De septem septenis

De septem septinis, London British Library MS Harley 3969, fol. 206v

THE mystagogical work De septem septenis (On the Seven Sevens) is a curious medieval treatise. It was written in the early 12th century — but probably not by the scholastic philosopher, John of Salisbury, to whom it’s attributed.  The overall orientation is Christian, yet it includes references to Hermetic, Platonic and Chaldean teachings. Its title refers to seven groups of seven things each:

1. Seven steps to learning;
2. Seven liberal arts;
3. Seven windows of the soul (two eyes, two ears, two nostrils and mouth);
4. Seven faculties of the mind (animus, mens, imaginatio, opinio, ratio, intellectus, memoria);
5. Seven cardinal and theological virtues;
6. Seven types of contemplation (meditatio, soliloquium, circumspectio, ascensio, revelatio, emissio, inspiratio); and
7. Seven principles of Nature.

It is not to be confused with De quinque septenis (On the Five Sevens), a more traditionally themed work by Hugh of St. Victor that relates the seven petitions of the Lord’s Prayer, the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, the seven Beatitudes, the seven virtues, and the seven deadly sins. That work became the source of many medieval illustrations of the so-called Wheel of Sevens.

The background of Septem septenis — what little we can surmise from the internal evidence — is most interesting.  According to Németh (2013), a single sentence in Martianus Capella’s 5th century Latin work, De nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii (On the Marriage of Philology and Mercury) — a popular work in the Middle Ages and principle source on the divisions of education known as the Trivium and the Quadrivium — made an ambiguous reference to what was understood to be an ancient work on “divinization,” called the egerimion. The Septem septimis, Németh suggests, is an attempt of an anonymous medieval Christian writer to either reconstruct or imitate the fabled egerimion, which it explicitly mentions.

The seven sections of Septem septimis appear somewhat cobbled together from various sources. Section 6 is an abridged version of De contemplatione et ejus speciebus (On Contemplation and its Species), a work possibly by Richard of St. Victor. Section 7 may have some connection with the School of Chartres, which studied and commented on the cosmological theories of Plato’s Timaeus.

Is this just a mishmash — some student forgery or prank?  Or is there an internal consistency and coherent message, which the author wishes to communicate in a very creative and non-traditional way?  As there has been no modern interest in the work (it’s never been translated) it’s perhaps too early to say.

As discussed in the last post, Google Latin-to-English translation has reached now reached a respectable level of accuracy.  Below are lightly edited Google translations of the Section 1 and part of Section 6.  The former sets the stage by claiming the authority of ancient Greek and Chaldean writings — which, the author claims, unlike the Latin tradition, are not limited by a narrow focus on rationalism.  The latter passage discusses a kind of contemplation which the author calls ascension.

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Sect. 1. Prima septena de septem modis eruditiomis

Section 1.  The First Seven are the Seven Modes of Learning

CHALDAEI et Græci sapientiam quærunt: Latine veritatem inquirunt: illi quærunt et inveniunt, quia mores cum scientia componunt; isti inquirunt et non inveniunt, quia disputationis potius cavillationi quam veritatis inquisitioni insistunt.

The Chaldaeans and Greeks seek wisdom, Latins inquire after truth. The former seek and find, because they combine morals with knowledge; the latter search and do not find, because they dispute and cavil rather than only search for truth.

Cavillosa vero disputatio ingenium exercendo excitat, in qua si moram fecerit obtundit et fascinat: quod quidem in invio et non in via veritatis hebes et palpans errat; veritatis autem inquisitio cotis vice clarum ingenium et subtile reddit: in viam regiam mentem dirigit, mentis oculos ad ardua erigit.

A caviling discussion may exercise and awaken the intellect, but, if prolonged, it stuns and fascinates: which, indeed, errs dull and groping and not in the path of truth. But a genuine search for truth on the other hand makes the intellect clear and subtle: it directs the mind in the royal road, it raises the eyes of the mind to the heights.

Et licet hisce oculis quandoque quædam aperiantur quæ latuerunt, adhuc tamen multa latent, quæ comprehendi non possunt, vel subtilitate, quia sensum effugiunt, vel obscuritate, quia nec studium nec ingenium admittunt, vel immensitate, quia rationem et intellectum excedunt. Hinc est igitur quod divina quædam sunt quæ in manifestationem veniunt et ad cognitionem se exponunt. Sed quoniam subtilia, difficilia et ardua sunt, tanquam inscrutabilia fere omnes prætermittunt. Hæc prima rerum principia, id est rerum causæ latentes et cognitiones dicuntur. De quibus præclara Chaldæorum tantum scripta ad majorem veritatis evidentiam scrutantur.

And though these eyes may sometimes reveal some things which were hidden, yet many things are still hidden which cannot be comprehended, either by subtlety, because they escape the senses, or by obscurity, because they admit neither study nor genius, or by immensity, because they exceed reason and Intellect. Hence it is that there are divine things which come into manifestation and expose themselves to knowledge. But since they are subtle, difficult, and arduous, almost everyone dismisses them as inscrutable. These are called the first principles of things, that is, the latent causes of things and knowledge. Of which only the famous writings of the Chaldeans are carefully searched for the greater evidence of the truth.

Alia vero quædam divina tam profunda, tam occulta, tam intima et omnino impenetrabilia sunt, ut nulla ratione scrutari, nullo intellectu percipi, nulla sapientia investigari possint. Unde Apostolus Quod notum Dei et manifestum est in illis. Quum dicit quod notum Dei est, id est noscibile de Deo, ostendit plane ex his quæ Dei sunt et in Deo aliquid esse manifestum, aliquid occultum. Sed quod manifestum est, per scientias posse contingi.

Things are so deep, so hidden, so intimate, and completely impenetrable, that they cannot be rationally studied, perceived by any understanding, or investigated by any wisdom. Wherefore the Apostle says, What is known of God and is manifest in them. When he says that what is known of God, that is, that is knowable of God, he clearly shows that from the things that are of God and in God there is something manifest, something hidden. But what is clear is that it can be reached through science.

Quod prorsus absconditum est, nulla ratione posse penetrari. Et haec sunt secreta illa, quæ non licet homini loqui. Proinde, ut in Apostolo scribitur, Sapientiam inter perfectos loquimur. Sapientia namque Pallas, id est nova dicitur, quia scandens ad eam minoratur. Minerva vel Athena, id est immortalis, vocatur, quia verbo et opere eam sequens ad immortalitatem rapitur. Hæc igitur Tritonia, id est trina notio, nuncupatur, quia humano animo sapientia illustrato engerimion, id est surrationis liber aperitur, in quo ab humanis ad divina surgere septem septenis eruditur, et ad trinam, humanæ scilicet naturæ, angelicæ et divinæ, notionem ascendere perfectius instruitur.

What is completely hidden cannot be penetrated by rationality. And these are those secrets which it is not lawful for a man to speak. Therefore, as it is written in the Apostle, we speak wisdom among the perfect. For wisdom is Pallas, that is, it is said to be new, because when one ascends to it, it diminishes. Minerva or Athena, that is, immortal [JU: apparently from athanatos, undying], is called because following her in word and deed he is carried away to immortality. Therefore this Tritonia, that is, the triple concept, is called, because in the human mind, enlightened wisdom engerimion, that is, the book of resurrection is opened, in which it is learned to rise from the human to the divine seven sevens, and to ascend more perfectly to the triple concept, that is, the human nature, the angelic and the divine is instructed.

Septem sunt modi primæ septenæ, quibus humanus animus in perfectam eruditionem introducitur. Primus modus est, omnium artium doctrinam velle, secundus est delectari quod velis: tertius instare ad id quod delectat: quartus, concipere quod instat: quintus, memorare quod concipit, sextus invenire aliquid simile: septimus ex his omnibus extorquere quod est utile.

There are seven ways, the first seven, by which the human mind is introduced into perfect learning. The first way is to desire the learning of all arts, the second is to delight in what you want, the third to insist on what delights, the fourth to conceive what is urgent, the fifth to remember what one conceives, the sixth to discover similitudes, the seventh to wring from all these things that are useful.

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Sect. 6. Sexta septema de septem generibus contemplationis

Section 6.  The Sixth Seven are the Seven Kinds of Contemplation

SEXTA septena de septem generibus contemplationis sequitur, in quibus anima requiescens jucundus immoratur. Septem sunt contemplationis genera, meditatio, soliloquium, circumspectio, ascensio, revelatio, emissio, inspiratio. […]

The sixth seven are the seven kinds of contemplation that follow, in which the soul rests and dwells in delightf. There are seven kinds of contemplation: meditation, soliloquy, survey [or scrutiny], ascension, revelation, release, and inspiration. […]

Quarta species. Ascensio.

Ascensio est ad immortalia in excelsis animi digressio; unde Propheta: “Beatus vir, cujus est auxilium abs te ascensiones in corde suo disposuit” [cf. Vulgate Psa 83:6, beatus homo cuius fortitudo est in te semitae in corde eius]. Tres sunt ascensiones in corde suo dispositae.

The ascent to immortality is the highest going of the soul; whence the Prophet: Blessed is the man whose strength is in You, whose heart is set on pilgrimage. [Psa 84:5; NKJV] There are three ascents arranged in his heart.

Tres sunt ascensiones Christi: tres quoque nostri. Prius enim Christus ascendit in montem, deinde in crucem, tandem ad patrem.

