DE VERBO INCARNATO

• 995A

« To me he cries out of Seir: Keeper, what of the night? keeper, what of the night? The keeper said: Morning comes, and night. If you seek, seek; be converted, and come (Isai. XXI). » These are the words you set before me to be expounded, and you do not blush to weary my foolishness. These words, to confess the truth, seem to me exceedingly deep, and, on account of their subtlety (if they be well understood), no less delightful. I know, I know — nor am I ashamed to confess it — that it is above my capacity to penetrate their depths; and whether I shall be able to set forth in fitting words, as would be proper, this very thing which I dream in them, I do not know: To me he cries out of Seir. Seir is the very man who is called Edon or Esau, from whom the land of Idumaea is also named Seir. Now Esau and Jacob, who is also Israel, were 995Bbrothers; and from the one came the Idumaeans, from the other the Israelites. Of these two brothers we read it said by the Lord through the prophet: Jacob I have loved, Esau I have hated (Malac. I). Jacob therefore was chosen, Esau rejected. The Israelites are the sons of election, the Idumaeans the sons of reprobation. But — O wonderful change and pitiable reversal! — the sons of strangers cry to the Lord; those whom he chose for himself as an inheritance do not cry to him. And so, for the reproach of those who are in Judaea, it is said what is being done by those who are in Idumaea. The Idumaean cries, the Jew is silent; the one entreats, the other holds his peace; to me they cry out of Seir. From Mount Seir there is crying, on Mount Sion there is silence. There they cry by confessing, here they are silent by despising. And so, while the Idumaeans cry, the Jews are silent — yet not all, but many. But of those who cry, many 995Ccry not to their own God, but to a strange god. Therefore, to the disgrace of those who are of this sort, that is thrown in their teeth which is now said to them by way of reproach. To me, to me, I say, he cries out of Seir. Unhappy Jew, and made a fool: strangers cry to your God, but you cry to a strange god; they to the true God, you to a false one. To me he cries out of Seir.

Note what he says: he does not say "they cry," but "he cries." He does not say "that one" or "that other one," nor does he express anyone determinately, but it is set down indefinitely, lest some single person, or one only, be understood. Understand it, therefore, as said indefinitely both according to the quantity and according to the quality of the persons; and in this the unity of those who entreat is commended. It makes many 995Done — one heart and one soul. One intention, one devotion, makes many one. And, just as the unity of him who is personally one is cleft when he is divided by the dispersion of his mind among many gods, so many 996Aare one, and are rightly called one, when in one spirit they are made one. He says therefore: To me he cries out of Seir. The unity of those who come to their senses, the unanimity of those who trust, cries to me out of Seir. To me, he says, he cries. He does not say, he prays; he does not say, he entreats; but, he cries. What is this crying out, unless intense prayer, unless greatness of devotion? If you pray with much desire, you cry. The more fervently you pray, the more vehemently you cry in the ears of God. The more vehemently desire grows up, the more excellently does the cry of supplication, ascend. The cry of the inward man, therefore, is the fervent desire of the mind. Hence it is that it is said to Moses by the Lord: Why criest thou to me? (Exod. XIV). He is read to have said nothing, and yet he is reported to have cried. A cry of this kind penetrates heaven, appeases 996Bwrath, obtains pardon, prepares grace, reconciles the Lord, according to that which we read in the Psalmist: The Lord hath heard the desire of the poor (Psalm. X). Weigh, if you can, what and how much he gains who cries thus.

To me he cries out of Seir. Now it was not only many of those who were of Seir who importuned the Lord with cries of this kind; but from other nations also, countless men sighed toward the coming of Christ, desired the coming of Christ, and awaited it with all desire. Hence that prophecy of the patriarch Jacob concerning Christ: And he, he says, shall be the expectation of the nations (Gen. XLIX). Of all these, by way of mystery, those bore the figure who cried to the Lord out of Seir 996Cthrough the sighs of devotion. For those of Seir were one with the other nations in this, that all alike had stood strangers to the covenant of God. It is said, therefore, of those who are strangers as regards the devotion of the mind. To me he cries out of Seir.

