Homilies on the Hexaemeron 6.9–6.11

"And God made the two great lights." Since "great" sometimes has an absolute sense, as when heaven is great, and earth is great, and the sea is great, while for the most part it is naturally referred to something else, as a great horse and a great ox (for such things receive the testimony of their greatness not from an excess in the bulk of their bodies but from comparison with their like): how, then, shall we take the notion of "great" here? As we call the ant, or something else small by nature, great, attesting its superiority by comparison with its own kind? Or is "great" said here in the sense that greatness is displayed in the very constitution of the lights? I think the latter. For they are not great because they are bigger than the smaller stars, but because they are of such a circumference that the light poured out from them suffices both to illuminate heaven and the air and at the same time to extend over the whole earth and the sea. In whatever part of the sky they are, rising, setting, or holding the middle, they appear equal to men from every side, which offers clear proof of the abundance of their size, since the breadth of the earth makes no difference to them, so that they would seem bigger or smaller. For things standing at a distance we see as somewhat smaller, and the nearer we come to them, the more we discover their size. But no one is nearer the sun and no one farther; it strikes those who dwell in every part of the earth from an equal distance. The sign of this is that Indians and Britons see it as the same. For it neither lessens its size for those who live in the east as it sets, nor appears smaller as it rises to those who dwell toward the west; nor, when it is in mid-heaven, does it differ from the view on either side. Do not let the appearance deceive you, and because it seems to those who look at it a cubit across, do not reckon that it is that size. For at very great distances the sizes of the things seen are naturally contracted, since the power of sight does not manage to cross the space between, but is, as it were, spent in the middle and strikes the visible objects with only a small part of itself. So our sight, having become small, makes the things seen be thought small, bestowing its own condition on what is seen. So if sight lies, the criterion is untrustworthy. Remember your own experiences, and you will have from yourself the proof of what is said. If ever from a great mountain ridge you have seen a broad and level plain, how large did the yokes of oxen appear to you? How large the ploughmen themselves? Did they not give you the impression of ants? And if from a lookout facing the great ocean you have cast your eyes on the sea, how large did the greatest of the islands seem to you? How large did one of the great merchant ships appear, sailing with white sails over the dark blue sea? Did it not give you an impression smaller than any dove? Because, as I said, the sight, spent in the air and growing faint, does not suffice for an exact grasp of the things seen. And sight declares even the greatest mountains, cut by deep ravines, to be rounded and smooth, striking only the projections and unable through weakness to enter the hollows between. So it does not even preserve the shapes of bodies as they are, but thinks square towers round. So it is plain from every side that at the greatest distances it receives no distinct image of bodies but a confused one. The light, then, is great, according to the testimony of Scripture, and infinitely larger than it appears.

Let this too be a clear sign of its size for you. Though the stars in heaven are countless in number, the light they contribute together is not enough to dispel the gloom of night. But this one alone, appearing above the horizon, or rather while it is still awaited, before it has even risen fully above the earth, has made the darkness vanish, outshone the stars, and melted and spread out the air around the earth, which until then was congealed and compressed. Hence morning winds arise, and dews pour around the earth in clear weather. And how could it, the earth being so great, light up the whole of it in one moment of time, if it did not send forth its radiance from a great circle? Here learn the wisdom of the Craftsman: how he gave it heat proportioned to this distance. For its fieriness is just so great as neither to burn up the earth by excess nor to leave it chilled and barren by deficiency. Let what concerns the moon be understood as akin to what has been said. For its body too is great, and the brightest after the sun. Yet its size does not always remain visible; now it appears complete in its circle, now deficient and diminished, showing what it lacks on one side or the other. For in one part it is shadowed while it waxes, and another part of it is hidden at the time of its waning. And there is some unspoken reason of the wise Creator for this varied change of shapes: to give us a clear example of our own nature, that nothing in human things is lasting, but some things advance from not being to perfection, while others, having reached their own prime and grown to their greatest measure, waste away again by gradual losses and perish, and are destroyed by diminishing; so that from the sight of the moon we may be taught our own condition, and, taking a notion of the swift turning of human affairs, may not think highly of the prosperities of life, nor exult in power, nor be lifted up by the uncertainty of riches, but despise the flesh, which is subject to change, and care for the soul, whose good is unmoved. And if the moon grieves you as it uses up its light by gradual losses, let a soul grieve you more, which has acquired virtue and through carelessness destroys its beauty, and never remains in the same disposition, but turns and changes often because of the instability of its judgment. For truly, as it is said, "The fool changes like the moon." I think also that the changing of the moon contributes no small part to the constitution of animals and of the other things that grow from the earth. For bodies are disposed in one way when it wanes and in another when it waxes: when it is waning they become thin and empty, and when it waxes and hastens to fullness they too are filled again, because it imperceptibly sends into their depth a kind of moisture mixed with heat. This is shown by those who sleep under the moon, whose cranial cavities are filled with excess moisture; and by freshly slaughtered meat, which quickly turns at the moon's touch; and by the brains of animals, the moistest parts of sea creatures, and the pith of trees. The moon would not have been able to make all these change along with its own change, if it were not something surpassing and exceeding in power, according to the testimony of Scripture.

