DE DIFFERENTIA SACRIFICII ABRAHAE A SACRIFICIO B. MARIAE VIRGINIS

1043AWe have heard of the great patriarch Abraham that he offered in sacrifice to the Lord a turtledove and a dove; but the sacrifice of the blessed Virgin Mary was a pair of turtledoves and two young doves. The sacrifice of the patriarch Abraham seems altogether to differ greatly from the sacrifice of the blessed Virgin Mary. Which of these is greater, which of these is better? But who would dare to set any of the saints before the blessed Virgin Mary, or to make him her equal — save only the Holy of holies? Without hesitation, therefore, we assign what is best to so great a lady; but again it is very hard that we should take anything away from the perfection of so great a patriarch. Yet altogether such and so great a difference of victims does not seem to be without cause. But if it helps to understand these things more fully, there is need of a deeper consideration. Now it seems to belong to the flight 1043Band song of the turtledove, in the consideration of eternal evils, to pour out groaning and lamentation; but to groan and sigh in the contemplation of eternal goods, this is to have the dove's song. Let a man therefore call to mind what good he has lost by sinning, or what evil he has in the same way incurred, that he may better and more fully understand toward what state he ought to pant by laboring, groaning, and sighing. For by sinning he incurred a twofold captivity, and lost a twofold dignity. For being of his own will made subject to fault, he was against his will made over to punishment, and thereafter lost the stability of grace and the perpetuity of glory. Stripped therefore of such grace and such glory, man, willing or unwilling, is enslaved to sin and subjected to the scourge; and living but a short time he is filled with many miseries — he who comes forth like a 1043Cflower and is crushed, and flees like a shadow and never continues in the same state. And so we contract by being born a twofold captivity, namely the exaction of fault and of punishment; and as long as we live here we cannot recover the fixed stability of grace and the perpetuity of glory. We ought therefore with all diligence, and with as much insistence as we can, to labor for this above all, and to keep the right measure in all things, so that the evils which we have contracted by being born we may lay down by dying, and those goods which we cannot recover in the course of this life we may obtain immediately at the entrance of the life that follows. For perfect men, at the very moment of the soul's departure, at the very beginning of the life that is beginning, are set free from fault and delivered 1043Dfrom punishment, are confirmed in grace and exalted in glory. Now this twofold liberty from fault and punishment, and this twofold dignity in grace and glory, which the perfect alone receive at the soul's going forth — what else should I call them than certain firstfruits of the fullness to come? The perfect therefore receive these firstfruits in the soul alone, being afterward to receive the fullness in both natures. But to groan and sigh for the firstfruits of the twofold 1044Aliberty, and to hold a firm hope of obtaining them through death: this will be, as I judge, to offer a pair of turtledoves. But to pour out groans and sighs for the firstfruits of the twofold dignity, and to presume upon the Lord's mercy for the obtaining of them at the soul's departure: this will be, if I am not mistaken, to expend two doves in the Lord's sacrifice. The twofold liberty and the twofold dignity, as we have said, the perfect alone receive at death; but one liberty and one dignity only do all the elect receive. For immediately after the going forth of the soul, in the same moment of time, they are both set free from sin and confirmed in good. For the souls of the elect, though less perfect, like the rest receive at once, in the laying down of their body, the sentence of their lot; 1044Band from the fact that they have escaped eternal damnation, from the fact that they foreknow their future glorification, from the fact that they recognize that after so many offenses they were never forsaken by the grace of Christ the Savior, they grow strong unto so great a love of their Creator that none of them would thereafter be willing to do anything at all whereby he might offend God, even if it were permitted him with impunity. But on the contrary all the reprobate, after they receive the sentence of their damnation, never rise up to even the least little spark of divine love; and from the moment they utterly despair of eternal goods, they desire to return to those things which they had known in this life and had perversely loved, and they would wish to live in them forever, if they could do so with impunity. It is clear, then, that they are enslaved to sin forever, not so much by action as by will. 1044CAnd so the souls of the wicked at their departure are confirmed in evil, but the souls of the good are confirmed in good.