But these things which we have heard about the ancients from the Lord's own voice, let us be zealous, if it please you, to draw down also to our own times, for our profit. To me, he says, he cries out of Seir. What is Seir? Seir is interpreted shaggy or hairy. And Esau indeed was called Seir from this, that he was beyond measure hairy and shaggy after the fashion of a hide. And a hair does indeed rise out of the flesh, but by growing it far oversteps the measure of the flesh. 996DSo too the desires of the flesh do indeed rise out of the necessity of the flesh, but unless they are moderated by temperance and thrift, they exceed the bounds of necessity and of moderation. To the hairs, therefore, belong 997Acarnal pleasure, worldly vanity, and any superfluity whatever of desires of this kind. A hair is cut off without hurt, and is not plucked out without hurt. So without doubt the motion of the flesh can and ought to be cut away without danger in what is superfluous, and to be borne with in what is necessary. Hence it is that by leniency they are commanded to shave the hairs of their flesh, not to pluck them out: for the desires of the flesh, which we cannot root out, must be tempered. As it were in Seir, therefore, are those who seek superfluous things, love superfluous things, and live in every superfluity. Whether you be in religion or outside it, if you go after superfluous things, if you take delight in superfluity, you are reckoned among the inhabitants of Seir. But woe, to you, whoever you are there and are silent in the confidence of an evil security. Woe to you, if you dwell in Seir and do not cry to the Lord. He cries who 997Bis pricked with compunction, he cries who confesses, he cries who entreats. He cries out of Seir who accuses himself of pleasure or of vanity. He cries out of Judaea who praises the Lord for pardon granted or grace bestowed. And it often happens that those who are in religion and live as it were in the land of promise grow torpid through excessive security, and presume beyond measure upon their own holiness, and fall silent both from the accusing of themselves and from the praise of God. But on the contrary, often to those who are still in the secular habit — after their lusts are spent they return to penitence, they are pricked in heart, they confess with the mouth, accusing themselves, condemning themselves; and while they judge themselves strictly for their own perverseness, they beat upon the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth with great cries. See how it 997Coften happens that regulars are silent through torpor, and seculars cry through devotion. And so, to the disgrace of those who grow torpid in religion and are silent in a foolish security, it is said to them by way of reproach what is being done by seculars: To me he cries out of Seir. The shaggy and hairy man, foul with the deformity of vices, already cries to me with a heart pricked by compunction, already importunes me with frequent sighs; and you are silent, because you think yourself holy, saying in your heart: I am rich, and I need nothing — and you know not that you are wretched, and miserable (Apoc., III): To me he cries out of Seir. Let the monk blush, let the canon blush who is negligent and torpid, slothful toward everything, and dumb from the praise of God, often singing psalms with the mouth and silent in the heart; let him blush, I say, and groan, when from the Lord's voice he hears 997Dand reads: To me he cries out of Seir. Let the anchorite blush, let the hermit blush, if by wandering in heart he is empty of the praises of God. Blush, you too, wretch that you are, who dictate and write these things — you who, being dumb in the praises of God, condemn those like yourself and charge them with silence. Blush, you too, who read and hear these things, if in the sight of the angels you recognize yourself as dumb and like me. What will any contemplative say, if he is empty of that praise to which he has been taken up? Are you too silent, you who have no other office? Why are you not provoked by the prophet's example, why not even by the angels'? Hear the voice of the Prophet: I will bless, he says, the Lord at all times (Psal. XXXIII). And the Angels do not cease to cry night and day: Holy, holy, holy, Lord God almighty, who is, 998Aand who was, and who is to come (Apoc. IV). Behold, the angels cry unceasingly; and you, why do you not cry always with the Prophet? What, if you cry and do not cry to the Lord? Perhaps you boast of yourself before your neighbor, perhaps you magnify yourself before your own self; you cry, but not to the Lord. Perhaps you say within yourself: I am not as the rest of the brethren; I am not, in short, like this carnal man, who every day is a slave to the belly and the gullet, in that he himself, having left Sion, has become an inhabitant of Seir, and among the Idumaeans has taken his lot as well as his fellowship. This is to make a tumult within yourself, not to cry to the Lord. But perhaps he whom you judge already condemns himself, accuses himself; perhaps he already cries to the Lord and goes out justified rather than you, so that you deservedly must hear from the Lord by way of reproach: 998BTo me he cries out of Seir.

Above we heard concerning the inhabitant of Seir how, and when, and how ardently he prays; let us hear further concerning the same man how humbly he prays, how wisely he prays. We have heard how devoutly he prays; let us hear how discreetly he prays. Keeper, what of the night? keeper, what of the night? Behold, this man who cries to the Lord out of Seir considers where he dwells and what manner of man he is; and the more deeply he reckons that he has sinned and the worse that he has acted, the more modestly, the more humbly he prays. Keeper, what of the night? keeper, what of the night? He considers how unjustly he has lived, and does not dare to say: Hear, O Lord, my justice. He considers how 998Cmany he has injured, and does not dare to say: Judge me, O Lord, according to my innocence (Psal. VII). He recalls that he has never had bowels of mercy, and therefore he does not presume to pray even thus: Have mercy on me, O God, according to thy great mercy (Psal. L). For blessed indeed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy (Matth. V). He sees himself to be unworthy of all mercy, if he be judged strictly. And therefore he does not presume to ask anything; he only shows in his prayer the affection of one entreating, with no petition inserted, and by mere hinting he suggests what he wants: Keeper, what of the night? keeper, what of the night? He names as keeper the one whom he invokes, and by the designation of the office he suggests what is owed to his sheep by the right of their condition. You are he who must keep the rational substance 998Dmade to your image, you alone who can keep it, you yourself who are wont to keep it. You must, because it is your creature; you can, because you are almighty; you are wont, because you are most merciful: Keeper, what of the night? keeper, what of the night? It belongs to a keeper to keep those placed under his keeping, to seek out the lost, to call back those turned away, to gather the scattered, to apply a remedy to the sick. I am a sick sheep, a feeble sheep; you know better than I what it befits you to do, you see more keenly what ought to be done about me: Keeper, what of the night? keeper, what of the night? A suppliant of this kind was perhaps enduring the deep night of excessive adversity when he entreated the Lord after this manner: Keeper, what of the night? keeper, what of the night? Surely he it is who keeps us in the day, he it is who 999Akeeps us in the night. In the day he keeps his own, that no adversity strike them; in the night he keeps them, that the scourge of adversity exceed not the measure of equity. It seems to some that the Lord has then forsaken his own, when he exposes them to the nocturnal horrors of tribulations, and that he keeps them when the day of prosperity has smiled. Behold, here he says nothing of the day, which is certain to all; that whereof doubt could be had, he confesses concerning the night: Keeper, what of the night? keeper, what of the night? Certainly, in that we interpret the day as prosperity and the night as adversity, we do not depart from the history. For it is a common usage often to adorn the historical sense with a figurative manner of speech, as is very easy to see in secular writings. And so the suppliant already spoken of was, as has been said, in the night, and he desired the same; 999Bbut out of excessive shame and humility he did not presume to ask. For why is it answered him by the Lord, Morning comes, unless because the true inspector of hearts knew that he desired the day? By way of hinting, therefore, that is understood to be said which is doubled in entreating the Lord himself: Keeper, what of the night? keeper, what of the night?

