was in the beginning and was God, both Lord and Christ? For lordship is the name not of a substance but of an authority, and the title “Christ” indicates kingship; and the account of kingship is one thing, that of nature another. Now Scripture says that these things came about concerning the Son of God. Let us consider, then, what is more reverent and more consistent. Of whom is it pious to say that he shares in something loftier by progress: God, or man? Who is so childish in mind as to think that the divine is brought to perfection by addition? But to suppose such a thing of human nature is not unreasonable, since the word of the Gospel clearly testifies of the Lord to growth in his humanity: “Jesus increased,” it says, “in stature and wisdom and grace.” What, then, is it more reasonable to infer from the apostle’s words: that God, who was in the beginning, became Lord by progress, or that the lowliness of human nature is taken up to the height of dignity by its communion with the divine? For the prophet David too says, as in the person of the Lord, “But I was established king by him,” which is much the same as saying, “I became Christ”; and again, as from the Father to the Lord, “Rule in the midst of your enemies,” which is the same as Peter’s “Become Lord of your enemies.” As, then, the establishing in kingship signifies not the constitution of the substance but advancement to the dignity, and he who bids him rule does not then bid what does not exist come into being, but gives to what exists authority over the disobedient, so too the blessed Peter, when he says that he became Christ, that is, King of all, added “him,” to separate the word from the substance and from what is contemplated about it. For he made him the things mentioned while he was already what he is. If, then, it were pious to say of the transcendent nature that it became something by progress—a king from a private person, lofty from lowly, lord from slave—it would perhaps be fitting to apply Peter’s words too to the divine substance of the Only-begotten. But since the divine, whatever it is believed to be, is always the same, above all addition and incapable of diminution, it is wholly necessary to refer the word to the human. For God the Word, what he was in the beginning, that he is now and remains for ever: always King, always Lord, always Most High and God, having become none of these by progress, but being, in the power of his nature, all that he is called. But he who was exalted from man to the divine through the assumption, being one thing and becoming another, is properly and truly said to have become Christ and Lord. For he made him Lord from a slave, and King from a subject, and Christ from one under rule; and he highly exalted the lowly, and to him who had the human name he granted the name above every name. And so came about that ineffable mixture and coming together, the human littleness blended with the divine greatness. Therefore the great and God-befitting names are properly fitted to the human, and conversely the Godhead is named by the human ones. For the same one both has the name above every name and is worshiped by all creation in the human name of Jesus. For “at the name of Jesus,” it says, “every knee shall bow, of those in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue shall confess that Jesus is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” But so much for this.

But since he says that the word “Lord” is predicated of the substance of the Only-begotten, not of his dignity, and calls the apostle as witness to this when he says to the Corinthians, “Now the Lord is the Spirit,” it may be timely not to leave this error of his uncorrected either. He determines that the word “Lord” signifies the substance, and brings the saying just quoted as proof of this supposition. Let us see, then, whether the passage before us has anything in common with it. “The Lord,” it says, “is the Spirit.” But he who interprets Scripture as he pleases calls the lordship a substance, and thinks that by these words he brings his argument to a proof. Now if Paul had said, “Now the Lord is a substance,” we too would have gone along with what is said. But since the God-inspired word says that the Lord is the Spirit, while Eunomius says that the lordship is a substance, I do not know where his argument gets its strength from, unless perhaps he says again that the word “spirit” too stands in Scripture in place of “substance.” Let us examine, then, whether anywhere the apostle, in using the word “spirit,” indicated the substance by the term. “The Spirit himself,” he says, “bears witness with our spirit”; and, “No one knows the things of a man except the spirit that is in him”; and, “The letter kills, but the spirit gives life”; and, “If by the spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live”; and, “If we live by the spirit, let us also walk by the spirit.” And who could count the apostle’s sayings on this? Nowhere among them do we find the substance signified by this word. For he who says, “The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit,” indicates nothing other than the Holy Spirit, who comes to dwell in the mind of the faithful. For in many places in his writings he also calls the mind “spirit”: when it has received the communion of the Spirit, the dignity of adoption comes to those who have received it. And as for “No one knows the things of a man except the spirit that is in him”: if “man” is predicated of the substance, and “spirit” likewise, then the man is made out by these words to be two substances. And he who says that the letter kills, but the spirit gives life—I do not know how he sets a substance in contrast with the letter. Or again, how does this man think that Paul, when he says that we must do away with the deeds of the body by the spirit, refers the meaning of “spirit” to the substance? And to live by the spirit and walk by the spirit—this would be altogether senseless if the meaning of “spirit” were taken of the substance. For in what else than our substance do all of us who are alive have our share in life? And then the apostle gives us advice about this—to live by substance—as if he were saying, “You share in life through yourselves and not through others”!

If, then, this sense can nowhere properly be found, how is it that here again, imitating the interpreters of dreams, he bids us take “spirit” in place of “substance,” so as to conclude by syllogism that the word “Lord” is applied to the substance? “For if the spirit is substance, and the Lord is the Spirit, the Lord is found to be substance after all.” Oh, how irresistible is the force of the argument! How can one slip out of and undo this inescapable necessity of demonstrations? The Lord is predicated of the substance. How does he establish this? Because the apostle says, “Now the Lord is the Spirit.” What, then, has this to do with substance? Why, the arts of demonstrative method bid “spirit” to be put in place of “substance”! These are the achievements of Aristotelian technical skill. That is why we, who are uninitiated in this wisdom, are pitiable according to your account (though he who tracks down the truth by such a method is not altogether to be called blessed), because we understand the apostle in such a way as not to think that he put “spirit” in place of the substance of the Only-begotten. How, then, will you fit what follows? For the thought is not bounded by these words. For when Paul has said, “Now the Lord is the Spirit,” he went on, “And where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” If, then, the Lord is the substance, and the spirit is substance, what in turn is the substance of the substance? For according to your account the Spirit, which is the Lord, is one substance. Again, he speaks of another spirit belonging to the Lord, who is spirit—that is, according to your interpretation, another substance. So, by your account, the apostle means nothing other than a substance of a substance when he writes plainly, “the Lord is the Spirit” and “the Spirit of the Lord.” But let Eunomius take the written words as he pleases. What we know about this is as follows. The God-inspired Scripture, as the divine apostle names it, is the Scripture of the Holy Spirit.

Its intention is the benefit of human beings. For “all Scripture,” it says, “is God-inspired and profitable.” And the benefit is varied and manifold, as the apostle says: “for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness.” But such gain is not to be had by readers at first glance; rather, the divine is hidden beneath the body of Scripture as beneath a veil, some legislation or history being put in front of the things contemplated by the mind. That is why the apostle says that those who look at the body of Scripture have a veil over their heart and cannot see through to the glory of the spiritual law, being hindered by the veil laid over the face of the lawgiver. Therefore he says, “The letter kills, but the spirit gives life,” showing that in many places the obvious interpretation of what is written, unless it is taken in the fitting sense, produces the opposite of the life that is pointed out through the spirit. For the spirit lays down for all human beings the perfection of virtue in freedom from passion, while the history of what is written sometimes contains an account of incongruous deeds and seems, as it were, to run along with the passions of nature; and if anyone attends to these according to the obvious sense, the letter will become a teaching of death. So of those who read what is written in too bodily a way he says that the veil is laid over the senses of the soul; but for those who turn their contemplation to what is intelligible, the glory lying in the letter is uncovered, stripped as it were of a mask. And what is found through the loftier understanding he says is the Lord, which is spirit. For when one turns to the Lord, he says, the veil is taken away: “Now the Lord is the Spirit.” And he says this setting the lordship of the Spirit over against the slavery of the letter. For as he opposes what gives life to what kills, so he contrasts the Lord with slavery. And so that we may not fall into any confusion about the Holy Spirit when we are taught by the word “Lord,” and be led to think of the Only-begotten, he secures the statement by repetition: having said that the Spirit is Lord, he also names the Spirit “of the Lord,” so as to show by the honor of lordship the transcendence of his nature, and yet not to confuse in his statement what is distinctive of his hypostasis. For he who calls him both Lord and Spirit of the Lord teaches us to understand him as something distinct beside the Only-begotten, just as elsewhere he speaks of the “Spirit of Christ,” doing this very thing well and mystically, outlining what is reverent in the sequence of the doctrine according to the gospel tradition.

So we, the most pitiable of all, initiated by the apostle, pass over from the letter that kills to the spirit that gives life, having learned from him who was initiated in paradise into the unspeakable things that all that the divine Scripture says are utterances of the Holy Spirit. For “the Holy Spirit spoke well in prophecy”: he says this to the Jews in Rome and then brings in the words of Isaiah. And to the Hebrews, putting the Spirit first in the words, “Therefore, as the Holy Spirit says,” he brings in the words of the psalm spoken at length in the person of God. And from the Lord himself we have learned the same: that David did not remain in himself—that is, did not speak according to human nature—when he set forth the heavenly mysteries. For how could anyone, being a man, know the heavenly dialogue of the Father with the Son? But being in the Spirit, he said “Lord,” and said that the Lord spoke to the Lord. For “if David in the Spirit,” he says, “calls him Lord, how is he his son?” So it is by the power of the Spirit that the God-bearing saints are inspired, and for this reason all Scripture is called God-inspired, because it is teaching from the divine inspiration. If the bodily veil of the word is taken away, what remains is Lord and life and spirit, according to the great Paul and according to the word of the Gospel. For Paul said that one who has turned from the letter to the spirit no longer grasps the slavery that destroys, but the Lord, who is the life-giving spirit; and the lofty Gospel says, “The words that I speak are spirit and life,” as being stripped of the bodily veil. But understanding the Spirit to be the substance of the Only-begotten we will leave to the dreamers. Or rather, out of great abundance we will make use of their arguments too, and arm the truth with the enemy’s arrows. For it is permitted for the Egyptian to be plundered by the Israelites, and for us to make their wealth our own adornment. If the substance of the Son is called spirit, and God too is spirit—for so the Gospel says—then the substance of the Father too is certainly called spirit. But if their only argument is that things expressed in unlike terms are also unlike in nature, it surely follows that things spoken of in the same way are not estranged from one another in nature either.

Since, then, according to their account, the substance both of the Son and of the Father is called spirit, it is clearly proved by this that there is no difference of substance. For a little after this Eunomius says: “Of different substances the appellations that signify the substance are certainly different too; but where there is one and the same word, what is shown by the same appellation will certainly be one as well.” So he who catches the wise in their craftiness has in every way turned the long labors of the speech-writer, and the countless sweats he spent on what he labored over, to the support of our doctrine. For if God is called spirit in the Gospel, and Eunomius makes out the substance of the Only-begotten to be spirit, then, since there is no difference between name and name, neither will the things signified by the names differ at all from each other in nature.

And it seems good to me to pass over unexamined the feeble and blowless shadow-boxing that he has written next, in accusation of our teacher’s words. For the argument itself, crying out its own weakness, is a sufficient refutation of the vanity of what was said, and to grapple in contest with such things is like trampling on the dead. For having set out with great confidence a saying of our teacher, having first slandered it and spat upon it and promised to show that it is worth nothing, he suffered the same as little children, whose immature and untimely understanding and untrained senses do not give them an accurate grasp of what appears. That is why, often thinking the stars are a little above their heads, they pelt them with clods when they appear, out of childish folly; then, when the clod falls, they boast to their playmates with clapping and laughter, as though the shot had reached the stars themselves. Such is he who has shot at the truth with children’s darts: having first set out those surpassingly bright words of our teacher, like stars, he has flung his earthy and unstable arguments from below, from his trodden and groveling mind; and they, raised only so high that they had nowhere to fall from of themselves, were turned back by their own weight.

For the saying of the great Basil runs, word for word, thus: “Yet who in his senses would agree with this argument, that things whose names are different must differ in their substances too? For the appellations of Peter and Paul, and of human beings in general, are different, but the substance of all is one. Therefore in most respects we are the same as one another, and differ one from another only in the properties contemplated in each. Hence appellations signify not substances but the properties that characterize each individual. So when we hear ‘Peter,’ we do not understand his substance from the name—by substance I now mean not the material substrate—but we form an impression of the properties contemplated in him.” This is what the Great one says. But with what good aim the one who fights against these words takes his shots at us, anyone with leisure to waste on useless things may learn from Eunomius’s treatise itself. For I do not care to insert the nauseating babble of the orator into my labors and to pillory his ignorance and folly in the midst of my words. For he goes through a kind of praise of significant words that make the subject plain, and in his usual style he composes and glues together rags of little phrases thrown away at the crossroads. And again poor Isocrates is nibbled away, plucked of his words and figures for the composition of the subject at hand; and there are places where Philo the Hebrew suffers the same, contributing to him little phrases from his own labors. And not even so was this much-embroidered and many-colored web of words brought to completion; rather, every attempt, every putting forward of ideas, and every technical preparation collapsed of itself. And as usually happens with bubbles, when drops falling from above onto a body of water produce foamy swellings, which form and at once burst, leaving on the water no trace of their own formation, such are the bubbles of the speech-writer’s ideas, extinguished as soon as they are put forward, without anyone touching them. For after those insoluble constructions, and the dream-philosophy by which he said that the division of substance is grasped by the differences of names, his argument—like a mass of foam carried down a stream, which breaks up when it strikes something firmer—borne along at random and striking the truth unawares, dispersed into nothing this unsubstantial, bubble-like structure of falsehood. For he says in these words: “Who is so stupid and so far outside the human condition that, when talking about men, he would call one ‘man’ and the other ‘horse,’ when comparing them?”

I would say to him: You rightly call stupid the man who errs so badly about words, and I will use you as a witness in support of the truth. For if it is the height of stupidity to call one a horse and the other a man when both are truly men, it is certainly equal madness, when the Father is believed to be God and the Son to be God, to call the one created and the other uncreated; since, as humanity there, so Godhead here does not admit the turning of the name aside to something of another kind. For what the irrational is to man, that creation is to the Godhead, being equally unable to admit the same definition as what is superior to it. And as one cannot fit the same definition to the rational and the four-footed (for each stands apart from the other by its distinctive property), so neither will you interpret the created and the uncreated substance in the same terms, since what is said of the one substance is not found in the other. For as rationality is not found in a horse, nor the single hoof in a man, so neither is Godhead found in creation, nor being by creation in the Godhead. Rather, if God, then certainly uncreated too; and if created, not God—unless, of course, someone by a certain usage and custom of speech applies the bare name of Godhead to a creature, just as horsemen have given human names to some horses. But neither is the horse a man, even if it is called by a human appellation, nor is the creature God, even if some bestow on it the word “Godhead,” granting it an empty sound of two syllables. Since, then, the argument of the heresy has run into the truth of its own accord, let him advise himself to abide by his own words and not to retract his own statements in any way, but to think that he is really stupid and out of his mind who does not name the subject as it is, but says “horse” instead of man, “sea” instead of heaven, and “creature” instead of God.

