On the Greatness of the Soul 33–36

A. O that we could both question about this some most learned man—and not only that, but also most eloquent, and altogether most wise and perfect! How he would explain, by speaking and arguing, what the soul can do in the body, what in itself, what with God, to whom, when most pure, it is nearest, and in whom it has its supreme and whole good! But now, since there is no one else for this task, I dare not fail you; and there is this reward, that while, unlearned, I explain what the soul can do, I safely test what I myself can do. First of all, however, let me cut off a very broad and boundless expectation of yours, lest you think I will speak of every soul; I will speak only of the human soul, which alone we ought to care about, if we care about ourselves. This soul, then, first—as anyone can easily notice—gives life to this earthly and mortal body by its presence; it gathers it into one and holds it in one, and does not allow it to flow apart and waste away; it causes nourishment to be distributed evenly through the members, each being given its own; it preserves its harmony and measure, not only in beauty but also in growing and begetting. But these things can be seen to be common to man with plants too; for we say that these also live, and we see and admit that each of them is preserved in its own kind, nourished, grows, and begets. Climb, then, another step, and see what the soul can do in the senses, where life is understood more evidently and plainly. For we must not listen to a certain impiety, plainly rustic and more wooden than the very trees whose patronage it takes up, which believes that the vine feels pain when the grape is plucked, and that such things not only feel when they are cut, but also see and hear; of this sacrilegious error there is another place to speak. Now, as I had begun, consider the power of the soul in the senses and in the very motion of the more manifestly living creature, in which we can have no fellowship with things fixed by roots. The soul directs itself into touch, and by it perceives and distinguishes hot, cold, rough, smooth, hard, soft, light, heavy. Then it judges innumerable differences of tastes, smells, sounds, and shapes, by tasting, smelling, hearing, and seeing. And in all these it accepts and seeks what accords with the nature of its body, and rejects and flees the contrary. It withdraws from these senses at fixed intervals of time and, restoring their motions as if by a kind of holiday, turns over within itself, in crowds and in manifold ways, the images of things it has drawn in through them; and all this is sleep and dreams. Often too it delights in the ease of motion by frisking and roaming, and without labor orders the harmony of the members; for the union of the sexes it does what it can, and from a twofold nature it labors to make one by fellowship and love. It works together not only to beget offspring but also to cherish, protect, and nourish them. It binds itself by habit to the things among which the body acts and by which it sustains the body, and is separated from them with difficulty, as if from members; and this power of habit, not broken even by separation from the things themselves and by an interval of time, is called memory. But again no one denies that the soul can do all these things in beasts too. Rise, then, to the third step, which is now proper to man; and think of memory, not of things grown in by habit, but of innumerable things committed to it and retained by attention and by signs: so many arts of craftsmen, the cultivation of fields, the building of cities, the manifold marvels of various buildings and undertakings; the invention of so many signs in letters, in words, in gesture, in every kind of sound, in paintings and sculptures; the languages of so many peoples, so many institutions, so many new things, so many restored; so great a number of books and of every kind of record for keeping memory, and so great a care for posterity; the ranks of offices, powers, honors, and dignities, whether in families, or in the state at home and at war, or in profane or sacred ceremonies; the power of reasoning and devising, the rivers of eloquence, the varieties of poems, the thousand forms of make-believe for the sake of play and jest, the skill of making music, the precision of measuring, the discipline of numbering, the conjecture of the past and the future from the present. These are great and wholly human. But this wealth is still common partly to learned and unlearned, partly to good and bad souls. Look up, then, and step onto the fourth step, from which goodness begins and all true praise. For from here the soul dares to set itself above not only its own body, if it moves some part of the universe, but even above the whole universal body; and not to consider the goods of that body its own goods, and, comparing them with its own power and beauty, to distinguish and despise them; and hence, the more it delights in itself, the more to withdraw itself from filth and to make itself wholly spotless, most pure, and most adorned; to strengthen itself against everything that tries to move it from its purpose and resolve; to value human society highly, and to wish nothing for another that it would not wish to happen to itself; to follow the authority and precepts of the wise, and to believe that through these God speaks to it. In this so splendid activity of the soul there is still labor, and a great and very fierce conflict against the troubles and the allurements of this world. For in the very work of purification there lurks a fear of death, often not great, but often very violent: not great when it is most firmly believed (for to see whether this is true is granted only to a thoroughly purified soul) that all things are governed by so great a providence and justice of God that death cannot befall anyone unjustly, even if perhaps an unjust man has inflicted it. But death is greatly feared at this step when that truth is believed the more weakly the more anxiously it