Certainly, when anything is presumed against the divine commandment, there is action taken through contumacy against majesty. But when we wish to propitiate the majesty we have injured, we have recourse to its mercy. And so, to propitiate majesty, we have recourse to its goodness — and not to that alone, but rather to its truth as well. For pardon has beyond doubt been promised 999Cto those who truly repent, and that by him, by him, I say, who is utterly unable to lie. And so we have God's mercy and God's truth as a twofold anchor of hope amid the storms of temptations and the shipwrecks of transgressions, lest, falling into the Charybdis of despair, we flow utterly away. These are they that lead us, after many shipwrecks, to the harbor of salvation. These are they that bring us out of the greatest perils into the citadel of true security: God hath sent, says the Prophet, his mercy and his truth, and hath delivered my soul (Psal., LVI). And so, after many crimes committed, returning often to the laments of penitence, we set God's truth and God's mercy over against God, that we may be able to appease the divine wrath. You know, then, that 999Dthis name God, is common to the three. You know likewise that it is the usage of Holy Scripture to attribute power to the Father, wisdom to the Son, goodness to the Holy Spirit, as it were in a special way. But why the several are attributed to the several, we have already written to you elsewhere, my Bernard, and we ought not to repeat it here. By the consideration, therefore, of certain properties, majesty belongs specially to the Father, truth to the Son, kindness to the Holy Spirit. When, therefore, we seek to appease the majesty we have injured, what else do we strive for than to soften the offense given to the Father? But when we demand the mercy promised to the penitent, and the truth of the promise, what else do we attempt than, with the Holy Spirit mediating together with the Son, to soothe the Father's wrath? When we importune the highest truth, the highest wisdom, 1000Awe invoke the Son. To implore the highest clemency, the highest goodness — what else is it than to entreat the Holy Spirit? It is wisdom that drives out the darkness of error, goodness that drives out the cold of iniquity. It is wisdom that keeps us amid the horrors of the night, goodness that keeps us amid the chills of the night. The Son of God, therefore, is a keeper; the Holy Spirit is a keeper. For the one frees us from error, the other from iniquity. Since, therefore, in these two we have access to the principal light, it is rightly doubled now, when it is said: Keeper, what of the night? keeper, what of the night? And there is added, and the keeper said. Behold, a third time the name of keeper is repeated, because the Trinity of persons is found in one Godhead. For rightly can the Father himself also 1000Bbe called our keeper. For as it belongs to truth to protect from error, and as it belongs to goodness to protect from iniquity, so it belongs to majesty to protect from any adversity whatever.

But let us discuss the letter itself yet more subtly, and from the things that are said let us diligently investigate what ought to be applied to which person: To me he cries out of Seir: Keeper, what of the night? Unless he acknowledged himself to be the keeper, he would surely not rightly say, he cries to me, in that it is said: Keeper, what of the night? keeper, what of the night? What is it, then, that he adds afterward? And the keeper said. He does not say I said, but, the keeper said, as if he himself were not the keeper. Or is he perhaps both a keeper, he who is invoked, and a keeper likewise, he by whom the answer is given — and yet not one and another, but one and 1000Cthe same Lord and God? But that first there is set down me, and afterward there is set down said, shows a plurality of persons in one Godhead. Again, in that he does not say, he cries to us, but, he cries to me, we understand that only one person is invoked, in that it is doubled: Keeper, what of the night? keeper, what of the night? But perhaps this too is asked, which is that person who is here specially invoked. This we surely know, that whatever the Son has, he has from the Father; and therefore both that he is able to keep and that he is wont to keep. What I say of the Son, this I say of the Holy Spirit. The Father, therefore, keeps through the Son, keeps through the Holy Spirit, keeps through himself. If, therefore, in that invocation it were repeated a third time, keeper, 1000Dwhat of the night, it could not fittingly be understood except of the Father. For the Son indeed keeps through himself, keeps through the Holy Spirit, but not through his Father. But the Holy Spirit alone in the Trinity does not keep through himself: for no person in the Trinity receives from him that he should do anything or be able to do anything. Since, therefore, there is a doubling of keeping in the invocation, we cannot rightly understand this of the Holy Spirit. For the doubling of the invocation compels the saying to be understood of the Son. The Son, therefore, is invoked when it is said: Keeper, what of the night? keeper, what of the night? But behold, when one person is invoked, another is bent. Bent, I say, not only to peace, but also to the promise of what is desired. For that is promised which is desired by 1001Athe suppliant, when it is said: Morning comes. We have seen which person it is that is invoked; let us see also which it is that is appeased. But, to say it briefly, the principal person is understood, for the appeasing of whom another is interposed. Now the Father is the principle of the Only-begotten, and the Only-begotten is the principle also of the Holy Spirit. And so, just as in the mediator and propitiator the begotten is understood, so in the one propitiated the unbegotten is understood, and not the Holy Spirit. For it does not befit the Holy Spirit to demand satisfaction for that which the Son pardons, from whom the same Spirit has all that he has. You now see, as I believe, more plainly what we have already said above, how in this, that keeper is found a third time, the Trinity of persons is understood. For the Son is first called keeper 1001Bbecause he keeps through himself; a second time he is named the same because he keeps through the Holy Spirit. And so in the first placing the Son alone is understood; in the second the Holy Spirit also is understood together with him; in the third, the unbegotten alone. The unbegotten alone is understood in that which is written: The keeper said: Morning comes, and night. What is it to say, unless to bring forth a word? For the Father to say is to utter forth truth. For the Father to say is to beget wisdom. But he says to us then, when he makes his good pleasure known to us by the revelation of his wisdom. Then something is promised to us according to our desire by the inward speech of the Father, when a firm certainty of our hope and expectation is poured into our heart. Now, I believe, it is plain to understand to which person that ought to belong which is said: 1001CThe keeper said. Morning comes, and night. We have seen what it is for God to say or to promise.