There are three ascents of Christ: ours are also three. For first Christ ascended the mountain, then the cross, and finally to the Father.

In monte docuit discipulos; in cruce redemit captivos; in coelo glorificavit electos.
In monte doctrinam protulit humilitatis; in cruce formam expressit caritatis; in coelo coronam præbuit felicitatis.
In primo præbuit lumen scientiæ; in secundo culmen justitiæ; in tertio numen gloriæ.

He taught the disciples on the mountain; He redeemed the captives on the cross; He glorified the elect in heaven.
On the mountain he brought forth the doctrine of humility; on the cross he expressed the form of charity; He gave a crown of happiness in heaven.
In the first place He provided the light of knowledge; in the second summit of justice; in the third divine glory.

Tres sunt nostri ascensiones; prima in actu; secunda in affectu; tertia in intellectu.

Three are our ascents: first in action; second in affect; third in understanding.

[JU: So in addition to the traditional distinction between the affective and intellective divisions of the human soul, the author introduces a third aspect of our nature, action or activity.  Ascent occurs on all three.]

Ascensio vero actualiter triplex; prima in confessione culparum; secundain largitione eleemosynarum; tertia in contemptu divitiarum, prima in operibus poenitentiæ; secunda in operibus misericordiæ; tertia in operibus consummatæ justitiae; prima meretur veniam; secunda gratiam; tertia gloriam.

Ascension in action is threefold: first in confession of faults; second, giving of alms; third in contempt of riches: the first in works of penitence, the second in works of mercy, the third in works of consummate righteousness; the first merits forgiveness, the second grace, the third glory.

[JU: The author is weaving together in a plausible way Hermetic and Platonic themes of divinisation with traditional Christian virtues of self-examination, compunction, humility, and charity.]

Ascensio affectualis triplex: prima est ad perfectam humilitatem; secunda ad consummatam caritatem; tertia ad contemplationis puritatem.

Affective ascent is threefold: first to perfect humility; second to consummate charity; third to purity of contemplation.

Ascensio vero intellectuali illuminat et imperat; actus illuminatur et obtemperat; affectus illuminat, et illuminatur, et intellectui obtemperat et actui imperat.

Intellectual ascent illuminates and commands; action is enlightened and obeyed; affect enlightens and is enlightened, and obeys the understanding and commands action.

[JU: This paragraph seems to dense for Google to reliably translate.  The main idea is that there is dynamic interplay between the ascents of action, affect and understanding: mutual illumination and directing.]

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Bibliography

Baron, Roger (ed.). De contemplatione et ejus speciebus (La Contemplation et Ses Espèces). Desclée, 1955.

Giles, J. A. (ed.). De septem septenis. In: Joannis Saresberiensis postea episcopi camotensis opera omnia, vol. V: Opuscula.  Oxford, 1848; 209−238. Reprinted in Jacques-Paul Migne, Patrologia Latina, vol. 199, cols. 945−965. Paris, 1855. [Latin text] [Latin text]

Hugh of St. Victor. De quinque septenis. Jacques-Paul Migne, Patrologia Latina, vol. 175, cols. 405B−414A. Paris, 1854.

Németh, Csaba. Fabricating philosophical authority in the Twelfth Century: The Liber Egerimion and the De septem septenis. Authorities in the Middle Ages. De Gruyter, 2013; 69−87.

Manuscripts

Cambridge Corpus Christi College MS 459 fol. 99r-107v.

London British Library Harley MS 3969 fol. 206v−215v.

first draft: 19 Nov 2022; please excuse typos

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Thomas Browne − Soul Illimitable

 

Frontspiece, Religio Medici (1642)

THIS Neoplatonism-themed passage from the Religio Medici of Sir Thomas Browne (1605–1682) caught my attention unexpectedly while researching another topic.  Especially as it relates to the subject of the greatness of the human soul — a topic of much interest to me — I thought I should share it.

Now for my life, it is a miracle of thirty years, which to relate, were not a history, but a piece of poetry, and would sound to common ears like a fable. For the world, I count it not an inn, but a hospital; and a place not to live, but to die in. The world that I regard is myself; it is the microcosm of my own frame that I cast mine eye on: for the other, I use it but like my globe, and turn it round sometimes for my recreation. Men that look upon my outside, perusing only my condition and fortunes, do err in my altitude; for I am above Atlas’s shoulders. The earth is a point not only in respect of the heavens above us, but of that heavenly and celestial part within us. That mass of flesh that circumscribes me limits not my mind. That surface that tells the heavens it hath an end cannot persuade me I have any. I take my circle to be about three hundred and sixty. Though the number of the ark do measure my body, it comprehendeth not my mind. Whilst I study to find how I am a microcosm, or little world, I find myself something more than the great. There is surely a piece of divinity in us; something that was before the elements, and owes no homage unto the sun. Nature tells me, I am the image of God, as well as Scripture. He that understands not thus much hath not his introduction or first lesson, and is yet to begin the alphabet of man. Let me not injure the felicity of others, if I say I am as happy as any. Ruat cœlum, fiat voluntas tua, salveth all; so that, whatsoever happens, it is but what our daily prayers desire. In brief, I am content; and what should providence add more? Surely this is it we call happiness, and this do I enjoy; with this I am happy in a dream, and as content to enjoy a happiness in a fancy, as others in a more apparent truth and reality. There is surely a nearer apprehension of anything that delights us in our dreams, than in our waked senses. Without this I were unhappy; for my awaked judgment discontents me, ever whispering unto me that I am from my friend, but my friendly dreams in the night requite me, and make me think I am within his arms. I thank God for my happy dreams, as I do for my good rest; for there is a satisfaction in them unto reasonable desires, and such as can be content with a fit of happiness. And surely it is not a melancholy conceit to think we are all asleep in this world, and that the conceits of this life are as mere dreams, to those of the next, as the phantasms of the night, to the conceit of the day. There is an equal delusion in both; and the one doth but seem to be the emblem or picture of the other. We are somewhat more than ourselves in our sleeps; and the slumber of the body seems to be but the waking of the soul. It is the ligation of sense, but the liberty of reason; and our waking conceptions do not match the fancies of our sleeps. At my nativity, my ascendant was the earthly sign of Scorpio. I was born in the planetary hour of Saturn, and I think I have a piece of that leaden planet in me. I am no way facetious, nor disposed for the mirth and galliardise of company; yet in one dream I can compose a whole comedy, behold the action, apprehend the jests, and laugh myself awake at the conceits thereof. Were my memory as faithful as my reason is then fruitful, I would never study but in my dreams, and this time also would I choose for my devotions: but our grosser memories have then so little hold of our abstracted understandings, that they forget the story, and can only relate to our awaked souls a confused and broken tale of that which hath passed. Aristotle, who hath written a singular tract of sleep, hath not methinks thoroughly defined it; nor yet Galen, though he seems to have corrected it; for those noctambulos and night-walkers, though in their sleep, do yet enjoy the action of their senses. We must therefore say that there is something in us that is not in the jurisdiction of Morpheus; and that those abstracted and ecstatick souls do walk about in their own corpses, as spirits with the bodies they assume, wherein they seem to hear, see, and feel though indeed the organs are destitute of sense, and their natures of those faculties that should inform them. Thus it is observed, that men sometimes, upon the hour of their departure, do speak and reason above themselves. For then the soul begins to be freed from the ligaments of the body, begins to reason like herself, and to discourse in a strain above mortality.

Source: Henry Craik, ed.  English Prose. Vol. II. Sixteenth Century to the Restoration. Sir Thomas Browne: The Soul Illimitable. 1916.

Reference

Browne, Sir Thomas. Religio Medici. London, 1682.

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Philo and the Liber Mundi

(Not Philo, but maybe he looked like this!)

LAST week I felt inspired to look at Philo’s On Dreams again.  The Introduction in Colson & Whitaker’s translation didn’t turn up much of new interest, until I got to their summary of Philo’s interpretation of Jacob’s ladder dream.

Philo pays particular attention to Jacob’s statement, “this is a gate of heaven” (Gen. 28:17).  Here Philo sees a reference to how the sensory world is a ‘gate’ to the Ideal world — every material thing being an image or shadow of a corresponding eternal Idea.  To me it seems Philo isn’t making so much a technical metaphysical point as a practical, psychological and experiential one: in the proper frame of mine, we can ascend from material things to catch sight of Eternal Beauty, or of objects belonging to that realm.

There are obviously Platonic overtones here — implicit references to the ascent to God from contemplation of beautiful things in Symposium 201–212, parts of the Timaeus, and the ‘pure world’ myth of Phaedo 107c–115a.  But in another sense it comes across (at least to me) as reminiscent of Neoplatonism — not just Plotinus, but of the characteristically Renaissance Neoplatonism idea that the world is a Book of God, a mirror or gateway into a corresponding universe of eternal, perfect Forms. One proceeds, say, from seeing an actual beautiful flower to somehow intuiting or contemplating a truth that the object not only instantiates, but one which the object is intended to convey to us for some didactic purpose.

IF that corresponds to Philo’s intentions it seems worth mentioning, because then it means that Philo is expressing this typically Neoplatonist idea two centuries before Plotinus.

Or perhaps I’m reading too much into the passage.  This general subject has been on my mind lately as I’ve recently collected and placed online quotations from American Transcendentalists and others about the transcendent beauty and meaning of flowers, illustrated with my photos  (Visit the new website Florigelium here).