is sought, and is seen the less, the less tranquillity there is because of fear—tranquillity which is most necessary for investigating the most obscure things. Then, the more the soul feels, by the very fact that it progresses, how much difference there is between the pure and the defiled, the more it fears that, when this body is laid aside, God may be less able to bear it defiled than it can bear itself. But nothing is more difficult than both to fear death and to restrain oneself from the allurements of this world, as the dangers themselves demand. Yet so great is the soul that it can do even this, with the help, of course, of the justice of the supreme and true God, by which this universe is sustained and ruled; by which also it has come about that all things not only are, but are such that they could not at all be better. To this justice it most piously and most safely entrusts itself, to be helped and perfected in so difficult a work of its cleansing. When this has been accomplished, that is, when the soul is free from all corruption and washed of its stains, then at last it holds itself within itself most joyfully, and fears nothing at all for itself, nor is it distressed about anything for its own sake. This, then, is the fifth step: for it is one thing to achieve purity, another to hold it; and the activity by which the soul restores itself when defiled is altogether different from that by which it does not allow itself to be defiled again. At this step it conceives in every way how great it is; and when it has conceived this, then indeed with a great and incredible confidence it advances toward God, that is, toward the very contemplation of truth, and that most high and most hidden reward for which it has labored so much. But this activity, that is, the desire to understand the things that truly and supremely are, is the soul's highest looking, than which it has none more perfect, better, or more upright. This, then, will be the sixth step of activity: for it is one thing for the very eye of the soul to be cleansed, so that it does not look in vain and rashly and see wrongly; another to guard and strengthen its health; another, now, to direct a serene and upright look toward what is to be seen. Those who wish to do this before they have been cleansed and healed are so beaten back by that light of truth that they think there is not only nothing good in it but even very much evil, and deny it the name of truth, and with a kind of lust and pitiable pleasure flee back into their darkness, which their sickness can bear, cursing the medicine. Hence, by divine inspiration and in a most orderly way, the Prophet says: “Create a clean heart in me, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” For the right spirit, I believe, is that by which the soul cannot turn aside and err in seeking truth. This is certainly not renewed in it unless the heart has first been made clean, that is, unless thought itself has first restrained and purified itself from all desire and from the dregs of mortal things. Now in the very vision and contemplation of truth, which is the seventh and last step of the soul—and no longer a step, but a kind of dwelling to which one arrives by those steps—what joys there are, what enjoyment of the supreme and true good, what breath of serenity and eternity, what shall I say? Certain great and incomparable souls have said it, as far as they judged it should be said, souls whom we believe to have seen and to see these things. This I now plainly dare to say to you: if we hold most steadfastly the course which God commands us and which we have undertaken to hold, we shall arrive, through the Power and Wisdom of God, at that supreme cause, or supreme author, or supreme principle of all things, or by whatever other name so great a reality can more fittingly be called. When this is understood, we shall truly see how all things under the sun are vanity of the vain. For vanity is deceit, and “the vain” are understood as the deceived, or the deceiving, or both. Yet one may discern how great a distance there is between these things and those that truly are; and how all these things too were nevertheless created by God as their author, and in comparison with those are nothing, but considered in themselves are wonderful and beautiful. Then we shall recognize how true are the things we were commanded to believe, and how excellently and wholesomely we were nourished by mother Church, and what is the usefulness of that milk which the apostle Paul declared he had given the little ones to drink: a food which it is most useful to receive while one is nursed by one's mother; shameful when one is already grown; pitiable to spit out when it is needed; a mark of wickedness and impiety ever to find fault with it or hate it; but to handle and dispense it suitably is full of praise and love. We shall see also such great changes and alternations of this bodily nature, as it serves the divine laws, that we shall hold even the resurrection of the flesh, which some believe too slowly and some do not believe at all, as so certain that it will not be more certain to us that the sun, when it has set, will rise. And those who mock the man taken up by the most powerful, eternal, unchangeable Son of God as the example and firstfruits of our salvation, and his birth from a virgin, and the other miracles of this history, we shall despise as we would children who, seeing a painter paint with pictures set before him to look at, think that a man cannot be painted unless the painter looks at another picture. And so great is the pleasure in contemplating truth, in whatever measure each can contemplate it, so great the purity, so great the sincerity, so unquestionable the trustworthiness of things, that one would think he had never known anything before, when he seemed to himself to know; and, so that the soul may be less hindered from cleaving wholly to the whole truth, death, which was formerly feared, that is, complete flight and escape from this body, is desired as the highest gift.