And let no one think that creation is set over against God without reason; let him look to the prophets and to the apostles. For the prophet says in the person of the Father, “My hand made all these things,” in a figure calling the power of the Only-begotten a “hand”; and the apostle says that all things are from the Father, and all things through the Son. And the prophetic spirit agrees in a way with the apostolic teaching, which also came about through the Spirit. For there the prophet, in saying that all things are the works of the hand of him who is over all, distinguishes the nature of what has come into being from the one who made it; and the one who made all things through his own hand is the God over all, having the hand and working all things through it. And here again the apostle makes the same division of beings, attaching all things to the creative cause but not counting what makes among all things, so that through this the difference of nature between the created and the uncreated may be clearly taught, and what makes may be shown to be one thing in its own nature and what comes to be another. Since, then, all things are from God, and the Son is God, creation is rightly distinguished from the Godhead; and the Only-begotten is something other than the nature of all beings—not even those who fight the truth object to this. It is wholly necessary, then, that creation be distinguished equally from the Son, if the voices of the saints do not lie when they testify that all things came to be through him.

Since, then, the Only-begotten is proclaimed God in the divine Scriptures, let Eunomius understand his own argument and condemn as utter stupidity the dividing of the divine into created and uncreated, like dividing man into horse and man. For he himself says, a little further on after the intervening babble, that “the natural relation of names to things is unchangeable,” himself voting for the statement that the true appropriateness of appellations to their subject is fixed. If, then, the name of Godhead has been naturally applied to the Only-begotten God—and he will certainly agree, even if he wants to quarrel with us, that Scripture does not lie and that the title of Godhead is not applied to the Only-begotten out of tune with his nature—let him persuade himself by his own words. For if the natural relation of names to things is unchangeable, and the Lord is called God, no difference can be conceived between Son and Father in the concept of Godhead, since this name is common to both. Nor is it this name alone: there is a long list of names by which the Only-begotten is named together with the Father without any variation—good, incorruptible, just, judge, long-suffering, merciful, everlasting, without end—all that indicate the meaning of the greatness of his nature and power, with no lowering of the loftiness of the concept in any of the names as applied to him. But he passes by so great a number of divine appellations as if with his eye shut, and looks at one thing only, “begotten” and “unbegotten,” trusting with a slender and weak persuasion a doctrine tossed and carried about by the winds of error.

For he says that no one who cares for the truth either names anything begotten “unbegotten” or names the God over all “Son” or “begotten.” This no longer needs words of ours to refute it. For he does not cover his deceit with veils, as is his habit, but treats the inversion of his absurd statement as equivalent, saying that neither is anything begotten called unbegotten nor is the God over all named Son or begotten. He sets apart nothing that is distinctive of the only-begotten Godhead of the Son from the rest of begotten things, but makes the distinction between God and all things that have come into being without distinction of rank, not excepting the Son from “all things.” And by his supposed inversion of the absurdities he openly removes the Son from the divine nature, saying that neither is anything begotten called unbegotten nor is God called Son or begotten, and by this contrast he plainly uncovers the horror of his blasphemy. For having distinguished the things that have come into being from the unbegotten, in the converse inference he said that it is impossible to call, not the unbegotten, but God, “Son” or “begotten,” showing by these words that what is not unbegotten is not God, and that the Only-begotten God, because he is begotten, is as far from being God as the unbegotten is from being, or being called, begotten. For it is not from ignorance of logical sequence that he makes an inversion of the terms laid down that is so discordant and incongruous; rather, maliciously corrupting the doctrine of piety, he sets the Godhead over against the begotten, establishing by what he says that what is not unbegotten is not God. For what would the true sequence of the argument have been? Having said that nothing begotten is unbegotten, he should have inferred that neither can anything that is by nature unbegotten be begotten. Such an argument both holds the truth and is free from blasphemy. But as it is, by premising that nothing begotten is unbegotten and inferring that neither is God begotten, he clearly excludes the Only-begotten God from being God, establishing from his not being unbegotten that he is not God either. Do we, then, need further refutations to prove this outrageous blasphemy? Is this alone not enough to stand as a monument against the enemy of Christ, who by these words establishes that the Word, who was God in the beginning, is not God? Why, then, should we grapple any longer with such people? For we do not engage in argument with those who busy themselves with idols and the gore of altars—not because we consent to the destruction of those mad for idols, but because their disease is too heavy for our treatment. As, then, the deed itself exposes idolatry, and the evil dared openly forestalls the refutation of its accusers, so here too I think the advocate of piety should keep silent toward one who loudly and openly proclaims impiety against himself, just as with those gripped by a cancerous disease treatment remains of no effect, because the disease overpowers the art.

However, since after this he promises to say something even stronger, let us examine that too along with what has been said, so that we may not seem to give up our rebuttal out of fear of stronger arguments. “I ought,” he says, “to leave everything aside and go on to the stronger argument. This I would say: that even if the names he put forward for refutation were granted, our argument will none the less be shown to be true. If the variation of the names that signify properties shows the variation of the things, it is surely necessary to grant that with the variation of the names that signify substances the variation of the substances is shown as well. And one would find this to be so in all cases—I mean of substances, activities, colors, shapes, and the other qualities. For we signify fire and water, which are different substances, by differing appellations, and air and earth, and again cold and hot, white and black, or triangle and circle. Why need one speak of the intelligible substances, in listing which the apostle showed the variation of the substances by the difference of the names?” Who would not be struck dumb before this irresistible force of attack? The argument outruns the promise; the trial is more fearsome than the threat. “I will come,” he says, “to the stronger of my arguments.” What is it? That since the difference of properties is known through the names that signify the properties, it is surely necessary, he says, to grant that the differences of substances too are expressed in the variations of names. What, then, are the appellations of the substances by which the variation of nature in Father and Son has been taught? He speaks of fire and water, air and earth, cold and hot, white and black, triangle and circle. He has won with his examples! He has prevailed mightily with his argument! For neither do I deny that names wholly without anything in common indicate along with them the difference of natures.

But this alone the man of sharp and keen mind did not see: that here the Father is God and the Son is God, just and incorruptible, and all the names of theology are said equally of Father and Son; so that if the variation of appellations signifies the difference of natures, the community of names will certainly indicate the community of the substance. And if we must agree that the divine substance is made known by names, it would be fitting to apply these lofty and God-befitting words to the divine nature rather than the designations “begotten” and “unbegotten.” For “good” and “incorruptible,” “just” and “wise,” and all such terms fit naturally only the nature that surpasses every mind; but “begotten” shares its name with the meanest things of the creation below: we call a dog begotten, and a frog, and everything that comes on the scene by birth. And the name “unbegotten” too is said not only of what subsists without cause, but also has a fittingness to the nonexistent: the scindapsus is called unbegotten, the Minotaur is unbegotten, and Scylla, and the Chimaera—not by existing unbegottenly, but by never having come to be at all. If, then, the more divine names are common to the Son with the Father, while those that share their name with the nonexistent or the lowly are what differ, Eunomius’s strong attack against us itself strengthens the doctrine of the truth, testifying that there is no difference in nature, since no variation is seen in the names either.

But if he places the difference of substance in begotten and unbegotten, as in fire and water, and thinks the names stand toward each other as in his examples, like fire and water, then again the horror of the blasphemy will become plain even if we keep silent. For fire and water have natures destructive of each other, and when each comes to be in the other, it is destroyed, perhaps, by the prevailing of the one that is greater. If, then, he teaches that the nature of the unbegotten stands apart from that of the Only-begotten in this way, he certainly grants by consequence that this destructive opposition too is present in the variation of the substances, so that their nature is thereby incompatible and incapable of communion, and the one is consumed by the other if both should come to be in or with each other. How, then, is the Son in the Father and not destroyed, and how does the Father, being in the Son, hold out for ever without being consumed, if the property of fire toward water is preserved in the relation of the begotten to the unbegotten too, as Eunomius says? But neither does reason see any communion of earth with air: the one is stable, solid, resistant, downward-tending, and heavy, while the nature of air is the opposite. Likewise white and black are found in the opposition of colors. And it is agreed that the circle is not the same as the triangle; for in the definition of the figure each is what the other is not. But in God the Father and God the Only-begotten Son, in what respect he sees the opposition I cannot find. Goodness is one; and wisdom, righteousness, prudence, power, incorruptibility, and all the other names of lofty meaning are said in the same way of each, and in a certain way each has its strength in the other. For the Father makes all things through the Son, and the Only-begotten, being the power of the Father, accomplishes everything in himself. What need, then, do fire and water serve in proving the estrangement in substance between Son and Father, and what is that strong and unspeakable argument that is proved by them?

But he calls us reckless for having set forth both the unity of the nature and the difference of the hypostases, and says that we dare terrible things if we lead the argument toward the contemplation of intelligible things by material examples. Well done, corrector of our stumbles! Well do you charge us with recklessness, who interpret the divine through material things! What, then, will you say about the elements, you steady and circumspect man? That earth is immaterial, fire intelligible, water bodiless, and air beyond the grasp of the senses? Is your mind so well arrayed for its aim, are you so sharp-sighted on every side, conducting your argument so unassailably for your opponents, that you do not see in yourself the charges you bring against the accused? Or shall we grant it to you when through matter you establish what is foreign in substance, while we, who show the kinship of nature through examples within our grasp, are to be cast out?

“But Peter and Paul,” he says, “were named by human beings, and for this reason it was possible for their appellations to be changed.” But which of the things that exist has not been named by human beings? I call you yourself as witness to this. For if you make the change of names a sign that things were named by human beings, you will certainly agree by this that every name was given to beings by us, since the same appellations of the subjects have not prevailed among all. For as Paul was formerly Saul, and Peter came from Simon, so earth and heaven and air and sea and all the parts of creation are not named alike among all, but are named one way among the Hebrews and another among us, and by different appellations among each of the nations. If, then, Eunomius’s attempt holds good when he argues that Peter and Paul were renamed because their appellations were given them by human beings, our argument too, starting from similar premises, will certainly hold good when it says that all things were named by us, since the appellations of all things vary according to the differences of the nations. And if all things are so, then certainly “begotten” and “unbegotten” are not otherwise either; for these too are among the things that are renamed. For taking the concept of the subject that arises in us as a kind of stamp of a name, we announce what we have conceived at different times in different words, changing not the thing but the words by which we name it. For things remain by themselves as their nature is; but the mind, laying hold of beings, uncovers its concept through whatever words it can. And as the substance of Peter was not changed along with the change of his name, so neither is anything else among the things contemplated changed in the exchange of names. That is why we say that the word “unbegotten” was applied by us to the true and first Father, the cause of all, and that no harm comes to the meaning of the subject if we make the same thing known by another word. For instead of saying “unbegotten” one may call him “first cause,” or “Father of the Only-begotten,” or “subsisting from no cause,” and many such expressions that lead to the same thought.

So by the very words with which he accuses us he strengthens our doctrines: that we have not learned a name signifying the divine nature. That it exists we have been taught; but as for the force of an appellation such as would comprehend the ineffable and boundless nature, we say either that there is none at all or that it is wholly unknown to us. So let him leave aside his usual mythologizing, show the appellations that signify the substances, and split the subject along with the variation of the names. But as long as the word of Scripture is true, that Abraham and Moses did not attain to the knowledge of the name, and that “no one has ever seen God,” and “no human being has seen him or can see him,” and that the light around him is unapproachable, and of his greatness there is no end—as long as these things are spoken and believed by us, every argument that promises some comprehension and interpretation of the boundless nature through the meaning of a name is like a man who thinks he can enclose the whole sea in his own palm. For what the hollow of a hand is to the whole ocean, that is all the power of words to the ineffable and incomprehensible nature. We say this not as denying that the Father is unbegottenly, nor as refusing to agree that the Only-begotten God is begotten. The one has been begotten, and the other has not been begotten. But what in his nature he is who is without birth, and he who is believed to have been begotten, we have not been taught from the meaning of being begotten and not being begotten. For when we say “this one has been begotten” or “has not been begotten,” we form a twofold impression through the words: by the demonstrative of the phrase we look to the subject, and by “has been begotten” or “has not been begotten” we are taught what is contemplated along with the subject—so that one thing is understood about what is, and another about what is contemplated in addition to what is. Indeed, with every name said of the divine nature “is” is certainly understood—for example, just, incorruptible, immortal, and unbegotten, and anything else that is said—even if this word does not happen to accompany the utterance. The mind of the speaker and of the hearer certainly fits the name to “is,” so that if this were not added, the appellation would fall on emptiness. For example (it is better to set forth the argument by an illustration), when David says, “God is a righteous judge, strong and long-suffering,” if “is” were not understood with each of the names used, the enumeration of appellations would be a vain and unsubstantial notion, resting on no subject; but when “is” is understood with each of the names, what is said will certainly hold, being contemplated about what is.

As, then, when we say that he is judge, we understand through the judging an activity concerning him, and through “is” we direct the mind to the subject, being clearly taught by this not to think the account of being the same as the activity, so too, from saying that he is begotten or unbegotten, we divide the mind toward a twofold conception: through “is” understanding the subject, and through “begotten” or “unbegotten” grasping what belongs to the subject. As, then, when we were taught by David that God is judge or long-suffering, we learned not the divine substance but one of the things contemplated about it, so here too, hearing that he has not been begotten, we have not come to know the subject through the negation, but have been guided as to what we must not think about the subject; while what it is in its substance remains no less unknown. So too holy Scripture, while predicating the other divine names of him who is, hands down to Moses “he who is” itself without a name. Let him, then, who would uncover the nature of what is not recount the things about what is, but make the nature itself plain to us by what he says. For every name you may utter is about what is, not that itself—good, unbegotten—but “is” is absent from none of these. Anyone, then, who promised to render the account of this one who is good and is unbegotten, as he is, would be vain, speaking of what is contemplated in addition and keeping silent about the very substance that he promises to interpret in his account. For being unbegottenly is one of the things contemplated in addition to what is; and the account of being is one thing, the account of how one is another. The former remains, up to now, unspoken and uninterpreted by anything that has been said. So let him first make plain to us the names of the substance, and then cut the nature apart by his fallacy about the appellations. As long as what is sought remains unuttered, his technical arguments about the names have been worked out in vain, since the names do not exist.

Such, then, is Eunomius’s stronger hold against the truth—many of the doctrines in this part of his writing having been passed over in silence. For it seems to me fitting for those who run this armed race against the enemies of the truth to arm themselves against those who are in some measure fenced about with the plausibility of falsehood, but not to soil the discourse with ideas that are dead and stinking. For take the notion that all things united in the account of substance are certainly also yoked together in bodily corruption—this, which he says in this part, I will gladly pass over like the stench of a corpse; I think anyone with sense can see at a glance how dead and fallen to pieces the argument is. For who does not know that the multitude of human souls is countless, yet one substance underlies them all, and the substrate in them is free of bodily corruption? So it is plain even to infants that bodies are corrupted and dissolved not because they are of the same substance with one another but because they have received a composite nature. The account of the composite is one thing, and that of the substrate of the substance another. So it is true to say that corruptible bodies are of the same substance, but the converse is not true, that everything of the same substance is certainly corruptible—as is shown in the case of souls, which have one substance, and yet corruption does not attach to the community of substance. And the account given of souls would apply fittingly to every intellectual hypostasis contemplated in creation. For the words listed by Paul for the powers above the world do not, as Eunomius would have it, signify certain natures differing from one another; rather, the meaning of the appellations clearly shows that what is set forth in the passage is not differences of natures but the various properties of the activities of the heavenly host. For “principalities,” he says, “and thrones, and authorities, and powers, and dominions”; and these names are such that it is at once plain to everyone that what they signify is ranked according to some activity. For ruling, exercising authority, being lord, and being someone’s throne—no reasonable person would apply any of these to differences of substances, since each of the names plainly signifies the activity. So he who says that differences of natures are signified in the names listed by Paul deceives himself, as the apostle says, understanding neither what he says nor the things about which he makes confident assertions; for the meaning of the names clearly shows that the apostle knows differences of certain ranks among the intelligible powers, and does not indicate properties of substances by the names.