And although certain elect souls, but less perfect, are still held by the debt of satisfaction, and are perhaps purged of vice for a long time, yet far be it that they should thereafter in any way be enslaved to sin. They are therefore set free from fault, yet are not delivered from punishment; they are confirmed in grace, yet are not exalted in glory. But what is done after the Savior's death toward the less perfect, this was done, before the price of our redemption was paid, even toward the very perfect. For they were set free from the servitude of sinning, yet were not delivered from every debt of suffering. For, to say nothing of the rest, they certainly suffered exile and the prison-house. 1044DBut what sort of prison-house? Assuredly hell. I pass over that they were not caught up to the joys of heaven, nor yet did they return to the delights of paradise. Although therefore they were confirmed in good, yet they were not consummated in joy. I say boldly that not even Abraham himself received in the laying down of the body that twofold liberty which is from fault and punishment; for that which is from the captivity of a far-off pilgrimage he presumed neither 1045Ato ask nor even to hope for. Rightly therefore he offered not turtledoves but a turtledove, and on this side he ought not to have doubled his victim. What I say of the obtaining of the twofold liberty, the same I say of the obtaining of the twofold dignity. For the stability of the former grace, which he hoped for and sought, he received in death; but before the Savior's coming he could not pass over to the glory of eternity. Rightly therefore his offering, in this kind of birds, was but a single dove. But the blessed Virgin Mary, since she was secure concerning both the liberty and the dignity to be obtained in the laying down of the flesh, could rightly double her victim on both sides. By now, I believe, you grasp how rightly such a difference had to stand between the sacrifice of Abraham and the sacrifice of the blessed Virgin Mary. 1045BBut there still seems to be in these matters something worthy of inquiry: that she chose rather to offer a pair of turtledoves than a pair of doves, but conversely two young doves rather than two young turtledoves. One thing, however, I know: that the more surely, the more confidently we hope for heavenly goods, for eternal goods, the more gladly, the more readily we labor for them. And the more we sweat for them, the greater and the more excellent things we hope for. And the better the things we hope for, the more ardently we love. And the more ardently we love, the more vehemently, the more anxiously we desire. Thus indeed, thus from the security of hope is born the anxiety of desire. You have therefore the bird in the security of hope; you have its 1045Cnestling in the anxiety of desire. For hope, which gapes after heavenly and eternal things, flies after the manner of birds to what is lofty and far off. The nestling is born of the bird, and the anxiety of desire is begotten of the certainty of hope in the order we have said. It belongs to nestlings to cry continually, and rarely to cease from crying. He knew this who said: Like the young of the swallow, so shall I cry (Isa. XXXVIII). The nestling, then, is wont to cry anxiously enough, and anxious desire has in the ear of the Creator the voice of a great cry. Hence it is that to Moses, silent but burning with anxious desire, it is said by the Lord: Why criest thou to me? (Exod. XIV.) Hence that word of the Psalmist: The Lord hath heard the desire of the poor (Psal. X). Now such desire is wont to grow so great in some men that they are weary of living, so 1045Dthat this truly seems to be their voice: My soul is weary of my life (Job X). For that good which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man — who, I ask, will be able to await it with the certainty of hope, and not burn with immense desire, and live scarcely otherwise than impatiently? Now to the bird belongs, as has been said, the confidence of hope; but to its nestling the impatience of desire. Hear the voice of the bird sweetly warbling in the place of solitude: We know, he says, that if our earthly house of this habitation be dissolved, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens (II Cor. V). Behold how great the confidence of hope. Mark also in another the vehemence of desire, and understand at the same time the cry of the clamoring nestling: When shall I come, 1046Ahe says, and appear before the face of God (Psal. XLI). But when anyone burns with loathing of this life and with desire of the life to come, it matters greatly with what intention he does so. For one man fear drives to this very thing, but another the vehemence of love draws. The one is harried by the fear of doubtful peril and of impending evil; the other by the love and heat of a desire to enjoy. Hear the voice of one in anguish in the midst of perils: Who shall deliver me from the body of this death? (Rom. VII.) Take also the voice of one burning with excess of love: I desire to be dissolved and to be with Christ (Philipp. I). In both you hear a desire of death and a weariness of the present life. The former voice belongs to the young of turtledoves, the latter to the young of doves. For he who now, out of hatred of the twofold captivity which we distinguished above and out of desire of the twofold liberty, desires to die, 1046Band with many groans and sighs pants after this very thing — what else does he cry aloud in God's ears than the death of nestlings from the nest of turtledoves? But he who with the desire of dying prays and weeps for the abundance of grace and glory which he awaits in time to come — how else does he cry, after the manner of nestlings, than with a dove's voice? For to hope firmly for the twofold liberty in the laying down of the flesh, and to live patiently in this expectation, this is, as we have already said, to offer a pair of turtledoves. But to burn more ardently with desire of these liberties, and to wish to die the sooner for the obtaining of them, and to bear impatiently the very fact that one lives — this seems to be to immolate a victim from the young of turtledoves. Likewise he who patiently awaits the exaltation of the twofold dignity in the hope 1046Cof security, immolates a pair of doves in the Lord's sacrifice. But he who, impatient of delay, pants and burns for this very thing, prepares for the Lord a sacrifice from the young of doves.