Let us now see of what sort is that which he promises: Morning comes, and night. Under the night, as was said above, of great tribulation they groaned, and panted after the day of a long-desired prosperity. What is it, then, that in the promise there is set before them not only the morning which they wanted, but also the night which they did not want? But the one is promised for consolation, the other foretold for instruction, and both for profit: Morning comes, and night. What is morning but the end of night, and what is night but the end of light? In one morning we have the end of night and the beginning 1001Dof day. Morning comes, therefore, because the night at which you shudder will now, behold, be ended, and the day for which you so greatly sigh will be begun in an instant. But when the long-hoped-for day has come upon you, it will not abide, because morning comes, and night. As if he were saying more plainly: The night shall so pass away as to return again; the day shall so return as to withdraw again. Morning comes, and night. If you are in the night, do not despair, because morning will come; if you are in the day, do not be confident, because night will come. Morning, therefore, is promised lest those who labor fail; the night to come is foretold that they may become wary. The one, surely, for a remedy; the other for a caution. Morning comes, and night. But what else is it to say these things to anyone, than to show the mutability of this time and the variety of alternating vicissitudes, and to form the mind to a contempt both of worldly prosperity and 1002Aof worldly adversity, and to provoke it to the desire of things eternal? He says therefore: Morning comes, and night.