Such are the strong points of Eunomius. For my part, since the powers he promised have been shown by the argument to be so rotten and unsubstantial, I think I ought to keep silent about the rest, since the others have been refuted, in their force, along with the refutations of the strong ones—just as happens in wars: when the strongest has fallen, the rest of the army is no longer of any account to those who have overcome the strong. But the chief point of the blasphemy, set out in what follows in his treatise, does not allow me to keep silent. For the passage of the Only-begotten from non-being into being—that horrible and godless doctrine of Eunomius, more to be shunned than any impiety—is now built up in the sequence of the treatise. And all who have been bewitched by this deceit have ready on their tongues, to establish that the Only-begotten, who made the whole creation from nothing, is himself from nothing, the saying, “If he was, he was not begotten; and if he was begotten, he was not.” The deceit has a great ally in this, since the more faint-hearted are hemmed in by its superficial plausibility and led on to assent to the blasphemy. It is necessary, then, not to pass over the root of bitterness of the doctrine, lest, as the apostle says, it spring up and cause trouble. First, I say, we must consider the argument by itself, apart from the battle with our opponents, and then go on to the examination and refutation of what has been set out.

The word of holy Scripture shows one mark of the true Godhead, which Moses was taught by the voice from above when he heard him who said, “I am he who is.” We think, then, that we must believe that alone to be truly divine which is apprehended as everlasting and unbounded in being; and everything contemplated about it is always the same, neither added to nor taken from. So if anyone were to say of God that he was before but is not now, or that he is now but was not before, we judge each of these statements equally godless. For by both the account of everlastingness is equally mutilated, cut off on either side alike by non-existence—whether one contemplates non-being before being or declares that being ends in non-being; and it is no relief to the impious supposition about the divine whether the non-existence is dinned into God at the beginning or at the end. That is why we determine that the argument that he who truly is once was not is a denial and rejection of the true Godhead. For he who showed himself to Moses through the light names himself “being,” saying, “I am he who is”; and Isaiah, having become as it were the instrument of the one speaking in him, says in the person of him who is, “I am first, and I am hereafter,” so that by this the everlastingness of God is understood in both directions. Likewise the voice that came to Manoah indicates by the meaning of the name that the divine is incomprehensible. When Manoah asked to learn the name, so that, when the promise had come to pass, he might glorify his benefactor by name, he says to him, “Why do you ask this? It too is wonderful”—so that we learn from this that there is one name signifying the divine nature: the wonder about it that arises ineffably in our soul. In the same way the great David too cries out the same thing in the words about himself—that all creation was brought into being by him, while God alone always is the same and abides for ever—where he says, “But you are the same, and your years will not fail.” Hearing these and similar things from the God-inspired men, how shall we not leave what is not from everlasting, as recent and foreign to the true Godhead, for the idolaters to worship? For what is now, but before was not, is certainly recent and not everlasting; and to look to anything recent Moses calls the worship of demons, saying, “They sacrificed to demons and not to God, to gods whom their fathers did not know; new and recent ones have come.” If, then, what is recent, held in reverence, is the worship of demons and is estranged from the true Godhead, and what is now but was not always is recent and not everlasting, then, looking of necessity to what is, we number those who contemplate non-being together with being and say that “once he was not” among the servants of idols. For the great John too, proclaiming the Only-begotten God in his own preaching, secures his word in every way, so that the supposition of non-being may gain no access against him who is.

For he says, “In the beginning was,” and “was with God,” and “was God,” and “was light,” and life and truth; and all good things he always was, and no good thing ever was not in him who is the fullness of all good things and is in the bosom of the Father. Moses, then, lays down for us, as a kind of stamp of the true Godhead, that we know nothing else about God except this alone, that he is—for this is what “I am he who is” shows. Isaiah cries out in his preaching that he who is is unbounded on every side, seeing that being in God is bounded neither by a beginning nor by an end. For he who said, “I am first, and hereafter,” sets the boundary of everlastingness in neither, so that neither when we look toward the beginning can we find a mark from which he is and before which he was not, nor, when we lead our mind on to what follows, can we cut off by any boundary the progress of being into everlastingness. And the prophet David forbids that any recent and foreign god be worshiped—and both of these are in the doctrines of the heresy: the recent is plainly shown in what is not everlasting, and the foreign in being estranged from the nature of the true God. Since this is so, we determine that the whole construction by sophisms to the effect that he who truly is once was not is nothing other than a transgression of Christianity and a turning to idolatry. For since the evangelist in his theology banished non-being from being on every side, and carefully wiped out the suspicion of non-existence by the continual repetition of “was,” and named him Only-begotten God, and Word of God, and Son of God, and equal to God, and all such things, we hold within ourselves this judgment, firm and unchangeable: that if the Only-begotten God is God, we must believe that he who is believed to be God always is. But indeed he truly is God: he always is all things, and is never found in non-being. For God, as we have often said, if he is now, certainly always was; and if he once was not, neither is he now at all. But since even the enemies of the truth confess that the Son is the Only-begotten God and abides for ever, we say this: that he who is in the Father is in him not in one respect only, but is in him in every respect, in all that the Father is understood to be. As, then, being in the incorruptibility of the Father, he is incorruptible, and in the good he is good, and in the powerful powerful, and being in each of the excellences understood in the Father he is that excellence, so too in the everlasting he is certainly everlasting. And the everlastingness of the Father is known by his neither beginning from non-being nor ending in non-being. He, then, who has without exception all that is the Father’s and is contemplated in all the glory of the Father—as, being in the endlessness of the Father, he has no end of life, so too, being in the Father’s being without beginning, he has no beginning of days, as the apostle says. Rather, he both is from the Father and is seen in the everlastingness of the Father; and in this way above all is seen the image’s exactness, in every respect, to him whose image it is. And in this the word is found true that said, “He who has seen me has seen the Father.” And what the apostle said would be best understood in this way, fittingly and naturally: that the Son is the radiance of the glory and the stamp of the hypostasis. For to those who are unable to raise their reasoning to the height of the knowledge of God through the contemplation of intelligible things, the apostle produces in his hearers some image of the truth from what appears to the senses. For as the body of the sun is marked out by the whole circle that encloses it, and one who has seen the circle reckons from what appears the reality of the whole mass that lies beneath in depth, so he said that the Father’s majesty is stamped in the greatness of the Son’s power, so that, as great as this is known to be, so great that too may be believed to be. And again, as radiance shines forth from the whole circle of the sun with the brilliance of its light—for it is not that one part of the circle shines and another is without light—so the whole glory, which is the Father, is surrounded on every side by the radiance that comes from it, that is, by the true light. And as the ray is from the sun—for there would be no ray if there were no sun—yet the sun is never understood by itself without the ray that shines from it, so the apostle, handing down the conjoined and everlasting existence of the Only-begotten from the Father, named the Son the “radiance of glory.”

These matters having been thus distinguished by us, no one could any longer be in doubt how the Only-begotten is both believed to be from the Father and is everlastingly—even if, at first thought, the statement that he is from the Father does not seem to agree with the one that testifies to his everlastingness. But if the statement must be confirmed by another means as well, it would be possible to understand the doctrine about this through certain things known to us by the senses. Let no one, however, find fault with the argument if it cannot find among beings an image of what is sought that will suffice in every respect, by analogy and likeness, to present the matter in hand. For we wish to persuade those who say that the Father first willed and then came to be Father, and who thereby make out that the Word is later, to bring their mind round to piety through whatever examples are possible for us. For neither does this immediate conjunction exclude the will of the Father, as though he had the Son by some necessity of nature, without choice; nor does the will separate the Son from the Father, falling between them as an interval. So we neither exclude from the doctrine the will of the begetter concerning the Son, as though it were squeezed out by the conjunction of the Son’s unity with the Father, nor dissolve the conjunction that has no interval when will is contemplated in the begetting. For it is a property of our heavy and slow-moving nature that having something and willing it are often not present to us at the same moment; rather, now we wish to have something we do not have, and afterward we obtain what we did not wish to obtain. But in the simple and all-powerful nature all things are understood together and at once: both willing the good and having what it willed. For the good and everlasting will is contemplated in the everlasting nature as wholly active, substantial, and subsistent, neither arising from some distinct beginning nor able to be understood apart from what is willed. For it is not possible in God either that the good will should not exist or that it should not be accompanied by what is willed, since no cause either diminishes what befits the Father, so that he is not all things, or hinders him from having what he wills. Since, then, the Only-begotten God is by nature the good, or rather beyond every good, and the good is not unwilled by the Father, it is clearly proved by this both that the Son’s conjunction with the Father is immediate and that the will that is always present in the good nature is not pushed out or excluded by the conjunction without interval.

And if anyone hears the argument without malice, I wish to add something like this to what has been said. If someone—I speak by way of hypothesis—were to give a flame a power of choice, it would be plain that together with its being the flame would also will to shine its brightness from itself; and having willed it, it would certainly not be unable to do it, since its natural power, together with the flame’s coming into existence, brings its will concerning the brightness to fulfilment. So, beyond dispute, if it were granted that the flame moves by choice, all would be understood in the same concurrence—the kindling of the fire, the will concerning the brightness, and the brightness itself—since the motion of choice in no way hinders the worthy existence of the brightness. So too, according to the example we have given, while you confess that the Father has the good will, you will not separate the Son from the Father by means of the will. For it is not reasonable that the will that he should be should become a hindrance to his being at once. But consider seeing and willing to see in the eye: the one is an activity of nature, the other, the impulse, belongs to choice; yet the motion of choice produces no hindrance, but rather an inclination of the activity of seeing toward this very thing. For each of these is contemplated separately and by itself, and neither becomes a hindrance to the other’s being; rather, the two are in a way with each other, the natural activity accompanying the choice, and the choice in turn not lagging behind the natural motion. As, then, perception is natural to the eye, and the will to see has produced no delay in the seeing itself, but the eye both wills to have sight and is what it wills, so too in the case of the nature that is ineffable and beyond every concept, the thought of all arises in us at once and together: of the Father’s everlasting existence, of the will concerning the Son, and of the Son himself, who, as John says, was in the beginning and is not understood as after the beginning. The beginning of all is the Father; but in this beginning the Son too has been proclaimed to be, being by nature that which the beginning is.

For the beginning is God, and the Word who was in the beginning is God. And since “the beginning” indicates everlastingness, John does well to join the Word to the beginning, saying that the Word was in it. By this, I think, he arranges that the beginning should not arise first and alone in the hearer’s mind, but that before it is impressed on the mind the Word who was in it should be understood together with the beginning, entering with it into the hearer’s thought and reaching the hearing together with the beginning.

Now that the doctrine has been made clear by us in this way, it would be time to set out and consider the opposing argument as well, examining it side by side with our conceptions. He speaks thus: “Since two things were really said by us—that the substance of the Only-begotten was not before its own begetting, and that, having been begotten, it was before all things—he refutes neither of the things said as false. For he did not dare to say that it was before its supreme begetting and constitution, since the Father’s nature and the judgment of sensible people stand against it. For who in his senses would admit that one who is Son and begotten was before his supreme begetting, when he who is without begetting does not need begetting in order to be what he is?” Whether he speaks the truth in saying that our teacher made no contest against these theses, let all judge who have spent time with his writings. For my part—since I reckon the refutation of his slander on this point a small thing as a proof of his malice—I will leave aside showing that this part was not passed over unexamined by our teacher, and turn my discourse, as far as I can, to the examination of what has been set out. He says that he said two things in his own treatise: one, that the substance of the Only-begotten was not before its own begetting; the other, that, having been begotten, it was before all things. Now that no new substance was begotten from the Father other than the one contemplated in the Father himself has, I think, been sufficiently shown by what we have said before, and we have no need, as though the argument had been put to us for the first time, to grapple with such a blasphemy. Our effort need be directed only to this—I mean to his godless and horrible saying, which plainly said of God the Word that he was not. But since the discourse has dealt sufficiently with this blasphemy too in what was said before, it would perhaps be superfluous to establish again through similar considerations what has already been shown. It was for this reason that we said those things first, so that, the pious understanding having been impressed beforehand, the blasphemy of our opponents, who establish that in the Only-begotten God non-being is older than being, might become clearer to readers.

But it seems good to me to examine in the discourse, more carefully, the very meaning of begetting. That this name indicates being from some cause is plain to all, and I think there is no need to contend about it. But since the account of things that subsist from a cause varies, I think it fitting to make this clear in the discourse by a technical division. Of things that come into being from something, then, we have grasped these differences. Some come from matter and art, like the construction of buildings and other works, which come about through suitable matter, while some art leads the way, bringing what was proposed to completion toward its own aim for what comes to be. Others come from matter and nature: for nature builds up the births of living creatures from one another, carrying out its own work through the material substrate in bodies. Others come from a material outflow, where both the original remains what it is and what flows from it is understood by itself, as with the sun and its ray, or the lamp and its brightness, or spices and ointments and the quality given off from them. For these, remaining undiminished in themselves, at once have accompanying each the natural property given off from them: the sun its ray, the lamp its brightness, and the spices the fragrance they produce in the air. There is also another kind of begetting besides these, whose cause is immaterial and bodiless, while the begetting is perceptible and comes through the body—I mean the word begotten from the mind; for the mind, being bodiless in itself, gives birth to the word through the organs of sense. So many differences of begetting we have observed, as it were in a general survey. For all the wonders that nature works—when it changes the bodies of some animals into another kind, or produces certain animals from some alteration of liquids, or the corruption of seeds, or the rotting of wood, or transforms the cold vapor from firebrands, trapped in their depths by the compression of the fire, into the birth of an animal, which they call the salamander—even if they seem to lie outside the classes defined, are none the less contained in what has been said.

For nature contrives these various kinds of living things through bodies: a certain change in the body, disposed in a certain way by nature, has fashioned this or that form of animal—which is no other kind of begetting than the one brought about from nature and matter. Since, then, these modes of begetting are plain to human beings, the loving economy of the Holy Spirit, in handing down the divine mysteries to us, gives its teaching about what is beyond reason through things we can grasp. It does this in all other matters too, when it describes the divine in bodily terms, recounting of God an eye, and eyelids, and an ear, and fingers, and a hand, and a right hand, and an arm, and a foot, and sandals, and the like, none of which is found in the divine nature according to the ordinary meaning. Rather, leading the teaching to what we can easily take in, it marks out things beyond all meaning by words worn smooth in human usage, while we are led up by analogy, through each thing said of God, to some loftier conception. So too, then, the God-inspired teaching takes up the many kinds of begetting to present the ineffable hypostasis of the Only-begotten, taking from each as much as it is reverent to admit into our conceptions of God. For as the mention of fingers, and of a hand and an arm, in the case of God does not describe in words the structure of the limb out of bones and sinews and flesh and ligaments, but signifies by such a name his effective and active power, and as through each of the others it indicates what fits the things understood of God, without admitting the bodily suggestion of the names, so too it speaks of these kinds of birth in the case of the divine nature, yet not in the way our usage knows how to understand them. For when it speaks of the power that constructs, it names such activity a begetting, because the word must come down to our lowliness from the divine power; yet it does not indicate the things seen along with constructive coming-to-be among us—not place, not time, not preparation of material, not the cooperation of tools, not the bustle over what is being made. Leaving these to us, it testifies magnificently and loftily that the birth of beings is God’s, as when it says, “He spoke, and they came to be; he commanded, and they were created.” Again, when it interprets the hypostasis of the Only-begotten from the Father, which is ineffable and beyond reason, then, because human poverty cannot contain teachings beyond reason and conception, it makes use of our terms and names him “Son”—the name our usage gives to those born from matter and nature. But as the word, in speaking of the coming-to-be of creation from God, did not add that it came about through some matter, declaring that the power of his will served as substance of matter, and place, and time, and all such things, so here too, having said “Son,” it left aside all the other things that human nature sees in birth here below—passions, I mean, and dispositions, and the cooperation of time, and the need of place, and above all matter, without all of which birth here below by nature does not take place. And when every such material and spatial notion has been excluded from the meaning of “Son,” nature alone was left; and therefore by the word “Son” the kinship and genuineness of his manifestation from the Father is interpreted in the case of the Only-begotten.

