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Hexaemeron

St Ambrose of Milan, tr. Savage, 1961

3. Hexameron, Book Three: The Third Day

The Fourth Homily: Chapter 1

IN OUR DISCOURSE today, the third day rises, as it is recorded in Scripture, a notable day which freed the earth from inundation at the bidding of God: ‘Let the waters that are under the heaven be gathered together into one place.’¹ With this fact it is my wish to begin my preface.

‘Let the waters be gathered together.’ These words were spoken, and the waters gathered together. It has often been said, ‘let the people be gathered together,’ and there was no gathering. It brings no slight blush of shame to see that the elements which are without sensibility are obedient to the command of God, whereas men to whom their Author has bestowed sensibility fail to obey His injunction. And perhaps it is the same blush of shame which has brought you here today in greater numbers. It would hardly appear right for the people to fail to congregate in the church of the Lord on the day in which water is congregated in one body.

This is not the only example of the obedience of water available to us, for elsewhere we find it written: ‘The waters saw thee, O God, the waters saw thee and they were afraid.’² What is said here of the waters does not seem to be without a semblance of truth, since elsewhere the Prophet also speaks in the same manner: ‘The sea saw and fled: Jordan was turned back.³ Who does not know how in actual fact the sea fled at the crossing of the Hebrews? When the waters were divided, the people crossed over, believing because of the dust under their feet that the sea had fled, and that the waters had vanished. Therefore, the Egyptian believed what he saw and entered in, but the waters which had fled returned for him. The waters, then, know how to congregate, how to fear, and how to flee, when commanded to do so by God. Let us imitate these waters and let us recognize one congregation of the Lord, one Church.

There once were gathered here waters from every valley, from every marsh, from every lake. The valley signifies heresy; the valley means the people of the Gentiles, because ‘The Lord is God of the hills, but is not God of the valleys.’⁴ Therefore, in the Church there is exultation; among the heretics and Gentiles, there is grief and weeping. Hence Scripture says: ‘In the valley he set up tears.’⁵ Accordingly, the Catholic people have congregated from every valley. Now, there are not many congregations; rather, there is one congregation, one Church. Here, too, was it said: ‘Let waters be congregated from every valley,’ and there came into existence a spiritual congregation, one people. Out of heretics and Gentiles has the Church become filled.

The valley is a theater, the valley is a circus where runs the horse who ‘is useless for safety,’⁶ where there is vile and abject contention, where there is the ignoble strife of litigants. From these, then, who used to cleave to the circus has faith grown in the Church, and daily attendance is increasing.

The marsh is self-indulgence, the marsh is intemperance, the marsh is incontinence, where are found wallowing places for lusts, the grunts of beasts, and the lairs of passions. Whoever falls therein is dragged down and does not emerge. Here men’s feet find no foothold, but waver uncertainly. Here water fowls are begrimed when they bathe, and above us are heard the mournful cries of doves. Here the sluggish turtle buries himself in the muddy waters. Therefore we have the sayings: ‘A boar in the marsh,’ ‘a stag at the fountains.’⁷ And so from every marsh, where like frogs they have sung their ancient chant of complaint, has congregated here faith; here, too, have congregated purity of heart and simplicity of mind.

Waters have gathered from every lake and from every pit, so that no one prepares a pit for his brother wherein he himself may fall.⁸ Rather, all love each other in mutual love, all cherish one the other, and support themselves as one body, although of diverse members.⁹ They find delight not in the baleful songs sung by theatrical performers, songs which lead to sensual love, but in the chants of the Church. Here we hear the voice of the people singing in harmony the praises of God. The sight of their piety gives us pleasure. Here are people who find no delight in tapestries of purple or costly stage curtains. Their pleasure lies rather in their admiration of this most beautiful fabric of the world, this accord of unlike elements, this heaven that is ‘spread out like a tent to dwell in’¹⁰ to protect those who inhabit this world. They find their pleasure in the earth allotted to them for their labors, in the ambient air, in the seas here enclosed in their bounds. In the people who are the instruments of the operations of God they hear music which echoes from melodious sound of God’s word, within which the Spirit of God works. They see this temple here, the holy place of the Trinity, the habitation of sanctity, the holy Church, in which gleam those celestial curtains of which it is said: ‘Enlarge the place of thy tents and of thy curtains; fasten, spare not, lengthen thy cords and strengthen thy stakes; stretch further on the right and on the left; and thy seed shall inherit the Gentiles and thou shalt inhabit the desolate cities.’¹¹ The Church, therefore, has its curtains, by which it raises aloft the good life, shields the sinner, and overshadows the fault.

This is the Church, which is founded upon the seas and is prepared upon the rivers.¹² For the Church is made strong and is prepared above you, who flow down as rivers do from that pure source into the fountain of the world, of whom it has been said: ‘The floods have lifted up, O Lord: the floods have lifted up their voices with the voice of many waters.’ And the Psalmist added: ‘Wonderful are the surges of the sea; wonderful is the Lord on high.’¹³ Beneficent are the woods; you have drunk from that perennial and full spring, whither you are flowing, which says to you: ‘He who believes in me’ (as the Scripture says), ‘from within him shall flow rivers of living water.’¹⁴ He said this, however, of the Spirit, whom they who believed in him were to receive. But, like the waters of the good Jordan, return with me to the beginning.

Chapter 2

‘Let the waters,’ Scripture says, ‘that are under the heaven be gathered together into one place and let the dry land appear. And it was so done.’¹⁵

Perhaps one may not at all believe in our preceding discussion, where we have argued that the earth was invisible for the reason that it was covered with water, so that it could not be seen by corporeal eyes, for his own point of view, that is, from our condition here, did the Prophet speak—not from that of the majesty of divine nature, which, of course, sees all things. In order to point out to you that we have undertaken this laborious task, not for the sake of displaying our talents, but for your instruction, we bring as witnesses for our cause texts from Scriptures. These clearly prove that, after the gathering of the water above the earth and its later falling down into the seas, the dry land appeared. Let them cease, therefore, as far as we are concerned, to stir up contentious disputes by saying: How is the earth invisible when form and color are naturally attached to every body and every color presupposes a form?

The voice of God cries out: ‘Let the waters be gathered together and let the dry land appear.’ And again Scripture says: ‘The waters are gathered together in one place and the dry land appeared.’¹⁶ Why was there need to repeat this, if the Prophet had not thought it necessary to forestall disputes? Does he not seem to say: ‘I have not said the earth was invisible according to nature, but in respect to the inundation of waters?’ Hence, he added that the dry land, which before was not seen, showed itself when this covering was removed.

Again, they sow the seeds of other disputes by saying: If the waters were in different masses, how came it about, if these masses were in the upper regions, that the waters did not flow down to that place where, after the command given by God, they eventually arrived? For they say it is natural that waters flow of themselves into lower regions. Moreover, if these masses were below, how did it come to pass that they rose up to higher regions, a movement contrary to the nature of water? Accordingly, either this natural course did not need God’s command or, notwithstanding this command, it could not succeed because it is contrary to nature.

I will gladly respond to this question, if they will first reply to me and show me that before God’s command this was the nature of water, namely, flowing and falling downward. It does not have this quality from association with the other elements; it is, rather, a special quality, peculiar to itself. It is not the result of some natural propensity, but issues from the will and operation of the most high God. The waters listen to the command of God and the voice of God is the efficient cause of nature. This voice coincides with the completion of the effect of its operation. The water began to flow downwards so as to form one mass—water which before this had been spread over all the earth and had settled in numerous lurking places. I had not read of its course before, of its movements I had been uninformed: my eye had not seen, nor had my ear heard. The water stood still in diverse places; at the voice of God it was moved. Does it not seem that the voice of God gave it this natural tendency? The creature followed the injunction of its Creator and from the law proceeded custom, the law of its first constitution left its imprint for future ages.

Hence, God created day and night at the same time. Since that time, day and night continue their daily succession and renewal. The water was ordered to run together in a mass. From that moment, water runs. Springs flow down to form rivers, rivers run into larger bodies of water;¹⁷ lakes find an outlet in the seas; wave precedes wave, presses on it, and follows. There is but one way, one mass. Although the depths differ, the surface remains, however, at an equal level. Hence, too, I believe it is called ‘aequor’ [level] because its surface is level.

I have made my reply according to the point of view of my adversaries. Let them now answer my question: Have they ever seen springs shoot up from below? Or water rise out of the ground? Who compels it to do so? Whence does it issue forth? How is it that it does not fall? How does it happen that such deep openings spill forth water? These phenomena are in accordance with the mysterious secrets of nature. Moreover, who does not know that water frequently falls to a very low depth with a great rush and then rises up to a higher position, even to the summit of a mountain? Also, that in canals made by a craftsman’s hands, the water often subsides as much as it previously had been uplifted? Accordingly, if either by its own force or by the skill of an engineer water is conducted and raised contrary to its own nature, do we wonder if by the operation of divine command it has acquired some disposition in its nature which it did not have before?