Genesis 28

[10] And Jacob went out from Beer-sheba, and went toward Haran.

[11] And he lighted upon a certain place, and tarried there all night, because the sun was set; and he took of the stones of that place, and put them for his pillows, and lay down in that place to sleep.

[12] And he dreamed, and behold a ladder set up on the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven: and behold the angels of God ascending and descending on it.

[13] And, behold, the LORD stood above it, and said, I am the LORD God of Abraham thy father, and the God of Isaac: the land whereon thou liest, to thee will I give it, and to thy seed;?

[14] And thy seed shall be as the dust of the earth, and thou shalt spread abroad to the west, and to the east, and to the north, and to the south: and in thee and in thy seed shall all the families of the earth be blessed.

[15] And, behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest, and will bring thee again into this land; for I will not leave thee, until I have done that which I have spoken to thee of.

[16] And Jacob awaked out of his sleep, and he said, Surely the LORD is in this place; and I knew it not.

[17] And he was afraid, and said, How dreadful is this place! this is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.

Philo, On Dreams 1 (De Somniis 1)

XXXII. [184]
Rightly, therefore, was he afraid and said in an awestruck tone, “How dreadful is this place” (Gen. 28:17). For indeed most difficult of the “places” in the study of nature’s verities is that in which men inquire as to where, and whether at all in any thing the Existent Being is. Some say that everything that subsists occupies some space, and of these one allots to the Existent One this space, another that, whether inside the world or a space outside it in the interval between worlds. Others maintain that the Unoriginate resembles nothing among created things, but so completely transcends them, that even the swiftest understanding falls far short of apprehending Him and acknowledges its failure.

[185]
Wherefore he straightway cried aloud “This is not” (ibid. 17); this that I supposed, “that the Lord is in some place” (ibid. 16), is not so; for according to the true reckoning He contains, but is not contained. But this that we can point out and see, this world discerned by sense, is, as I now know, nothing but a house of “God,” that is, of one of the Potencies of the Existent, that is, the Potency which expresses His goodness.

[Note:  Yonge translates this paragraph in a somewhat less difficult way as: “wherefore (Jacob) speedily cries out, This is not what I expected, because the Lord is in the place”; for he surrounds everything, but in truth and reason he is not surrounded by anything. And this thing which is demonstrated and visible, this world perceptible by the outward senses, is nothing else but the house of God, the abode of one of the powers of the true God, in accordance with which he is good;”]

[186]
The world which he named a “house,” he also described as “gate of” the real “heaven” (ibid. 17). Now what is this? The world which only intellect can perceive, framed from the eternal forms in Him [Note: Perhaps meaning the Logos] Who was appointed in accordance with Divine bounties, cannot be apprehended otherwise than by passing on to it from this world which we see and perceive by our senses.

[187]
For neither indeed is it possible to get an idea of any other incorporeal thing among existences except by making material objects our starting-point. The conception of place was gained when they were at rest: that of time from their motion, and points and lines and superficies, in a word extremities from the robe-like exterior which covers them.

[188]
Correspondingly, then, the conception of the intelligible world was gained from the one which our senses perceive: it is therefore a kind of gate into the former. For as those who desire to see our cities go in through gates, so all who wish to apprehend the unseen world are introduced to it by receiving the impression of the visible world. The world whose substance is discernible only by intellect apart from any sight whatever of shapes or figures, but only by means of the archetypal eternal form present in the world which was fashioned in accordance with the image beheld by him with no intervening shadow, — that world shall change its title, when all its walls and every gate has been removed and men may not catch sight of it from some outside point, but behold the unchanging beauty, as it actually is, and that sight no words can tell or express.

p.s. This passage connects with an earlier one in On Dreams about which I wrote previously.

Reference

Colson, F.H.; Whitaker, G. H.  On Dreams.  In: Philo in Ten Volumes, Vol. 5. Loeb Classical Library, Cambridge, MA, 1938.

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Timeline of Cambridge Platonists and Metaphysical Poets

Click image to enlarge

SOME time ago I used an online service to make this timeline of Cambridge Platonists and Metaphysical Poets, thinking it might help others.  I naively assumed that by posting it on my Christian Platonist webpage, it would be routinely noticed by Google’s web crawlers, which would index it and cause it to appear in relevant Google image searches.I was wrong.  As sophisticated as the Google search engine is, it somehow couldn’t figure out (1) that this exactly what it claims, and (2) it would be of interest to anyone who searched for a timeline of, say, Cambridge Platonists or Metaphysical Poets.

Rather than pry into this enigma, it seems simpler to simply re-post the chart here, on a different web page and hope for better results!

Beyond Stoicism

THE INTEREST shown in Stoicism in recent years has some definite pluses.  One is that it shows people are finding the Freudian and other reductionist systems of materialist psychology insufficient for finding moral direction, personal satisfaction and happiness.  Another is that it’s helping people to wake up to the beauties of Greek and Roman philosophy.  Consider that before this Stoic revival, the prevailing attitude in university Psychology Departments was that nothing important had been written on human psychology before William James.

Nevertheless, I suspect that once they read and absorb all the excellent things Stoicism has to say about psychology, ethics, and the human condition, many will ultimately find something lacking.  Stoicism excels in technical definitions and minute analysis of cognitive operations.  But, ultimately, it fails to satisfy the deepest yearnings of the heart.

Platonism (which we may here to consider to include Neoplatonism) does more to satisfy these deep yearnings.  Like Stoicism, it emphasizes the acquisition of virtue and the pursuit of dispassion (apatheia and/or ataraxia).  But, unlike Stoicism, Platonism does not see apatheia as an end in itself, but rather as a means to an end: once the passions are quieted, the mind, now calm and still, can gain insight into deeper realms of truth.  From dispassion it proceeds to theoria and noesis — the contemplation of Eternal Verities.  From this contemplation the soul begins to learn important truths of its own nature, such as that (1) it is immortal, and (2) its destiny is to find fulfillment by degrees in ‘becoming godlike insofar as possible.’  The Platonist also seeks to ascend to a direct encounter with the Good, the source of all Truth and Beauty – which it cannot help but love.

But from this it is obvious that a still greater degree of personality development may occur:  to make love of the Good – God – the central purpose of ones life.  This is the realm of religion.  Hence, while we have sketched this only in the broadest of strikes, the idea is that a natural progression would be from Stoicism, to Platonism, to religion.

These three correspond fairly well to the traditional stages of ascetico-mysticism, i.e., those of purgation (Stoicism), illumination (Platonism) and union (religion). In each later stage, the benefits of earlier stages are retained and built upon.  Hence the Platonist may still be a Stoic, and the saint still a Stoic and a Platonist.

If we were to select as most important one thing that distinguishes a Christian from a Stoic, it is that the Christian recognizes a personal, loving God. Both the Christian and the Stoic may take as the ethical summum bonum or rule of life the accommodation of personal will to a higher will — to God’s will, for the former, and to Nature (or the Law of Nature) for the latter.  The Stoic, moreover, may also understand Nature to be God — but not a personal God.  Hence, while it may seem that the goals of the two are similar or the same, the way they seek to accomplish this are extremely different.  The Stoic must rely on his or her own will to accomplish the abrogation of personal will!  It is a matter of individual effort only.  Hence, ironically, the struggle to achieve Stoic virtue, holiness, and resignation, because it is directed by the ego, necessarily contributes to egoism.  For the Christian, however, progress in virtue comes from grace — it is the gift of a generous, loving, personal God. The Stoic seeks humiliation of will through pride, the Christian seeks humiliation of will in humility and gentle, childlike trust in God’s loving-kindness. The Stoic seeks to accomplish great psychological feats of asceticism and self-control, the Christian begins by praying for divine help.

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Philo’s Use of the Book of Psalms

Papyrus Fragment: LXX Psalm 88:4-8 (P.Duk.inv. 740), Duke University

AN EARLIER post suggested that Philo’s psychological method for interpreting the Pentateuch could be applied equally well to the Book of Psalms. Philo’s exegetical writings focus almost exclusively on the Pentateuch, citing each of its five books hundreds of times, and Genesis and Exodus more than the others.  By comparison, he cites Psalms only about 25 times — although this is his next most common Old Testament source outside of the Pentateuch. A list of his references to verses from Psalms is appended to this article.

By examining how Philo himself uses Psalms, we can check our earlier hypothesis: when Philo cites verses from Psalms, does he find in them meanings consistent with his interpretations of Genesis, Exodus, and the other Pentateuch books?  The answer is yes, and three representative examples are shown here.

1. Psalm 23:1. The LORD is my shepherd (Agricultura 50−54, Mutatione 105−120)

In his exegetical works, Philo twice refers to perhaps the most famous verse of Psalms, The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. (Ps 23;1; herein we shall use the King James Version translation and numbering).  These occur in On Agriculture (De Agricultura) 49−54 and On The Change of Names (De Mutatione Nominum) 103−120.

In the former, he begins by explicitly stating that we may interpret the verse psychologically.  God is the good shepherd, and different parts of the soul (psyche) are what need shepherding.  Reliance on God’s guidance puts all parts of the soul under a common leader, so that they may operate harmoniously and effectively.  Otherwise it is compelled to heed many different leaders with conflicting aims.