And since this kind of begetting was not sufficient to produce in us an adequate image of the ineffable existence of the Only-begotten, it also takes up another kind of begetting to signify the Son in its theology—the one from a material outflow—and speaks of “radiance of glory,” “fragrance of ointment,” and “breath of God,” which in the technical classification we set out before our usage calls a material outflow. But as in what was said before neither the making of creation nor the meaning of “Son” admitted time, or matter, or labor, or passion, so here too the word cleanses the meaning of “radiance” and of the other things mentioned of every material notion, takes only what is God-befitting in such a kind of begetting, and indicates by the suggestion of this expression that he is understood to be both from him and with him. For neither does “breath” represent a diffusion into the air from an underlying matter, nor “fragrance” the passing from the quality of the ointment into the air, nor “radiance” the outflow from the body of the sun through its rays. Rather, by such a mode of begetting this alone of all is shown, as has been said: that he is from him and is understood with him, no interval coming between the Father and him who is from him.

And since the grace of the Holy Spirit, out of greater love for humankind, arranged that the divine conceptions about the Only-begotten should come to us from many sides, it added also the remaining kind of those observed in birth—I mean the one from the mind, the word. But the lofty John uses greater forethought, so that the hearer may never, from weakness and smallness of soul, fall into the common notion of a word, so that the Son should be thought to be an utterance of the Father. That is why by his first proclamation he prepares us to see the Word in substance—and in a substance not estranged, broken off from that from which it is, but in the first and blessed nature itself. For this is what he teaches when he says, “In the beginning was the Word,” and was with God, and was God, and is himself all that the beginning is. For this is how he treats the everlastingness of the Only-begotten in his theology. These modes of begetting, then—or of things that subsist from a cause—are known in our usage and have also been taken up by holy Scripture for teaching about transcendent things, each of them adapted as is fitting to present divine conceptions. Let the reader of this treatise, then, judge with just judgment whether anything put forward by the heresy has any strength against the truth.

I will set down again, word for word, the statement of our opponent, which runs thus: “Since two things were said by us—that the substance of the Only-begotten was not before its own begetting, and that, having been begotten, it was before all things.” What kind of begetting does this dogmatist put before us? Is it the one it is fitting to understand and speak of in God? And who is so godless as to conceive non-being as prior to God? But clearly, looking to this material birth, he makes the nature here below the teacher of his conception of the Only-begotten God; and since an ox, or an ass, or a camel does not exist before its own birth, he wants to say of the Only-begotten too what the sequence of nature here below lets us see in animals. This bodily theologian does not understand even this, that “only-begotten,” said of God, by the very word signifies what is unique and has nothing in common with any other birth. For how would this birth be only-begotten if, in what the word suggests, it had community and identity with another birth? For what alone is understood as exceptional in him, which cannot be observed in any other birth, is properly and fittingly expressed by the title “Only-begotten”; so that if anything of birth here below is seen in him too, he who is made common with the rest of the begotten by certain properties of birth would no longer be Only-begotten. For if the same things were said of him that are said of the others who proceed into being by birth, the word would turn the meaning of “Only-begotten” into some brotherly relation. If, then, the meaning of “Only-begotten” indicates what is unmixed and has nothing in common with the rest of the things that come into being, we will not accept that any of the things seen in birth here below is understood in the hypostasis of the Son from the Father either. But it is a property of all that subsists by birth not to exist before the birth; this, then, is foreign to what is proper to the Only-begotten, for the title “Only-begotten” testifies that nothing of the mode of common birth belongs to him. So let this material man, this friend of the senses, be persuaded to correct the error of his conceptions by means of the other kind of begetting.

But perhaps you will say, when you hear “radiance of glory” and “fragrance of ointment,” that the radiance did not exist before its own birth. But when you say this, you will certainly grant that neither did the glory exist, nor the ointment. For it is not possible that the glory should ever be thought blind and lightless in itself, or the ointment barren of fragrance. So if the radiance was not, neither was the glory at all; and if the fragrance was not, it is shown at the same time that the ointment was not either. And if anyone is afraid of these examples taken from Scripture, as not presenting the majesty of the Only-begotten accurately, because the vapor is not the same in substance as the ointment from which it comes, nor the ray as the sun, let the true Word correct the fear—he who was in the beginning, and is all that the beginning is, and existed before the universe—since John cries out in his proclamation, “And the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” If, then, the Father is God and the Son too is God, what doubt is still left about the exact theology of the Only-begotten, when by the meaning of “Son” the kinship of nature is made known, by “radiance” the conjunction without interval, and by the appellation “God,” applied equally to Father and Son, equality of honor in every respect?

—while “stamp,” contemplated over the whole hypostasis of the Father, signifies that nothing is lacking in his own greatness, and “the form of God” reveals identity in every respect, by showing in itself all the marks by which the Godhead is characterized?

Let us set out Eunomius’s statement again, then. “He was not,” he says, “before his own begetting.” Who is this, whom he says was not? Let him tell the divine names by which he is named who, according to Eunomius, once was not. He will say, then, light and blessedness, life and incorruptibility, righteousness and sanctification, power and truth, and the like. He, then, who says that he was not before his begetting is openly crying out this: that there was no truth when he was not, there was no life, there was no light, there was no power, there was no incorruptibility, there was nothing else at all of what is understood in God. And what is still more absurd than these, and more grievous in impiety: there was no radiance, there was no stamp. For in saying that the radiance was not, it is certainly established at the same time that the power that radiates was not either, as in the example of the lamp. For he who speaks of the brightness of the lamp has shown at the same time that the lamp shines, and he who says that the brightness is not has signified at the same time that what gives the light has been put out. So when the Son is said not to be, the non-existence of the Father is necessarily established by consequence too. For if, according to the apostolic testimony, the one is joined to the other—the radiance of the glory, the stamp of the hypostasis, the wisdom of God—he who says that one of the things joined does not exist has certainly done away with the other along with the removal of the one. So if the radiance does not exist, it must be confessed that the radiating nature does not exist either; and if the stamp does not subsist, neither does the hypostasis that is stamped; and if the wisdom and power of God does not exist, it must certainly be confessed that neither does he exist who is not understood by himself apart from wisdom and power. If, then, the Only-begotten God was not before he came to be, as Eunomius says, and Christ is the power of God and the wisdom of God, and stamp and radiance, then certainly the Father was not either, whose power and wisdom and stamp and radiance the Son is. For it is not possible to conceive in thought a hypostasis without its stamp, or glory without light, or God without wisdom, or a Creator without a hand, or a beginning without a Word, or a Father without a child. All such things appear together, both for those who confess them and for those who reject them, and by the removal of one the one joined to it vanishes as well. Since, then, they establish that the Son, who is the radiance of glory, was not before he came to be (and the consequence takes away, along with the non-existence of the radiance, the everlastingness of the glory too; and the glory is the Father, from whom the only-begotten light shone forth), let these men of excessive wisdom understand that they have shown themselves to be allies of the Epicurean doctrines, advocating atheism under the pretense of Christianity. Since, then, the absurdity has proved to be twofold by consequence—to say either that God does not exist at all or that he does not exist without beginning—let them choose, from what has been shown, whichever they please: either to be called atheists or no longer to say that the substance of the Father is without beginning. But no doubt they will avoid being thought atheists. It remains, then, for them to establish that God is not everlasting. And if the sequence of what has been proved forces this on them, where are their various and unconvertible conversions of names? Where is the inescapable necessity of the syllogisms, buzzing about the ears of old women with the distinction between the unbegotten and the begotten? But enough of this.

It would be well not to leave the next point unexamined either; but let the interlude of jokes be passed over in silence, in which this clever orator preens himself like a boy, whether joking or in earnest in his abuse of us, as though he would thereby get the better in argument. For no one will force us to twist our sight along with those whose eyes squint, or to be contorted along with those struck by a demonic disease, leaping and falling with their bodies. We will pity them, but we will not be moved from our settled state. He says, then, turning his argument on the matter against our teacher, as though fighting face to face, “You will be caught by your own feathers.” For our teacher had said that the good is always present to the God over all, and that it is good to be the father of such a child; so that the good is never absent from him, nor did the Father will to be without the Son, and having willed it he was not unable, and being able and willing, in being as he chose, he always has the Son, because he always wills the good—for this is where the thought of what our father said is directed. Eunomius, having first torn this to shreds as brought in from the outside wisdom, puts forward a statement of this kind to overturn it, and says, “What will become of you

if one of those practised in such arguments should say: ‘Just as, if creating is good and fitting for God, how was what is good and fitting not present to him without beginning, if God is without beginning? And this when neither ignorance prevented him, nor weakness hindered him, nor age, from creating’”—and all the other things he gathered together and poured out, to his harm, upon himself; for it is not lawful to say upon God. Now if it were possible for our teacher himself to answer the question, he would have shown Eunomius what would become of him, as he asked, with that God-taught tongue of his, both uncovering the divine mystery and scourging the champions of deceit with his refutations, so that it would become plain to all how great is the distance between a minister of the mysteries of Christ and a ridiculous mime or a maker of new and outlandish doctrines. But since the one, as the apostle says, though dead speaks to God, while the other puts such things forward as if there were no one to answer him, we will say this for the present to the questioner, even if our answer may not have equal force with the voice of the great Basil: your argument, put forward to overturn our words, becomes a testimony that we speak the truth in refuting the doctrine of impiety. For there is nothing we blame so much as your thinking that the Master of creation differs in nothing from creation in general; and what you put forward against the Only-begotten is what we blame. For if you think that what you see in creation must be fitted to the Only-begotten God too, our effort has reached its goal: the absurdity has been refuted by your own words and has become plain to all, both that we direct the argument in truth and that your conception of the Only-begotten God is such as it is of the rest of the creatures. About whom was the dispute? Was it not about the Only-begotten Son of God, the Creator of all creation—whether he always was, or was added to the Father later? What, then, does our teacher’s voice say about this? That it is not pious to believe that what is good by nature is not always in God. For he sees no cause for which it is likely that the good should not be present to the good, whether through lack of power or through barrenness of will. What does the one who fights against these words say to this? That if you grant that God the Word is believed to be from everlasting, you will grant the same of the creatures. Oh, how well he knows how to distinguish in his argument the nature of creatures from the divine majesty! How well he understands what fits each, what it is pious to think of God and what of creation! “If the Creator,” he says, “begins from the time of creation …” For it is not possible to mark the beginning of things that have come to be by anything other than time, which in its own interval defines beginnings and ends for things that come to be. For this reason he says that the maker of times too must have begun to be from a similar beginning. But creation has the ages as its beginning; what beginning will you conceive of the maker of the ages? For if someone speaks of the beginning in the Gospel, that is what is meant—the beginning with which the confession of the Son is shown to be joined—and it is not possible that he who is in the Father, as the Lord says, began from some point of time. But if someone speaks of another beginning besides that one, let him tell the name by which he marks such a beginning, since nothing is found before the constitution of the ages. So such an argument will not move us at all from the pious conception of the Only-begotten God, even if old women applaud it as a strong problem. For we abide by what was known from the beginning, having our argument firmly set on the truth: that whatever the word of piety supposes about the Only-begotten God has no kinship with creation, but the marks of him who made all things and those of his works are separated by a wide gap. If, then, the Son had any community with creation in other respects, we would certainly have to say that he does not differ in the mode of existence either. But if creation has no share in the things we have learned about the Son, it is certainly necessary to say that it has no community in this respect either. For creation was not in the beginning, nor was it with God, nor was it God, nor life, nor light, nor resurrection, nor any of the other God-befitting names, such as truth, righteousness, sanctification, judge, just, maker of all, existing before the ages, reigning for ever and ever and beyond. Creation is not radiance of glory, not stamp of hypostasis, not image of goodness, not grace, not power, not truth, not salvation, not redemption; nor is anything at all of what Scripture says to the glory of the Only-begotten found in creation, or said of it—to say nothing of the loftier sayings, “I am in the Father and the Father in me,” and “He who has seen me has seen the Father,” and “No one has seen the Son except the Father.”