For who, however perfect, could obtain in this life that fullness of grace and glory which he does not doubt that he will obtain immediately after the soul's departure — so that he might be able to cleave unceasingly to divine contemplation, and be drawn away from it by no thought; so that he might be able to take delight in him alone, and to glory in him at every hour and every moment? It does not belong to this life that one, however perfect, should not have to break in upon the sweetness of so great a gladness — to say nothing of the rest — at least by sleeping. Who in this life could fulfill to the full that first and greatest commandment, namely to love God with the whole heart, 1046Dthe whole soul, the whole strength? He therefore who, out of the desire of obtaining so great a fullness, loathes this life, and sighs and groans and pours out tears for the hastening of that desire's fulfillment, expends young doves in the Lord's sacrifice. Many are in great tribulations and temptations, and act bravely, secure concerning the twofold liberty, if it be granted them to persevere. But often not the young ones of those who are of this sort, on account of the dread of falling and the labor of suffering, desire to die quickly, that they may thereafter be secure from every suspicion of peril. But take heed lest perhaps it seem to be a sign of some impatience to shun the contests of labors, or likewise a sign of some diffidence to tremble beyond measure under the fear of falling For it ought to be certain to all the perfect that 1047AGod is faithful, who will not suffer us to be tempted above that which we are able with iron, but will make also with the temptation a way of issue, that we may be able to sustain it (I Cor. X). Hence it is that certain men act so steadfastly amid the greatest perils, and stand so secure in the Lord's protection, that they dare without hesitation even to say that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor might, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature will be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus (Rom. VIII). As far, therefore, as concerns the consideration of escaping peril, the firm security of hope in the Lord's protection seems greater than an excessive vehemence of desire. But the former belongs to the pair of turtledoves, the latter to the 1047Byoung of corum. It seems, therefore, a greater thing to offer a pair of turtledoves than to offer their young. But without doubt one law seems to be the law of fear, and another, if I am not mistaken, the law of love. To wish to be at rest and to be secure is not so much the mark of one who loves his friend as of one who loves himself. But to wish to see him whom one's soul loves, to burn with desire of him, and to be able in no way to rest until one sees him, lays hold of him, and cleaves to him — this seems to be a sign of the highest devotion and of a wonderful charity. And so, on this side, the impatience of burning desire seems to be something much greater than the security of hope alone without ardent desire. But this latter belongs to the pair of doves, that former to their young. And so it seems the greater sacrifice 1047Cto offer two young doves than the doves themselves. Behold, what we long sought we have at last found: that it is something greater to offer a pair of turtledoves than their young, but on the contrary it seems less to offer a pair of doves than their young. Now you no longer wonder, as I judge, if the most holy of holy women, the ever-Virgin Mary, offered in each kind of victim what she knew, according to the dignity of the mystery, to be best on either side. Far be it that we should say or believe that the blessed Virgin Mary was urged to the desire of death by dread of suffering or by fear of falling. For of none of the saints is it more rightly believed than of her that she was always ready, so far as lay in her, to endure every kind of torment for the name of Christ. And how could she be urged by fear of falling, 1047Dshe who in the flesh wherein she bore and nourished the flesh of Christ carried nothing of contradiction? At the momentary contact of the saving right hand the leper is cleansed (Matth. VIII); at the touch of the hem she too was cleansed who suffered an issue of blood (Luc. VIII). How much more did it behoove her to be cleansed from every contagion of mind and body, who for so long embraced him whole within her womb, who so often embraced him whole in her lap, who had in sufficient measure the fullness of that healing, so to speak, now poured within, now applied without — of that healing, I say, which could suffice, and more than suffice, to take away all the diseases of all the diseased? How, I beseech you, could she be urged even to weariness of life by the fear of falling or of suffering, who according to the proclamation of the angelic salutation was full 1048Aof grace? But whither fear could not drive her, love could draw her. Who ever, of all the lovers of Christ, would more gladly have wished to die, that he might see his divinity, that he might cleave by perpetual contemplation to his majesty and immensity? Who ever burned more ardently with the fervor of such desire? Assuredly, as far as she loved beyond the rest, so far beyond the rest did she more ardently desire the sweetness of the divine vision, and the everlastingness of that sweetness. I say boldly that not even she who loved beyond the rest was able to cleave inseparably to this sweetness, or to drink it alone and without interruption, so long as she was in this life and bore a corruptible body. For the body that is corrupted weighs down the soul, and the earthly habitation presses down the mind that museth upon many things 1048B(Sap. VIII)

Since therefore she could not obtain in this life that fullness of grace and glory which she received in her assumption, what wonder if she ardently desired the hour of that receiving — she whom no fear of falling or of suffering could drive to a desire of death? She offered a pair of turtledoves in this, that she awaited the twofold liberty in the laying down of her flesh as patiently as she awaited it confidently. But she offered young doves rather than a pair of doves in this, that she panted, and that even with a desire of death, after that twofold fullness of grace and glory already spoken of above. But Abraham, as has been said, was secure at the laying down of the flesh not concerning the obtaining of glory, 1048Cbut only concerning the receiving of stable grace — and not even that in the fullness which the blessed Virgin Mary, or any of the perfect in this present time, received. What wonder therefore if he desired the hour of receiving more coolly, who hoped for less? Rightly, then, he offered not young doves, nor a young dove, but a dove alone. And so Abraham offered the turtledove in the sure hope of obtaining liberty from fault, and the dove in the sure hope of receiving perpetual stability in grace. If we wish to emulate the pursuits of perfection, if we wish to be made spiritual, we ought in the Lord's sacrifice, after the example of Abraham, to join birds also to the animals. Birds indeed suspend themselves in the air, which animals certainly cannot do. In the birds, therefore, understand spiritual pursuits, 1048Din the animals bodily exercises. To the animals belong outward pursuits, to the birds inward pursuits. To the former the exercises of the body, to the latter the exercises of the mind. Now God alone sees our inward things, but our neighbor also is able to see our outward things. Those things which we do within are done for God alone; those which we carry on outwardly, partly for God alone, partly also for our neighbor. For many things are done for the divine good pleasure alone, many for the benefit or the good pleasure of men. Rightly therefore Scripture says of Abraham that he divided the animals, but the birds he did not divide (Gen. XV). For in those exercises which lie open to the divine gaze alone, and which we have already said belong to the birds, one ought to intend nothing else than that they should deservedly please 1049Athe divine will. But in bodily exercises, on which we press both for God's sake and for our neighbor's, we double our intention, and on this side we divide our victim. But we ought not only to divide our victim after this manner, but also to set the divisions themselves on either hand over against each other, and to weigh both parts by an alternating consideration. For in those things which we do for our neighbor's sake, we ought with all caution to beware of offending God; and in those which we carry on for God's sake, we ought, so far as we can, to avoid scandal to our neighbor. Now only that victim which is of animals ought we to divide; but both this one and that which is of birds must, after the example of Abraham, be defended from the rapacity of the fowls (ibid.). 