Behold, we have now heard what the things already said sound according to the history. Let us hear further what they themselves signify according to the mystical understanding: Keeper, what of the night? keeper what of the night? The keeper said: Morning comes, and night, as has already been said above, many not only of the Jews but also of the Gentiles had foreknown the coming of Christ and were awaiting it with great desire, according to that word: Behold, there shall come the Desired of all nations (Agg. II). He does not say, he who is to be desired, but, the Desired, that you may understand that in every nation some at some time burned with desire for him. His coming, therefore, was foreknown by many 1002Bof the Gentiles, and ardently desired. Yet they had risen to this knowledge little by little, and step by step through intervals of time. For first, certain of them, divinely illumined and taught by natural reason, understood in how great a darkness almost the whole human race was wrapped, in that it was in bondage to a multiformity of idolatry so deformed, and to a deformity so multiform, that it said to wood and to stone: Thou art my God. Yet not even these same men were able to understand fully under how great a burden of captivity they labored — even those who believed in and worshipped the one and true God. Others afterward, more deeply illumined, understood more fully the misery of our captivity and the sentence of damnation: 1002Chow human nature after sin, the wound of mortality having been inflicted upon it, was cast out of paradise into the world, as from a fatherland into exile, and was afterward to be cast out by death from the world into hell, as from exile into a house of bondage. And so they understood the greatness of the peril, but they were not equally able to understand the manner of escaping. And so neither those, nor yet these, had escaped the darkness of the night of the earth, who were darkened under the wrapping of so great an ignorance. Others, searching still more deeply and gazing more subtly, discerned by the leading hand of grace, found and beheld with much gazing not only the greatness of the damnation, but also the manner of reparation. And so those who were of this sort understood the manner of restoration, but concerning this 1002Dvery thing they did not know the divine good pleasure. But last of all, to certain men not only of the Jews but also of the Gentiles the divine purpose in this very matter was revealed, so that they foreknew the mystery of our reparation in so great a part, and some of them even preached it, and some at length even committed it to writing. To these things the proclamations of the prophets and the oracles of the nations bear witness. But, passing over the rest, let us for the present attend only to those who, as we have said, understood the manner of restoration, but did not know the divine disposition in that very matter. And so, with reason as their guide, yet with the light of divine revelation going before, they understood that, if man had not sinned, he could have ascended to the supernal beatitude by the mediation of justice. But if by mercy alone, with no justice intervening, 1003Ahe should receive after his fall what he had lost, or even what had been promised, he would bear the everlasting reproach of his own casting down. For the devil could always cast it in his teeth that he had no right in that which he obtained; and thus it would be established that he had not recovered his ancient dignity either. But where there would not be a full reparation of the first dignity, neither would there be a full resturatio. In order, therefore, that man might rise again according to the reckoning of justice, satisfaction was needed. And this too is added to that: because, if man paid no satisfaction, even if he had outwardly no exactor of his fault, he would never fully blot out the exaction of a biting conscience and the mark of confusion. Did not Eve believe the serpent rather than her own and so beneficent Creator? Did not Adam choose rather to offend the Almighty than 1003Bhis own wife? How then, after the boldness of so great a presumption, would they obtain a tranquil conscience, or blot out from the heart the mark of confusion, if they made satisfaction in nothing? But now the devotion of the faithful glories more in the satisfaction of its redemption than it was formerly confounded by the reproach of so great a casting down — so much so that everywhere on earth the Church of the faithful sings with all confidence. O truly necessary sin of Adam, and ours, which has been blotted out by the death of Christ! O happy fault, which merited to have so great and such a Redeemer! A clear reason, therefore, teaches that without satisfaction man could not be fully repaired. But for the fullness of satisfaction it was needful that the humiliation in the expiation 1003Cbe as great as the presumption had been in the transgression. Now of rational substance God holds the highest place, but man the lowest. When, therefore, man presumed against God, there was made a lifting up from the lowest to the highest. It was needful, therefore, that for the remedy of expiation there be made a humiliation from the highest to the lowest; but this none at all could do save some one of the persons in the Trinity. Again, if man could recover, and did recover, justice through a creature rather than through the Creator, and through the mediation of justice the glory of the beatitude to come, would he not thenceforth, against the excellence of his first dignity, be more beholden to the creature than to the Creator, to the thing made than to the maker? For it is surely more to be justified and beatified than to be created. And so for the full restoration of man there would in no way suffice 1003Da person who was not God. But it is likewise agreed that, as far as the reckoning of justice goes, nothing would pertain to man of whatever any person whatsoever might do who was not man. But who would not see that it is equitable and full of right and altogether reasonable that a son make satisfaction for a father, a brother for a brother, if the one cannot, if the other is not fit for these things? The redemption of man, therefore, demanded a man who, for the debt of his condition, should deservedly come to the aid of his own nature. Again, man by disobedience incurred the debt of death; and for the expiation of that same debt it was needful, by obeying, to pay an undue death for one that was due. But this none at all could do save a man mortal and just, and one who was in no way liable to the sentence of death. And so, that the person of the human Redeemer 1004Amight be fit for the satisfaction of the debt, it was needful that he be true God, who would suffice for this, and that he be true man, who by the right of kinship would deservedly pay it. And how, I ask, would he be a true and perfect mediator between God and man, who had nothing in common with either of the two? But on the contrary, no mediation could be stronger, none firmer, than that which should be made through him who was a partaker of either nature. See how it is gathered from reason how it was needful that the mediator of God and men be true God and true man.

Moreover, by the same reason investigating, it is found to which person of the highest Trinity 1004Bthis dispensation of mercy is chiefly to be applied. As was shown above, in order that man might fully recover his first dignity, satisfaction was needed. But that satisfaction might be made, there had to be both one who should exact it and likewise one who should pay it. But to punish a fault which the Father would pardon, or to exact any satisfaction for it, would in no way be fitting either to the Son or to the Holy Spirit, each of whom has from the Father all that he has: and so on this side it was needful that either the Father, or none at all, should employ exaction; and it was likewise needful that either the Son or the Holy Spirit make satisfaction for man. But if the Holy Spirit took up the office of mediator, man would perhaps hold this mediation suspect. 1004CWhat wonder, I ask, if in this matter man thought as a man, feared as a man? He would perhaps fear that the Son might favor the Father, from whom he has all that he has, more than the Holy Spirit, from whom he has nothing of what he has. And if man had two against himself and one for himself, he would perhaps not wholly trust in such a mediation. But it was needful that the nature which had fallen by believing should rise again by believing. It had fallen by believing the serpent; it would rise again by believing the Redeemer, so that what it had lost through faith it might recover through faith, and be compelled to return by the same gate through which it pleased the good pleasure of God that man should go out. But if the Son of God took up the cause of man, he would bring man no ground of suspicion. For, according to the reason set forth above, the Holy Spirit could not fail to 1004Dpardon a fault which the Son wished to remit — how much more one which he wished to blot out by his own satisfaction? Nay, without doubt, the Son taking up the cause of man, it was more fitting that the Holy Spirit exercise the office of a fellow worker than of an exactor. See how open reason demonstrates that the cause of man required, for its own expiation, the person of the Son especially.

Hear this too. Surely by the presumption of the forbidden thing, and as it were by robbery, man was eager to ascend even to the likeness of God. In order, therefore, that the manner of satisfaction might answer to the manner of the transgression, reason demanded that the repairer of our ruin should descend by self-emptying from the likeness of God to the likeness of the fallen. Now the Son is the image and figure of the Father. It was he, therefore, 1005Ahe, who according to the fitting manner of the due expiation had to descend and to take up the likeness of man, so that one and the same might have the likeness of God from a divine generation, and the likeness of man from a human generation. But we know that the manner of human propagation according to nature does not allow that a man proceed from a man without one begetting; but the property of the Holy Spirit does allow this, that he himself proceed as God from God without generation. As, therefore, the Holy Spirit could not, according to the mutual congruence of likenesses, descend from the highest to the lowest, so neither was it fitting that he take up the cause of man for the blotting out of the fault of an affected likeness.