If, then, the word could testify such and so great things of creation, he would rightly have thought that what is observed in it must also be fitted to our conceptions of the Only-begotten, since the comparison would be made from things of the same kind to what is akin. But if all such concepts and names have community with the Father and rise above our notion of creation, does not this wise and shrewd man sink down with shame for explaining the nature of the Lord of creation by what is observed in creation, not yet understanding that the marks of creation are of another kind? For the highest division of all beings cuts them into created and uncreated, the one as the cause of what has come into being, the other as having come into being from it. Since, then, the created nature and the divine substance are divided and have no intermixture in their distinguishing properties, it is wholly necessary not to understand each through the same terms, nor to seek the same marks in things that stand apart in the account of their nature. Now the nature that is in creation, as the word of the all-virtuous Wisdom says, shows in itself the beginning and end and middle of times, and extends along with all the intervals of time; and we take this property as a kind of stamp of the subject, in that we certainly see some beginning of its constitution, look to the middle, and stretch out in our hopes toward the end. For we have learned that heaven and earth were neither from everlasting nor will be for everlasting, so that it is plain from this that beings both began from some beginning and will certainly come to some end. But the divine nature, bounded in no part but on every side passing beyond every limit in its boundlessness, is far from the marks found in creation. For the power without interval, without quantity, and uncircumscribed, which holds in itself the ages and all the creation in them, and on every side overflows the infinity of the ages by the everlastingness of its own nature, either has no mark that reveals its nature or certainly some other mark, and not the one that creation has. Since, then, it is proper to creation to have a beginning, what is proper to creation would be foreign to the uncreated nature. For if anyone should see fit to suppose that the existence of the Only-begotten too is apprehended from some beginning, after the likeness of creation, he will necessarily fit everything to his account of him according to the sequence of the rest. For when the beginning is granted, one cannot avoid agreeing to what follows as well. For just as, if one granted that someone is a man, he has by this confession attached to him all that belongs to the nature, saying that he is a living being and rational and whatever else is understood of man, by the same reasoning, if we were to conceive one of the properties of creation in the divine substance, it will no longer be in our power not to fit to the pure nature the account of what is observed in creation. For the beginning will forcibly and necessarily seek what follows it; for a beginning so understood is a beginning of what comes after it, so that if those exist, it exists too, and if what is joined to it is taken away, neither does what goes before remain. Since, then, Wisdom sets middle and end beside the beginning, if we assume in the nature of the Only-begotten some beginning of his hypostasis marked off from some point, as the heresy teaches, Wisdom will certainly not allow us to avoid attaching the end and the middle to the beginning. And if this should happen, our theologian will be found to be proving by his arguments that the divine is mortal. For if, according to the word of Wisdom, the end necessarily follows the beginning, and the middle is seen between the limits, he who grants the one has by implication established the others too, setting measures and a limit of life for the boundless nature. And if this is impious and absurd, it deserves equal or even greater blame to grant a beginning to the argument that speaks impiety; and the beginning of such absurdity has proved to be the thought that the Son’s life is circumscribed by some beginning. So one of two things: either, compelled by what has been said, they will change over to sound doctrine and contemplate him who is from the Father together with the Father’s everlastingness; or, if they do not wish this, they will set limits to the Son’s everlastingness on both sides, bringing the infinity of his life to non-existence by a beginning and an end. But if the nature both of souls and of angels is endless, and nothing prevents it from proceeding into everlastingness because it is created and has had the beginning of its constitution from some point, so that our opponents could on this ground say the same of Christ—that he, though not being from everlasting, extends to endlessness—

let him who puts this forward consider also how far apart the Godhead stands from creation in its properties. For it is proper to the Godhead to lack nothing of any concept contemplated as good; but creation comes to be in the good by participation in what is better. It not only began to be, but is also always found to be beginning to be in the good, through its growth toward what is better. For it never stands still at what it has attained, but everything acquired by participation becomes the beginning of the ascent to what is greater; and, in Paul’s words, it never ceases stretching out to what lies ahead and forgetting what lies behind. Since, then, the Godhead is life itself, and the Only-begotten is God—God and life and truth and every lofty and God-befitting concept—while creation receives its supply of goods from there, it would be plain from this that if creation is in life by participating in life, then if it should cease from participating, it will certainly cease to be in life as well. If, then, they dare to say of the Only-begotten God what it is true to say of creation, let them say this too along with everything else: that, like creation, he both begins to be and continues in life after the likeness of souls. But if he is life itself, and needs no life brought in from outside to have it in himself, while all other things are not life but become participants in life, what necessity is there to strike everlastingness from the Only-begotten on the basis of what is seen in creation? For what is always the same by nature does not admit its opposite and is incapable of change into the other. But in those whose nature lies on the border, the inclination wavers toward either side, according to the power of those who are moved by choice. If, then, true life is contemplated in the divine and transcendent nature, the falling away from it will certainly end, as is likely, in the opposite.

The notion of life and death has many meanings and is not understood in the same way. In the case of the flesh, the activity and motion of the bodily senses is called life, and conversely their extinction and dissolution is named death. But in the case of the intellectual nature, kinship with the divine is the true life, and falling away from it bears the name of death. That is why the devil, the primal evil, is called both death and the inventor of death; indeed, he is said by the apostle to hold the power of death. Since, then, as has been said, the meaning of death is understood from the Scriptures as twofold, he who is truly unchangeable and unalterable alone has immortality and dwells in light that is unapproachable and inaccessible to the gloom of wickedness. But whatever shares in death has become far from immortality through its inclination to the opposite; and if a thing should flow away from participation in the good, it would receive, through the changeability of its nature, communion with the worse—which is nothing other than death, bearing some analogy to bodily death. For as here the extinction of nature’s activities is called death, so too in the intellectual substance immobility toward the good is death and a withdrawal from life. So what is understood about the bodiless creation does not oppose the argument that refutes the heretical absurdity. For the death fitting for the intellectual nature—that is, separation from God, whom we call life—is not, in potentiality, kept apart even from this nature. For its passage from non-being reveals the changeability of its nature. And that to which alteration is akin is kept from participation in the opposite by the grace of him who strengthens it, and does not remain in the good by the power of its own nature; and such a thing is not everlasting. If, then, he speaks truly in saying that the divine substance and the created nature must not be reckoned by the same terms, neither may one circumscribe the being of the Son by some beginning, lest, if this is granted, the other properties of creation too should come in along with the confession of the one. For the absurdity is plainly refuted of one who cuts the Only-begotten God off from the everlastingness of the Father by means of what is said about creation. For as none of the other marks that characterize creation is seen in the maker of creation, so neither does creation’s being from some beginning prove anything against the Son’s being always in the Father—he who is wisdom and power and light and life and all that is contemplated in the Father’s bosom.

But now he passes on to loftier words, and, lifting himself up and swelling with an empty blast, he attempts to say something worthy of God’s majesty. What he says is this: “For God, being the most excellent good of all, and the mightiest of all, and free from all necessity …” Nobly does the gallant man, like a ship without ballast, carried by the waves of deceit, bring his discourse of its own accord into the harbor of truth! God is the most excellent of all goods. Splendid confession! He would surely not indict the great John for an illegal proposal, by whom the Only-begotten is proclaimed God in his lofty preaching, he who was with God and was God. So if that herald of the Godhead of the Only-begotten is trustworthy, and God is the most excellent good, then the Son has been testified by the enemy of his glory to be the most excellent good. And since such a phrase fits the Father too, the superlative force of “most excellent” admits no diminution or excess by comparison. Having taken these points from the testimony of our enemies to prove the glory of the Only-begotten, we must add his next statement too, as an ally of sound doctrine. For he says: “God, the most excellent good, since neither nature hinders nor cause compels nor need presses, begets and creates according to the supremacy of his own authority, having his will as a power sufficient for the constitution of the things that come to be. If, then, every good is according to his will, he determines not only what has come to be as good but also when it is good for it to come to be; since it is surely a mark of weakness to do what one does not will.” Up to this point we must take, for the support of pious doctrines, our opponents’ statement, pinned together out of dirty and wholly counterfeit little phrases. For he who created all things—having his will, by the supremacy of his own authority, as a power sufficient for the constitution of the things that come to be, with neither nature hindering nor cause compelling—determines not only what has come to be as good but also when it is good for it to come to be. And he who makes all things is the Only-begotten God, as the Gospel proclaims. When he willed, then he made the creation; then he enclosed with the heavenly body, by its revolving substance, the whole world shut in within that figure; when he thought it good that this should come to be, then he made the dry land appear, then he shut the waters up in hollow places; then plants, then fruits, then the birth of animals, then the forming of man—when each of these seemed timely to the wisdom of the Creator. And he who made all things (for I will repeat the same statement again) is the Only-begotten God, who made the ages. Had the interval of the ages been laid down before beings, there would be occasion to use this temporal adverb and say “then he willed” and “then he made.” But since there was no age, and no notion of interval is contemplated in the divine nature, which is without quantity and without interval, the force of temporal adverbs must certainly lie idle. So to say that a beginning in time was given to creation according to the good pleasure of the wisdom of him who made all things is not unreasonable; but to view the divine nature itself in some extension of interval belongs only to those taught in the new wisdom.

For what a thing that is, set in his words, which I gladly passed over in my haste to reach the matter at hand, and which I will now take up again and read out to show the speech-writer’s shrewdness! “For the most excellent God himself, before the other things that are begotten,” he says, “has mastery over his own power.” The phrase has been carried over word for word by the speech-writer from Philo the Hebrew into his own treatise, and to anyone who cares to look, Eunomius’s theft will be caught red-handed from Philo’s own works. I have noted this for the present not so much to reproach the speech-writer with the poverty of his own words and ideas as from a wish to show readers the kinship of Eunomius’s doctrines with the arguments of the Jews. For Philo’s phrase would not have been fitted word for word to this man’s ideas unless there were also some kinship of his thinking with Philo’s. For the phrase is found in the Hebrew in this form: “God, before the other things that are begotten.” What follows was thrown in from the new Judaism: “has mastery over his own power.” How much absurdity this contains, examination of the phrase will clearly show. Over what does God have mastery? Is he one thing besides his power, and does he master his own power as something other than himself? Then power is overcome by powerlessness. For what is something other than power is certainly not power.

And so he is found to master the power in that respect in which he is not power. Or else God, being power, has another power again in himself, and with this masters the other. And what is this battle and division, that God should divide the strength within himself and wrestle down one section of the power with the other? For he could not master his own power unless some greater and more forceful power fought on his side for this purpose. Such is Eunomius’s God: a being of two natures, or much compounded, divided against himself, having one power out of tune with another, so as to be carried toward disorder by the one and to check the faulty motion by the other. And with what intent does he master the power that rushes toward begetting—lest some evil come about if the begetting is not checked? Or rather, before this, let him explain what the thing mastered is by nature. For what he says suggests an impulsive and voluntary motion, contemplated distinctly by itself; for what masters is one thing and what is mastered is necessarily another. Does God, then, master his power as some self-choosing nature, or as something else besides this, rushing to activity or remaining at rest? If he supposes it to be at rest, what is quiet has no need of one to master it. But if he says that he masters it, clearly he masters something that moves and rushes; and he will certainly say that this is something other in nature than the one who masters it. So let him make plain what he means by this phrase. Something else besides God, contemplated in a hypostasis? And how could anything foreign be in God? Or a certain disposition without hypostasis, contemplated in the divine nature? But he would not say this. For what does not subsist does not exist, and what does not exist is neither mastered nor let go. What, then, is that power which was mastered and held back from its own activity until the time of Christ’s begetting should arrive and let the power go, unhindered, to be carried on to its natural activity? And what is the cause of the delay in between, on account of which God postponed the begetting of the Only-begotten, not yet thinking it good to become Father? And what is this interval inserted between the life of the Father and that of the Son? Not time, not place, not any notion of extension, nothing else of the kind. At what, then, does that sharp and keen-sighted eye gaze when it sees the separation of the Son’s life from the life of the Father? Hemmed in on every side, he himself necessarily agrees that there is nothing in between; yet, though nothing intervenes, he does not admit that the communion is immediate and conjoined. Instead he comes down to our measures of knowledge and talks with us in human fashion, as one of us, quietly confessing the weakness of his reasonings and taking refuge in an argument that Aristotle and his followers did not teach. “For it was good and fitting,” he says, “to beget the Son then, when he willed; and no inquiry arises from this among sensible people: Why not before?”

What is this, Eunomius? Do you too go on foot like us unlearned folk? Leaving your technical periods, do you too take refuge in irrational assent—you who have so often reproached those who attempt to write without logical skill? You who say to Basil, “By saying that it is impossible for human beings to give an account of spiritual words, you prove your own ignorance”; and again, putting forward the same elsewhere, “You make your own weakness common, declaring that what is impossible for you is impossible for all”—you who say these and similar things, is this how you lead along the ears of one who seeks the reason why the Father put off becoming the father of such a Son? Do you think it enough for a proof to say, “He begot when he willed, and let there be no inquiry about this”? Has your cataleptic impression grown so weak in building up your doctrines? Where are the dilemmatic premises? Where the forcible constructions? How have the fearsome and inescapable conclusions of your syllogisms flowed away from your art and vanished, gone and unsubstantial? “He begot the Son then, when he willed, and let there be no inquiry about this.” Are these the results of your many sweats, these the outcome of your overweening promises? What was the question? “If it is good and fitting for God to have such a Son, why is the good not believed to be always with him?” What is the answer that he has given us from the very sanctuaries of philosophy, binding his argument with insoluble necessities? “He made the Son then, when he willed, and let there be no inquiry about this: Why not before?” But if the inquiry before us concerned one of the irrational creatures that act by some natural impulse—why it did not do sooner what it saw fit to do, the spider its threads, or the bee its comb, or the turtledove its nest—

what else could you have said? Would not this very answer have been ready to hand: that it did it then, when it willed, and let there be no inquiry about this? And even of a sculptor or a painter doing what he sees fit by his imitative art, in pictures or in figures, when he is subject to no authority and puts his art into action, I think such a statement would fit, for anyone who wished to learn why he did not put his art to work earlier: that, being under no necessity, he made his own choice the time for his activity. For human beings, because they neither always will the same things nor, for the most part, have power that works together with their will, do any of the things they intend when their choice inclines toward the work and nothing outside hinders them. But to say of what is always the same—to which none of its goods is acquired, in which every difference of purposes, such as arises in the contrary direction through some error and ignorance, has no place, to which nothing comes by change that it did not perceive as good from the beginning—to say of this that it does not always have the good, but later chose to have something it did not choose before: this belongs to a wisdom that surpasses us. For we have learned that the divine is always full of every good; or rather, it is itself the fullness of goods, since it needs no addition for its perfection, but is itself, by its own nature, the perfection of the good. And the perfect is equally foreign to increase and to diminution. For this reason we say that the perfection of goods contemplated in the divine nature is always the same, finding it such wherever we stretch out our thought. So the divine is never empty of good. But the Son is the fullness of every good; he is therefore always contemplated in the Father, whose nature is perfection in every good.

“But,” he says, “let there be no inquiry: Why not before?” To this we will say: It is one thing, wisest of men, to legislate by command about matters of choice, and another to bring people over by reason on matters in dispute. So as long as you have no reason to give for which it is pious to say that the Son was added to the Father later, your command will lie idle among sensible people. In this way, then, Eunomius brings the truth to light for us by his technical method; and we, as is our custom, will appropriate his argument to establish the doctrines of the truth, so that by this too it may become plain that everywhere, compelled by the truth itself, they plead for our doctrine in spite of themselves. For if he begot the Son then, when he willed, as our opponent says, and he always willed the good, and his power runs together with his will, then the Son will be understood to be always with the Father, who always wills the good and is able to have what he wills. And if his next statement too must be brought over to the truth, it is easy to fit this also to our doctrine: that there should be no inquiry about this among sensible people, “Why not before?” For the word “before” has a temporal meaning, contrasted with “after” and “later”; but when there is no time, the names of temporal interval are certainly abolished along with it. But the Lord is before times and before ages; so for those who have sense the inquiry about “before” and “after” is useless when it concerns the maker of the ages. For such names, when they are not said of time, are empty of all meaning. Since, then, the Lord is before times, “before” and “after” certainly have no place in him.

Perhaps this is enough to overturn arguments that need no one to wrestle with them but fall by their own weakness. For who has so much leisure from the cares of life as to give himself up so long to hearing both the vanity of the opposing arguments and our battle against vain things? But since in those who have been taken over by impiety the deceit is like an indelible dye, hard to wash out, and has been burned deep into their hearts, let us spend a little more time on the argument, in case we might somehow wash their souls clean of this wicked stain. For having said what has been quoted, and having added to it, after the manner of his instructor Prunicus, some disjointed and ill-fitting octads of insults and abuse, he moves on to the crowning point of his attempts; and, leaving his unsyllogistic exposition of vanity, he arms his argument again with the goads of dialectic and constructs the absurdity against us, as he thinks, syllogistically. His words run thus: “Since every begetting does not extend to infinity but ends in some end, it is wholly necessary that those who accept the Son’s birth should grant that he then ceased being begotten, and should not be incredulous about the beginning of things that have ceased being begotten; for the cessation confirms the beginning both of begetting and of being begotten; and these things cannot be disbelieved, both from nature itself and moreover from the divine laws.”