1049BFor the fowls, as it is written, came down upon his victim, and Abraham drove them away. But what do we understand by fowls of this sort, save vain and foolish thoughts? Often, from the good things which we work within or without, we are touched now by pride, now by empty glory, and we glory immeasurably within ourselves. But if we do not manfully resist such foolish thoughts, we empty out for ourselves, in God's eyes, the fruit of the good work. Now the aforesaid fowls come down, as it were, to the plundering of our sacrifices, when wicked thoughts, sent in by malignant spirits for the corrupting of our merits, come upon our heart. For the malignant spirits are as it were above us by this very fact, that they exist in a more eminent condition 1049Cand in an angelic nature; and in the Gospel they are called the fowls of heaven (Matth. XIII; Marc. IV; Luc. VIII). We ought therefore to strike foolish thoughts, and whatever suggestions come through evil angels, with rebuke; and this will be to drive away fowls of that kind. Let him, then, who hears or reads these things learn from the apostle's teaching how he ought to drive away the rapacity of elation or of foolish boasting. What, he says, hast thou that thou hast not received? And if thou hast received, why dost thou glory as if thou hadst not received? (I Cor. IV.) Evil alone canst thou have of thyself, but no good, save from the divine gift. Consider therefore how shameless a boast it is to glory in an evil that is thine own, or in a good that is not thine own. If we go over these things diligently, if we go over them often, the more quickly do we snatch the victim of our devotion from that 1049Drapacity of the fowls of which we have spoken. Behold, we have what sort of victims we ought to offer to the Lord our God; behold, we have how they must be defended from the assault of rapacity. Would that each one of us might press on in pursuits of this kind until the sun goes down, and the love of vanity gradually fails, and, the ray of carnal prudence being withdrawn, the fervor of concupiscence grows lukewarm. For by that fiery and bodily globe which does not cease to go about the mass of the earth, and which, proceeding in its circuit, never rests, what better, what more rightly do we understand in this place than the love of earthly things, the love of things passing away, which encircles the lowest things and never suffers the soul which it inflames to rest? This sun both shines by the prudence of the flesh, and burns by the concupiscence of the flesh. This sun 1050Awithout doubt goes down when carnal prudence grows dull, and carnal concupiscence little by little grows cold.

But that we may know what is wont at times to follow such a setting of the sun, let us hear what Scripture says: And when the sun was going down, a deep sleep fell upon Abraham, and a great and darksome horror seized him (Gen. XV). And so deep sleep follows the setting of the sun, and horror follows the deep sleep. Through the body's deep sleep, as we all know, bodily sense is lulled, and the human mind is estranged from the things lying about it. Fittingly enough, therefore, by deep sleep is understood the estrangement of the mind. But in a sleep of this kind the mind often comes to know by divine revelation, and discerns as it were in a dream, by a fitting vision, what before, while as it were awake, it could scarcely know but faintly, or 1050Bcould not know at all. Hence that which is said in Job by Elihu: By a dream, in a vision by night, when deep sleep falls upon men and they sleep in their bed, then he opens the ears of men, and teaching them instructs them in discipline (Job XXXIII). Such sleep comes in no way at man's own choosing, but according to the good pleasure of him who is wont to send it in. Rightly therefore is it said of this sleep that it fell upon him, in that it comes suddenly and unlooked for. And so deep sleep falls when some spiritual man passes over by a sudden onset into estrangement of mind. Now when a man is lulled to sleep after this manner, and is caught up outside himself, the things which are seen in that ecstasy are often wonderful and astounding. You who hear these things perhaps marvel, because 1050Cyou as yet experience nothing of the kind in yourself. You do not know that all things have their time. Waking, surely, and sleep have their time: waking by day, sleep by night. Perhaps for you the sun has not yet gone down, the love of vanity has not yet failed. While the sun is still burning, that sleep which we have defined knows not how to fall. The setting of the sun, as we have said, is followed by deep sleep; and deep sleep is nonetheless at times followed by horror. For the human mind often sees, in the time of this sleep, many things which it cannot see without dread and trembling, or even horror. Whence that word of Eliphat the Themanite: In the horror of a vision by night, when deep sleep is wont to take hold of men, fear seized me, and trembling, and all my bones were terrified (Job IV). Hear another also, and mark what he understood as it were in a dream: I said in the excess of my mind: 1050DI am cast away from before thine eyes (Psal. XXX). What wonder if his soul shuddered, who saw himself cast away from the face of the Lord? Of such terror or horror he says through Job himself: If I shall say. My bed shall comfort me, and I shall be relieved as I speak with myself upon my couch, thou wilt frighten me with dreams, and wilt shake me with horror by visions (Job XVII). For a man is frightened as it were by dreams, and shaken with horror by visions, when the human mind, led above itself and caught up to the contemplation of the divine judgments, sees by divine revelation to how great perils it lies subject at every daily moment. It sees how infinite are the eternal goods which it has lost, how dreadful the eternal evils which it has deserved; it sees how easy it is to fall at every hour, and how impossible it is for one who has once slipped to rise again by himself; 1051Ait sees how some fall from the highest pursuits of the virtues into the depths of the vices, and how conversely some rise up from the depth of the vices to the highest summits of the virtues; and in all these things man knows not his own end, but, as fishes are taken with the hook and as birds are caught in the snare, so are men taken in an evil time when it comes upon them of a sudden. What wonder, then, if they are shaken with a certain horror, who are taught by God under how great an uncertainty of perils human weakness labors? Consider, in fine, what Abraham learned as it were in his sleep, and you will observe how rightly he shuddered. For it was said to him: Know beforehand that thy seed shall be a sojourner in a land not their own, and they shall subject them to servitude, and afflict them four hundred years (Gen. XV). 1051BBy the seed of Abraham, if you will, understand the virtues themselves. By the seed of Abraham, if you will, understand those who emulate the virtues, living after the example of Abraham, and imitators of his life. Do not the virtues themselves serve king Pharaoh, when they are done with a sinister intention, and, depraved by hypocrisy, seek nothing but the gains of death?