The conditions of the air also change along with its changes, as we are shown by the sudden disturbances that often follow calm and stillness at the new moon, when the clouds are shaken and dash against one another; and by the back-and-forth flows in the straits; and by the ebb around the so-called Ocean, which those who live beside it have found to follow the periods of the moon in regular order. For the straits flow back and forth in either direction during the other phases of the moon, but at the time of its birth they are not still even for the briefest moment, but remain in continual tossing and swaying, until the moon, appearing again, gives some order to the reflux. And the western sea undergoes ebbs, now withdrawing, now flooding again, as if drawn back by the moon's inhalations and pushed forward again to its proper measure by its exhalations. I have said these things to demonstrate the size of the lights and to establish that not even a syllable of the God-inspired words is idle; and yet our discourse has touched almost none of the important points. For much can be discovered by reasoning about the sizes and distances of the sun and moon by one who has examined their operations and powers not in passing. We must, then, candidly acknowledge our own weakness, so that the greatest of created works may not be measured by our word, but each may infer for himself, from the few things said, how many and how great are the things passed over. So do not measure the moon with your eye either, but with reason, which is far more exact than the eyes for the discovery of truth. Laughable myths, babbled by tipsy old women, have spread everywhere, that the moon, moved from its proper seat by certain sorceries, is brought down to the earth. How will the incantation of sorcerers move what the Most High himself founded? And what place would receive it if it were pulled down? Do you want proof of its size from small evidences? The cities of the inhabited world, though very far apart from one another, all receive the moonlight equally in the streets that face the east. If it did not face all of them, it would fully light up only those streets directly opposite it, while it would strike those falling beyond its breadth with inclined rays carried off to the sides. This can be seen happening with lamps in houses: when several people stand around one, the shadow of the one standing directly opposite stretches straight out, while the others incline to either side. So if the moon's body were not something immense and surpassing in size, it would not extend equally opposite all. For when it rises from the equinoctial regions, both those who live near the frozen zone, lying under the revolutions of the Bear, and those who are neighbors to the hollows of the burning south share in it alike; and extending opposite all of them across its breadth, it gives the clearest testimony of its size. Who, then, will deny that its body is enormous, being equal at once to such great and so many distances? So much about the sizes of the sun and moon. May he who has granted us understanding to learn the great wisdom of the Craftsman from the smallest things of creation grant us also to receive from the great things greater thoughts of the Creator. And yet, compared with their Maker, sun and moon hold the place of a gnat and an ant. For it is not possible to gain from these a contemplation worthy of the greatness of the God of all; we can only be led forward through them by small and faint glimpses, as also through each of the smallest things among animals or plants. Let us be content with what has been said: I giving thanks to him who has granted me this small ministry of the word, and you to him who nourishes you with spiritual food, who even now has fed you, as with a kind of barley bread, by the plainness of our voice; and may he feed you forever, granting you, according to the proportion of faith, the manifestation of the Spirit, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory and might to the ages of ages. Amen.