Note besides what he specially affected 1005Bin that robbery, and you will find (and no wonder) that that affecting was a special injury done to the Son: You shall be, he says, as gods, knowing good and evil (Gen. II). What is the Son of God but the wisdom of God? And so he sinned specially against wisdom who wished to obtain knowledge by robbery. Weigh, if you can, how just it was on the one side, how merciful on the other, that the Father should avenge the injury done to his Son, and the Son should pardon it. Learn, O man, what you are to do; learn what you ought to do. Learn, I say, to remit your own injury, and to avenge another's. Behold, it was little for the Son of God to pardon his own, unless he also expiated that very same injury before the Father. O astounding mercy, O inestimable charity! But that contraries may be cured by contraries, consider how fitting, how artful it seems that he who had fallen through unwisdom 1005Cshould rise again through wisdom. It was fitting that, who falsehood was the cause of perdition, truth should become the way of salvation. It was fitting that he who incurs death through the word of the devil should return to life through the word of God. And so from what has been said it is sufficiently plain, as I judge, that to no other person in the Trinity was it more suitable to be propitiated by another than to the Father, and to no other was it more fitting to expiate the cause of man before the Father than to the Son. And so that highest Trinity of persons, one God, divided among themselves the business of human salvation, so that one and the same fault of man the Father should punish, the Son expiate, the Holy Spirit pardon. For the greater glory, therefore, of fallen man, that he might be able to rise again through justice, the Father exacts satisfaction, 1005Dthe Son pays it, the Holy Spirit interposes himself as the middle term. This is the way, this the gate of salvation. This is the highest, this the singular manner of human restoration. And so the ancient Fathers, not only many of the Jews but also of the Gentiles, understood this: for in this very matter, as has been said, they had been taught both by innate reason and by divine revelation. But those who understood this, and yet did not know the divine good pleasure concerning this very thing, in no way presumed to ask it. For who would ever presume to ask that the Son of God should visit the human race through himself, redeem it through himself — visit it by the incarnation, redeem it by the passion. Who, I say, would presume to ask this, unless he had first come to know the purpose of God concerning it from divine revelation? 1006AYet they desired what they did not dare to ask. For this they panted, for this they sighed; for this they importuned the Lord with groans and with tears, and cried aloud to him with the clamors of burning desires. The type of these is expressed in that which is said by the Lord: To me he cries out of Seir: Keeper, what of the night, keeper, what of the night? Keeper, they say, what of the night? As if by hinting they expressed what they were seeking with such burnings of desire. We know, they say, O Son of God, Word of the Most High, we know that your coming is necessary for us, but we do not presume to ask it. We know that our satisfaction hangs upon your incarnation, hangs upon your passion; but you will do it, if you will. For who would dare to ask this, who would presume to demand it, 1006Bunless he first knew your good pleasure concerning it? Keeper, what of the night, keeper what of the night?

Who, I ask, speaks to whom? Surely a creature to its Creator. Why then, in invoking the Creator, does he not say, Creator, Creator. Who, I say, hears these things, or from whom? Surely the Lord, and from a servant? Why then is it not said to him, Lord, Lord? Surely that they had him as Creator, God, Lord was common to them with all men; but that they did not walk in common with the rest along the broad way of perdition belonged to them above the rest from his keeping. They set before him, therefore, the prerogative of grace which they had received from his gift. Keeper, what of the night? Keeper, what of the night? You are he who has kept us in the night, lest the mist of unbelief wrap us up 1006Ctogether with the rest. You are he who has kept us in the night, lest the cold of malice extinguish our charity. A beneficence begun prepares us the confidence of presuming greater things. We hope that the salvation begun is to be perfected. But that you may perfect the salvation begun, it is necessary that you come. It is necessary that you come through yourself; and not this only, but that you come also through your Spirit. Keeper, what of the night? Keeper, what of the night? And so the ancients foresaw through the Spirit that it was necessary that the Son of God should come, and necessary likewise that he should send the Holy Spirit. They foresaw this, I say, and therefore they double it when they cry: Keeper, what of the night? Keeper, what of the night? See how necessary is the coming of both. By the coming of the Son the faith of believers is founded; 1006Dby the coming of the Holy Spirit the faith of the faithful is confirmed. One and the same salvation of man the Son works. The Holy Spirit works together with him. Why, then, should man now doubt concerning the appeasing of the Father, when he sees that he has in this business two equally powerful fellow workers? Let him say, then, to the one who keeps him, let him say to the one who will keep him — on this side through himself, on that through the Holy Spirit. Keeper what of the night? Keeper, what of the night?