The Universe itself, Philo tells us, relies on God as its shepherd.  The guiding influence comes not from God directly, but through the agency of his firstborn Son, the Logos, who governs all as though a great King.  If this is true of the entire Universe, then each soul should likewise utter the same cry, “The LORD is my shepherd.” As long as ones soul follows the guidance of the King, it is not only harmonized within itself but aligned with the universal plan of God’s goodness.  By Providence all things will work to good for the soul and all needs are supplied — such that it may then add with confidence, “and nothing shall I want.”

Philo’s second mention of Psalm 23:1 — longer, and more complex psychologically — occurs in On the Change of Names (De mutatione) 103−120. The context — as the title of the book implies — concerns a change of names: Moses’ father-in-law is called in Exodus both Jethro and Raguel or Rauel. We first learn that he is a priest of the Midianites. By Philo’s etymology, ‘Midian’ refers to judgment.  (Philo’s etymologies are often notoriously idiosyncratic, but this association seems reasonable, as “Midian” does suggest an association with the proto-Indo-European roots *medyo– [‘middle’] and *me– [measure].)

Jethro first sends his seven daughters to water his sheep at a communal well.  At the well they are harassed by wicked shepherds. Moses arrives on the scene and opposes these other shepherds.  Jethro’s daughters then water their flock.  Jethro is pleased to see them return sooner than usual and wonders why.  When they explain what happened, he invites Moses into the clan, where he becomes the head shepherd.  At this point, Philo tells us, Jethro’s name becomes Raguel, which means “the shepherding of God,” because now the daughters have “discarded their kinship with vanity” and have “resolved to become a part of the holy herd which is led by God’s Word.” This leads Philo to mention Psalm 23:1.

As for the psychological meaning, the seven daughters, Philo tells us, symbolize seven elemental powers (dunameis) of the soul: the five senses (aisthesis), the “reproductive power” (gyne) and “voice” (phone) (Mutatione 111). As the meanings of the last two powers aren’t fully clear, let’s consider here the five ordinary senses. These are sent by Jethro, the governing or father part of the mind in its worldly orientation (104), to water their sheep. There they fill the “troughs of the soul” — perhaps what we would call the sensorium, or, alternatively, centralized conscious experience (111). However this is opposed by the wicked shepherds, who symbolize disordered passions, “comrades of envy and malice” (112).

Moses, a teacher/leader/prophet mental disposition or sub-ego (see earlier post for discussion of these terms), discerns the nature of these opposing forces and prevails over them. In this way he functions symbolically as did Phineas (108), who, when an Israelite man slept with a Midianite woman, slew them both (Numbers 25:1–9) with a lance or sword that symbolizes discernment (cf. Philo, Allegorical Interpretation 3.242).  The sense/daughters may then water their sheep and return to their mind/father who is now in a reformed condition and guided by God. Similarly, when passions dominate our mind — when we cling to them, as it were — sensation becomes impure and corrupted. The mind is now distracted, consciousness is divided, and sensation partial, fragmentary and unclear. When Moses overcomes the bad shepherds, sensation is restored to purity and the mind to its natural integrity.

We can find a modern parallel in Abraham Maslow’s (1971) distinction between what he called D-mode (Deficiency) and B-mode (Being) cognition. Whereas D-mode sensation regards objects as means to egoistic goals, Being cognition enjoys sensations purely and for their own sake, as ends in themselves. It corresponds to the unitive state described by Christian and other religious mystics. One is in the world but not of it (118).

When the daughters return to their father with alacrity they explain that this is not due to themselves, but through the agency of the Moses, an Egyptian.  Moses is an incredibly important archetypal figure in Philo’s writings.  He is not only a leader/prophet, but a Hebrew raised as a prince of Egypt (that is, both a ‘seer of God,’ yet also with an interest in the world of sense):

For the senses are on the border-line between the intelligible realm and the sensible, and all that we can hope is that they should desire both realms and not be led by the latter only. To suppose that they will ever give their affections to the things of mind only would be the height of folly, and therefore they give both titles. By the word ‘man’ [Ex. 2:20] they point out the world which reason alone discerns, by ‘Egyptian’ they represent the world of sense. (Mutatione 118; tr. Colson & Whitaker)

Perceptual experience in the properly oriented mental condition (Raguel) is more light and subtle, and at the same time more vital, detailed and nuanced.  One may, say, savor a single sip of wine instead of gulping down an entire cup whilst already imagining a second one. This mode of perception does not weigh down consciousness or disrupt or distract higher cognitive powers.  In this more peaceful frame of mind, one may also receive subtle thoughts and impulses that originate from ones higher nature. (120)  One is able to recognize, profit from and enjoy the multitude of providential gifts God supplies (116).

2. Psalm 46:4. There is a river (Somniis 2.246− 2.300)

There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the most High.

Our second example is Philo’s use of Psalms 46:4, There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the most High (KJV; LXX Ps. 45).  He discuses this verse in On Dreams (De somniis) 2.246−254. The context is his analysis of Pharaoh’s dream of the seven fat and seven gaunt cattle (Gen. 4), which Joseph interpreted.  In the dream, Pharaoh is standing by a river (And it came to pass at the end of two full years, that Pharaoh dreamed: and, behold, he stood by the river. Gen.41:1; KJV). Philo uses the opportunity to discuss the symbolic significance of rivers, contrasting two meanings, both allegorically understood to relate to the human soul and both being connected (though differently) with logos.

The first type of river is the constant flow of words or logoi of God, by which He providentially orders and directs all Creation, including the human soul.  This is a very Stoic notion.  For Philo, this activity is collectively directed by the Logos — understood as the Son or Chief Angel of God. This direction is manifest as discrete units, words or logoi.  As they affect the human soul, Philo likens these to an irrigating river of Wisdom. In this discussion he alludes to the four rivers of Eden, a subject that figured prominently in his earlier work, Allegorical Interpretation 1.19.63−89.  As we are told there, this separates into four rivers, corresponding to the four cardinal virtues, watering the Garden of Eden, which symbolizes the human mind filled with holy, virtuous and divine thoughts.

In contrast, a soul in the fallen condition is subject to a different kind of river: a flow or confused torrent of disruptive, distracting thoughts (logismoi).  Philo sees an allegorical reference to this other river in Exodus 7:15 Behold, he is going forth to the river, and thou shalt stand in the way to meet him, on the bank of the River.  This refers to that more famous Pharaoh with whom Moses contended in Exodus.  There are, then, figuratively speaking, two rivers, and a principal ethical and spiritual task of ours is to orient our soul to the divine one.  This is done by following Moses’ instruction to the Israelites, “Be still and hear” (σιώπα και άκουε; Deut. 27:9).  This Philo understands to mean a state of pious humility and trust, leading to a quietude of mind and an ability to perceive God’s guidance.

Note also Philo’s likening the soul of the righteous person to a city of God. He is certainly aware of Plato’s city-soul analogy in the Republic, and makes frequent use of it in his works.

3. Psalm 31:18. Let lying lips be silenced (Confusione 21−40)

Let the lying lips be put to silence; which speak grievous things proudly and contemptuously against the righteous.

Philo mentions this verse in On the Confusion of Tongues (De Confusione).  This work of Philo, which interprets the Tower of Babel story in Genesis, bears an especially strong connection with Psalms.  The tower’s builders were punished by God by having their languages confused, which, understood psychologically, is the same as being scattered.  Punishment of the wicked by scattering is mentioned in at least 10 different psalms.

Philo begins the discussion in On Confusion by noting that, while there are many evils in life capable of producing a painful and harmful upheaval of the psyche (wherein, among other things, it is easy prey to vice) the worst threat comes from evils produced from within the soul itself.  He then reviews the familiar Platonic tripartite model of the psyche, with its appetitive, irascible and rational elements.  Each of these is susceptible to its own mischiefs — both as it relates to itself and as it relates to the other elements.  A breakdown of the rational element is the most dangerous, however, as this inevitably affects the integrity of the others.  Philo likens the situation to a ship, where the steersman (rational nature), passengers (appetitive nature), and crew (irascible nature — the equivalent of Plato’s guardian class in the Republic) all cooperate in folly, leading to certain disaster.  The mutiny may begin with the appetitive and irascible passions, which then seek to corrupt captain and steersman to effect their nefarious aims (cf. Plato’s ship analogy in Rep. 6.487–6.491a).  Similarly, if physicians themselves become sick, it is much harder to control an epidemic.

Philo sees scriptural references to this negative alliance amongst mental powers in the story of the deluge, where the “cataracts” (plural) were opened, corresponding to a flooding torrent of multiple passions simultaneously. He also alludes to the confederation of heathen kings — enemies of Abraham — who met at the salt ravine (Gen. 14:3). And also the mob in Sodom who surrounded Lot’s house and threatened his guests (Gen. 19:4), allegorically understood as disordered passions “conspiring against the divine and holy Thoughts, who are often called angels” (Conf. 27f).

It is against such harmful thoughts that a distinctive leader/prophet mental disposition symbolized by Moses must stand to oppose.  An analogy is drawn to Moses meeting Pharaoh at the edge (which, in Philo’s vernacular, is also called the “lips”) of a river (Ex. 7:15).  Lips is an apt term, because the river is the flow of thoughts — which here are understood as mental speech or inner voices.

Moses stands by the river because he is stable, exemplifying the virtue of faith.  The speech of the passions consists in part of sophistries which seek to justify or rationalize vicious behavior.  These are reduced to silence by Moses, who demolishes them with clear reasoning.  However in this work Moses cannot rely solely on his own power.  Ultimately to defeat the sophistries of vice he needs the assistance of God. Therefore we must beseech God’s help, as in the psalmist’s words in this verse.