You have heard how great the force and power of the soul is. To sum it up briefly: just as it must be admitted that the human soul is not what God is, so it must be held that nothing among all the things he created is nearer to God. And therefore it is divinely and uniquely handed down in the catholic Church that no creature is to be worshiped by the soul (for I prefer to speak in the words in which these things were made known to me), but only the very Creator of all things that are, from whom are all things, through whom are all things, in whom are all things; that is, the unchangeable principle, the unchangeable wisdom, the unchangeable love, the one true and perfect God, who never was not and never will not be, who never was otherwise and never will be otherwise; than whom nothing is more hidden, nothing more present; who is found with difficulty where he is, and with more difficulty where he is not; with whom not all can be, and without whom no one can be; and whatever more incredible, yet more fitting and apt, we men are able to say of him. This God alone, then, is to be worshiped by the soul, neither separately nor confusedly. For whatever the soul worships as God, it must think better than itself. But neither the earth, nor the seas, nor the stars, nor the moon, nor the sun, nor anything at all that can be touched or seen with these eyes, nor finally the sky itself, which cannot be seen by us, is to be believed better than the nature of the soul. On the contrary, sure reason proves that all these are far inferior to any soul whatever, if only lovers of truth dare to follow it most steadfastly and attentively as it leads them by unaccustomed and therefore steep ways. But if there is anything else in nature besides those things that are known to the senses and that occupy some space of place—than all of which we have said the human soul is more excellent—if, then, there is anything else among the things God created, part of it is inferior and part equal: inferior, like the soul of a beast; equal, like that of an angel; but better, nothing. And if at any time some one of these is better, this comes about by the soul's sin, not by its nature. Yet by sin it does not become so much worse that the soul of a beast is to be preferred or compared to it. God alone, then, is to be worshiped by it, who alone is its author. But any other man, however wise and perfect, or indeed any soul at all that is possessed of reason and most blessed, is only to be loved and imitated, and to be given what befits it according to its merit and rank. For “You shall worship the Lord your God, and him only shall you serve” (Deut 6:13; Matt 4:10). But let us know that help is to be given to kindred souls who err and are in trouble, as far as is permitted and commanded, in such a way that, when this very thing is done well, we understand that God does it through us. Nor let us claim anything as our own, deceived by the desire for empty glory, by which one evil we are plunged from the highest to the lowest. Nor let us hate those oppressed by vices, but the vices themselves; not those who sin, but the sins themselves. For we ought to wish all to be helped, even those who have harmed us, or wish to harm us, or wish us to be harmed in any way. This is the true, this the perfect, this the only religion, by which to be reconciled to God belongs to the greatness of the soul about which we are inquiring, and by which it makes itself worthy of freedom. For he frees from all things, whom to serve is most useful for all, and to please whom in his service is the perfect and only freedom. But I see that I have almost gone beyond the bounds of my purpose, and have said many things to you for so long without any questioning; nor do I regret it. For since these things are scattered through so many writings of the Church, although we seem to have gathered them not unsuitably, they still cannot be fully understood unless each one, acting bravely in the fourth of those seven steps, keeping piety, and acquiring health and strength to grasp them, investigates all things one by one most diligently and shrewdly; for in all those steps, which we might better call acts, there is a distinct and proper beauty.