They may say now to me how God ‘gathered the waters of the sea as in a vessel,’ as Scripture has it, and how ‘he brought forth water out of the rocks.’ Could not He who brought forth water, which did not exist, out of a rock, also not guide water which already existed? ‘He struck the rock,’ cried David, ‘and the streams overflowed,’ and elsewhere, ‘above the mountains shall the waters stand.’¹⁸ In the Gospel we read that when there was a severe storm and the sea was in violent motion, so much so that the Apostles feared the dangers of shipwreck and aroused the Lord Jesus who was asleep in the stern, He arose and rebuked the wind and the sea and the tempest was abated and calm was restored.¹⁹ Could not He who was able to calm the whole sea at His bidding also move the waters by His command? Well, in the account of the flood it is related that ‘the fountains of the great deep were broken up’ and that God afterwards caused the wind to blow over the deep so as to dry up the waters.²⁰ If these men do not wish to concede that nature obeyed and that the habitual character of an element was changed by God’s command, at least they can concede this: the waters could have been moved by the force of the wind, a phenomenon to be seen every day on the sea, when the waters flow in the direction of the movement of the wind. If the sea was dried up by the force of a strong south wind in the time of Moses,²¹ could not a body of water be dried up in the same manner? Did not the waters, too, have the power of flowing into the sea, water which later on was actually severed from the bed of the sea? Let them learn that nature can be changed, after water burst forth from a rock and iron floated on water,²² a marvel which Eliseus succeeded in doing by the power of prayer and not by command.

If, therefore, Eliseus caused iron, contrary to nature, to lose its weight in water, could not Christ put the water in motion? But He had the power of moving the waters who was able to say, ‘Lazarus, come forth’²³ and bring the dead back to life, since God always brings to pass what He ordains. In like manner understand the words: ‘Let the waters be gathered together in one place,’ and they were gathered. By saying: ‘Let them be gathered,’ He not only moved the waters from their place, but He also set them down in a place, so that they would not flow away, but stand still.

The following is on this account a greater marvel: how all the bodies of water flowed into one body and how that one body was not full to overflowing. Scripture, too, reckoned this among extraordinary happenings by stating: ‘All the rivers run into the sea, yet the sea doth not overflow.’²⁴ By the command of God, therefore, two things are accomplished: the waters flow, yet do not overflow. A boundary is set up by which the seas are circumscribed and confined, lest the waters inundate everything by pouring over the earth and lest the earth, devoid of cultivation, may prevent the soil from fulfilling its natural function of producing in abundance.

Let them recognize the fact, therefore, that this is the result of divine precept and of celestial operation, for the Lord addresses Job from the clouds, saying, among other things, this, also, about the barrier of the sea: ‘I set my bounds around it and made it bars and doors, and I said: “hitherto thou come and shalt go no further, but on thyself shall be broken thine own waves.” ’²⁵ Do we not ourselves often see the sea billowing so that its waves rise up ‘like a sheer mountain of water,’²⁶ when it breaks its force in foam against the shore, beaten back by what might be called the barriers of the low-lying sandy beach, according to what the Scripture says: ‘Will you not then fear me, saith the Lord, who has set the sand a bound for the sea?’²⁷ Thus the violent onslaught of the sea is held in check by the most unstable of all things, ordinary coarse sand of the seashore. The waves recoil and are guided to their prescribed bounds by a command from heaven, and the violent movement of the water is broken by meeting itself. It then departs in receding ripples.²⁸

Moreover, unless the force of a celestial decree did not serve as a check, who would prevent the Red Sea from pouring over the plains of Egypt (which is claimed to be flat and low-lying with very deep valleys) and from mingling its waters with the Egyptian Sea? The men who wished to connect these two seas and to make them one have made us aware of the fact. The Egyptian Sesostris of an older period and Darius the Mede, in virtue of his greater power, wanted to put into effect what had been attempted before their time by a native of the country. This fact is substantial evidence that the Indian Ocean, which includes the Red Sea, is of higher elevation than the Egyptian Sea, the level of whose waters is lower. And it may well have been that both kings relinquished their projects lest the sea, in headlong rush from a higher to a lower level, should inundate their land.

Chapter 3

And now, on the statement: ‘Let the waters be gathered together in one place,’ the question would arise: How could one body of water be formed from what is scattered over lakes, marshes and swamps, also waters which inundate valleys, plains and level lands, stemming from springs and from rivers? Moreover, how could these waters form one mass, whereas today waters are scattered in diverse seas? For we speak of such varied seas as these: the ocean, the Tyrrhenian, Adriatic, Indian, Egyptian, and Pontic seas, the Propontic, the Hellespont, Euxine, Aegean, Ionian, and Atlantic seas. Many also speak of a Cretic Sea and of a Northern Caspian. Let us therefore consider the meaning of the words of Scripture and weigh them with exactitude.

‘Let the waters,’ He said, ‘be gathered together in one place.’ The mass of water is continuous and unbroken, yet there are different coastal bays, as a profane writer states.²⁹ For the Pontus is a very large bay of our sea [the Mediterranean] to which different names are given in different places. Rightly so, because the regions adjacent to these bodies of water give them special names, yet there is but one mass of water, because one continuous and unbroken body of water extends from the Indian sea up the shores of Cadiz and from there extends to the Red Sea, to the extreme limit of the world, which is enclosed by the circumambient Ocean. Within this circle the Adriatic mingles with the Tyrrhenian Sea, while other seas form a union with the Adriatic—seas distinguished from it by name, but not by a difference of water mass.

Hence, God has fittingly said: ‘The getting together of waters he called seas.’³⁰ And so there is one general mass which is called a sea and many bodies of water which are called seas after the regions where they are situated. Just as there are many lands, such as Africa, Spain, Thrace, Macedonia, Syria, Egypt, Gaul, and Italy, which are given names from their respective regions, so there is but one earth. In a similar manner, there are many seas named after their locations, but there is but one actual sea, as the Prophet says: ‘Thine are the heavens and thine is the earth, the world and the fulness thereof Thou hast founded; the north and the sea thou hast created.’³¹ And the Lord Himself says to Job: ‘I have shut up the sea with doors.’³²

Now that we have spoken of one mass, the question arises how a single body of water could drain the land of water, although that water had previously possessed all the land, poured into the hollow places in the mountains, plains, and valleys—water which lay stagnant in an universal inundation. For, if everything was covered in this way—for He would not have said: ‘The earth appeared,’ unless He wished to indicate that it was uncovered everywhere—if the flood in the time of Noe hid even the mountains when there already was a separation of the waters above the heavens and those below the firmament—if this were so, then how can one doubt that the tops of the mountains were hidden in the inundation we speak of? Whence, then, came that overabundant supply of water? What reservoirs were there, so continuous and unbroken as to hold all the water in place?

On this subject there is much at hand for the formulation of reply. First of all, the Creator of all things had the power of enlarging space—a power which some before us have in their private opinion laid down as a possibility. And I am not overlooking in this case the potency of God; but what He actually has done, which I have not learned from the clear testimony of Scripture, I pass over as a mystery, lest, perchance, that stir up other questions starting even from this point. Nevertheless, I maintain in accord with the Scriptures that God can extend the low-lying regions and the open plains, as He has said: ‘I will go before thee and make level the mountains.’³³ The very force of water can also make its bed deeper by the violent movements of the waves and by the impact of the surf of that wild element which day by day stirs up the bottom of the sea, drawing forth sands from its very depths.

Who, then, knows how far that mighty sea pours its waters which, unapproachable even to daring navigators, encloses the British Isles with its innumerable bays and extends even to remote regions, unknown and unrecorded even in legendary tales? Who is not aware of the mass of water from the sea which has seeped into the numerous lakes, such as the Lucrine and Lake Avernus in Italy, Lake Tiberias, too, in Palestine, not to mention that lake that lies in the desert region of Arabia between Palestine and Egypt,³⁴ and the water which has seeped into the several ports made by Augustus and by Trajan, as well as into many similar ones throughout the entire world?

Still, there are some lakes and standing waters which are not connected with other waters, such as Lake Como, Lake Garda, the Alban lake—and many others. How then can one speak of one mass of water? But, just as God made two luminaries, the sun and the moon—although there still exist, to be sure, the lights of the stars—in like manner, we speak also of one mass of water, although there are very many such. The reason is that what has not been taken in consideration in any enumeration is not reckoned in the sum total.

Chapter 4

But it seems that, while I was speaking of the sea, I exceeded my bounds a little. Let us return to our theme and let us reflect on the words of the Lord: ‘Let the waters be gathered together into one place and let the dry land appear,’³⁵ He did not say: ‘Let the land appear.’ Who does not note the appropriateness of this statement? For the earth could be a composite of mud and water, and thus its appearance would be concealed by the inundating water. The term ‘dry’ applies not only to the general nature of the earth, but can also be used in a specific way, so that the earth may be useful, firm, suitable, and ready for cultivation. At the same time, it was provided that the earth would, to all appearance, have been dry by the hand of God rather than by the sun, for the earth actually became dry before the sun was created. Wherefore, David, too, distinguished the sea from the land, referring to the Lord God: ‘For the sea is his and he made it, and his hands made the dry land.’³⁶

The word ‘dry’ is the expression of a natural characteristic; the word ‘earth’ is a simple name of a thing which has in itself that same characteristic. Just as the word ‘animal’ is a generic term which includes within it a certain notable property, and as man has his special characteristic which is reason, in like manner the word ‘earth’ can be used indifferently of what is saturated with water or of a place ‘in a desert land and where there is no way and no water.’³⁷ Therefore, the land saturated with water has within it elements of dryness, as it has been written: ‘He hath turned rivers into a wilderness and the sources of waters into dry ground,’³⁸ that is to say, He made dry the land that was before filled with water.

The earth, therefore, has its own peculiar property, just as the individual elements have, for each has its own characteristic: the air is humid, water is cold, and fire is warm. That these are the chief qualities of each of the elements can be determined by our observation. If we should desire to make a test of these elements with our bodily senses we find that their qualities exist in a certain combination. For example, we discover earth to be dry and cold; water, cold and humid; air, warm and humid; fire, warm and dry. Thus, each and every one of the elements is bound together by qualities shared in common with some other element.