This is a particularly good example where Philo musters many verses from the Old Testament to support his argument.  The allegorical meanings he gives these verses are not arbitrary or implausible.  Rather, they rely on a consistent ethical and psychological model that combines Platonic psychology, Stoic ethics and Jewish piety before a personal God.

Conclusion

These examples demonstrate that Philo used the same hermeneutical approach to interpreting Psalms that he used for Genesis, Exodus, and the other books of the Pentateuch.

As noted in the previous article (Uebersax 2021), his model is consistent and representative of the perennial ascetical-mystical philosophy, Platonist/Stoic ethics, and certain modern theories of personality psychology. This is not a conclusion of mere academic interest.  Rather, it has practical value in that it means we may ourselves continue and extend Philo’s exegetical work:  we may apply the principles Philo demonstrates in his masterful interpretations of Genesis and Exodus, with no modification, to understand the Book of Psalms.

We should also note that Philo did not merely see Psalms as a text to be critically interpreted.  As a devout, practicing Jew of Alexandria, he would have prayed and sang psalms regularly.  Therefore his critical analysis would have been supported by an experiential understanding.  We should always bear in mind that Philo was not only a philosopher, but a self-avowed mystic.  He tells us, for example, that he has many times:

suddenly become full, the ideas falling in a shower from above and being sown invisibly, so that under the influence of the Divine possession I have been filled with corybantic frenzy and been unconscious of anything, place, persons present, myself, words spoken, lines written. For I obtained language, ideas, an enjoyment of light, keenest vision, pellucid distinctness of objects, such as might be received through the eyes as the result of clearest shewing. (Migratione 35)

Similarly, in Special Laws 3:1−6 he describes gaining spiritual wings and being “wafted by the breezes of knowledge.”

It must be emphasized that we are not discussing Philo as a sterile exercise in the history of religion.  It is assumed, rather, that the ability to experience transcendent states of consciousness is something real and vitally important for us as human beings.  Scriptures like the Book of Psalms are a repository of the spiritual wisdom of our ancestors from which we may draw.  Philo himself gives us an example of how to make use of this wisdom: by an integrated approach that involves attentive reading, exegesis, intuition, and personal practice.

Update:  Some time after writing this I learned of an article by David Runia, Philo’s Reading of the Psalms. It is difficult to find, but an abstract is here.  Runia agrees that Philo uses the same exegetical method for Psalms as he does for the Pentateuch. He also suggests that Philo does not take advantage of the full spiritual potential of Psalms, perhaps because his thorough exegesis of the Pentateuch makes it unnecessary.

At the same time I found an article by Maren Niehoff, Paul and Philo on the Psalms. Interestingly, Niehoff suggests that “Philo uses the Psalms as a spiritual key to Genesis” (p. 401).

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References

Cohen, Naomi G. Philo’s Scriptures: Citations from the Prophets and Writings. Brill, 2007.

Colson F. H.; Whitaker, G. H.; Marcus Ralph (eds.). The Works of Philo. 12 vols. Loeb Classical Library. Harvard University Press, 1929−1953.

Maslow, Abraham H. The farther reaches of human nature. New York: Arkana, 1993 (first published Viking, 1971).

Niehoff, Maren R. Paul and Philo on the Psalms: Towards a Spiritual Notion of Scripture. Novum Testamentum 62.4, 2020, 392−415.

Runia, David T. Philo’s Reading of the Psalms. Studia Philonica Annual 13, 2001, 102–121.

Uebersax, John. On the psychological and sapiential meaning of the Book of Psalms. Christian Platonism website. 12 Dec 2021.

Uebersax, John. Psychological Allegorical Interpretation of the Bible.  Camino Real, 2012.

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Appendix. Philo’s Quotations From Psalms

Psa 23:1
[1] The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
Agricultura 50−54
Mutatione 115

Psa 27:1
[1] The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the LORD is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?
Somniis 1.75

Psa 31:18
[18] Let the lying lips be put to silence; which speak grievous things proudly and contemptuously against the righteous.
Confusione 39

Psa 37:4
[4] Delight thyself also in the LORD; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.
Plantatione 39
Somniis 2.242

Psa 42:3
[3] My tears have been my meat day and night, while they continually say unto me, Where is thy God?
Migratione 157

Psa 46:4
[4] There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the most High.
Somniis 2.246−254

Psa 62:11
[11] God hath spoken once; twice have I heard this; that power belongeth unto God.
Quod Deus 82

Psa 65:9
[9] Thou visitest the earth, and waterest it: thou greatly enrichest it with the river of God, which is full of water: thou preparest them corn, when thou hast so provided for it.
Somniis 2.245
See Psa 46:4 above.

Psa 69:33
[33] For the LORD heareth the poor, and despiseth not his prisoners.
Questions and Answers on Genesis 4.147

Psa 75:8
[8] For in the hand of the LORD there is a cup, and the wine is red; it is full of mixture; and he poureth out of the same: but the dregs thereof, all the wicked of the earth shall wring them out, and drink them.
Quod Deus 77−82

Psa 78:49
[49] He cast upon them the fierceness of his anger, wrath, and indignation, and trouble, by sending evil angels among them.
Gigantibus 16f

Psa 80:5
[5] Thou feedest them with the bread of tears; and givest them tears to drink in great measure.
Migratione 157
See Psa 42:3 above.

Psa 80:6
[6] Thou makest us a strife unto our neighbours: and our enemies laugh among themselves.
Confusione 52−54

Psa 84:10
[10] For a day in thy courts is better than a thousand. I had rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God, than to dwell in the tents of wickedness.
Quis heres 290

Psa 87:3
[3] Glorious things are spoken of thee, O city of God. Selah.
Confusione 108
See Psa 46:4 above.

Psa 91:11−12
[11] For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.
[12] They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone.
Quod Deus 182

Psa 94:9
[9] He that planted the ear, shall he not hear? he that formed the eye, shall he not see?
Plantatione 29

Psa 101:1
[1] I will sing of mercy and judgment: unto thee, O LORD, will I sing.
Quod Deus 74−76

Psa 115:5−8
[5] They have mouths, but they speak not: eyes have they, but they see not:
[6] They have ears, but they hear not: noses have they, but they smell not:
[7] They have hands, but they handle not: feet have they, but they walk not: neither speak they through their throat.
[8] They that make them are like unto them; so is every one that trusteth in them.
Decalogo 74

Psa 115:8
[8] They that make them are like unto them; so is every one that trusteth in them.
Specialibus legibus 2.255

Psa 115:17
[17] The dead praise not the LORD, neither any that go down into silence.
Fuga 59

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Psalm 45. The Mystical Marriage

Monastery of St. John the Baptist, Megara

PSALM 45 (Ps. 44 LXX) is another hidden gem.  The Book of Psalms is a magnificent work — even by itself one of the greatest treatises on spiritual life we possess.  The weakening of spiritual life in the West today is proportional to the loss in fervor with which people study and pray Psalms, which in previous centuries was a mainstay of Christian spiritual life. It’s not enough to read or hear isolated verses of Psalms during masses and liturgies.  A thorough, attentive, and repeated reading of the whole work is needed. Only then may one recognize it as an organic unity with an express aim. That aim is to help effect a transformation of soul.  Psalms not only give us a conceptual framework for understanding that process of transformation, but, insofar as we pray individual psalms (or perhaps sing them) devoutly and meditate on their meanings, it becomes a means of effecting that transformation.

The subject is a marriage involving the soul. The resemblance to the Song of Songs is evident and striking. It would be interesting to know which was written earlier: does the first epitomize the second, or the second expand the first?

To begin there is one verse of introduction, a masterpiece of economy and eloquence, and immediately rivets our attention on what is to follow:

[1] My heart is inditing a good matter: I speak of the things which I have made touching the king: my tongue is the pen of a ready writer.

There is no doubt — on this virtually all commentators agree — but that this psalm does not describe any historical event, but its meaning is found in symbolism and allegorical interpretation. There are two principal figures in the psalm: the King, and the Bride.

The King

[2] Thou art fairer than the children of men: grace is poured into thy lips: therefore God hath blessed thee for ever.
[3] Gird thy sword upon thy thigh, O most mighty, with thy glory and thy majesty.
[4] And in thy majesty ride prosperously because of truth and meekness and righteousness; and thy right hand shall teach thee terrible things.
[5] Thine arrows are sharp in the heart of the king’s enemies; whereby the people fall under thee.
[6] Thy throne, O God, is for ever and ever: the sceptre of thy kingdom is a right sceptre.
[7] Thou lovest righteousness, and hatest wickedness: therefore God, thy God, hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows.
[8] All thy garments smell of myrrh, and aloes, and cassia, out of the ivory palaces, whereby they have made thee glad.