Since, then, following the wisdom of those clever at such things, he lays down the universal first and tries to establish the proposition by induction, including the particular proof in the general premise, let us first consider the universal and then examine the force of what is inferred from it. Is it pious to infer the birth of the Son before the ages from every birth? Must we put forward the common nature as the teacher of the existence of the Only-begotten? For my part I would not expect anyone to reach such madness as to imagine such a thing about the divine and pure birth. “Every birth,” he says, “does not extend to infinity.” What is the meaning of “birth”? Does he mean fleshly and bodily bringing forth, or the construction of lifeless things? But the passions of bodily births are plain, and no one would transfer them to the divine birth; and so that the discourse may not seem to drag on describing the works of nature, we will pass such things over in silence, since everyone with sense, I think, knows of himself the causes by which birth is extended, both as it begins and as it ends. For it would be long and superfluous to set out everything accurately: the union of the parents, the forming of the one begotten in the womb, the labor, the delivery, the place, the time, without which the birth of a body cannot take place. All of these are equally foreign to the divine birth of the Only-begotten. For if one of these were granted, the rest would necessarily come in with it in every respect. So, that the divine birth may be pure of every notion of passion, let us not conceive an extension of interval in it either. For what begins and ceases is certainly contemplated in some extension, and every extension is measured by time. But since there is no time, by which we mark both the end and the beginning of a birth, it would be vain to conceive an end and a beginning in the birth that has no interval, since no notion is found that marks either where it begins or where it ends. And if he looks to the lifeless creatures, there likewise place and time and matter and preparation and the craftsman’s power and many such things concur to complete what comes to be. And since time certainly extends along with all things that come to be, and the means of construction for what comes to be are understood together with everything created, whether animate or inanimate, one can find plain beginnings and ends of their constitution in them. For the provision of material becomes the beginning of the construction, and some mark of place and the sequence of time. All these define the beginnings and ends of things that come to be, and no one would say that they have any community with the existence of the Only-begotten God before the ages; so one may not reckon a beginning and an end in that birth from what is observed here.

These things having been thus distinguished by us, let us consider the opponents’ argument again. “Since every birth,” he says, “does not extend to infinity but ends in some end.” Since, then, the meaning of “birth” has been understood in both senses—whether he meant by such a name the bringing forth of bodily things or the construction of creatures, neither of which has anything in common with the pure nature—the premise has been shown to be foreign to the matter at hand. For it does not follow, because every making and birth ends in some limit, that those who accept the Son’s birth must necessarily, as he argues, circumscribe it by two limits, conceiving a beginning and an end in it. For only things marked out by some magnitude both begin to come into being and end in a limit; and the measure of time, extended along with the quantity of what is begotten, separates the beginning from the end by the interval between. But how could anyone measure or divide what is without quantity and without interval? What measure would he find for what has no quantity, or what interval for what has none? How would anyone enclose the boundless by an end and a beginning? For beginning and end are the limits of things that have interval. Where there is no interval, there is no limit either; but the divine nature is without interval; and being without interval, it has no limit; and what has no limit both is and is called infinite. So it is vain to circumscribe the infinite by beginning and end; for what is circumscribed cannot be infinite. Where, then, does this Platonic Phaedrus get the idea of stitching what Plato philosophized there about the soul incoherently into his own doctrines? For as Plato spoke there of a cessation of motion, so this man too has desired to speak of a cessation of begetting, so as to din the ears of those unfamiliar with these things with Platonic fine phrases. “And these things cannot be disbelieved,” he says, “both from nature itself and moreover from the divine names.” But nature, from what has been said, has proved untrustworthy for teaching us about the divine birth.

Nor is it trustworthy if one brings forward the world itself as an example for the argument; for with its creation too, as we learned from Moses in the Cosmogony, the measure of time ran along, measured out to each of the things that came into being by stated days and nights in a certain order and sequence. And this not even our opponents’ argument accepts in the case of the hypostasis of the Only-begotten, since it confesses that the Lord is before eternal times. It would remain to consider the support for the proposition from the divine laws, by which he promises both an end and a beginning of the Son’s birth: “He set a day at the end of the creation, and with it the confirmation of its beginning. For he gave as the reminder of creation not the first day of its birth but the seventh, on which he rested from his works.” Who will be persuaded that this was written by him, and was not inserted by us to discredit his treatise, so that he might seem ridiculous to readers for dragging in, to prove his propositions, things that have nothing to do with the questions? For what was sought was to show, as he promised, that the Son was begotten when he did not exist, and that while being begotten he took a beginning and an end of his birth, as though some labor drew the birth out in time. And what is his construction for this? That the people of the Hebrews by law keep Sabbath on the seventh day! Oh, how well the testimony agrees with the proposition! Since the Sabbath is honored with rest by the Jew, it has been proved that the Lord, as this man says, both took a beginning of his birth and, being born, ceased! How many other testimonies to this the speech-writer passed over, which fall no short of the one he mentioned for establishing what is sought: circumcision on the eighth day, the week of unleavened bread, the mystery on the fourteenth day of the moon’s course, the sacrifices of purification, the observance about lepers, the ram, the calf, the heifer, the scapegoat, the he-goat! But if these are far from the matter at hand, how is that one within the question? Let the zealots of the Jewish mysteries tell us. For we, thinking it petty and unmanly to trample on what lies before us, will look in the sequence of his writings for anything that might make the one wrestling with him break a sweat.

Whatever, then, he goes through in what follows, arguing that nothing is to be conceived as between Son and Father, we will pass over as agreeing in some way with our doctrine. For it would be both undiscerning and unfair not to distinguish in what is said the blameless from the blameworthy. For, fighting with his own statements, he does not follow what he has conceded: he speaks of “immediate,” yet does not accept the conjunction; he conceives that nothing is before the Only-begotten, and supposes that he is Son, yet fights for his having been begotten when he did not exist. Having spent a little time on these points, since the argument has already been sufficiently prepared by what went before, we will keep to the matter in hand. It is not consistent for the same man both to put nothing before the hypostasis of the Only-begotten and to say that he was not before his begetting, but was begotten then, when the Father willed. For “then” and “when” properly and naturally carry a temporal reference, both in the common usage of those who speak correctly and in the meaning found in Scripture: “Then they will say among the nations,” and, “When I sent you,” and, “Then the kingdom will be likened.” And countless such passages can be taken from all Scripture to prove the point, that the usage of Scripture marks time with such parts of speech. If, then, there was no time, as our opponent agrees, the temporal meaning is certainly abolished along with it; and when this is absent, the notion of everlastingness will of all necessity come in instead. For with the word “not being,” “once” is certainly understood. For if he were to say “not being” without “once,” he will not grant that he exists even now; and if they grant “now” and fight against everlastingness, they certainly mean not “not to be at all” but “once not to be.” And since this word is wholly without substance unless it rests on the meaning of time, it would be senseless and vain to say that nothing is before the Son and yet not to maintain that he is always Son. For if there is neither place nor time nor any other created thing in which the Word who was in the beginning is not, the idea that the Lord once was not is removed on every side from the doctrine of piety. So it is not with us but with himself that he fights who teaches that the Only-begotten both is not and is. For in confessing that the Son’s conjunction with the Father is divided by nothing, he has certainly testified to his everlastingness. And if he should say that the Son is not in the Father, we will not answer such a statement ourselves but will set Scripture against it, which says that the Son is in the Father and the Father in the Son, not adding “once” or “when” or “then” to the statement, but by this absolute declaration testifying to his everlastingness.

His argument that the Only-begotten God is called unbegotten by us is the same as saying that we declare the Father too to be begotten. For each is a matter of the same absurdity, or rather blasphemy. So if he has decided to slander, let him add the other charge too, sparing nothing by which he might be able to inflame the hearers against us more harshly. But if he does not allege one of the two because the slander would be too obvious, let him drop the other as well; for it is equally impious, as has been said, to call the Son unbegotten or the Father begotten. If, then, any such word is found in our writings by which the Son is named unbegotten, we will pass the extreme sentence against ourselves. But if he fabricates false charges and slanders at will, making up whatever he likes to discredit our doctrines, this too might perhaps be, for those who have sense, a proof of the piety among us: that because truth fights on our side, he has put forward falsehood to accuse our doctrine, constructing an indictment for impiety that is foreign to our teaching. But one can answer these charges briefly. As we judge accursed anyone who says that the Only-begotten God is unbegotten, so let him too curse anyone who declares that he who was in the beginning once was not. For in this way it will be shown who brings his charges in truth and who brings them by slander. And if we deny the charges—if, when we say “Father,” we understand “Son” together with the word, and when we name the “Son,” we say that he truly is what he is called, having shone forth by way of begetting from the unbegotten light—how is the slander not obvious of those who babble that we call the Only-begotten unbegotten?

Yet because we say that he is by way of begetting, we do not on that account accept that he once was not. For who does not know that the opposition in meaning between being and not being admits nothing in between, so that the positing of one of the two is certainly the abolition of its opposite? And that, just as being is the same in every time in which one supposes any being to subsist—for heaven and stars and sun and the other beings are not more now than yesterday and the day before and in all past time—so in the same way the meaning of not being too has non-existence equally in every time, whether one speaks of the earlier or the later. For one of the things that subsist does not fail to exist more now than if it had been non-existent earlier; the account of not being is one and the same for what is not, in every interval of time. That is why in the case of living creatures we signify by different names the non-existence of what has been dissolved into non-being and of what has not yet made its passage into coming to be, saying either that it has not been born at all or that what was born has died; yet by each word we equally present non-existence in our speech. For as the day is enclosed by night on either side, and the enclosing parts are not named alike—the one “after evening,” the other “before dawn”—yet what is meant in both cases is night, so in the same way, if one were to contemplate non-being side by side over against being, he will name differently what is before the constitution and what is after the dissolution of what was constituted, but will understand one meaning through both. For not being is the same for the unborn and for the dead, apart from the difference of names—the account of the hope of resurrection being excepted. Since, then, we have learned from Scripture that the Only-begotten God is the author of life and life itself, and light, and truth, and everything honorable in name and thought, we say that it is absurd and impious to contemplate together with him who truly is what is understood as its opposite, whether dissolution into corruption or non-existence before constitution. Rather, stretching our thought on every side toward what is before the ages, we nowhere come to a stop at non-being in our concepts, judging it equally impious to cut off the divine by non-existence at any time whatever. For it is the same thing to call immortal life mortal, and truth false, and light dark, and being not-being. He, then, who does not grant that he will at some time not be will not agree, by our reasoning, that he once was not either, since he avoids the same absurdity on either side. For as death does not cut short the endless life of the Only-begotten, so neither will non-existence at the upper end check his life as it proceeds toward everlastingness, so that what truly is may be pure on every side of any communion with what truly is not.

That is why the Lord, wishing his disciples to be far from such error, so that they too might never be carried off in their reasonings to non-existence by seeking something older than the hypostasis of the Only-begotten, says, “I am in the Father, and the Father in me”—meaning that neither is non-being in being nor being in non-being. And the very order of the saying interprets the piety of the doctrine. For since the Father is not from the Son but the Son from the Father, he says first, “I am in the Father,” showing that he is not from another but from him; then he turns the statement round, “and the Father in me,” signifying that one who goes beyond the Son in his curiosity passes beyond the notion of the Father as well. For one who is in something cannot be found outside that in which he is. So he is vain who does not deny that the Father is in the Son and yet imagines that he has grasped something of the Father outside the Son; and vainly does the shadow-boxing of our enemies over the word “unbegottenness” wander about, treading on emptiness among non-existent things.

Rather, if the whole absurdity of the argument must be brought to light, let us be allowed to spend a little more time on this consideration. For since they say that the Only-begotten God came into being later, after the Father, it is necessarily found that the unbegotten itself, whatever they imagine it to be, appears together with the notion of evils. For who does not know that, as non-being is set over against being, so to every good thing and name its opposite is set over against it—evil to the good, falsehood to truth, darkness to light, and all things that in the same way stand over against each other as opposites—where the opposition admits nothing in between, and the two cannot be together at the same time, but the presence of the one removes its opposite, and with the withdrawal of the other the opposite comes into being? These things having been agreed by us, this too is plain to all: that, as Moses says that there was darkness before the creation of light, so too in the case of the Son, if, according to the account of the heresy, the Father made him then, when he willed, then before he made him that light which the Son is did not exist; and when the light did not yet exist, its opposite cannot have failed to exist. For we have learned from other things too that nothing made by the Creator is idle, but what is lacking is brought in to the things that exist by creation. It is plain, then, that if God made the Son, he made him because of something lacking in the nature of beings. As, then, when the perceptible light was lacking there was darkness, and if the light had not come to be darkness would certainly have prevailed, so too, when the Son did not yet exist, the true light itself and all that the Son is did not yet exist. For what exists, even by the testimony of the heresy, has no need to come into being; so if he made him, he certainly made what was not. Before the Son came into being, then, according to them, truth, clearly, had not come into being, nor the intelligible light, nor the fountain of life, nor the nature of anything at all noble and good; and with the removal of each of these, what is understood as its opposite subsists in its place. When there is no light, there cannot but be darkness; and likewise in the other cases, in place of each of the things understood as better, when any of them is absent, its opposite must certainly exist instead of what is lacking. It is wholly necessary, then, according to the account of the heresy, to say that when the Father was about to will to make the Son, since none of the things that the Son is existed, all their opposites were about him: darkness instead of light, falsehood instead of truth, death instead of life, evil instead of good. For he who creates creates what is not; for what is, as Eunomius says, has no need of begetting. And with things contemplated as opposites, the better cannot fail to exist in any other way than by the worse existing. These, then, are the gifts that the wisdom of the heresy brings to the Father, by which it dishonors the everlastingness of the Son, setting the catalog of evils before God the Father prior to the manifestation of the Son. And let no one think to overturn, by appeal to the rest of creation, the absurdity of the doctrine shown by this sequence. For perhaps someone will say that, as when heaven did not exist there was nothing opposite to it, so too when the Son, who is truth, had not yet come into being, we are not necessarily forced to agree that its opposite existed.

To him one can reply that to heaven nothing is opposed—unless one were to say that not being is opposed to its being—but to virtue what belongs to wickedness certainly stands opposed. And the Lord is virtue. So when heaven did not exist there was nothing, but when the good did not exist its opposite was. He, then, who says that the good was not will certainly agree, even against his will, that evil was. “But the Father too,” he says, “is perfect virtue and life and unapproachable light and all lofty concepts and names, so that it is not necessary, when the only-begotten light did not yet exist, to conceive the corresponding darkness as its opposite.” But this is my own argument: that darkness never was. For never was there no light; for in the light the light always is, as the prophecy says. But if, according to the account of the heresy, the unbegotten light is one thing and the begotten another, the one from everlasting and the other coming into being afterward, it is wholly necessary, on the one hand, that its opposite never find room to stand over against the everlasting light—for since that light always shines, the working of darkness has no occasion in its case—but on the other hand, in the case of the light that came into being afterward, as they say, it is impossible that the light did not shine out of darkness; darkness will in every way and entirely be enclosed between the everlasting light and the light that came into being later. For there would have been no need to construct the later light unless what was created was useful for something; and the one use of light is to dissolve the darkness that prevails. What was light uncreatedly is by itself what it is by nature; but what is created certainly comes into being for some purpose. So the darkness must exist first, for whose sake the brightness is necessarily fashioned; and there is no argument by which one can soften the conclusion that darkness came before the manifestation of the begotten light, if it is believed to have been constructed afterward. But such a thing is beyond all impiety. So it has been clearly shown that the Father of truth did not make truth when it did not exist, but, being the fountain of light and truth and of every good, shone forth from himself the only-begotten light of truth, through whom the glory of his hypostasis is always stamped. So the blasphemy of those who say that the Son was added to God later by creation is refuted on every side.