Since earth has a quality both dry and cold, it is connected with water by association of its cold quality, and through water it is related to the air because the air is humid. Hence, water seems to embrace with its two arms, as it were, cold and humidity, on the one side, the earth, on the other, air—the earth with its quality of coldness, the air with its quality of humidity. Air, by its nature, also forms an intermediary between two opposing elements, that is, between water and fire, for it binds both elements together. It shares with water the quality of humidity and with fire the quality of warmth. Fire, too, since it is by nature warm and dry, is bound to air by its quality of warmth, and, because of its dry quality, is turned back to form an association and a union with earth. In this manner these elements, by a circuitous process, meet together in a dance measure of concord and association. Hence, the Latin elementa is found in Greek as στοιχεῖα, denoting agreement and harmony.

We have come to this point because Scripture says that God called the earth ‘dry,’ that is to say, He denominated by its natural quality that which is its prime characteristic. The natural characteristic for earth is dryness. This is a quality reserved for it. Its prime quality, therefore, is dryness. A secondary quality is that of coldness, but this does not take precedence over its primary trait. The fact that it is humid is also derived from its kinship with water. Hence, the former characteristic is peculiar to the earth, the other is alien: dryness belongs to earth; humidity is alien to it. The Author of nature accordingly adhered to what He had first granted to the earth, for one quality is founded on nature; the other comes from an [external] cause. The peculiar qualities of the earth, therefore, ought to be determined from the primary qualities, not from what is accidental, in order that our knowledge might be formed from an observation of the preferred characteristic.

Chapter 5

‘And God saw that it was good.’ We do not fail to record the fact that some do not believe that either in the Hebrew or in other versions it is said: ‘The waters were gathered together into their places and dry land appeared. And God called the dry land Earth and the gathering together of the waters he called Seas.’³⁹ Also, when God said: ‘And it was so done,’⁴⁰ they are generally of the opinion that there we have the words of the Creator signifying the fulfillment of the work. But, because in regard also to other created things there is found first the formula of a command and afterwards the repeated indication or execution of a work, for that reason we do not think that which is considered an addition to be in the nature of an absurdity, even if by other interpreters sufficient proof may be presented for either its truth or its authenticity. Much that was added or attached to the Hebrew version by the writers of the Septuagint we have discovered not to be superfluous.

God saw, then, that the sea was good. The aspect of this element is beautiful, either when the sea foams with its surging white caps and mounting billows, or when it bedews the rocks with its snowy spray, or even when under a balmy breeze it shimmers, often in this case presenting itself to the beholder from afar in colors of purple, suggesting serene tranquillity. Such is the aspect of the sea when it does not beat the nearby shores with the onrush of its waves, but when the waters greet it, as it were, in a fond embrace of peace. How gentle is the sound, how pleasing the splash of the water, how pleasant and rhythmic the wave-beats! Notwithstanding all this, I am of the opinion that the beauty of such a creation is not to be estimated by the standard of our own eyes, but is to be gauged in the design of the work as a whole by its conformity and agreement with the intention of its Creator.

The sea, therefore, is good; first, because it supplies the moisture necessary for the earth, to which it furnishes, so to speak, a sustaining fluid through the hidden apertures of its veins. The sea is good in its functions as a biding-place for the rivers, as a source of rainfall, as a place for the reception of alluvial deposits, as a carrier of merchandise, thereby linking distant people together. Furthermore, the sea defends us from the perils of warfare; by the sea, the fury of the barbarian is hedged in; the sea provides support in times of necessity, a refuge in times of danger, a delightful place for seekers after pleasure; it is a source of health for the sick,⁴¹ it joins together the separated; to voyagers it is a time-saver, to men in trouble a place of escape, to tax-payers it is an aid, and to the farmer in distress it is a means of livelihood. From the sea we obtain rain for the earth, since water is drawn from the sea which is deprived of its moisture by the sun’s rays. Then, the higher it reaches, the colder it becomes by reason of the shadowy coolness of the clouds. As a result, we have rainfall, which not only relieves the earth of its dryness, but also provides nourishment to the famishing fields.

Why need I enumerate the islands, which often adorn the sea with their jewelled necklaces? Men who hide themselves there seek to escape from the world with all its inducements to intemperate living with a firm purpose to live in continence and thereby avoid the dubious conflicts of this life. The sea, then, is a hiding-place for the temperate, an abode for those who wish to practice continency, a refuge for those in distress, a haven for the secure, a place of tranquillity for the unworldly and a place in this world for the prudent and moderate. Moreover, it provides an incentive to devout living for the faithful, so that they may rival the gentle sound of lapping waters with the songs of the psalms. Thus, the islands voice their approval with their tranquil chorus of blessed waters and with the singing of pious hymns resound.

How is it possible for me to comprehend all the beauty of the sea—a beauty beheld by the Creator? Why say more? What else is that melodic sound of the waves if not the melody of the people? Hence, the sea is often well compared to a church which ‘disgorges a tide’ through all its vestibules at the first array of the approaching congregation;⁴² then, as the whole people unite in prayer, there is a hiss of receding waves; the echo of the psalms when sung in responsive harmony by men and women, maidens and children is like the sound of breaking waves. Wherefore, what need I say of this water other than it washes away sin and that the salutary breath of the Holy Spirit is found in it?

May God grant us our prayer: to sail on a swift ship under a favorable breeze and finally reach a haven of safety; that we may not be exposed to spiritual obstacles too great to overcome; that we may not meet with shipwreck to our faith. We pray, also, for a peace profound and, if there be anything that may arouse the storms of this world against us, that we may have as our ever-watchful pilot our Lord Jesus, who by His command can calm the tempest and restore once more the sea’s tranquillity.⁴³ To Him be honor and glory in perpetuity, both now and forever, and for all ages to come. Amen.

The Fifth Homily: Chapter 6

When the waters receded, it was proper that a special aspect and charm be bestowed on the earth so that it would cease ‘to be invisible and without form.’⁴⁴ For many maintain that a thing is invisible because it has no special aspect. For that reason they hold that the earth was invisible—not because it could not be seen by the most high God or by His angels, but because it was without a special aspect. It could not be seen by men or even beasts because they had not yet been created. What provides this aspect for the earth is the soil’s verdure and vegetation. Hence, in order to bestow visibility and form on the earth, God says: ‘Let the earth bring forth the green herb and such as may seed and the fruit tree yielding fruit after its kind, which may have seed in itself upon the earth.’⁴⁵

Let us pay heed to the words of truth! Their content is the salvation of those who hear! For that first declaration of God is a law of nature which requires that every creature be born. This law has continued in force for all ages, with the intent to prescribe how a continuous succession of plants may experience in time to come modes of generation and fructification.⁴⁶ And so, first there is germination, when the seeds seem to burst forth newly born; next, when the sprout has burst forth and becomes a green shoot; when the green shoot has grown a little it becomes the green herb. How serviceable, how effective, is the speech: ‘Let the earth bring forth the green herb,’ that is to say, let the earth bring forth of itself, let it not seek the aid of another, let it not be needful of any other ministrations.

Many, it is true, are accustomed to state that the earth could not have germinated without the warmth of the sun’s temperate heat and in some way by its fostering rays. Hence, the Gentiles bestow divine honors on the sun, because it penetrates the bowels of the earth with the power of its heat and in that way cherishes the scattered seed or frees from the bonds of frost the sap of the trees. Listen, then, to God who utters words like these: Let the foolish speech of men be silent for future time, let their baseless opinions cease to be! Before the light of the sun shall appear, let the green herb be born, let its light be prior to that of the sun. Let the earth germinate before it receives the fostering care of the sun, lest there be an occasion for human error to grow. Let everyone be informed that the sun is not the author of vegetation. The earth is freed through the clemency of God; the fruit of the earth emerges therefrom through His indulgence. How can the sun give the faculty of life to growing plants, when these have already been brought forth by the life-giving creative power of God before the sun entered into such a life as this? The sun is younger than the green shoot, younger than the green plant!

Chapter 7

And perhaps some may wonder why sustenance for animals was provided before food for man was created. In this matter we ought to take note of the depths of God’s wisdom,⁴⁷ in that He does not neglect the least of things. For, the divine Wisdom utters these words in the Gospel: ‘Look at the birds of the air, they do not sow or reap or gather into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you of much more value than they?’⁴⁸ If these have their food through the kindness of God, then no one ought to pride himself on his own industry and natural ability. And no one ought to give simple and natural food precedence over the rest. The former is the food of the temperate; the rest of foods contribute to delight and luxury. One is common to all living things; the other, to a few. Hence, such a fact furnishes us with an example for frugal living, and is a wise injunction that we ought to be content to live on simple herbs, on cheap vegetables and fruits such as nature has presented to us and the generosity of God has offered to us. This sort of food is wholesome and useful, too, in that it wards off disease and prevents indigestion. No human labor has provided it; it is, rather, the bounteous gift of God. Vegetables are at hand which were not sown; there is fruit that needed no seed—all so sweet and pleasant that they furnish enjoyment even to those who have already sated themselves. In a word, the food that was used for the first course continued to be used for the second.