And the keeper said: Morning comes, and night. From the very hour of the first transgression until Christ, all were under the night, and could not find the way of returning to the fatherland nor the gate of entering into life; and therefore they desired the morning of the true day, they who 1007Awere not ignorant what darkness they were suffering. And behold, answer is made to them according to their desire, when it is said by the Lord: Morning comes. What is morning, unless a certain beginning of the light of day? But you know who says: I am the light of the world (Joan. VIII). The light of the world and the sun of justice is Christ, who enlightens every man coming into this world. And so the beginning of the true light is the coming of our Savior. For when the sun of justice rises, the true morning is begun. Of this morning we have in the Prophet: There hath risen up a light in the darkness to the upright: the Lord is merciful and compassionate (Psal. III). And so he says, morning comes. You desire the morning; you shall have the morning. You sigh toward the coming of my Son. Quickly will he come whom you seek. The keeper said: Morning comes. As has already been said above, 1007Bhe does not say I said, but, he said. And so one person is that which is invoked, another that by which the answer is given. The Son is entreated, and the Father is propitiated. The Son is importuned, the Father has mercy; the Son is implored, the Father bestows. The keeper said: Morning comes. For the Father to say, as has been said, is for him to reveal. For the Father to promise is to pour into the human mind, through the confidence of hope, the good pleasure of his purpose. Behold, what we said far above, that certain men understood the manner of human restoration, how it had to come about; but, because they did not know the divine good pleasure concerning this very thing, they in no way presumed to ask. For an understanding of this kind was given them for this, that they might understand what they ought to desire, toward what they ought to sigh. And that by long and much desiring, groaning, sighing they might become worthy 1007Cto be made certain concerning it. And behold, to those anxiously desiring and humbly entreating, the coming of the Redeemer is revealed — by whom it was formerly thirsted for, and yet not foreknown. For behold, they now deserve to hear, Morning comes. And so the coming of the Son of God is revealed to the nations in that which is said to the mystical Idumaeans: Morning comes. The oracles of the prophet Balaam bear witness to what we say (Num. XXIV); the prophecies of the Sibyl bear witness to this very thing. There bears witness also to this testimony, unless I am deceived, that altar which at Athens had been consecrated to the unknown God (Act. XVII). But when Paul the apostle inquired whether he was to be a man, or a Spirit of the gods: Answer was made by the blessed Dionysius, true God and true man, and he himself shall renew 1007Dthe world. And so from these things it is plain to understand that the nations foreknew the coming of Christ from revelation. But when divine revelation had been received in this matter, prophetic men, whether of the Gentiles or of the Jews, sought with all urgency and confidence what they had not before dared to ask. What else did that voice of the prophet to the Father seek? Send forth the lamb, the ruler of the earth (Isai. XVI). What else did that voice of the Psalmist to the same one breathe? Send forth thy hand from on high (Psal. CXLIII). Is not his coming sought from the Son himself devoutly enough and no less openly, when it is said to him through the prophet? O that thou wouldst rend the heavens and come down! (Isai. LXIV.) Was not the Psalmist demanding his coming plainly enough, when he cried out to him? Stir up thy power and come, that thou mayest save us (Psal. LXXIX).