But let us keep to the matter in hand. For going on a little, he fights against those who confess that human nature is too weak to comprehend what is incomprehensible, and he goes through boasts of this kind, belittling our position in these words: “For even if someone’s mind is darkened by ill will, and for that reason he grasps nothing of what lies ahead, it does not follow that the discovery of beings is out of reach for other men too.” But I would say to him that one who says the discovery of beings is within reach has certainly led his mind forward by some path and sequence through the knowledge of beings, and, having trained himself by grasping things easily comprehended and smaller, has in this way applied his comprehending impression to things beyond all thought as well. So let him who boasts that he has grasped the knowledge of beings explain how the smallest of the things that appear to us is constituted in its nature, so that through what is known he may gain credit about what is hidden too. Let him explain in words what the nature of the ant is: whether its life is held together by breath and respiration; whether it is managed by internal organs like the other animals; whether its body is enclosed by bones; whether the hollows of its bones are filled within with marrow; whether its joints are braced by sinews and ligaments; whether the position of its sinews is held in place by wrappings of muscles and glands; whether the marrow runs along the vertebrae of the spine from the crown of the head to the tail; whether, enclosed by the sinewy membrane, it imparts the power of impulse to the moving limbs; whether there is a liver in it, and a gall-bladder on the liver, and kidneys and heart, and arteries and veins, and membranes and midriff and diaphragms; whether it is bare or hairy; whether it is divided into male and female; in what part of the body its sight is seated; whether it shares in the sense of smell; whether it has single or cloven feet; how long it lives; what the manner of their generation from one another is; how long the offspring is carried; and how it is that neither do all ants walk nor are all winged, but some belong to the creatures that go on the ground while others appear in the air. Let him, then, who boasts of having grasped the knowledge of beings first make plain to us the nature of the ant, and then let him discourse on the nature of the power that surpasses every mind. But if he has not yet grasped knowledge of the nature of the tiniest ant, how does he boast of having comprehended with his comprehending reason him who holds all creation in himself? And yet he says that those who confess the weakness of human nature in their own case have the senses of their souls darkened, and reach neither anything ahead nor anything above their heads.

But let us see what the one who has the knowledge of beings knows beyond the rest. Let us hear his overweening voice: “Otherwise,” he says, “the Lord would have called himself door in vain, if there were no one passing through to the understanding and contemplation of the Father; and in vain would he have called himself way, if he offered no ease to those who wish to come to the Father. And how would he be light, if he did not enlighten human beings, nor illuminate the eye of the soul to the understanding both of himself and of the transcendent light?” Now if he were going through reasonings of his own that escape the understanding of his hearers by their subtlety, it might perhaps have been possible to be misled by the cleverness of the argument, since the meaning in it often escapes the hearer. But since he puts forward the divine words, no one at all will blame those who believe that the God-inspired teaching is set before all in common. Since, then, he says, the Lord was named “door,” it is established from this that the substance of God is comprehensible. But the Gospel does not admit this meaning. Let us hear the divine voice itself: “I am the door,” he says; “if anyone enters through me, he will be saved, and will go in and go out and find pasture.” What, then, in these words is the knowledge of the substance? For since several things are said, and each has its own meaning according to what it signifies, it is neither possible to put all of them into the account of the substance, lest the divine be thought a mixture of different things, nor easy to find among those listed the one that might more properly fit the matter at hand. The Lord is the door. “If anyone enters through me,” he says, “he will be saved, and will go in and go out and find pasture.” Shall we say that he means the entrance instead of the substance, or the salvation of those who enter, or the pasture, or the going out, or the finding? For each of these is distinct in what it signifies and does not agree with the others. For being inside seems at first glance to be the opposite of going out, and so with the rest; for pasture is one thing in its own account, and finding something else besides. Which of these, then, is thought to be the substance of the Father?

For surely no one, by naming all these things, which do not agree with one another in meaning, will indicate the simple and uncompounded substance through things that are discordant. And how would the Word be true that “no one has ever seen God,” and “whom no human being has seen or can see,” and “there is none who will see the face of the Lord and live,” if either being inside the door or finding the pasture outside is thought to be the substance of the Father? Yet because this is not so, we will not suppose that the name “door” is idle and meaningless when said of the Lord. For he himself is truly both “a door of protection” and “a house of refuge,” as David names him: through himself he receives those who enter, in himself he saves those who have come inside, and again through himself he leads them out to the pasture of the virtues. And he becomes all things to those who are being saved, so as to make himself fitting for each: way and guide, door of protection and house of refuge, water of rest and place of green grass, which in the Gospel he calls pasture. But the new theologian says that the Lord was named “door” for the sake of knowledge of the Father’s substance. Why, then, does he not drag the rock too, and the stone, and the fountain, and the tree, and the rest of the names to the same meaning, so as to confirm his doctrine by a multitude of outlandish testimonies, since he could fit to each of these the same account that he gave of the way and the door and the light? But I, taught this by the God-inspired Scripture, boldly declare that he who is above every name becomes many-named for us, named according to the variety of his benefits: light, when he scatters the gloom of ignorance; life, when he grants immortality; way, when he leads us by the hand from error to the truth. So too he is called for us tower of strength, and city of protection, and fountain, and rock, and vine, and physician, and resurrection, and all such things, distributing himself variously among the benefits he gives us. But those who are sharp-sighted beyond human nature interpret substances through names—who see the incomprehensible and overlook the comprehensible. For him whom no human being has seen or can see they confidently claim not only to see but to measure; but faith, which alone is proportioned to our understanding, they do not see with the eye of the soul, putting the knowledge that comes from their reasonings in front of it. So I have heard the history accuse the sons of Benjamin, who did not look to the law, yet shot at a hair—the word showing, I think, their preoccupation with what is vain: that in things useless and unsubstantial they were far-shooting and skilled marksmen, but in things plainly profitable ignorant and unpracticed. For the history adds to this their calamity: how, raging after the lawlessness of Sodom, they were destroyed when the whole army of the people of Israel took up arms against them. And it seems to me a kindly counsel to offer the young archers: not to wish to shoot at a hair while failing to see the door of faith, but, letting go of the vain labor over the incomprehensible, not to forfeit the gain that lies at hand, which is found through faith alone.

But when I look at the rest of his treatise, I shrink from taking the argument further, for a shudder runs through my heart at what is said. For he wants to show that the Son is something other than eternal life—and if eternal life were not seen in the Only-begotten, faith would be shown to be vain, the preaching empty, baptism superfluous, the labors of the martyrs for nothing, and the sweats of the apostles useless and unprofitable for human life. For why did they proclaim Christ, if, according to Eunomius, the power of eternal life is not in him? And to what end do they call believers by the name of Christ, if not that through it they might share in eternal life? “For the mind of those who have believed in the Lord,” he says, “having peered above every perceptible and intelligible substance, is not by nature able to stop even at the begetting of the Son, but goes on beyond it, longing, in its desire for eternal life, to meet the First.” Which of these things should I lament more: that the wretches think eternal life is not in the Son, or that they view the hypostasis of the Only-begotten as so low and earthbound that, having mounted up to his beginning in their reasonings, they imagine they peer above the life of the Son in their thought, and, leaving the Lord’s begetting somewhere below, go on beyond it in their desire for eternal life? For what is said has this meaning: that the human mind, searching out the knowledge of beings and lifting itself above the perceptible and intelligible creation, will leave below itself, like the rest, God the Word who was in the beginning; and it comes to be in that where God the Word was not, intruding by the curiosity of the mind into what lies above the life of the Son, and searching there for eternal life, where the Only-begotten God is not.

“For in desire for eternal life,” he says, “it is carried by the mind to what lies beyond the Son”—as though it certainly did not find in the Son what it was seeking. If, then, eternal life is not in the Son, then he who said, “I am the life,” is caught out as a liar; or else he is life, but not eternal. But what is not eternal is certainly temporary; and that kind of life is common to the irrational animals too. Where, then, is the greatness of true life, if irrational nature shares in it as well? And how will the Word be the same as life, if by a temporary life he makes his home in irrational nature? For if, according to the great John, the Word is life, and this life is temporary and not eternal, as the heresy holds, and temporary life also comes to be in other creatures, what follows by consequence? Either that irrational things are rational, or that the Word must be confessed to be irrational. Do we still need words to refute their accursed and wicked blasphemy? Are such things said in a way that keeps their counsel of denying the Lord hidden? For the apostle says plainly that what is not eternal is temporary; and these men see eternal life in the substance of the Father alone, and, estranging the Son from the nature of the Father, cut him off from eternal life as well. What else is this but a manifest denial and rejection of faith in the Lord, since the apostle says clearly that those who have hoped in Christ in this life only are the most pitiable of all? If, then, the Lord is life but not eternal, the life is certainly temporary and fleeting, at work in the present time, and the apostle pities those who hope in it as having missed the true life. Yet those enlightened in Eunomius’s school pass beyond him and are carried in their reasonings to what lies beyond the Son, seeking eternal life in what is contemplated outside the Only-begotten.

What can one say about such evils but what calls forth lament and tears? Oh, how we should groan over this wretched and pitiable generation that has brought forth such a crop of evils! The zealous Jeremiah once lamented the Israelite people, when they agreed with Jechoniah, the leader in idolatry, in doing evil, and for their lawlessness against true religion were condemned to captivity among the Assyrians, driven from the sanctuary and removed far from the inheritance of their fathers. These laments seem to me more fittingly sung now, when the imitator of Jechoniah drags those he leads away to this new kind of idolatry, driving them from the inheritance of the fathers—I mean, from the faith. For them, quite as in the history, the deportation to Babylon takes place, as they are removed from the Jerusalem above, that is, from the Church of God, to this confusion of wicked doctrines; for “Babylon” is interpreted “confusion.” And like the blinded Jechoniah, this man too, having willingly deprived himself of the light of truth, has become the spoil of the Babylonian tyrant, not learning, poor wretch, that the Gospel teaches that eternal life is seen equally in Father and Son and Holy Spirit. Of the Father the Word says, “To know him is eternal life”; of the Son, “Everyone who believes in him has eternal life”; and of the Holy Spirit, that for one who receives the grace there will be “a fountain of water springing up to eternal life.” So everyone who longs for eternal life, when he finds the Son—the true one, I mean, and not one falsely so called—has found whole in him what he longed for. For he himself is the life and has life in himself. But this man, subtle of mind and keen-sighted of heart, does not, through his great sharpness of sight, find eternal life in the Son; rather, passing over him and leaving him behind as an obstacle to what he seeks, he searches for eternal life where he thinks the true life is not. What could anyone conceive more horrible in blasphemy, or more gloomy as an occasion for laments, than this?

And yet for him to din Sabellius and Montanus into our doctrines is the same as if someone fastened Eunomius’s blasphemy on us. For if one who has looked into the matter examines the deceit of these heresies, he will find that it has great kinship with Eunomius’s error. For each of them Judaizes in his doctrine, admitting neither the Only-begotten God nor the Holy Spirit into communion in the Godhead of the one they call the great and first God. For him whom Sabellius calls three-named, Eunomius names unbegotten; and neither of them sees the Godhead in the Trinity of hypostases. Who, then, is akin to Sabellius? Let the judgment of the readers of this treatise declare it.

But so much for this. And since in what follows he spends a long time stirring up the stench of his loathsome attempts, by which he tries to establish that the Only-begotten God once was not, I say that it is well—since our understanding about these things has been sufficiently cleared by what went before—no longer to plunge our discourse into the same evils, except perhaps that it is not untimely to add this one point, selected from among many. When someone had said that unbegottenness is equally conjoined with the substance of the Father, he says, “The argument proceeds by similar steps, as it reached its conclusion in the case of the Son.” The doctrine of piety is clearly strengthened by our opponents’ construction: that we should not think unbegottenness and begetting to be the same as the substance, but that these are contemplated in addition in the subject, while the subject in its own account is something else besides these; and since no difference is found in it, because the difference of begotten and unbegotten is separated from the substance, it remains of all necessity to agree that the substance is without variation in both. Let us examine this point too besides what has been said: in what sense does he say that the begetting is separated from the Father—understanding it as a substance or as an activity? If he thinks it an activity, it is certainly joined equally to what was worked and to the one working, as in every construction one can see the activity equally in what comes to be and in the maker, neither separated from the craftsman nor failing to appear in the construction of the results. But if he says it is a substance separated from the substance of the Father, confessing that the Lord is from it, he plainly looks to it instead of the Father in the case of the Only-begotten, so that two Fathers are understood for the Son: the one named only, whom he calls unbegotten, but who has no share in the begetting; the other, which he names “begetting,” doing the Father’s part for the Only-begotten. And this is refuted by Eunomius’s own words more than by ours. For he says in what follows: “God, being without begetting, is also before the one begotten”; and a little later: “For he who has his being from being begotten was not before he was begotten.” If, then, the begetting is separated from the Father, and the Son has his being from being begotten, then the Father, who is separated from the begetting from which the Son has his being, is inactive in the hypostasis of the Only-begotten. If, then, the Father is estranged from the begetting of the Son, either they fashion some other Father of the Son through the name “begetting,” or these wise men prove by what they say that the Son is self-begotten and self-born.

You see how the thought of one who reproaches us up and down with ignorance in his own words has been caught out; how the blasphemy wanders along many roads, or rather along no road, advancing toward its aim through nothing firm. As one can see with infants, when, playing as their age leads them, they imitate the construction of buildings in sand: their imitation is not made skillfully, with an aim, to resemble the original; rather, they first make something at random out of folly and then consider what they should call the construction. This shrewdness I see in the speech-writer too. For having heaped up words of impiety, like a mound of sand, as they came to him, he afterward reckons what his unthinkable blasphemy, sprung up of its own accord through his words without any logical sequence, is aiming at. For I do not think that the hypostasis of begetting, which takes the Father’s place for the substance of the Son, was fashioned by him on purpose; nor was it the orator’s aim, I think, to prove the Father foreign to the Son’s begetting; nor was the self-born marvel brought in by any forethought. All such things were vomited out by the speech-writer without thought, so that there is not much blame in these matters for one who errs in doctrine but does not know, as the apostle says, either what he is saying or the things about which he makes assertions. “For he who has his being from being begotten,” he says, “was not before the begetting.” If he says this meaning “begetting” in place of “the Father,” I too agree, and there is no one to object. For it is the same thing signified by either expression, whether we say “Abraham begot Isaac,” or, instead of “begot,” that he became the father of Isaac. Since, then, having begotten is the same as being a father, if one changes the words into another form, fatherhood will be shown to be the same as begetting. If, then, Eunomius says, “For he who has his being from the Father was not before the Father,” the statement is sound, and we vote for what is said. But if in his argument he runs back to that “begetting” of his, and says that it is separated from the Father but conjoined to the Son, I think it vain to linger over the contemplation of what is unthinkable.