What more need I add to the theme of the marvels of this creation and to the proof of the existence of a Creative Wisdom? For, in the appearance of a bud on the one hand, and in the provision of a green herb, on the other, there lies an image of the life of man and what may be termed a clear indication and mirror of our nature and of our condition. That green herb and flower of the field are a figure of the flesh of man, as the true interpreter of divinity has expressed in organ tones: ‘Cry! What shall I cry? All flesh is grass and all the glory of man is as the flower of the field. The grass is withered and the flower is fallen, but the word of the Lord endureth forever.’⁴⁹ This is the thought of God though uttered by the voice of man. God says: ‘Cry,’ but He speaks in the person of Isaias, who answered: ‘What shall I cry?’ and, as he had heard what he should say, added: ‘All flesh is grass.’ And with truth, for the glory of man waxes green in his flesh like grass, and what is considered to be sublime is actually a lowly green herb. Blooming early as a flower and briefly as the green herb, it has the outward appearance of vigor, but its fruit has no lasting quality. It displays like a flower the joys of a happy existence, but is destined to pass away in all too brief a moment like the green herb, ‘which withereth before it be plucked up.’⁵⁰ For what strength can there be in flesh, what enduring quality can there be in health?

Today you may behold a youth who is strong and vigorous in the flower of his age, pleasing in aspect and with the fine glow of health.⁵¹ Tomorrow you meet the same youth, but how changed are his form and features!⁵² The young man who the previous day appeared to luxuriate in health and beauty is now an object of pity, prostrate and weakened by the inroads of some illness. Toil or want take their toll of health: some suffer from stomach ills; others from abuse of wine. Still others are enfeebled by old age; others are emasculated and disfigured by overindulgence in pleasure. Is it not true that ‘the grass is withered and that the flower has fallen?’⁵³

Another man, who claims nobility from his grandfather and great-grandfather⁵⁴ and has been made illustrious by the insignia of offices held by his ancestors, a man renowned by the trappings of his noble birth, abounding in friends, surrounded on both sides by a crowd of clients who accompany him like a troop of slaves to and from his house⁵⁵—should this man suddenly find himself faced with some passing peril, he is abandoned by all, he is shunned by his friends and assailed by his relatives. Consider how true it is that the life of man is like the grass of the field, ‘which withereth before it is plucked up.’

There is also the man who for a long time has had abundance of wealth, the fame of whose generosity has flitted over the lips of every man,⁵⁶ a man renowned for his honors, outstanding in power, with a lofty seat in the tribunals, enthroned aloft and regarded as happy by the populace while he is being announced by the cries of the heralds. By a sudden change of fortune he is dragged away into the same prison into which he himself had cast others. Among his own victims he bewails in anguish his impending punishment. What crowds of sycophants and what an invidious procession of throngs of people had formerly conducted him from his home! Just one night put an end to the splendor of that triumphal pomp! Human glory of this kind is like a flower of the field which, even when it is taken away, contributes nothing to the labor. From it no fruit is obtained and, when it is allowed to fall, it fades away, depriving man of the protective covering by which he is shaded from above and animated within.

Would that we could imitate the green herb concerning which the Lord speaks: ‘Let the earth bring forth the green herb and such as may seed and the fruit tree yielding fruit after its kind of a like nature.’⁵⁷ Let us sow, therefore, the seed after its kind. What that kind is, hear the Apostle who says that we ought to seek after that divine seed, if we would succeed in any way in finding the divine: ‘Though he is not far from any one of us. For in him we live and move and have our being as some of you,’ he adds, ‘have said: “For we are also his offering.” ’⁵⁸

Following this principle, let us sow the seed, not in the flesh, but in the spirit. For we ought not to sow carnal seeds, but spiritual ones,⁵⁹ if we desire to attain eternal life. And what that ‘likeness’ is you are not unaware, you who have been made to the ‘image and likeness’ of God. The green herb corresponds to its kind. You do not correspond to your kind. When a grain of wheat is scattered over the soil it returns the gift of its kind; but you degenerate. Grain does not dishonor the true character of its seed; you dishonor the purity of your soul, the vigor of your mind, the chastity of your body.

Do you recognize the fact that you are the work of Christ? With His own hands He formed you, as we read, yet you, Manichaean, you assume for yourself another author. God the Father says to His Son: ‘Let us make man to our image and likeness,’⁶⁰ yet you, adherent of Photinus, say that in the construction of the world there was no Christ.⁶¹ And you, follower of Eunomius, say the Son is unlike the Father. For if He is His image, then He is in no wise dissimilar; rather, He reflects entirely His Father, who impressed on Him the unity of His substance. The Father says: ‘Let us make’; yet you refuse to co-operate. The Son carried out what the Father spoke, yet you deny the equality in Him in whom the Father was well pleased.⁶²

Chapter 8

‘Let the earth,’ He said, ‘bring forth the green herb after its kind.’⁶³ All things which are referred to as growing in the earth begin with a seed. When it has emerged a little it becomes a green shoot, then a stalk, and finally bears fruit. There are growing plants which spring from the root, such as trees which are not sown from seed, but grow from the roots of other trees. We see in the case of a reed how at its base there emerges from its side a sort of bulb from which other seeds germinate. There is in the root, therefore, something which has the potency of a seed. There are grafted plants, too, which germinate higher up. Hence, some plants reproduce themselves from the root; others are reproduced in diverse ways. For in every growing thing there is either a seed or something which has the power of a seed. These plants follow their kind, so that what emerges from them is similar to what has been sown or like those from whose roots they germinate. As examples we can point to the fact that wheat produces wheat and that from millet comes millet; again, the pear tree with its white flowers⁶⁴ produces pears, and the chestnut tree springs from the root of the chestnut.

‘Let the earth,’ He said, ‘bring forth the green herb after its kind.’ And forthwith the earth in labor brought forth new plants; girding herself with the garments of verdure, she luxuriated in fecundity, and decked in diverse seedlings, she claimed them as her own fitting adornments. We marvel at the speed of that productivity. How many more wonders appear, if you examine each plant, noticing how the seed when laid in the earth decays and, if it did not die, would bear no fruit; but when it decays, by that very act of death, arises to bear fruit in greater abundance.⁶⁵ The pliable sod receives, then, a grain of wheat;⁶⁶ the scattered seed is controlled by the use of the hoe and mother earth cherishes it in firm embraces to her breast. When that grain decays, there comes the pleasing aspect of the green burgeoning shoot, which immediately reveals its kind from its similarity to its own seed, so that you may discover the nature of the plant even in the very beginning of its growth, and its fruit, too, is made evident to you. Gradually, it grows so as eventually to attain full maturity and height. At the point when the jointed stalk emerges, sheaths for the grain to come are being prepared. Within these the grain is being formed, so that cold may not cause injury to the plant in its tender beginnings, or the heat of the sun burn it, or the cruel violence of the wind and rain beat it to the ground. In addition, the ear of wheat has wonderfully formed rows both pleasing in appearance and made for the protection of the plant, resulting from their naturally interwoven texture which is the creation of divine Providence. Moreover, in order to serve as a support for and to offset the weight of a more abundant number of ears, the stalk itself is enclosed in what may be termed sheaths, so that by its reinforced strength it can sustain manifold grains of wheat and that it may not be bent towards the earth because of its inability to bear its burden. Then, over the ear is erected a rampart in the form of a beard, so that a line of defense may be extended to protect the ear from injury from the attacks of little birds, by which means the wheat grain is kept intact from the devastation of their claws.⁶⁷

What shall I say of the kindness of God in providing things useful for the human race? The earth returned with interest what it had received, even with compound interest! Men often deceive and often defraud the money-lender of his just due. But the earth remains faithful to promises and, if at times it does not pay back, if, perchance, severe cold or extraordinary dry weather or tremendous rain storms bring disaster, the losses of a single year are counterbalanced by the year which follows. And so, when the harvest belies the hopes of the farmer, in no way does the earth forsake him. Again, when she smiles on him, fertile Mother Earth pours forth her offspring, so that she never incurs a loss to her creditors.

When the land, in fact, is completely stocked, how can we, if we are to rely on our tongue, satisfactorily describe the pleasant sights and scents and the joys of the countryman? But we have the testimony of the Scripture, wherein we note that the delights of the countryside are compared to the blessing and grace of the saints, for Isaac, a holy man, says: ‘The smell of my son is the smell of a plentiful field.’⁶⁸

How can I describe the violets with their shades of purple, the lilies of brilliant white, and the roses with their shades of red? How describe the landscape painted with flowers, sometimes of a golden hue or of varied colors or of bright yellow, among which you cannot decide whether their beauty or their fragrant scent gives more delight.⁶⁹ Our eyes revel in this pleasant spectacle as that fragrance which fills us with its sweetness is spread far and wide. Whence the Lord has justly said: ‘And with me is the beauty of the field.’⁷⁰ This beauty is with Him because He has created it. What other artist could so depict such charm in each and every object?

‘Consider the lilies of the field,’ what brilliance in their petals, how they appear to arise in packed rows all the way to the top so as to form a goblet! Note how within it gleams like gold, and, furthermore, how around its edge as a defense against any injury a kind of rampart is constructed! If any one were to pluck this flower and take each petal apart, what craftsman’s hand is so expert as to be able to restore the form of the lily? Who is such an effective imitator of nature as to presume to reconstruct this flower, to which the Lord has so borne testimony as to say: ‘Not even Solomon in all his glory was so arrayed like one of these’?⁷¹ A king so rich and wise was deemed inferior to the beauty of this flower!

Why should I enumerate the health-giving juices of herbs or the remedies provided by shrubs and leaves? When a stag is sick, he eats the branches of the olive tree and becomes well. The leaves of the olive, too, cure the locusts of illness. The application of the leaves of a bramble to a serpent bring about his death. Gnats will not trouble you if you anoint yourself with wormwood which has been cooked in oil.