The King here is almost universally understood to signify Christ.  However, it’s also possible to understand the figure as symbolic of an Inner Christ within the soul.  These two interpretations are not mutually exclusive, but to supply a satisfactory discussion of the relationship of Christ to the Inner Christ (however valuable that might be) is beyond the present scope. We may observe, though, that such a parallel is implied by the important Christian doctrine of theosis (becoming like God).  Most unfortunate it is that this doctrine receives so little attention today outside the Orthodox Churches. We come to see, know and love God only to the degree that we become like Him. Our spiritual life is one of gradual coming to be like God, as we proceed from glory to glory. (2 Cor.3:18)

Of what, then, does the beauty of the King consist? We are told that He has the qualities of truth, meekness and righteousness. As we read and reflect on the psalm, we rediscover a great truth of our own soul: that we find this figure of supreme righteousness innately and irresistibly attractive. We cannot help but love deeply and intensely these divine virtues, because these also constitute the deepest nature of our own soul. We love in others what we treasure — sometimes without realizing it — in ourselves.  Reading these verses and calling to our imagination a vision of this King, we are confronted with a great truth of our own soul: we love Righteousness and Moral Beauty — and  far more so than anything related to the material world.  This realization jolts us into a proper remembrance of our true nature.

Yet the King is not only great in moral beauty, but also awesome and sublime in a sense that is, we might say, terrifying.  The very perfection of truth and righteousness which we admire in the King makes falsehood and wickedness perfectly unacceptable to Him.  Hence He is also portrayed as taking an aggressive stance against evil. This creates a psychological paradox for us — one that, in a sense, is the same paradox inherent in that potent expression, fear of the LORD. The same pure King of Righteousness, whose beauty we find so irresistibly attractive, is also a source in like degree of great apprehensiveness.  For we do not believe we are pure and holy.  Even the best of us harbors a deep awareness of our carnal nature and selfish tendencies. As we are drawn toward the beautiful King, we recoil, as though feeling as St. Peter did when he said, Depart from me; for I am a sinful man, O Lord. (Luke 5:8)

Therefore, while Christ, loving and patient, continually beckons us forward, saying, “Fear not!  Come into your Father’s house, to the place that has been prepared for you,” we are divided.  We wish both to proceed and to draw back, lest, coming into the presence of the Father, our sinful side will be seen and incur rejection and wrath.

This is an elemental conflict which must be resolved within the psyche of the devoted reader.  The harder task, perhaps, is not so much the elimination of all sin, but to accept that God loves us completely despite our sins.  This is a matter of great import.  For insofar as guilt and shame dominates our mind, we will seek to by our own efforts to conquer sin — the polar opposite of what we need.  But if we focus our attention on God’s generosity, understanding and love, we will see that it is by grace we are saved. So far from human understanding is this great truth!

The Bride

[9] Kings’ daughters were among thy honourable women: upon thy right hand did stand the queen in gold of Ophir.
[10] Hearken, O daughter, and consider, and incline thine ear; forget also thine own people, and thy father’s house;
[11] So shall the king greatly desire thy beauty: for he is thy Lord; and worship thou him.
[12] And the daughter of Tyre shall be there with a gift; even the rich among the people shall intreat thy favour.
[13] The king’s daughter is all glorious within: her clothing is of wrought gold.
[14] She shall be brought unto the king in raiment of needlework: the virgins her companions that follow her shall be brought unto thee.
[15] With gladness and rejoicing shall they be brought: they shall enter into the king’s palace.
[16] Instead of thy fathers shall be thy children, whom thou mayest make princes in all the earth.
[17] I will make thy name to be remembered in all generations: therefore shall the people praise thee for ever and ever.

The bride here has traditionally been given three alternative meanings:  (1) the Church, (2) the soul, and (3) the Blessed Virgin Mary.  Examples of all three interpretations can be found throughout ancient and medieval commentaries on the Song of Songs. The meanings overlap and are interact, so we need not worry overmuch about making an exact distinction among them. The Church, after all, is a collection of individual souls, and what applies to one, generally applies to the other. Similarly, the Blessed Virgin is frequently taken as a kind of ideal for the individual soul.  This not withstanding, our focus of attention here is on the bride as an individual soul.

Why is the soul symbolized as a female figure, as it would seem to transcend distinctions of gender. Apparently what is symbolized is not the entire soul, but that part of it that is connected with such things as feeling, sensation, emotion and desiring.  This affective soul (anima) would be the counterpart of another part of our soul, the intellective (animus).  In that case, we might possibly interpret the King as a symbol of the animus, to which the anima soul is being united in some new and fundamentally improved way.  Such an inner marriage has many archetypal counterparts in mythology (e.g., Martinus Capella’s Marriage of Philology and Mercury and Apuleius’ Marriage of Eros and Psyche), and some alchemical literature. A Jungian would see this as a representation of a conjiunctio or marriage of the conscious and unconscious psyche.

It is not correct for Christians to summarily and completely dismiss secular psychological or esoteric writers merely because they depart from orthodox Christianity. Even if they are merely half-right, we must pay attention to the half that is right.  Just as St. Augustine in On Christian Doctrine reminds us to read Scripture charitably, so as to not miss important meanings, so the principle of charity applies to reading secular works and writings from other spiritual traditions.

That said, the orthodox Christian (or, for that matter Jewish) and the Jungian view produce two complementary psychological interpretations of the marriage. The former sees the mystical marriage as an ascent of human consciousness to God.  The latter sees it as an integration of psychic functions that produce an intensification and revitalization of waking consciousness in and of this world — that is, attainment of what Abraham Maslow called  Being-experience. Elsewhere I have suggested that Plato’s philosophy, as shown particularly in his myths, can be understood as helping to attain both: mystical ascent and Being-experience. These two meanings are not mutually exclusive, and there is much in the Gospel to suggest it is as much concerned with the latter as the former. The telos of Christian ethics must be complete and integral if it is to be satisfying and compelling.

To return to the psalm, the Queen has female attendants, which may symbolize particular powers or faculties of the soul.  For example, they could mean the senses, or perhaps higher-level creative powers such as are symbolized in Greek myth by the Muses. Her garment of finest gold and its fine embroidery suggest a radiant and beautiful assortment of virtues.

The bride is told to leave her father’s land.  Many commentators plausibly suggest that this refers to the soul leaving its natural homeland of attachment to sensory and worldly goods, and fixing its affection on spiritual things.  (See excerpt from St. Ambrose below.)

In verse 11 we see that it is precisely because the soul rejects the worldly and turns to heavenly things that the King finds her beautiful.  This is a key point, and a magnificent one. It addresses and solves the aforementioned paradox.  Despite our fears and misgivings about being acceptable to God, we here are taught that we already possess, at least in potential, something that God treasures dearly.  Our soul becomes not just good, but supremely beautiful — possessing the very kind of moral beauty that the King prizes — by making the moral choice to turn from flesh to spirit.  We need not recoil from God due to an our awareness of sinfulness, for God has endowed us with a nature He finds supremely beautiful.  We must constantly redirect our attention to that fact.

Attending the wedding as a guest is another female figure, the Queen of Tyre. Tyre is a Philistine (i.e., heathen) city — so this figure may indicate some ruling power or sub-personality (for clarification of these terms see my previous post on Philonic interpretation) concerned with worldly things.  Significantly, this woman bears a gift.  What that gift is we are not told, and it is up to us to learn experientially.  It might involve the ability to enjoy sensory goods and pleasures to a far greater degree than we could before.  That is, if we are attached to the senses, we cannot really enjoy their offerings, because we are divided: we are simultaneous aware of defection, of giving our allegiance to the wrong place, which degrades the integrity of consciousness and diminishes enjoyment.  But if our allegiance remains in heaven, then we my touch the world of sense delicately, savoring it as we would the delicate scent of a rose, rather than dulling our senses with cheap perfume.

Princely offspring of the bride are also promised. Perhaps these would be intellectual activities, projects, and works initiated by the redeemed, reformed and divinized mind.

Conclusion

These are some possible interpretations.  They are only tentative, approximate and suggestive — hints, hopefully to that fuller understanding attainable only by devout reading and meditation.

As said before, there is an important performative dimension to interpreting the psalms.  Understanding comes more from praying than analyzing them.  This is true generally of biblical exegesis, and perhaps especially the Wisdom Books. There is a self-referential or circular quality:  by spiritual mindedness we understand the deeper meanings, and a main purpose of the Bible is to help us gain spiritual mindedness.  Norris puts this well:

“[Gregory of Nyssa] says not only that the Song in some fashion narrates an exemplary soul’s progress in knowledge and love of God but also that readers of the Song may themselves, through their comprehension of it, be brought along as actual participants in the same progress. The text of the Song has a kind of symbolic or sacramental character, then, in that to understand it fully is to be involved with the reality it speaks of.” (p. xlv).

Similarly, Origen, in his Commentary on the Song of Songs, interprets the words behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves’ eyes (Song 1.15) to mean that the eyes of the exegete are illumined by the Holy Spirit and enabled to see spiritual meanings of Scripture. (Origen Comm. Cant. 3.1)

Thus it is not the purpose here or in other articles to replace the effort of each reader with formulaic interpretations.