And it often happens that pursuits of the virtues which had been begun with a good intention are at length carried on with an evil intention. Does not the seed of Abraham serve king Pharaoh in mud and brick, when some strong emulator of the virtues, who, going forth out of his land and out of his kindred, long according to the exemplar of Abraham, according at length at some time falls after the manner of David into some outrage? For any such man too, if he returns again to righteousness, 1051Cis reckoned among the sons of Abraham. Consider therefore how full of fear and likewise of horror it is, that not even upon some height, or from the summit of virtue, is any place of security granted to man in this life. It is very rare, and truly the mark of few, to do great things and not think oneself great, to stand above many and to despise no one. For when any one of us does wonderful things, and outstrips the rest in the nimbleness of good pursuits, it is easy for him to say within himself that word of the Pharisee: I am not as the rest of men (Luc. XI). Whence it often happens that from those who are such the divine grace is withdrawn, and they are permitted to fall, and are sometimes led on little by little so far that at length they are as obstinate in evil as they had before 1051Dbeen steadfast in good. Is not this what the Lord threatens, when it is said to Abraham: Know beforehand that thy seed shall be a sojourner in a land not their own? Whereas the other elements are wont always to be in flux, the earth alone stands forever; whence fittingly enough it designates the stability of the heart. But as good as it is to be stable in a good purpose, so evil is it to be stable in an evil purpose. The former belongs to steadfastness, the latter to obstinacy. And so steadfastness in good is the land of the good; obstinacy in evil is the land of the wicked. And so, when any of those predestined to the eternal way are led on little by little to obstinacy of this kind, they truly sojourn in a foreign land, in a land not their own. Behold what pride does, behold what arrogance does. And so the vessels of mercy, 1052Awhen they begin to swell over their own merits, are by God's loving dispensation permitted to fall, that they may learn to be wise humbly, and to think truly of their own weakness. Now the knowledge of human weakness, that it may be full, consists in four degrees: two we have in the consideration of evil, two in the consideration of good. In the consideration of evil: first, that we may know that we can guard against no evil by our own strength; second, that we may know that after a fall we can rise again from no evil by our own strength. In the consideration of good: that we may recognize that we can grow strong unto no good by our own industry; second, that we may recognize that not even in that which we have received from God can we persevere by our own industry. Now the manifold advancement of progress in the knowledge of oneself — what else is it than a certain succession of alternating days? 1052BBut every alternation of lengthening or shortening days is enclosed within a year, and is completed by the course of the sun. Rightly, then, by a year is understood the fullness and completion of knowledge in any matter whatsoever. And to this end, according to what has been said above, a man is permitted to fall many times and in many ways into some one vice, that through many trials he may learn fully and entirely that he can rescue himself from such servitude by no strength of his own. But when this manifoldness of experience is carried through even to the fullness of knowledge, a year is as it were completed. But when a man learns the same defect of his own weakness in one vice after another through daily trials, and gathers also by reason, in others, the same verdict of truth which he has proved by experience in many, 1052Cand at last judges the same universally in all, then the number of years, in the multiplication of knowledge, rises to a hundred. For since all the digits, and the joints named from them, and the numbers composed of both, are enclosed within a hundred, rightly is universality figured in the number one hundred. In a year, then, understand fullness, and in a hundred understand universality. When therefore we have the abundance of necessary knowledge both sufficiently in each single thing and generally in all, we extend the yearly course of our schooling to a hundred. Now we distinguished the knowledge of our weakness above through four degrees. It is necessary, therefore, to fill out as it were the number of four hundred years, if we wish 1052Dto lay hold of this fullness of fourfold knowledge of which we have already spoken. Hold it for certain, nor is there any ground on which you ought to hesitate, that you must be subject to Pharaoh and to the Egyptians, and be enslaved to vices and to the kindlers of vices, until by the mastery of experience you are taught to think truly of your own weakness, until you learn fully to presume nothing at all upon your own strength in guarding against or correcting evils, in obtaining or preserving goods. Behold, we have now heard whence the patriarch shuddered, and indeed whence he rightly ought to have shuddered. We have heard the things that made for terror; let us hear also those which could make for consolation: Nevertheless the nation, he says, whom they shall serve, I will judge. And after this they shall go out with great substance. But thou shalt go to thy fathers in peace, 1053Aburied in a good old age: in the fourth generation they shall return hither. For the iniquities of the Amorrhites are not yet complete unto the present time (Gen. XV).