• 1008A

And so the coming of Christ is foretold — and not only of Christ, but also of Antichrist. Morning comes, and night. The coming of Christ makes the day; the coming of Antichrist brings on the night. O night dark and full of every horror, which the presence of Antichrist makes! For at that time so great a mist of seduction is to come upon the whole world, that even the elect, if it can be done, may be led into error. He says therefore: Morning comes, and night. But if we still have recourse, in the words aforesaid, to the tropological sense, we shall perhaps find something whereby we may be edified. Keeper, what of the night? Keeper, what of the night? Assuredly, as many of us as have been reborn in Christ, being sons of light, ought to walk as sons of light. Beyond doubt the night of the Idumaean is one thing, 1008Band that of the Christian another. So too the day of the one is one thing, and of the other another. The day of the Idumaean, as we have said, is the prosperity of this world, and his night the adversity of the same. But to the faithful man what is said: He shall bring forth thy justice as the light, and thy judgment as the noonday (Psal. XXXVI). For the path of the just shineth as a light, and groweth even to the perfect day (Psal. IV). And so our day is justice, not injustice. Diabolical temptation brings on the night; divine inspiration makes the day. But we run into the darkness of night as often as we sin through ignorance or through malice, and we must needs cry out to our Samaritan. Keeper, what of the night? Keeper, what of the night? Who is this keeper to whom the cry is made in the night, unless that Samaritan who had mercy on him who fell 1008Camong robbers, and took care of him (Luc. X)? For Samaritan is interpreted keeper. This Samaritan surely [keeps us] in the day, this one keeps us in the night. This one, I say, keeps us in the day, so long as he grants us to persevere in good. In the night he keeps us, lest after the fall of sin we be given over to a reprobate sense, and, going from evil to evil, fall at last into despair, or into a crookedness of mind. He, therefore, is our keeper, he likewise our consoler. He it is who keeps us in temptation, he who consoles us in tribulation. Him we have as keeper, him as consoler; and at his asking, at his granting, we receive another also: I will ask, he says, the Father, and he shall give you another Paraclete (Joan. XIV). Paraclete sounds the same 1008Das consoler. Of the same Paraclete whom we have received through the Son, the same Son says in another place: When the Paraclete Spirit shall come, whom I will send you from my Father (Joan. XV). Since, therefore, the Only-begotten of God both keeps us by consoling and consoles us by keeping — and now indeed through himself, now through his Spirit — it is rightly said to him by doubling. Keeper, what of the night? Keeper, what of the night? But since he keeps us both by day and by night, as has been said, he who cries thus suggests that he is in the night, in that he makes mention not of the day's keeping but only of the night's. But the entreaty of one walking in the day ought to be one thing, and that of one walking in the night another. One thing, in short, is his who does the works of light, and another his who does the works 1009Aof darkness. We know that he who doth truth cometh to the light, that his works may be made manifest (Joan. III). Do you wish to hear how confidently a worker of this kind prays, in that he himself was walking in the light: In whatsoever, he says, day I shall call upon thee, swiftly exaundi me (Psal. LV). Hear on the contrary how timidly, how modestly he entreats who considers that he has run into the darkness of iniquity. Keeper, what of the night? Keeper, what of the night? He does not say, spare, spare; he does not say, have mercy. O how tremblingly he entreats who does not dare to say, have mercy on me, O God, have mercy on me; who does not presume to say, O God, be merciful to me a sinner! Often we hear those who ask alms cry nothing else to the rich man passing by, but only, Lord, Lord. So this man cries with the voice of one entreating to the ever-watchful and untiring 1009Bkeeper of our infirmity. Keeper, what of the night? Keeper, what of the night? But what wonder if the Christian cries so humbly, when, as was said above, the Idumaean cries thus? For the higher the step, the worse the fall. For hence it is that any Christian whatever is with much more difficulty renewed to life at the fall of a single crime, than any unbeliever whatever, liable to however many crimes. Hear on this not my judgment but the Apostle's: It is impossible, he says, for those who were once illuminated, have tasted also the heavenly gift, and were made partakers of the Holy Spirit, have tasted likewise the good word of God and the powers of the world to come, and are fallen away, to be renewed again unto penance (Hebr. VI). For to any unbelievers whatever 1009Cflocking to baptism, penitence alone suffices, without any satisfaction. But for the faithful who sin and repent, penitence alone does not suffice, without a worthy satisfaction. For the expiation of Christians after a fall is not wont to be made without the slaying of their own flesh — which the passion of Christ, that is, the slaying of another's flesh alone, is wont to confer upon penitent unbelievers. For if we sin willfully after having received the knowledge of the truth, there is now left no victim for sins. What wonder, then, if those groan humbly who recognize the greatness of their guilt? Let them say, then, let them say who are of this sort: Keeper what of the night? Keeper, what of the night? And so by hinting he shows what it is that they would ask, and do not presume to. 1009DAs if they said more plainly: we long to ask indulgence, to repair grace. But recognizing how shamelessly we have acted, we do not presume to ask. And so we have of our own accord forsaken the ways of truth, we have of set purpose fallen into the works of darkness. We wish now at last to return, but amid nocturnal fears, amid nocturnal horrors, we neither can nor know how. You surely are he who can call back such men, who are wont to call back such men. And so you will do it, if you will. What you bestow on others, you can bestow on us also. Keeper, what of the night? Keeper, what of the night? But if any Christian whatever deservedly prays so humbly, so suppliantly after a fall, how much more anyone who has professed an order and religion? For [to] the reproach and the confusion of those who grow lukewarm and melt away in religion, it is objected 1010Aand cast in their teeth by the Lord what secular persons too often to do: To me he cries out of Seir: Keeper, what of the night? Keeper, what of the night? If the inhabitant of Seir cries so humbly, what more is he to do whom the name of religion honors, especially if he considers that he has fallen shamefully? Or do those who are of this sort perhaps not know that a little leaven corrupts the whole lump? What does it profit to gather wages, and to put them into a pierced world, and to lose, out of a little and in a moment, whatever is gathered from this side and that over much time and with many sweats? O how many years' merits, how many wages of merits can be lost at the fall of one, and one, of a crime? Or do you not know that he who offends in one thing is guilty of all? (Jac. II.) For he who by even one 1010Bcriminal act has rendered God offended toward himself has constituted himself guilty also in the rest which he has observed; guilty, I say, though not so far as to be punished in hell as it were for the transgression of them, yet so far as to be deprived of that reward of incorruption which he was to have had in heaven for the keeping of the rest. He, therefore, who for a momentary delight despises God and the Lord of all things, forsakes the fellowship of the angels, loses the kingdom of heaven — what, I ask, will he say when he has stood up to entreat God? Let him learn at least by example what he ought to do. Let him learn, I say, how humbly he ought to pray, how modestly he must entreat, if even the inhabitant of Seir prays so reverently, if he cries with so humble a devotion who never held any place of holiness, who never 1010Cdeserved to taste how sweet the Lord is, how good the God of Israel is to those who are right of heart. To me, he says, he cries out of Seir: Keeper, what of the night? Keeper, what of the night?

But whoever you are who hear these things, if you consider the greatness of your casting down, there is nevertheless no ground on which you ought to despair: for hear next whence you may deservedly revive to hope: And the keeper said: Morning comes. Behold, to one laboring in the night, behold, to one entreating for the obtaining of the morning, suddenly and unexpectedly there is promised what is sought with so great humility. In no enormity of vices, therefore, 1010Dis his compassion to be despaired of, who is so abundant in pardoning. But ought we therefore to implore shamelessly and irreverently him whom we have come to know to be so ready to forgive? Nay, so much the more ought we to blush in his sight, so much the more humbly to ask pardon, as we have found him kinder and sweeter whom we have contumaciously offended: The keeper said: Morning comes. For this keeper to say by promising, or to promise by saying, is to pour into the entreating soul the certitude of hope by the inspiration of his grace, and to take away all diffidence or ambiguity concerning the expectation of its desire. And so what is answered through the keeper is understood as said by way of a promise, yet in a mystical manner of speech: Morning comes and night.