Let us, then, simply close with a passage from St. Ambrose’s commentary on the Song (found in his work On Isaac, or the Soul) I encountered in preparing this article which seems very relevant:

(8.78) Let us then take up these wings, since like flames they aim for the higher regions. Let each man divest his soul of her baser coverings and approve her when she is cleansed of the mire just as he would approve gold cleansed by fire. For the soul is cleansed just like the finest gold. Moreover the beauty of the soul, her pure virtue and attractiveness, is her truer knowledge of the things that are above, so that she sees the good on which all things depend, but which itself depends on none. There she lives and receives her understanding. For that supreme good is the fountain of life; love and longing for it are enkindled in us, and it is our desire to approach and be joined to it, for it is desirable to him who does not see it and is present to him who sees it, and therefore he disregards all other things and takes pleasure and delight in this one only. …

Let us flee therefore to our real, true fatherland [cf. Plotinus, Enneads 1.6.5]. There is our fatherland and there is our Father, by whom we have been created, where there is the city of Jerusalem, which is the mother of all men. (8.79) … Let us flee with the spirit and the eyes and feet that are within. Let us accustom our eyes to see what is bright and clear, to look upon the face of continence and of moderation, and upon all the virtues, in which there is nothing scabrous, nothing obscure or involved. And let each one look upon himself and his own conscience; let him cleanse that inner eye, so that it may contain no dirt. For what is seen ought not to be at variance with him who sees, because God has wished that we be conformed to the image of His Son. … This is the eye that looks upon the true and great beauty. Only the strong and healthy eye can see the sun; only the good soul can see the good. Therefore let him become good who wishes to see the Lord and the nature of the good.

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References

Astell, Ann W. The Song of Songs in the Middle Ages. Cornell University Press, 1990.

McHugh, Michael P. (tr.). Saint Ambrose: Isaac, or the Soul (De Isaac vel anima). In: Michael P. McHugh (ed.), Saint Ambrose: Seven Exegetical Works, Fathers of the Church 65, CUA Press, 1972 (repr. 2010); pp. 9−65.

Lawson, R. P. (tr.). Origen: The Song of Songs Commentary and Homilies. Ancient Christian Writers 26. Newman Press, 1957.

Norris Jr., Richard A. (tr.). Gregory of Nyssa: Homilies on the Song of Songs. Society of Biblical Literature, 2012.

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Thomas Gallus: Interior Angelic Hierarchies and More

Francesco Botticini, The Assumption of the Virgin (c. 1475; detail)

THOMAS GALLUS (c.1200−1246; Thomas of Vercelli, Thomas of St. Victor) studied at the Abbey of Saint Victor in Paris before co-founding a monastery in Vercelli, Italy. Strangely overlooked today (but that is changing), his ideas are valuable and important for the study of the history of mysticism and in the West, and, potentially, for modern Christian spirituality. His accomplishments include following:

Gallus authored glosses, summaries and commentaries of the works of Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite.  Ps.-Dionysius introduced the concept of  apophatic mysticism: the notion that God is ultimately unknowable, and that the supreme mystical experience involves not knowing, but unknowing. Surprisingly, Ps.-Dionysius nowhere associates the ascent to or attainment of unknowing with love! That connection came from Gallus. The Victorines were Augustinians, and Gallus’ work — relying on the Song of Songs as well as the Dionysian corpus — represents an ultimate marriage of Augustinian love mysticism with Neoplatonic intellectual mysticism.

Along with this, Gallus was also the first to discuss an interiorized version of the angelic hierarchies of Ps.-Dionysius. The latter, it will be recalled, posited the existence of nine hierarchical orders of angels, arranged in groups of three. Gallus understood there to be a parallel psychological situation within a person’s soul. As symbolized by Jacob’s ladder, these interior angels or soul activities interact and communicate upwards and downwards, between celestial levels of the soul and those concerned with activity in the material world.

The above two things enable Gallus to integrate what today we call apophatic (conceptless) and kataphatic (concept-oriented) mysticism. These are seen as two movements of the same, higher-order process. This also solves the problem of quietism. The mystical life is not merely a progressively more extreme flight from the world: an ascent beyond body to soul, from soul to intellect, and then beyond intellect to some wordless, formless experience of unknowing. In the Augustinian tradition, a mystic must apply insights gained and achieve an enriched ability to practice charity to God and man through good works. The mystical life is not one of withdrawal from the world, but of angelic activity in it. Knowledge about the world leads us to know and love God more, and knowing and loving God more makes use better serve Him in the world.

Finally, Gallus’ work on the apex of the mind and spark of synderesis was groundbreaking. For him, the apex mentis or highest summit of the soul is not, as in some earlier and later writers, solely an organ of moral conscience. Rather, it is truly a spark of God’s consciousness that we possess, in which highest the affective experience and the highest intellectual knowing of God may coincide.

Inner Angelic Hierarchy

Gallus’ best descriptions of the interior angelic hierarchy come not in his works on the Dionysian corpus, but in the Prologues of two commentaries on the Song of Songs (Barbet, 1967). The brief description below borrows liberally from Tichelkamp (2017) and Coolman (2017). We consider the nine ranks of angelic functions from lowest to highest — which would correspond to a process of gradual ascent (similar to the Journey of the Mind to God by St. Bonaventure, who was influenced by Gallus). However it would be equally logical to consider them in the reverse order, from highest to lowest.

First triad: Natural sensing and judging powers of soul operating alone

1. Angels
Basic perceptions or observations of the world, without yet any judgment of these observations.

2. Archangels
Intellectual judgments that discern whether what is observed is agreeable or disagreeable to oneself.

3. Principalities
The mind then makes an affective/volitional choice to approach what was judged agreeable, or desires to flee from what was judged disagreeable

Second triad: Natural forces of soul operating in cooperation with supernatural grace

4. Powers
Initial activities of reason, intellect, and affect—mental powers.

5. Virtues
Activation of mental/moral virtues, e.g., temperance, courage.

6. Dominations
Free will suspends the intellect and affect “in order to receive divine interventions; mind “is stretched and exercised (extenditur et exercetur)… to the highest limits of its nature.

Third triad: Operations of supernatural grace alone

7. Thrones
A suspension of the mind’s greatest powers, intellect and affect, gives way to the reception of divine grace that heightens the activity of intellect and affect.

8. Cherubim
This order contains the knowledge (cognitio) of both intellect and affect as they have been drawn or attracted by divine grace beyond the mind. Intellect and affect have “walked together up to the final failure of the intellect, which is at the summit of this order.

9. Seraphim
The Seraphic level contains “only the principal affection (spark of synderesis) which can be united to God (sola principalis affectio Deo unibilis).

When the mind has fully ascended, the soul is in proper order, and, like a healthy spiritual plant or tree, it can now communicate the life-giving fecundity of God, the Divine Source, from the highest level to all lower orders of the mind and soul. In a way reminiscent of certain Eastern esoteric systems (kundalini yoga and Taoist spiritual alchemy), the summum bonum of human life is neither ascent, nor remaining in ecstasy, but a steady-state circulation. This would imply (following basic principles of Victorine and Augustine psychology), one being an agent of God’s charity in the world. Hence the ultimate ethical end is the unitive state, or what some in the yogic traditions call the jivan mukta state.

Details here are necessarily very sketchy, but interested readers may found more detail in  Coolman (2017), Tichelkamp (2017) and this video by Coolman.

The video is also interesting because Coolman draws an analogy between internal angelic hierarchy to certain ideas of the Jesuit philosopher, Bernard Lonergan, concerning hierarchical levels of human consciousness.

Readings

Barbet, Jeanne (ed.). Thomas Gallus: Commentaires du Cantique des Cantiques. Paris: J. Vrin, 1967.

Chase, Steven. Angelic Spirituality: Medieval Perspectives on the Ways of Angels. Paulist Press, 2002. Includes translations of Gallus’ Prologue to the Third Commentary on the Song of Songs and his Extractio on the Celestial Hierarchy.

Coolman, Boyd Taylor. Knowledge, Love, and Ecstasy in the Theology of Thomas Gallus. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017.

Coolman, Boyd Taylor. The medieval affective Dionysian tradition. Modern Theology 24:4 October 2008. Reprinted in: Eds. Sarah Coakley, Charles M. Stang. Re-thinking Dionysius the Areopagite, Wiley, 2011.

Coolman, Boyd Taylor. Magister in hierarchia: Thomas Gallus as Victorine Interpreter of Dionysius. In: Eds. Hugh Feiss, Juliet Mousseau, A Companion to the Abbey of Saint Victor in Paris, Brill, 2017; pp. 516−546

Lawell, Declan Anthony (ed.). Thomas Gallus: Explanatio in Libros Dionysii. Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 223. Turnhout: Brepols, 2011. Latin critical edition.

McEvoy, James. Mystical Theology: The Glosses by Thomas Gallus and the Commentary of Robert Grosseteste on De mystica theologia. Paris: Peeters, 2003; pp. 3–54.

McGinn, Bernard.  Thomas Gallus and Dionysian Mysticism. Studies in Spirituality, 8 (Louvain: Peeters, 1994), pp. 81–96, slightly expanded from The Flowering of Mysticism: Men and Women in the New Mysticism (1200–1350), volume 3 of The Presence of God: A History of Western Christian Mysticism (New York, NY: Crossroad, 1998).

Tichelkamp, Craig H. Experiencing the Word: Dionysian Mystical Theology in the Commentaries of Thomas Gallus. Dissertation. Harvard University, 2017.

Walach, Harald. Higher self – spark of the mind – summit of the soul. Early history of an important concept of transpersonal psychology in the West. International Journal of Transpersonal Studies 24.1, 2005, 16−28.

Walsh, James. Thomas Gallus et l’effort contemplatif. Revue d’histoire de la spiritualité, 51, 1975, pp. 17–42.

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Myths of the Fall

Polyphemus, Babel, Satan, Deluge, Eden, Pharaoh, Tyranny, Phaeton, Icarus  

M

YTHS  of the Fall of Man ought to interest us intensely, because it’s so obvious that human beings, individually and collectively, live mainly in a markedly fallen condition.  Individually this is manifest as the various forms of negative thinking that characterize much or most of our waking consciousness: anxiety, worry, greed, anger, hated, fear, confusion, distraction, delusion, folly, envy, resentment, fantasy, daydreaming, grandiosity, obsession, etc. Examples of collective chronic psychological and social dysfunction are just as many and obvious.