For we are inquiring about the soul's power, and it may be that it does all these things at once, but it seems to itself to do only what it does with difficulty, or at least with fear; for it does this much more attentively than the rest. Going upward, then, let the first act, for the sake of teaching, be called animation; the second, sensation; the third, art; the fourth, virtue; the fifth, tranquillity; the sixth, approach; the seventh, contemplation. They can also be named in this way: of the body; through the body; about the body; toward itself; in itself; toward God; with God. They can also be named thus: beautifully of another; beautifully through another; beautifully about another; beautifully toward the beautiful; beautifully in the beautiful; beautifully toward beauty; beautifully with beauty. About all these you will ask later, if anything seems to need explaining. For now I wanted to mark them with names so many times, so that you would not be troubled when others call the same things by other names, or divide them otherwise, and for that reason reject either these or those. For the same things can be named and divided in innumerable ways, most rightly and subtly; but in so great an abundance of ways each uses the one he thinks fitting.

So the supreme and true God, by an inviolable and incorruptible law by which he rules all that he founded, subjects the body to the soul, the soul to himself, and so all things to himself; and in no act does he desert the soul, whether in punishment or in reward. For he judged it most beautiful that whatever is should be as it is, and be so ordered in the degrees of nature that no deformity in any part should offend those who consider the universe; and that every punishment and every reward of the soul should always contribute something in proportion to the just beauty and arrangement of all things. For free choice has been given to the soul; and those who try to shake it with trifling reasonings are so blind that they do not even understand that they say these very empty and sacrilegious things by their own will. Yet free choice was not given to the soul in such a way that, attempting anything whatever by it, it could disturb any part of the divine order and law; for it was given by the most wise and most invincible Lord of all creation. But to see these things as they should be seen belongs to few, and no one becomes fit for this except by true religion. For true religion is that by which the soul binds itself again by reconciliation to the one God, from whom it had, as it were, broken itself off by sin. Religion, then, binds the soul in that third act and begins to lead it; it cleanses it in the fourth; re-forms it in the fifth; leads it in in the sixth; feeds it in the seventh. And this happens sooner in some, later in others, as each is strong in love and merits; but God does all things most justly, most moderately, most beautifully, in whatever way those with whom he deals have willed to be. As for the consecrations of infant children, how much they profit is a most obscure question; yet it must be believed that they profit somewhat. Reason will find this out when it ought to be sought; although I have brought forward many other things too, which are for you to seek some day rather than to know now. This will be done most usefully if they are sought with piety as guide. Since this is so, who can justly be indignant that the soul was given to act in and govern the body, since so great and so divine an order of things could not be better connected? Or who would think he should ask what it becomes in this mortal and fragile body, since it was justly thrust into death because of sin, and can also excel here by virtue? Or what it will be after this body, since the punishment of death must necessarily remain while sin remains, and God himself, that is, truth itself, is the reward of virtue and piety? Therefore, if you are now willing, let us at last end so long a discussion, and give our attention most watchfully and most religiously to fulfilling God's commandments; for there is no other escape from such great evils. But if anything has been said by me more obscurely than you would wish, commit it to memory and ask about it at another, more suitable time. For he who is the Teacher of all from above will not fail us when we seek. E. For my part, I was so affected by this discourse that I thought it wrong to interrupt it. And if this measure of discussion pleases you, and those three questions that remained seemed to you to be touched on so briefly for the present, I will yield to your judgment; and hereafter, for investigating such great matters, I will watch for a more suitable time, not only because of your occupations, but also when I myself am better prepared.