Chapter 9

But some perhaps may say: How do you account for the fact that deadly poisonous plants grow along with those that are of use, for example, there is found along with wheat the poisonous hemlock, a plant discoverable among those that support life. Unless you are on your guard against it, this plant can injure your health. Found growing among other plants that help to sustain life are hellebore and monk’s hood, which too often delude and deceive the gatherer.⁷² But would you find fault with the earth because not all men are good? What is of more consequence, you should realize that not all the angels of heaven were good. The sun itself by its excessive heat parches the ears of wheat and causes the young growing plants to wither, whereas the moon shows voyagers the way and reveals the lurking places of robbers.⁷³ Is it right, therefore, that we disregard the bounty of the Founder in furnishing us useful things and, just because of certain noxious plants, detract from the forethought of the Creator? Some people act as if everything had to be created for our gourmandizing or as if there was just a trifling amount left by the kindness of God to minister to our appetites. Definite foods have been allotted to us which are known to all, foods which provide us with both pleasure and physical health.

Each and every thing which is produced from the earth has its own reason for existence, which, as far as it can, fulfills the general plan of creation. Some things, therefore, are created for our consumption; other things serve for other uses. There is nothing without a purpose; there is nothing superfluous in what germinates from the earth. What you consider as useless has use for others; as a matter of fact, it often is useful to you in another way. That which does not serve for food has medical qualities, and it often happens that what is harmful to you provides harmless food for birds or wild beasts. Thus, starlings feed on the hemlock without any ill effects, since by their physical nature they are immune to its deadly and poisonous sap. Such sap, in fact, is cold by nature, which, when conducted through fine pores into the region of the heart, by a process of premature digestion is prevented from reaching the vital organs themselves. Those who are expert on the nature of hellebore say that it provides food and sustenance to quails and that through a certain natural composition of their bodies these animals become immune to its harmful effects. The fact is that through medical science this plant frequently serves to preserve the health of the human body, to which it seems to be adverse. As a consequence, what the doctor’s hand converts to the preservation of our health becomes even to a greater degree, through its natural qualities, a means for providing food for others. Slumber is often induced, too, by the use of the mandrake, whenever the sick are troubled by their inability to sleep. Why need I speak of opium which has come to be used almost daily, inasmuch as severe intestinal pains are allayed by its use? And it has not escaped our notice that the ravings of the sensual passions frequently have been stayed by hemlock and that with hellebore the prolonged sufferings of a sick body have found relief.

The Creator, therefore, is not liable to blame in these matters; actually, His bounty is increased thereby, inasmuch as what you believed was created to bring danger to you is designed to bring to you health-giving remedies. That which leads to danger is directed otherwise by Providence and what is conducive to our health is not lost through our own prudence and industry.

Is it true that, following a mysterious urge of nature, sheep and goats have learned to shun what is harmful to them and for this purpose are able to make use of smell alone, since they are devoid of reason? Do they not go so far as to recognize a way of avoiding danger and of protecting their health? Do they not distinguish between what is likely to be noxious and what will be beneficial? So true is this that they are said frequently to look for herbs known to them and to apply these as a remedy to a wound when they sense that they have been hit with poisoned weapons. Food, therefore, becomes for them a medicine. As a result, you may behold arrows in the act of falling from a wound, the poison actually vanishing and not adhering. Furthermore, poison is a food for stags. The snake flees a stag and slays a lion. The dragon winds himself around an elephant, whose downfall brings death to the victor. Thus, they both strive with their utmost strength, one to bind fast the other’s foot so that the fall of the vanquished cannot harm him; the other, so that he may not be surprised in a narrow passageway when trailing the herd and thus be caught by a hind leg. In such a situation the elephant would be unable to turn around and crush the dragon with his heavy foot or have the assistance of another elephant at his rear.

Therefore, if irrational animals know what herbs may serve as medicine or what methods may bring assistance to them, can man, who is born with the faculty of reason, be ignorant of this? Or is he such a stranger to truth that he cannot at all perceive what are the uses especially designed for everything? Or is he so ungrateful for the good things provided by nature that, because a draught of bull’s blood is deadly to man, this laborious animal ought not for that reason be born or ought to be created without blood? Yet, he possesses a quality which is useful in the cultivation of the fields, adaptable for the service of ploughing and for sustenance, a precious possession. By his manifold uses he is a sound prop to farmers, for whom—should they come to know their own blessings⁷⁴—God has created all things with the words: ‘Let the earth bring forth the green herb and such as may seed after its kind.’⁷⁵ For He has included in this statement not only what contributes to the farmers’ support from herbs, roots, trees and other plants which grow without seed, but He also includes such produce as is acquired by the industrious skill of the toiler of the fields.

How fitting is it that He did not command the earth generously to give forth seed and fruits, but ordained that the fields should first germinate and then bring forth plants. Next He bade the seed to grow according to the specific nature of its kind, so that at no time would the landscape be without its charm; first, the verdure of spring for our pleasure, and later the heaped-up piles of harvest for our use.

Chapter 10

Perhaps someone might say: How does the earth produce seed according to its kind, when often the seed sown degenerates and, although good wheat was sown, the result is a wheat plant of a quality inferior in color and in form? If this ever happens, one should not attribute this deterioration to a change of species, but rather, it seems, to some inferiority or some disease in the seed. It does not cease to be wheat if it has been blighted by frost or mildewed by rain. It has been changed in appearance rather than in kind, and also in color as a result of the corruption it has undergone. Hence, it frequently happens that mildewed grain returns to the appearance of its stock, if it is exposed to the heat of the sun or of fire, or if it is entrusted to careful cultivators, who cherish it by protecting it from inclemencies of climate and foster it in soil that is fertile. In this way, what has suffered degeneration in the parent stock is restored in the next generation. Hence, there is no danger that the precept of God, to which nature has accustomed itself, may become void in future time by a failure of propagation, since today the integrity of the stock is still preserved in the seeds.

We know that cockle and the other alien seeds which often are interspersed among fruits of the earth are called ‘weeds’ in the Gospel. These, however, belong to a special species and have not degenerated into another species by a process of mutation from the seed of the wheat plant. The Lord told us that this is so when He said: ‘The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field, but while men were asleep, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat.’ We gather from this that weeds and wheat certainly seem to be distinct both in name and in kind. Hence, the servants, too, said to the householder: ‘Sir, didst thou not sow good seed in thy field? How then does it have weeds? He said to them: “An enemy has done this.” ’⁷⁶ One is the seed of the Devil; the other, that of Christ which is sown in accordance with justice. Therefore, the Son of Man sowed one and the Devil sowed the other. For that reason the nature of each is distinct, since the sowers are opposed. Christ sows the kingdom of God, whereas the Devil sows sin. How, therefore, can this kingdom be of one and the same race as sin? ‘This is the kingdom of God,’ He says, ‘as though a man should cast seed into the earth.’⁷⁷

There is a Man who sows the word, of whom it is written: ‘The sower sows the word.’⁷⁸ This Man sowed the word over the earth when He said: ‘Let the earth bring forth the green herb,’ and immediately the seeds came to birth and diverse were the species of things which shone forth in brilliance. At this point the fields in their beautiful green color furnished abundance of food; the yellowing ears of wheat in the fields suggested an image of the billowing sea in the waving of that rich harvest in the breeze. Of itself the earth brought forth profusely all kinds of fruits. Although it could not be ploughed in the absence of a cultivator—for the farmer had not yet been created—the earth, though unplowed, teemed with rich harvests, inasmuch as an indolent husbandman did not have occasion to defraud the earth of its abundance. For each plant attains fertility according to the merits of the labor involved in the cultivation of the fields. Punishment is meted out for our neglect or remissness if the soil be deprived of its rich abundance either by flood or aridity, the fall of hailstones or by some other misfortune. Then, too, the earth everywhere brought forth spontaneously fruits of the soil, because He who is the fullness of the universe had so ordained it.⁷⁹ The word of God fructified on the earth and the earth had not, because of any curse, suffered condemnation. The origins and birth of the world are more remote than our sins and more recent than our error, because of which we have been condemned ‘to eat bread in the sweat of our face,’⁸⁰ and without sweat to be incapable of sustaining life.

Even today the fertility of the earth carries into effect its age-old fecundity by exercise of spontaneous growth, for you see how many plants are still grown without being sown. But even in much that is gathered by the labor of our hands there still remains a large part of our produce which, by the kindness of Providence, comes without effort to us while we are at rest. This we are taught by the reading of the Gospel before us, wherein the Lord says: ‘This is the kingdom of God, as though a man should cast seed into the earth, then sleep and rise night and day and the seed should sprout and grow without his knowing it. For of itself the earth bears the crop, first the blade, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. But when the fruit is ripe, immediately he puts in the sickle because the harvest has come.’⁸¹ Therefore, while you are asleep, man, and without your knowing it, the earth of itself produces its fruits. You fall asleep and then rise, marveling how the grain has increased in the course of one night.

Chapter 11

We have often spoken concerning the green herb; now let us discuss the plant that bears fruit according to its kind, ‘which may have seed in itself.’⁸² ‘He spoke and they were made,’⁸³ and immediately the earth was adorned with groves as formerly it had been decked with flowers and with the verdure of the grass of the fields. The trees were assembled; the forests arose and the peaks of the hills were clothed with leaves. Here the pine and there the cypress raised aloft their towering heads; the cedars and the pitch-pines gathered in groups. The fir tree also advanced in procession, a tree which was not satisfied to have its roots in the earth and its head on high, but was destined, while mariners are safe, to undergo perils from wind and wave on the sea. The laurel, too, gave forth its scent as it rose, a shrub never to be denuded of its foliage. There arose, also, the shady evergreen oak, destined to preserve its shimmering even in winter time. For nature maintained in every case through future ages the prerogatives which had been impressed on it at the moment of Creation. Hence, the evergreen oak and the cypress adhere to these prerogatives, so that no wind may despoil them of the adornment of their locks.