Behold, as we can observe from these things, by divine revelation and as it were through a dream we learn now sad things, now glad things, and now things mingled of both. The nation, he says, whom they shall serve, I will judge. For whether by the nations you wish to understand the vices or the kindlers of vices, God assuredly is to grind down both by his judgment and to drive them out of the hearts of the good — the former indeed by so grinding them down that they be nowhere at all; the latter by damning them, so that they may thereafter be forever wretched, and may never in anything prevail against the good for eternity. And after this, he says, 1053Bthey shall go out with great substance. We know indeed that the sons of reconciliation are schooled by their own fall unto discretion, unto circumspection, unto humility and compassion, unto steadfastness, unto patience and perseverance together. And so they go out with great substance when they carry back with them such gains of the virtues and such talents of knowledge. You have, then, the substance of souls in the fruits of penitence and in the gains of the virtues; you have the substance of the virtues in the treasures of knowledge and wisdom. Of a treasure of such substance is understood that word in the psalm: And he brought them out with gold and silver (Psal. CIV). See therefore how wonderful, how delightful, how astounding it is that even the very ruin of morals 1053Cworks together with the good unto good, and that what we read in the Apostle is fulfilled: We know that to them that love God all things work together unto good, to them who according to his purpose are called saints (Rom. VI). It works together unto good, therefore, that they serve for a time in a land not their own, who at length go out thence with great substance. It works together unto good that they succumb to the vices for some little while, who afterward rise again the more cautious as they are the more practiced, and the more steadfast or the more robust as they are the more humble. But those are to be judged happy beyond measure who advance to the grace of humility by the gift of foresight, who learn the measure of human weakness not so much from their own ruin as from another's. Their person is expressed in Abraham, 1053Dto whom it is said by the Lord: But thou shalt go to thy fathers in peace, buried in a good old age. Neither does the Lord foretell, nor does any Scripture hint, that Abraham was anywhere made over to anyone's servitude. Not therefore by often falling, often rising again, and by serving the vices did he advance to the grace of humility. But while, God revealing it, he reads and reads again in the book of providence, he proves by the examples of others what he ought to think of his own weakness. Let us see, then, whether we can find in the sayings of this man, taught by God, that revealed humility which we distinguished above through four degrees. Let us hear him, then, speaking with the Lord: I will speak, he says, with my Lord, whereas I am dust and ashes (Gen. XVIII). Dust is shaken out of its place at every breath, and, cast down wherever it may be, is never 1054Alifted save by an impulse from without. Behold, O men, the form of human defect, so far as concerns the consideration of evil.

For when grace and the divine protection are withdrawn, man is cast down at the enemy's suggestion into whatsoever evil; and once cast down, he is strengthened to the uprightness of his state by his own power. Ashes bring forth of themselves no shoot at all; and what is taken up from elsewhere they are wholly unable to nourish by any richness of their own — I will not say unto increase, but even unto sustenance. Here likewise you have the form of human defect, so far as concerns the consideration of good. For man can bring forth of himself no shoot of good work without operating grace; and when by operating grace he has already begun to have it, by himself alone he will 1054Bbe wholly unable to keep it without her cooperation. Behold, Abraham, as is understood from these his sayings, is found taught by God unto that fullness of humility to which many come only through a fourfold hundred of years, after many trials. What some, therefore, scarcely learn through many trials, others learn easily from divine revelation. But thou, he says, shalt go. Thou, whom beyond the rest I forestalled with more abundant grace; thou, whom beyond the rest I enlightened more deeply. Thou shalt go to thy fathers in peace, free from every oppression of unworthy and hard servitude. But what is it to go to one's fathers, save to hasten, by that same path of the virtues by which others went before on the way of life, to the tranquillity of inmost rest by the nimbleness of good 1054Cworks? He therefore was hastening to peace who was to go in peace. He went through peace and to peace; through inward peace, to eternal peace. Through that peace which reconciles every sense mutually to itself, to that peace which surpasses every sense. That discord, therefore, which is between the flesh and the spirit must be lulled to sleep, that one may be able to pass over to that peace which is above every sense. But what is it for the Lord to make promises of this kind to anyone, save to quicken him by inward inspiration unto such hope and such certainty? But thou shalt go to thy fathers in peace, buried in a good old age. In old age both the sense and the appetite of the outward man are wont to grow faint, and by daily losses to draw near to failing. A good old age, when at the same point of time at which the appetite for outward and passing 1054Dthings is diminished, the appetite for inward and eternal things is thereby made new. A good old age, when the outward sense decreases and the inward increases. A good old age, when the inward man is strengthened by that very thing whereby the outward man is weakened: For when I am weak, he says, then am I stronger and mighty (II Cor. XII). Better is an old age of character than of years, of merits than of seasons. It is more glorious that the appetite for outward goods should grow faint from the zeal of industry than from a defect of nature. Buried, he says, in a good old age. First a man dies, that afterward he may be buried. The dead man indeed ceases to see, but does not at once cease to be seen. But the buried man ceases to see, and at the same time to be seen. He therefore who wishes to be dead to this world must close those eyes which we read were opened in our first 1055Aparents, and must not attend to the delights of the senses, nor turn them away.