For up to now we have not been able to see from what he has said whether he thinks the begetting to be a thing contemplated in its own hypostasis, or whether through the name he is slipping in his concepts toward something without hypostasis. For the unstable and rootless argument is carried equally toward either supposition, leaning to whatever the interpreter pleases. But the grievous points of the blasphemy have not yet been examined, which the sequence of his writings now adds; let us consider what he says, word for word. I do not know how one can dare to bring through one’s mouth the horrible and godless writing of this enemy of Christ. For I fear lest, like deadly poisons, it should leave behind in the mouth through which the words pass some remnant of its destructive bitterness. “Whoever comes to God,” says the apostle, “must believe that he is.” So the proper mark of Godhead is truly to be. But he makes out that he who truly is either is not properly or is not at all—which is the same as not being at all. For what is not properly is not at all. So one who in the fancy of a dream imagines himself running hard is said to run; but since the fancy falsely feigns the appearance of real running, it is not running, and even if it is so called by misuse, it is named by a false name. So he who dares to say that the Only-begotten God either is not or is not properly plainly erases faith in him from doctrine. For who would still believe in one who is not? Or who would attach himself to one whose being has been shown by the enemies of the true Lord to be improper and without substance? And so that our argument may not seem to be made against our opponents by slander, I will set out the very words of the impious, which run thus: “Not being, nor being properly,” he says, “he who is in the bosom of him who is, being in the beginning and being with God—even though Basil, neglecting this distinction and addition, removes the appellation ‘being’ contrary to the truth.” What do you say? He who is in the Father is not; and he who is in the beginning and is in the bosom is not, for the very reason that he is in the beginning and is in the Father and is seen in the bosom of him who is; and for this reason he is not properly, because he is in him who is? Oh, empty and absurd doctrines! Now for the first time have we heard this empty chatter, that the Lord, through whom are all things, does not properly exist.

And this is not yet the terrible part; still more absurd than this is not only to say that he is not, or is not properly, but that he is seen in a compound and varied nature. For “not being,” he says, “nor simple either.” But that to which simplicity does not belong is plainly declared varied and compound. How, then, is the same one both not at all and compound in substance? For one of the two is necessary: either those who testify to his complete non-existence should not call him compound, or those who charge him with compoundness should not remove him from being. But so that their blasphemy may be manifold and varied, it goes wrong in all its godless thoughts: by comparison with him who is, it says the Lord is not; by relation to the simple, it says he has no share in simplicity—“not being, nor simply, nor properly being.” Which of those who have transgressed the word and forsworn the faith was ever so lavish with words denying the Lord? He has set out to rival the divine preaching of John: as often as John testified “was” of the Word, so often has this man striven to set “was not” against him who is. And he fights against the holy mouth of our father, bringing these charges against him: that Basil neglects these distinctions when he says that he who is in the Father and in the beginning and in the bosom is—as though such an addition, of the beginning and the bosom, struck out the existence of him who is. Oh, empty teachings! What things the teachers of deceit teach! What doctrines they introduce to their hearers! They teach that what is in something is not. Then, since your heart and your brain are within you, Eunomius, by your definition neither of them exists. For if the Only-begotten God does not properly exist for the reason that he is in the bosom of the Father, then everything that is in something is wholly excluded from being. But the heart is in you and not by itself; so by your argument one must say either that it does not exist at all or that it does not exist properly. But the ignorance and the blasphemy in what he has said are so great and of such a kind as to be plain to those with sense even before our words; yet so that his folly, together with his impiety, may become still more evident, we will add the following to what has been said.

If it is possible to say “properly is” only of him whose being Scripture testifies to as absolute and without relation, why is it that, like water-carriers who perish of thirst with the power to drink, this man too, having ready to hand the antidote to his blasphemy against the Son, shuts his eyes and runs past it, as if afraid of being saved? And he charges Basil with wrongdoing because, keeping silent about the additional qualifications, he spoke of the “was” of the Only-begotten by itself alone. And yet it was possible for this man too to see what Basil knows and what everyone who has eyes sees. It seems to me that the lofty John was moved prophetically, so that the mouths of the enemies of Christ, who on account of these additions reject Christ’s proper being, might be stopped, to say simply and without qualification that the Word was God, and was life, and was light—not only that he was in the beginning and with God and in the bosom of the Father, so that by such relation the Lord’s proper being might be taken away; but by saying that he was God, with this unrelated and absolute expression, he cuts off every evasion of those who run toward impiety in their reasonings. And there is something besides this which refutes our opponents’ malice even more. If they make being in something a sign of not being properly, they certainly agree that the Father too does not properly exist, since they have learned in the Gospel that, as the Son is in the Father, so the Father also abides in the Son, according to the Lord’s word. For to say that the Son is in the bosom of the Father is the same as saying that the Father is in the Son. Let us examine this too in passing: when the Son was not, as they say, what did the bosom of the Father contain? For they will certainly either grant that it was full or suppose that it was empty. If the bosom was full, the Son was certainly the fullness of the bosom. But if they see some emptiness in the Father’s bosom, they testify that he has nothing else than a perfection that came by growth, as he passed from emptiness and lack to fullness and perfection. “But they did not know, nor did they understand,” says David of those who walk in darkness. For one who has made war on the true light cannot have his soul in light. That is why, as if struck with blindness like the men of Sodom, they did not notice what is set down in the sequence of the text to correct this impiety.

He also says that the substance of the Son is ruled by the Father, speaking thus in so many words: “For he who is and lives because of the Father does not appropriate this dignity, since the substance that rules him too draws to itself the notion of ‘being.’” If, then, this seems right to one of the wise men of the outside world, let the Gospels not be troubled at all, nor the rest of the teaching of the God-inspired Scripture. For what communion has the Christian word with the wisdom that has been made foolish? But if he leans on the Scriptures, let him show such a saying from the saints, and we will be silent. I hear Paul crying out, “One Lord, Jesus Christ.” But Eunomius cries out against Paul, calling Christ a slave. For we recognize no other mark of slavery than being subject and ruled; whoever is ruled is certainly a slave. And one who is a slave by nature cannot be Lord, even if he is called so by misuse. And why should I bring Paul’s words as witness to the Lord’s lordship? For Paul’s Master himself says to the disciples that he is truly Lord, accepting the confession of those who name him Teacher and Lord; for he says, “You call me Lord and Teacher, and you speak well, for I am.” And he ordained that the very same title be used by them of the Father, saying, “Call no one master on earth; for you have one master, the Father in heaven.” To whom, then, should we attend, caught between these? On the one side the Lord himself, and he who has Christ speaking in him, bid us not to think of him as a slave, but to honor him as the Father is honored; on the other side Eunomius brings an indictment of slavery against the Lord, saying that he who holds the power of the universe is ruled. Is the choice of what we should do doubtful, then? Or is the discernment of what is more profitable a close call? Shall I dishonor Paul’s counsel, Eunomius? Shall I not hold the voice of the truth more trustworthy than your deceit? “If I had not come and spoken to them,” he says, “they would not have sin.” Since, then, he himself spoke to them, saying that he truly is Lord and is not falsely so named—“for I am,” he says, not “I am called”— … what must one do whose punishment is inescapable because he was told beforehand? But perhaps he will again put forward his usual wisdom against us and say that the same one both serves and is Lord, ruled by the one who rules, but ruling the rest.

These wise sayings are hawked about at the crossroads by the lovers of deceit, who strengthen their vain suppositions about the divine from human circumstances. For since the happenings of this life give us examples of such things—as one can see in a wealthier household the more energetic and loyal of the fellow slaves set over the carrying out of the master’s orders, having gained precedence over his equals—they transfer this way of thinking to the divine doctrines, so that the Only-begotten God, yoked under the sovereignty of the superior, is in no way hindered by the authority of the sovereign from ruling over the lesser. But we, bidding farewell to such wisdom, will consider the matter according to the measure of our own understanding. Do they confess that the Father is Lord by nature, or that he came to this by some election? I do not think anyone with any share of understanding would come to such madness as not to testify that lordship belongs by nature to the God of all. For what is simple by nature, without parts and uncompounded, whatever it happens to be, it is wholly and throughout, not becoming it from something else by some change, but abiding for ever in what it is. What, then, do they suppose about the Only-begotten? Do they confess that his substance is simple, or do they conceive some composition in it? If they think he is something varied and of many parts, they will certainly not even grant him the name of Godhead, since they transfer the doctrine of Christ to material and bodily suppositions. But if they agree that he is simple, how can one see a concourse of opposites in the simplicity of the subject? For as the opposition of life and death admits nothing in between, so lordship is unmixed with slavery and estranged from it in its properties. For no one who contemplates each of these by itself will fit the same definition to both; and things whose definition is not the same certainly differ in nature too. If, then, the Lord is simple in nature, how could a doubleness of opposites come about in the subject, with slavery blended into lordship? But if he is confessed to be Lord according to the teaching of the saints, the simplicity of the subject testifies that he has no share in the opposite. And if they declare that he serves, they testify to the name of lordship in him in vain. For what is simple by nature is not split toward opposite properties. But if they say that he is the one thing and is called the other—a slave by nature, but Lord in name—let them show such a saying openly, and they will give us rest from long labors of rebuttal. For who has so much leisure for vanities as to refute by reasonings what is plain and beyond doubt? If anyone denounces himself for the pollution of murder, no labor is left for his accusers in bringing the bloodshed to conviction by proofs. So we too will no longer bring a refutation by examination against our opponents, once they have gone so far in impiety. For he who calls the Only-begotten God a slave by nature makes him, by what he says, his own fellow slave, and from this a double absurdity will necessarily follow. Either he will despise his fellow slave and deny the faith, shaking off the yoke of Christ’s mastery; or he will bow down to the slave and, turning away from the self-ruling and masterless nature, will in a way worship himself instead of God. For if he sees himself in slavery and sees the object of his worship in slavery too, he is simply looking at himself, seeing another self in the object of his worship. But what account could count up all the other things that are necessarily seen together with this wicked doctrine? For who does not know that one who is a slave by nature, being occupied under his master’s compulsion, would not be free of the passion of fear either? For fear is somehow yoked to the nature of slavery; and the divine apostle is witness to this when he says, “You did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear.” So, as with human beings, they will din the passion of fear into their fellow-slave God as well.

But so much for the God of the heresy. We, who according to the apostle have been called to freedom by Christ, who set us free from slavery, will set out briefly what we have been taught by the Scriptures to think. For, starting from the divine teaching, I boldly declare that the divine word does not wish even us to be slaves, since our nature has been changed for the better. And he who took all that is ours in order to give us his own in exchange—diseases, and death, and the curse, and sin—so took slavery too: not so as to have what he took, but so as to cleanse our nature of such things, since what was ours has been made to vanish in the pure nature.

As, then, in the life we hope for there will be no disease, no curse, no sin, no death, so slavery too will pass away to destruction along with these. And that I speak the truth, I call the Truth itself to witness, who says to the disciples, “No longer do I call you slaves, but friends.” If, then, our state will one day be free of the reproach of slavery, how is the Master of the universe enslaved by the madness and insanity of these deranged men? By consequence they certainly also determine that he does not know what belongs to the Father, because of the statement about slaves, which says that “the slave does not know what his lord is doing.” But when they say this, let them hear that the Son has in himself all that is the Father’s, and sees all that the Father does, and none of the Father’s goods lies outside the knowledge of the Only-begotten. For how could he lack anything of the Father’s, when he has the whole Father in himself? So if a slave does not know what his master does, while he has in himself all that is the Father’s, let those who are carried away by drunkenness at last become sober and look up, now at least, to the truth: that he who has all things is Lord of all and not a slave. For how could he bear the stamp of slavery, and how could he who reigns over the universe not have a form equal in honor to himself? Or how could dishonor shine forth from the true glory? For slavery is dishonor. And how is the King’s Son born into slavery? These things are not so; they are not. But as he is light from light, and life from life, truth from truth, so also is he Lord from Lord, King from King, God from God, masterless from masterless. For having the whole Father in himself, he certainly has whatever the Father has in himself; and since all that the Son has is the Father’s, it is wholly necessary, by the account of the enemies of God’s glory, that if the Son is a slave the Father too be brought down into slavery. For there is nothing of what is contemplated in the Son that is not certainly the Father’s. For “all that is mine,” he says, “is yours, and yours is mine.” What, then, will the wretches say? Which is more reasonable: that the Son, who said, “Yours is mine, and I am glorified in them,” is glorified in the Father’s kingship, or that the Father is outraged by the dishonor of the Son’s slavery? For it is not possible that he who contains in himself all that is the Son’s, and is himself in the Son, should not also be wholly in the Son’s slavery and have the slavery in himself. These are the achievements of Eunomius’s wisdom, by which he outrages the Lord with slavery and fastens the same dishonor on the pure glory of the Father.

But let us run back again to the sequence of his writings. What does Eunomius say about the Only-begotten? That “he does not appropriate this dignity”; for he calls the appellation “being” a dignity. Oh, absurd philosophy! Who of all the men who have ever lived, whether among the Greeks or in barbarian philosophy, who in our own day, who in all time, ever gave the name “dignity” to being? For the common usage of all who use speech says “is” of everything contemplated in a hypostasis, and the appellation “being” has been formed from “to be.” But now the word “dignity” is newly invented against the meaning of “being.” For he says that the Son, who is and lives because of the Father, does not appropriate the dignity of being, having neither a Scripture to put forward in support of his statement nor any sequence by which he has led his argument to this folly. Rather, as if he had put some windy food in his stomach, he belches out his blasphemy like a foul-smelling wind, unconstructed and unsyllogistic. “He does not appropriate,” he says, “this dignity.” Let it be granted that being is called a dignity. What then? Does he who is not appropriate being? “Because,” he says, “he is because of the Father.” So do you say that he who does not appropriate being is not? For not appropriating signifies the same as being estranged, and the opposition of the meanings is plain: for what is one’s own is not foreign, and what is foreign is not one’s own. He, then, who does not appropriate being is certainly estranged from being; and what is a stranger to being is not in being. But he brought in the necessity of this absurdity when he said, “since the substance that rules him too draws to itself the notion of being.” Let the incoherence of its phrasing be passed over in silence; but let what he is aiming at in the words be examined. What argument has shown that the Father’s substance rules the Only-begotten? Again he belches at us from his surfeit. What evangelist stood surety for this statement? What dialectical method? What premises?

What constructions have shown, by any sequence, that the Only-begotten God is ruled? “But the substance that rules the Son,” he says, “draws to itself the notion of being.” What does this “drawing” of being mean to him? And how did the word “draw” come to be thrown into what he said? Anyone who has studied the force of words will certainly judge. But we will be silent about this too, and take up again that other statement: that he does not grant being, according to substance, to him whom the name of “being” does not leave. And why does he shadow-box in vain, fighting about what is not as though it were of such and such a kind? For what is not is certainly neither like anything nor unlike. But while granting being, he forbids it to be named. Oh, empty precision, to concede the greater point and haggle over the sound of a word! And how does he who rules the Son, as he says, draw to himself the notion of being? If he says that the Father draws his own substance, this drawing is superfluous; for being is present to him even without being drawn. But if he says that the being of the Son is drawn by the Father, how being will be torn away from what is and pass over to the one who draws it, I cannot see. Is he imagining the error of Sabellius, as though the Son did not exist by himself but were merged into the hypostasis of the Father? And is this what he means by “the notion of being is drawn by the substance that rules the Son”? Or, while not denying that the Son exists in a hypostasis, does he say that he is cut off from the meaning of “being”? And how can “being” be disjoined from the thought of “to be”? For as long as anything is, whatever it may be, it has no nature not to be what it is.