Mingling formerly with the flowers of the earth and without thorns, the rose, most beautiful of all flowers, displayed its beauty without guile; afterwards, the thorn fenced around this charming flower, presenting, as it were, an image of human life in which what is pleasing in our activities is often accompanied with the stings of anxieties which everywhere surround us. In fact, the elegance of our life is entrenched and hedged about by certain cares, so that sadness is close neighbor to beauty. Hence, when each one of us find joys either in the pleasing exercise of our reason or in the attainment of more than usual success in life, it is fitting that we should call to mind this sin of ours, by means of which there was imposed upon us by rightful condemnation the mind’s thorns and the spirit’s brambles, when we were happily sojourning amid the delights of paradise. Although you may shine, man, with the splendor of nobility or by reason of your superior power or by the brilliance of your virtue, the thorn is ever close to you, the bramble is ever near you. Ever be mindful of what is beneath you. You blossom into life above a thorn and this beauty does not last for long. In a brief passage of time each and every one of us withers in the flower of his age.

Chapter 12

In truth, while you realize that you possess frailty in common with the flowers, you know that you have access to delight in the use of the vine, from which is produced wine, wherein the heart of man finds cheer.⁸⁴ Would that, man, you could imitate the example of this species of plant, so that you may bear fruit for your own joy and delight. In yourself lies the sweetness of your charm, from you does it blossom, in you it sojourns, within you it rests, in your own self you must search for the jubilant quality of your conscience. For that reason He says: ‘Drink water out of thine own cistern and the streams of thine own well.’⁸⁵

First of all, there is nothing more pleasing than the scent of a blossoming vine. Furthermore, the juice when extracted from the flower of this vine produces a drink which is pleasureable and health-giving. Again, who does not marvel at the fact that from the seed of the grape springs forth a vine that climbs even as high as the top of a tree? The vine fondles the tree by embracing and binding it with the tentacles of its hands and arms, clothes it with vine leaves, and crowns it with garlands of grapes. In imitation of our life, the vine first plants deep its living roots; then, because its nature is flexible and likely to fall, it uses its tendrils like arms in order to hold tight whatever it seizes. By this means it raises itself and lifts itself on high.⁸⁶

Similar to this vine are the members of the Church, who are planted with the root of faith and are held in check by the vine-shoots of humility. On this subject the Prophet beautifully says: ‘Thou hast brought a vineyard out of Egypt: thou plantest the roots thereof and it filled the land. The shadow of it covered the hills and the branches thereof the cedars of God. It stretched forth its branches unto the sea and its boughs unto the river.’⁸⁷ And the Lord Himself spoke through Isaias, saying: ‘My beloved had a vineyard on a hill in a fruitful place. And I fenced it in and dug around the vine of Sorech and I built a tower in the midst thereof.’⁸⁸ He fenced it in with a rampart, as it were of heavenly precepts and with the angels standing guard, for ‘the angel of the Lord shall encamp round about them that fear him.’⁸⁹ He placed in the Church a tower, so to speak, of Apostles, Prophets, and Doctors, ready to defend the peace of the Church. He dug around it, when He had freed it from the burden of earthly anxieties. For nothing burdens the mind more than solicitude for the world and cupidity either for wealth or for power.

There occurs an example of this in the Gospel, where we can read the story of the woman ‘who had sickness caused by a spirit, and she was bent over, so that she was unable to look upwards.’⁹⁰ Bent over, in fact, was her soul, which inclined to terrestrial rewards and possessed not heavenly grace. Jesus beheld her and addressed her; immediately she laid aside her earthly burdens. These people also were burdened with these cupidities to whom He addressed these words: ‘Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened and I will give you rest.’⁹¹ And so the soul of that woman breathed once more and stood erect like a vine around which the soil has been dug and cleared.

But the same vine, after the soil has been cleared around it, is raised up and bound, so that it may not bend back towards the ground. Some of the shoots are pruned; others are allowed to grow. Those branches which grow in aimless profusion are pruned; those which the good cultivator reckons to be productive are permitted to grow. What need is there to describe the rows of stakes and the orderly process of binding the vine shoots? These operations teach us truly and clearly that equality should be observed in the Church, so that no man of wealth and high position should exalt himself and that no one who is poor and lowly should despair. Liberty is one and the same for all members of the Church; all men possess justice and favor in an impartial manner.

For that reason the tower is placed in the middle, to serve all around as an example of those countrymen and those fishermen who deserved to hold fast the fort of virtue. By their example our courage is aroused and is not permitted to lie mean and despised on the ground. Rather, each and every one of us has his mind raised aloft to higher things so that he dares to say: ‘But our citizenship is in heaven.’⁹² Hence, to prevent it from being bent and battered by the storms and tempests of the world, the vine holds in the embrace of love, by means of those tendrils and bonds of which we spoke, all that are near and finds rest in being joined with them. That is love, therefore, which binds us with things on high and plants us in heaven. Because ‘he who abides in love, God abides in him.’ Hence the Lord also says: ‘Abide in me and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it remain on the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in me. I am the vine, you are the branches.’⁹³

It seems clear, therefore, that the example of the vine is designed, as this passage indicates, for the instruction of our lives. It is observed to bud in the mild warmth of early spring and next to produce fruit from the joints of the shoots, from which a grape is formed. This gradually increases in size, but it still retains its bitter taste. When, however, it is ripened and mellowed by the sun, it acquires its sweetness. Meanwhile, the vine is decked in green leaves by which it is protected in no slight manner from frosts and other injuries and is defended from the sun’s heat. Is there any spectacle which is more pleasing or any fruit that is sweeter?⁹⁴ What a joy to behold the rows of hanging grapes like so many jewels of a beautiful countryside, to pluck those grapes gleaming in colors of gold or purple!

You may notice that hyacinths and other gems are brilliant in color, how indigo gleams and how beautifully the pearl shines; still, you do not derive a warning from this, man, that your last day on earth should not find your fruit unripened or that the completion of your time of life should show but slight achievement. Unripened fruit is often bitter in taste. It cannot be sweet until it has grown to perfect maturity. A man perfect in this manner will not ordinarily be harmed by the cold of dread death nor by the heat of the sun of iniquity, because a spiritual grace overshadows him, quelling the fires of cupidity for the things of this world and defending him from the lusts and the burning desires of the flesh.

Let them praise you who behold you and let them admire the marshaled bands of the Church like the serried rows of vine branches, let everyone among the faithful gaze upon the gems of the soul, let them find delight in the maturity of prudence, in the splendor of faith, in the charm of Christian affirmation, in the beauty of justice, in the fecundity of pity, so that it may be said of you: ‘Thy wife is a fruitful vine on the sides of thy house,’⁹⁵ for the reason that you imitate by the exercise of your abundant and generous giving the plenteous return of a fruit-bearing vine.

Chapter 13

But why do I linger in describing just the vine, when all species of trees have their utility? Some are created to provide fruit; others are granted for our use. Those which are not overproductive of fruit are nevertheless more valuable for the uses they serve. The cedar is suitable for constructing the roof of a house, because its material is of such a kind as to furnish both spacious length for the roof and a quality of lightness for the walls. For the construction of rafters and the adornment of the pediments the most adaptable wood is that of the cypress. Hence, the Church, too, tells us in the Canticles: ‘The beams of our houses are of cedar, our rafters of cypress trees.’⁹⁶ These words point to the beautiful adornments of its pedimental structure, which, as beams do, uphold by their excellent qualities the superstructure of the Church and give charm to its façade.

The laurel and the palm are emblems of victory. The heads of victors are crowned with laurel; the palm adorns the victor’s hand. Hence, the Church, too, says: ‘I said: I will go up into the palm tree, I will take hold of the heights thereof.’⁹⁷ Seeing the sublimity of the Word and hoping to be able to ascend to its height and to the summit of knowledge, he says: ‘I will go up into the palm tree,’ that he may abandon all things that are low and strive after things that are higher, to the prize of Christ, in order that he may pluck its fruit and taste it, for sweet is the fruit of virtue.

Again, what shall we say of the poplar, a tree that provides shade for victorious crowns and for binding vines a flexible shoot.⁹⁸ What other mystical meaning has this, if not to stand for the goodness of the bonds of Christ? These bonds do not hurt—they are the bonds of grace and of love, so that every person should glory in his bonds as Paul gloried in them when he said: ‘Paul, a prisoner of Jesus Christ.’⁹⁹ When bound in these same bonds, those of self-denial and of love, he said: ‘Who shall separate us from the love of Jesus Christ?’¹⁰⁰ When bound also by these same bonds, David has said: ‘On the willows in the midst thereof we hung up our instruments.’¹⁰¹

The box-wood tree, because of its light material, trains the child’s hand when it is used for forming the outlines of the letters of the alphabet. Hence Scripture says: ‘Write upon box,’¹⁰² in order that you may be admonished by the wood itself (which is an evergreen and is never devoid of foliage) never to be deprived of the support of your hope, but rather that the hope of salvation may be generated by faith.

Why should I enumerate the great variety of trees, their particular diversities and beauties? Why speak of the wide-spreading beech tree, the slender fir, the leafy pine tree, the shady evergreen oak, the two-colored poplar,¹⁰³ the chestnut that loves the groves and ever tends to sprout again as soon as it is cut down? Why relate how in the trees themselves one can determine whether the tree is old or young? In the younger trees the branches are rather slender; in the older they are strong and gnarled; in the former, the leaves are smoother and are far apart; in the latter the leaves are rougher and more shriveled. There are trees which, because their roots are old and completely dead, are unable, if perchance they are cut down, to reproduce themselves; others show a vigorous youth and a more productive nature; a thorough pruning is conducive to profit rather than to harm, so much so that they shoot forth anew and renew themselves in so many offshoots for generations.