But he who is such finds, as it were, burial after death at that time when, through the pursuit of wisdom and the desire of eternity, passing from worldly things and above worldly things, he advances into such a state as no carnal man could — I will not say know — but not even suspect. By the active life we are mortified; by the speculative and the contemplative we are buried with Abraham, as it were in a twofold cave. It is proper to the speculative to behold the invisible things of God, understood through the things that are made, and to evidere them as through a mirror and in aenigmat. It is proper to the contemplative to see the truth without wrapping, and as it were face to face. By the speculative, therefore, and the contemplative we are absented from human 1055Baffairs, and, as has been said, are buried as in a twofold cave. It is good, therefore, that the appetite of desire and the effort of zeal should grow faint toward human affairs, should fail, should absent themselves; and that, immersed in heavenly contemplations, we should lie hidden from the gaze of those who are wise after the flesh. Thus the man who emulates the virtues grows old, dies, and is buried. Behold, we have heard concerning Abraham and concerning those whose figure he bears; now let us hear what consolation he adds concerning the sons of the sojourning: And in the fourth generation, he says, they shall return hither. That he says "in the fourth generation," you must reckon not from Abraham's time but from the time of the sojourning, as you have it from the Gospel or from other places of the Scriptures. When that inward household of thoughts or of wills 1055Cis led away into foreign parts, and under the pressure of temptations is made over to the servitude of the vices, at first indeed the conscience does not cease to murmur at every hour and to be restless; but gradually it is brought, to grow strong by depraved custom, so far that it ceases to kick against its exactors, and, like a heifer taught to love the threshing, serves without murmur and without contradiction. But when the time of good pleasure and the time of mercy has come before the Lord, and after many evils, the Lord having mercy and visiting as it were by the office of Moses, it has been pricked to penitence, it now begins to kick back and now wishes to shake off the yoke of captivity — yet it is not able to prevail as yet. Then, as the divine consolations grow frequent, and many things flash out as it were like miracles, it begins little by little to grow strong, 1055Dto acquire vigor, to take on boldness, and at length at last to prevail over its enemies — but not without great labor and the utmost difficulty.

But at the last, when the tyranny of the vices has been subdued, and all that soldiery, as it were of Pharaoh, has been drowned in the cleansing of inmost compunction, and the zeal of good custom has grown strong, and the terror of enemies has been taken away, it begins now to rejoice in the tranquillity of a good conscience, and to draw near to the promised land of glad security. The first generation, then, is of those who serve and do not protest; the second, of those who protest and do not prevail; the third, of those who prevail and labor; the fourth, of those who prevail and rest. For those who abide in the wilderness and live upon heavenly food, what other kind of office ought there to have been than to be at leisure and 1056Ato see that the Lord is sweet? In the first the conscience is tranquil and evil; in the second, restless and evil; in the third, restless but good; in the fourth, tranquil and good. But through the tranquillity of conscience one draws near to the security of conscience. The gladness [securitas] of a secure conscience is that land, as was said above, flowing with milk and honey, which is promised by the Lord and given to the heirs of Abraham. Rightly therefore is it said: But in the fourth generation they shall return hither. And it is added: For the iniquities of the Amorrhites are not yet complete unto the present time. According to the difference of characters are the merits of individuals dispensed. There are those who are more confounded, or more pricked, over a shameful thought than certain others over the most shameful deed. Hence it is that some, 1056Bafter a shameful thought, are swept away even to depraved delight. Others from depraved delight slip into consent to depravity alone; others even after consent are hurled headlong into the act. Some even bring the perverse action into a habit. And so the fall of each is measured out according to the judgment of him by whose dispensation all things work together with the good unto good. Certain men indeed are found of such shamelessness, such hardness and pride, that after many evils they can scarcely be schooled unto full knowledge of their own weakness, scarcely be humbled in truth, scarcely be inwardly pricked over their own depravity. And so the iniquities of the Amorrhites then seem complete when, by the dispensation of him who measures all things, 1056Cthey are permitted to grow to that enormity which in its own time may abundantly suffice to confound the shamelessness of the heart, to crush its hardness, to trample down its pride. Behold, we now hear how great things Abraham learned from divine revelation after his sun had gone down, the deep sleep had fallen upon him, the horror had seized him. Scripture yet again repeats what it had already said above, that it may show more fully what those things are which are wont to follow the setting of the sun: When therefore, it says, the sun had gone down, there arose a dark mist, and there appeared a smoking furnace and a lamp of fire passing between those divisions (Gen. XV). It has said what he heard; it says again what he saw, after that sun of his had gone down and carnal love had failed. We have heard what he heard; let us mark also what he saw. First a smoking fire, then 1056Da flaming fire. First a fire that kindles, then a fire that illumines. He saw, then, a smoking furnace and a lamp. Surely no one lights a lamp for heating, but for illumination alone. On the contrary, no one kindles a furnace for the benefit of illumination, but for heating. In the smoking furnace, then, understand the burning of love; in the lamp, the light of revealing grace. Mark this also, that we put fire into a furnace to this end, that we may heat its inward parts and not its outward. In the burning of the furnace, therefore, understand the love of spiritual things, inward love, the love of the virtues. Fire, then, is kindled as it were in a furnace, and is held shut up as it were within, when love is nourished in the inward parts of the heart; and then truly, as though 1057Ashut up within, it is confined in the very place where it arises, when the soul is more sharply inflamed to love and to desire the goods of the soul. We kindle a furnace, as it were, when