There is another occasion for us to marvel at the fact that there is sex even in fruit and distinction of sex in trees. You may notice how the palm tree which produces dates often reaches towards and bends beneath that tree which country children call the male palm, presenting in this act a spectacle of one eager for an embrace. That palm tree is female and betrays her sex by her appearance of subjection. Hence, cultivators of groves inject into its branches the seed of dates or of male palm trees, by which is infused into that tree what may be called a sense of its function and sweetness of a desired marital embrace. After the performance of this rite it once more rises up and lifts its branches and elevates its foliage into their former state and condition.

There is similar belief regarding the fig tree. For this reason many are said to plant the wild fig tree beside the cultivated and productive tree, because the fruit of the prolific cultivated fig tree, due either to wind or to heat, is said to fall to the ground. Hence, those acquainted with this method remedy this weakness on the part of the productive fig tree by binding it to the fruit of the wild fig, so that the cultivated tree is able to retain its own fruit, which would at any moment be likely to fall if this remedial procedure were not followed.

From this mystery of nature we are admonished not to shun those who have been separated from our faith and from association with us. And so a Gentile who was converted can be all the more a passionate defender of the faith as he was formerly strong in upholding his error. And if one is a convert from heresy, he can be a stout supporter of that new faith to which he has turned after a change in his convictions. Especially will this be true if he has been gifted by nature to give vivid expression to his opinions and if he finds support in his own moral tendencies toward temperance and chastity. Be lavish, therefore, in your attentions to him, in order that you may, like the productive fig tree, strengthen your own virtue as a result of the presence and juxtaposition of that other uncultivated tree. For in this way your moral purpose may not be weakened and the fruit of your zeal and grace will be preserved.

How many examples there are of phenomena wherein a natural hardness can be controlled by careful attention to detail in the art of cultivation. Frequently, pomegranates blossom quickly, but are unable to bear fruit without the careful application of remedial methods in the hands of experts, when, as often happens, the juice disappears within the fruit, although it presents a healthy appearance externally. This phenomenon can not without reason be compared to the Church, to which it is applied in the words of the Canticle: ‘Thy cheeks are as a piece of a pomegranate,’ and further on: ‘If the vineyard flourish, if the pomegranates flourish.’¹⁰⁴ For the Church presents to our eyes the brilliance of faith and man’s adherence to it—the Church, enhanced by the blood of so many martyrs and by what is more valuable still, by the blood of Christ; at the same time, in the possession of this pomegranate she preserves and includes in one protecting shell plenteous fruit within, involving manifold acts of virtue: the wise man conceals in his heart the good work he performs.¹⁰⁵

It is said also that fruit growers apply remedial methods of this sort to the almond tree so as to render sweet the bitterness of its fruit. They bore a hole in the root of the tree and insert in the middle of it a shoot of that tree which the Greeks call πεύκη and which we call the pitch-pine. When this is done, the bitter taste of its juice disappears.

Accordingly, if the qualities of plants are changed by the process of agriculture, is it not possible to allay any sort of infirmity of the passions by a striving after knowledge and learning? Let no one, then, who is allured by youthful intemperance despair of his conversion. Wood frequently is turned to better uses; cannot the hearts of men be likewise changed?

We have shown that there exist different species of fruit among trees of diverse nature and likewise that the same kind of tree often produces fruit of a dissimilar character. The male species produces one kind, while the female furnishes us with another—facts which we have already discussed in a preceding chapter in connection with dates.

Who can comprehend the variety, the appearance, and the delightful qualities of fruits, the usefulness of each and every product of the soil, and the peculiar sap which seems appropriate to each one; furthermore, how fruits of a rather bitter taste serve as medicine to heal our ailing stomachs by allaying swelling and rawness within; again, how the unhealthy humors of the body are modified by the sweet quality inherent in fruits?

Hence, that art of medicine is older which can cure by the use of herbs and juices. No condition of health is founded on a firmer basis than that which is acquired by the aid of health-giving nourishment. Wherefore, following the guidance of nature we are led to believe that food is our sole medicine. It is certain that open sores are closed by the use of herbs; our internal ills are cured by herbs. For this reason physicians need to know the efficacy of herbs, for from this source the practice of medicine took its rise.

Chapter 14

But to return to a discussion of the ordinary fruit: some there are which are ripened directly by the sun; others reach maturity enclosed in a shell and hull. Apples, pears, and the various species of grape are all exposed naked to the sun. Walnuts and hazelnuts as well as the kernel of the pine-nut, although covered with a shell and hull, are nourished by the heat of the sun. However deeply the kernel of the pine-nut lies buried, it still is nourished by the sun’s heat.

Such, then, is the providence of the Lord that, wherever the fruit is of a softer quality, there the thickness of the leaf presents in defense of the fruit a stouter protective covering, as we see, for example, in the fruit of the fig tree. The more delicate fruits, therefore, need a stronger defense, as the Lord Himself teaches us, speaking through the mouth of Jeremias: ‘Like these good figs, so will I regard the captives of Juda, whom I have sent forth out of this place into the land of the Chaldeans for their good. And I will set my eyes upon them for their good.’¹⁰⁶ For He surrounded His precious ones, as it were, with a stouter covering of His mercy, lest the tender fruit should perish before its time. And so, too, He says of them in a later passage: ‘My delicate ones have walked rough ways.’ To these He speaks further on: ‘Be constant, my children, and cry to the Lord.’¹⁰⁷ Against all storms and injuries this is the sole and inviolable protection and impenetrable defense.

Where, therefore, there is tender fruit, there is found a thicker covering and protection furnished by the leaves. On the other hand, where the fruit is sturdier, there the leaves are more delicate, as we see in the case of the apple tree. In the case of the sturdier apple there is not much need for protection to aid it, for the very thickness of the protective shade would serve rather to bring injury to its fruit.

Then, again, the beauty of nature and the profound mysteries of divine wisdom are manifested to us by the leaf of the vine. We note that it is so divided into parts as to present the appearance of three leaves. The middle part is so distinct that it seems to the onlooker to be a separate piece, were it not for the fact that it forms a juncture with the lower parts. This seems to follow a natural principle in that it both admits the sunlight more easily and furnishes shade. Then, the middle part of the leaf extends itself and becomes more narrow at the top as it grows, so that it offers more natural beauty than protection. For this reason it seems to present the form of the prize of a victor at the games, indicating that the grape holds the first place among the other species of hanging fruit. By the silent judgment of nature and, furthermore, by its clear decision the grape comes into being as the natural form and emblem of victory. The vine leaf, therefore, carries its prize with it, inasmuch as it furnishes defense for itself against the inclemencies of the air and the violence of storms, while at the same time it presents no obstacle to the reception of the sun’s heat from which the grape receives warmth and coloring, growth, and increase.

The fig leaf, too, not unlike the vine leaf, is divided into four parts. This fact appears all the more clearly because of its larger leaf, although its extremities have not the pointed character of the vine leaf. Whereas the leaf of the fig is stronger and thicker, that of the vine presents a more elegant form. The thickness of the fig leaf serves to ward off injury due to storms, while its cleft nature permits the fruit to profit from warmth. Again, this species of fruit feels the force of hail storms less, but reaches maturity quicker, because it seems to hide away from injuries and at the same time to lie open to fostering influences.

Why should I describe the different kinds of leaves, how some are round and others, longer; how some are flexible and others, more rigid; how some leaves do not fall readily, no matter how strong the wind, and how others are shaken off even by a slight motion of the wind?

Chapter 15

It would be an endless task to inquire into the properties of each and every thing, either to distinguish diversities by presenting clear evidence for such or to reveal by unfailing proof concealed and hidden causes. For example, water is one and the same substance, yet it often changes into various forms. Water assumes a yellow color in sand; it becomes foamy amid rocks. It has a green aspect in the midst of groves and presents various colors in a region of flowers, becoming brighter among lilies and ruddier amid roses. Water in a grassy region is clearer, but more turbid in marshy places. At its source a stream is more limpid, while sea water is darker. We see, therefore, that water assumes the color of the places through which it flows.

In like manner, too, water undergoes changes due to temperature: in heated places it becomes hot, in shady regions it becomes cool; when exposed to the sun, water acquires excess of heat; when snow falls, it assumes a white color in the form of ice. And what a change takes place in its very taste; at one time it is somewhat sharp, at another somewhat bitter; at times it is rather harsh, at times somewhat tart, and then again rather sweet. These variations are due to the qualities of the substance with which water has been mixed. It becomes bitter because of the infusion of immature juices, as when the shells of nuts are pounded and when leaves are disintegrated. Water becomes bitter by the infusion of wormwood, becomes stronger from an admixture of wine and more tart when garlic is added; it becomes heavy or sweet as the result of the addition of poison or honey. In fact, if the mastick tree and the fruit of the turpentine tree or the kernel of nuts are infused with water, the resulting mixture can readily take on the filmy nature of oil.

While water supplies nourishment to all plants, it contributes in diverse ways its useful quality to each. If it waters the roots or rains on them from the clouds, it confers distinct strength to all: the root grows in size, the trunk is enlarged, the branches are extended, the leaves become green, the seeds are nourished, and the fruit is likely to increase in number. And so, although water is the nurse of all things, the sap of some species of tree as a result its activity is made somewhat bitter; another becomes sweeter; still others become either sluggish or quick in action. In their quality of sweetness, too, plants manifest differences one with the other. The vine has one type of sweetness, the olive, another; there is a difference between the cherry and the fig; the apple has a distinctive quality and the date is different from the rest.

Even to the touch waters appear at one time smooth, at another, rough. They often give the impression of having oil on their surfaces. Water differs, too, in weight as frequently as in appearance, for in many places it is considered somewhat heavy; in other places, light. No wonder, therefore, if water, while it presents differences in itself, varies also in respect to the quality of the gum of the trees which is generated by the intake of the same water.

The gum of the cherry tree differs in quality from that which exudes from the mastick tree. Also, it is known that the sweet-smelling woods of the Orient distil a drop of balsam of unlike nature. The twigs of the fennel in Egypt and in Libya exude also by some secret process of nature a distinct kind of gum. Why should I relate to you, without burdening you with my discourse, the fact that amber is something which exudes from a shrub and that the gum hardens to form a solid mass of such precious material? This account is supported by evidence of no inconsiderable value, since leaves or very small fragments of twigs or certain tiny species of insects are often found in amber. The drop of amber while still in a more fluid state seems to have laid hold of these objects and to have retained them when the material had solidified.¹⁰⁸

But why do I with my indifferent discourse vie with the high and priceless principles of nature, since this discourse springs from the human intellect, whereas divine Providence has created the nature of all things? Hence, the reins of my diffuse discourse should, as it were, be checked,¹⁰⁹ lest I may seem to usurp the wisdom divinely conferred on Solomon in the Scriptures in expounding the ‘diversities of plants and the virtues of roots and all such things as are hid and not foreseen.’¹¹⁰ Yet, these things were not revealed by him in a clear light. In my opinion he would very likely have been able to discourse on the various species of plants,¹¹¹ yet he would not have been able to expound fully the nature of all created things.

Chapter 16

But if the harvests are often more joyous as a result of a plentiful supply of water,¹¹² if the leguminous plants become green and the manifold beauty of gardens is roused and revivified; if the banks of overflowing rivers become resplendent with their verdant cushions,¹¹³ how much more effective is the Word of God than any water course in causing every plant suddenly to burst into flower! Then the plains hastened to bring forth fruit not entrusted to them, gardens were supplied with all manner of vegetables hitherto unknown, and flowers began to germinate in a marvelous manner. The banks of streams began to vest themselves in myrtle. The trees made haste to rise; quickly they clothed themselves in flower,¹¹⁴ furnishing sustenance for men and food for animals. Fruit became the common property of all; its enjoyment is offered to all. A twofold gift is presented by trees: at one and the same time we are granted nourishment for our bodies and a means of warding off the sun’s rays in the cool of their shade; the fruit provides food and the leaves give us occasion for enjoyable living.

However, because the providence of the Creator foresaw that man in his greed would claim the fruit especially for himself, He took care that the rest of living creatures would be given their special nourishment. And so food of no inconsiderable amount was provided for them from the leaves and bark of forest trees. What would avail for medical purposes was provided for both equally: that is, the sap, gum, and young shoots of plants. Hence, the Creator has commanded from the beginning to come forth from the bowels of the earth by the might of His providence those plants which we have later by experiment, use, and example found to be useful, for God destined them for the purpose for which they were adapted.

And the Lord commanded: ‘Let the earth bring forth the green herb and the fruit tree yielding fruit after its kind, whose seed is in it,’¹¹⁵ lest someone may say that neither fruit nor seed appears in many trees and lest a person may think that the divine command is faulty in some respect, by which, in fact, truth may be called into question. Let such a person take note that it can never happen that all things that grow should not eventually spring up out of seeds or possess some qualities which seem to be in keeping with the vital power of seeds. If we pay particular attention to this matter, our understanding of the facts will be aided by the clarity of the evidence. For example, willow trees do not seem to have seeds, but they have in their leaves a kind of kernel which has the efficacy of a seed. When this is committed to the earth, there arises a tree as if it came from a planted sucker. It comes to life as if from a seed. From that kernel a root is truly formed. From the root not only is the willow developed, but there grows a forest of other trees of like kind. The root, too, has the generative quality of a seed; hence, many have propagated their groves by such a process as this.

The power of God is great in everything. Let no one wonder if I have stated that the power of God is great in plants, since He has said that His power was great in the locusts and in the bruchus,¹¹⁶ for the reason that by the affliction of sterility and famine they punished the offenses to His divine majesty. For great is the power of His patience; great, too, of His providence. Unworthy were they who had injured the Creator of the earth to enjoy earth’s fruitfulness! And He is truly great in avenging such great impiety with misery and famine. Hence, if the earth brought forth the sterile bruchus by the mighty power of God, how much greater is the power which brings into being that which is fertile!

Who on seeing a pine cone would not marvel at the art that is indelibly impressed on nature by the command of God and at the fact that, although extended at unequal lengths, the sheath arises from the center core in homogeneous fashion, whereby it protects its own fruit. Hence it preserves the same appearance and arrangement all around. And in every place there is a surplus of kernels and in the circle of the year there comes the blessing of the fruit. Therefore, in this pine cone nature seems to express an image of itself; it preserves its peculiar properties which it received from that divine and celestial command and it repeats in the succession and order of the years its generation until the end of time is fulfilled.

But as in this fruit nature imprints a pleasing representation of itself, so, too, in the tamarisk, that is, in the humble plants,¹¹⁷ nature has impressed an image of its unrelenting artfulness. For, just as there are men everywhere who are double-dealers at heart, who, while they show themselves to be gracious and unaffected in the presence of good men, cleave to those who are most vicious—so in a similar way these plants have a contrary tendency to spring up in both well-watered regions and in desert lands. That is why Jeremias compared dubious and insincere characters to tamarisks.¹¹⁸

Chapter 17

‘Let the earth bring forth,’ God said, and immediately the whole earth was filled with growing vegetation. And to man it was said: ‘Love the Lord thy God,’¹¹⁹ yet the love of God is not instilled in the hearts of all. Deafer are the hearts of men than the hardest rock. The earth, in compliance with its Author, furnishes us with fruit which is not owed to us; we deny the debt when we do not give homage to the Author.

Behold the providence of God in little things and, because you are unable to comprehend it, marvel at the fact that He has kept some plants always in foliage while He desired that others undergo changes by being deprived of their vesture. The earth preserves its verdure amid the white snow and the cold hoar frost,¹²⁰ and, although hidden in ice, its offspring still preserve no slight trace of their viridity.

Those species of trees, also, which are clothed in evergreen foliage have not inconsiderable differences. The olive and the pine always preserve their vesture. Nevertheless, they change their leaves frequently, displaying them, not as something permanent, but as successive adornments of their tree. The apparently unbroken nature of their garb they thus dissimulate by such an interchange. Again, the palm remains always green by reason of the retentive and enduring qualities of its foliage, not because of any change. For the leaves which it first produced continue to perpetuate themselves without recourse to substitution.

Imitate the palm, man, so that it may be said also to you: ‘Thy stature is like a palm tree.’¹²¹ Preserve the verdure of your childhood and of that natural innocence of youth which you have received from the beginning, and may you possess the fruits, prepared in due time, of what was planted along the course of the waters—and may there be no fall to your leaf!

To this verdure of grace everflourishing in Christ the Church refers in saying: ‘I sat down under his shadow whom I desired.’¹²² The Apostles received this privileged gift of verdure, whose leaves could never fall, so as to provide shade for the healing of the sick.¹²³ Their fidelity of heart and the superabundance of their merits provided shade for bodily infirmities. Remain, therefore, planted in the house of the Lord so as to flourish like a palm in His halls, whence the grace of the Church may ascend for you and ‘the odor of thy mouth may be like apples and thy throat like the best wine,’ so that you may be inebriated in Christ.¹²⁴

This verse serves to remind us that we should take up once more our subject wherein it was stated that the vine, too, blossomed forth by the command of God. This vine, we know, was planted by Noe after the flood. We read, in fact, that ‘Noe, a husbandman, began to till the ground and planted a vineyard and drank of his wine and slept.’¹²⁵ Noe, therefore, was not the author of the vine, but of its planting, for he could not have planted it unless he had already found it fully grown. He is just the cultivator, therefore, of the vine. Its Author, God, who knew that wine fostered health and sharpened wits when taken sparingly, but led to vice if used immoderately, has given us this plant in the act of creation. Excess of wine He set aside as an exercise for man’s will to the extent that nature’s parsimony might inculcate in him the lesson of sobriety and that man might ascribe to himself the harm due to excess and the sin of intoxication. In fact, Noe himself was intoxicated and slept under the influence of wine,¹²⁶ so we see that he who attained to such glory through the flood exposed himself to unsightliness because of his misuse of wine. But the Lord has retained in the vine the privileges due to His creation, so that He converted its fruit for our salvation and made it possible that remission of our sins should emerge from this plant.¹²⁷

Hence, Isaac spoke reverently when he said: ‘The smell of Jacob is the smell of a plentiful field,’¹²⁸ that is, a natural odor. For what is sweeter than a plentiful field, what is more delightful than the perfume of the vine, what is more pleasing than the blossom of the bean? Hence, before us a certain writer¹²⁹ has ingeniously said: ‘The patriarch did not perceive the odor of vine or fig or fruit, but he breathed the perfume of virtue.’ I for my part hold to the following interpretation: the odor of the land, unmixed and pure, infused not with guile, but with the truth of celestial indulgence, stands for the beauty of a prayer which blesses. Hence, what the Lord confers on us from the dew of heaven so as to give strength to the vine, to the olive and to the grain may be reckoned among our most precious benedictions.

To Him be honor, praise, and glory everlasting, from the beginning of time, now, always, and for ever. Amen.

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