we more vehemently inflame the heart's desire toward those things which are to be more inwardly desired. The true and inward goods of the soul, which are truly and inwardly to be desired, we call virtue itself, goodness itself. When therefore, without regard to reward, virtue is loved for the sake of virtue itself, when also without any intention of recompense goodness itself is loved for its own sake, then truly and beyond doubt the burning of love seems to be kindled in the inmost parts, and to be confined in the inmost parts lest it break out to the things without. But this is rightly asked: why is a smoking furnace, and not rather a blazing one, shown to Abraham? But we know that in the kindling of a furnace, at the outset 1057Bsmoke always rises; but, as the burning gradually grows, the smoke too is seen gradually to decrease, and at length to fail altogether. What else, then, is expressed by the fact that a smoking furnace is shown to Abraham in the vision, than a certain beginning of inmost love? For however much a man may seem in this life to have advanced in the increase of charity, if you consider the fullness of the life to come, in comparison with it he will seem to have had only a certain beginning of perfection. And smoke indeed stings the eyes and draws forth tears; and charity, according to the state of the present life, however far it has advanced, when well examined and carefully inspected, pricks the soul by the gnawing of conscience, since so long as one lives here it does not love, as it is divinely commanded, 1057Cwith the whole heart, the whole soul, the whole mind. In the smoking furnace, therefore, is expressed the beginning of inmost and highest love. For in charity nothing loftier, nothing more splendid is found than when goodness itself is loved for its own sake. But as in the smoking furnace a certain beginning of inmost and highest love is rightly understood, so also in the lamp is there fittingly expressed a certain beginning of inmost and highest light. For no one lights a lantern to see the region round about, or the things that are round about in it. But we surely kindle a lantern for this, that we may see the things near at hand, and those that are within the inner parts of our own chambers. But what is nearer to the spirit than it is to itself, 1057Dunless perhaps when, by chasing after vanities, it forsakes itself, and by casting away its inmost things withdraws from its own self? What can be nearer to it, what more inward, than that Spirit who is everywhere and can be absent nowhere? Assuredly the heart of man is depraved and unsearchable, and can no more be known than it can be seen, save by the light of a lantern sent from above and divinely kindled. For to Abraham it is sent from above, and for the Psalmist it is divinely kindled: For thou lightest my lamp, O Lord; my God, enlighten my darkness (Psal. XVII). If, then, without the benefit of the divine lantern you cannot see your own inmost things, how much less the divine secrets? And so a lantern is divinely kindled for a man when the surpassing eminence of inmost goods is made manifest to him in the divine light. But 1058Aif it behooved him to exhibit to Abraham the form of divine revelation, why is it expressed to him in a lantern, and not rather in the sun? But however far human understanding may advance in this life in the manifestation of the inmost light, it does not grow up to the perfect day, and takes on nothing but a kind of beginning of that fullness to come. As therefore in the smoking furnace a certain beginning of the fullness to come is rightly understood, in the love of the highest goodness, so in the burning lantern we rightly understand a certain beginning of the fullness to come, in the contemplation of the highest wisdom. Now these two are wont to furnish mutual increases to each other; for love grows from knowledge, and knowledge from love. Yet it happens that a man, often at the very time when he burns much with desire, 1058Bsees little; and conversely, at the time when he sees much, burns little. In these things, without doubt, that supreme craftsman assuredly shows the skill of his art. And it becomes known how little man can do save by the cooperation of the divine gift, when in the effects of causes things befall him beyond hope and beyond reckoning. This is why a smoking furnace and a lamp are shown to Abraham, and why the form both of divine inbreathing and of divine revelation is set forth separately and apart.

But it must be marked how it is seen here or there: Passing, it says, between the divisions themselves (Gen. XV). What we discern through the figure, we prove by the experience of things. For the revelation of goodness and of truth always tends toward the fountain of all good things, and draws the soul which it affects after it into that same fountain. But 1058Cwhat is this, that the exemplar of spiritual things which the patriarch saw appeared to him in the midst of the divisions? As we have already said above, those divide their victims who in the good things they do strive to please both God and their neighbor, who purpose to avoid with all zeal both the wrath of God and scandal to their neighbor. Without doubt nothing is more laborious, nothing more difficult. See therefore how deservedly that twofold grace which was described above is conferred and heaped up from that very source whereby the human mind is more sharply pressed for God's sake: for this is why the furnace and the lamp are described as having appeared to Abraham in the midst of the divisions. But it must be noted that Abraham, before he saw these things, ran into a dark mist. Assuredly he who has not yet recognized the shadowed places of human 1058Derror and the lurking-places of the perils in which he moves does not reach that fire of true love which knows not how to cleave to the lowest things. He who does not yet understand that the life of man upon earth is a temptation, being ignorant of the exile which he suffers, knows not how to sigh for his homeland, knows not the inward light, knows not the blaze of true and inmost love. This is the fire which is sent in from heaven, which is given after the setting of the sun. This is the fire which begets assurance, prepares confidence, nourishes hope, takes away fear. For charity believeth all things, hopeth all things. In fine, perfect charity casteth out fear. For Abraham too, after he had merited to receive that fire sent from heaven, is nowhere afterward read to have doubted the Lord's promises. And we too assuredly, if we long to inherit that land flowing with milk and honey, 1059Aought to pant, so far as we can, for the receiving of such a fire. Let us ourselves also prepare such a victim as the patriarch prepared, and in that order in which he himself 1060Aoffered it; and without doubt, as a sign of the inheritance to be received, we shall receive such a fire as we desire.