Yet the academic establishment has gotten virtually nowhere trying to understand what myths of the fall are trying to tell us about what the psychological fall is, why it happens and how to prevent it.

Concerning the opposite condition – the blessed or ascended state – there are also many valuable and important myths.  Indeed, we might be easily persuaded that the natural condition of the human mind is happy, blessed, active and extremely capable.

In the Western tradition we have three parallel sources of fall myths:  Greek mythology, Plato’s dialogues and the Old Testament.  Examples:

Greek: Pandora, Ages of Man, Deucalion, Phaeton, Narcissus, Odyssey (Lotus eaters, Cyclops, Circe, Scylla & Charybdis), Icarus; Judgment of Paris; cf. Choice of Hercules.

Plato: Cave allegory, Cronos myth (Statesman), Tyrant’s progress, Atlantis; cf. Chariot myth.

Old Testament: Garden of Eden, Cain & Abel, Deluge, Tower of Babel, Sodom and Gomorrah, Pharaoh’s army

Plato’s ethics and epistemology supply a clear framework for interpreting his myths, and, by extension, related Greek myths.  Philo of Alexandria, in turn effectively applies Platonic formulae to interpret the Old Testament myths of the fall.

The Platonic interpretation of myths of the fall has a long tradition, and is arguably more relevant than modern Jungian interpretations, which downplay the ethical and religious meanings.

To be clear, my conviction is that these myths are not mere historical recollections of ancient deluges or a cultural transition from a happy primitive hunter-gatherer society.  They are humanity’s attempt to understand that most significant fact of human psychology: that we spend the bulk of our lives in a dreadful fallen state, virtually asleep, a ‘life that is not life.’   Until we solve this problem, we won’t be able to see or think clearly enough to solve our social problems.

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References

Uebersax, John.  The monomyth of fall and salvation.  Christian Platonism website. 2014.

Uebersax, John. Plato’s Myths as Psychology.  2015.
www.john-uebersax.com/plato/myths/myths.htm

 

St. Augustine on the Esoteric Meaning of the Beatitudes

Whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock. (Mat 7:24)

THE THEME of Jesus’ teachings in the Gospels is the kingdom of heaven.  This kingdom is not of this world (John 18:36; cf. Luke 17:21), but is within.  Nowhere is the message of the kingdom, and its role in attaining to holy, happy and blesssed living, presented more directly than in the Sermon on the Mount, of which the Beatitudes (Matthew 5:3−10) are the essence.  The Beatitudes are one of the great prayers of the Christian tradition.  Unfortunately they are too often regarded as mere platitudes, or else as moral commands to change the exterior world by promoting social justice, peace and so on.    But while things like social justice are undeniably important, the Beatitudes seek something greater still:  the union of the individual soul with God, which is the essence of beatitude and the purpose of true religion.

St. Augustine — always mindful in his writings of the soul’s journey to God — supplies a beautiful and insightful commentary on the interior meaning of the Beatitudes in Book 1 of his Commentary on Matthew, shown below.  The translation here is that of Jepson (1948).

Matthew 5

[3] Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
[4] Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.
[5] Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.
[6] Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled.
[7] Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.
[8] Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.
[9] Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.
[10] Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness’ sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

CHAPTER 1

The Sermon on the Mount is the perfect pattern of the Christian life. The poor in spirit. [Note 1]

3. Now, what does He say? Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. We read in the Scriptures concerning the craving for temporal things: All is vanity and presumption of spirit. [Qoh 1:14; LXX]. Presumption of spirit means boldness and haughtiness. In common parlance, too, the haughty are said to have “high spirits”; and rightly, since spirit is also called “wind.” Whence it is written: Fire, hail, snow, ice, stormy wind. [Psa 148:8] And who has not heard the haughty spoken of as “inflated,” blown up, as it were, with wind? So, too, the expression of the Apostle: Knowledge puffeth up, but charity edifieth. [1 Cor 8.1] For this reason the poor in spirit are rightly understood here as the humble and those who fear God, that is, those who do not have an inflated spirit. And there could be no more felicitous beginning of blessedness, whose ultimate goal is perfect wisdom: The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. [Pro 1:7; cf. Sir 1: 14; Psa 110:11] Whereas, on the contrary, we have the attribution: The beginning of all sin is pride. [Sir 10:13] Let, therefore, the haughty seek and love the kingdom of the earth; but Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

CHAPTER 2

The other Beatitudes.

4. Blessed are the meek, for they shall possess the land by inheritance. [Notes 2, 3] The land I take in the sense of the Psalm: Thou art my hope, my portion in the land of the living. [Psa 142:5] It stands for something solid, the stability of an undying inheritance, where the soul in a state of well-being rests as in its natural environment, as the body does on earth; and thence draws its food, as the body from the earth. This is the life and rest of the Saints. The meek are those who yield before outbursts of wickedness and do not resist evil, but overcome evil with good. [Cf. Rom 12:21] Therefore let those who are not meek struggle and contend for earthly and temporal things; but blessed are the meek, for they shall possess the land by inheritance from which they cannot be expelled.

5. Blessed are the mourners, for they shall be comforted. Mourning is sadness for the loss of dear ones. But when people turn to God, they dismiss what they cherished as dear in this world; for they do not find joy in those things which before rejoiced them; and until there comes about in them the love for what is eternal, they feel the sting of sadness over a number of things. They, therefore, will be comforted by the Holy Spirit, who especially for this reason is named the Paraclete, that is, the Consoler, that disregarding the temporal they may enjoy eternal happiness.

6. Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after justice, for they shall have their fill. Here He means those who love the true and unshakable good. The food with which they will be filled is the food that the Lord Himself mentions: My meat is to do the will of my Father, [John 4:34] which is righteousness; and the water, of which whoso shall drink, as He Himself says, it shall become in him a fountain of water springing up into life everlasting. [John 4:14]

7. Blessed are the merciful, for mercy shall be shown them. He pronounces them blessed who come to the aid of the needy, since it is paid back to them so that they are freed from distress.

8. Blessed are the clean of heart, for they shall see God. How senseless, therefore, are they who look for God with bodily eyes, since He is seen by the heart, as elsewhere it is written: And seek Him in simplicity of heart. [Wis 1.1] For this is a clean heart, one that is a simple heart; and as the light of this world cannot be seen save with sound eyes, so God cannot be seen unless that is sound by which He can be seen.

9. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God. Perfection lies in peace, where nothing is at war; and the children of God are peaceful for the reason that no resistance to God is present, and surely children ought to bear a likeness to their father. And they are at peace with themselves who quell all the emotions of their soul and subject them to reason, that is, to the mind and spirit, and have their carnal passions well under control; these make up the kingdom of God. In this kingdom everything is in such perfect order that the noblest and most excellent elements in man control without opposition the other elements which are common to us and animals. Moreover, what is most distinguished in man—mind and reason—is subject to a higher being, which is Truth itself, the only-begotten Son of God; for it cannot control the lower unless it puts itself in subjection to its superior. And this is the peace which is given on earth to men of good will; [cf. Luke 2:14] this is the life of a man who is rounded out and perfect in wisdom. From a kingdom of this sort enjoying greatest peace and order has been cast out the Prince of this world who lords it over the perverse and disorderly. With this peace set up and established in the soul, whatever onslaughts he who has been cast out makes against it from without, he but increases the glory which is according to God. He weakens nothing in that structure but by the very ineffectiveness of his machinations reveals what strength has grown within. Hence it follows: Blessed are they that suffer persecution for justice’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. [Mat 5:10]

CHAPTER 3

The Beatitudes mark the stages traversed towards perfection.

10.  … [Note 4]

For blessedness starts with humility: Blessed are the poor in spirit, that is, those who are not puffed up, whose soul is submissive to divine authority, who stand in dread of punishment after this life despite the seeming blessedness of their earthly life.

The soul next makes itself acquainted with Sacred Scripture according to which it must show itself meek through piety, so that it may not make bold to censure what appears a stumbling block to the uninstructed and become intractable by obstinate argumentation.

The soul now begins to realize what a hold the world has on it through the habits and sins of the flesh. In this third step, then, wherein is knowledge, there is grief for the loss of the highest good through clinging to the lowest.

In the fourth step there is hard work. The soul puts forth a tremendous effort to wrench itself from the pernicious delights which bind it. Here there must be hunger and thirst for righteousness, and there is great need for fortitude, for not without pain is the heart severed from its delights.

At the fifth step it is suggested to those who are continuing their energetic efforts how they may be helped to master their situation. For unless one is helped by a superior power, he is incapable of freeing himself by his own efforts from the bonds of misery which encompass him. The suggestion given is a just proposition: If one wishes to be helped by a more powerful person, let him help someone who is weaker in a field wherein he himself holds an advantage. Hence, Blessed are the merciful, for mercy will be shown them.

The sixth step is cleanness of heart from a good consciousness of works well done, enabling the soul to contemplate that supreme good which can be seen only by a mind that is pure and serene.

Finally, the seventh step is wisdom itself, that is, contemplation of the truth, bringing peace to the whole man and effecting a likeness to God; and of this the sum is, Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.

The eighth maxim [Note 5] returns, as it were, to the beginning, because it shows and commends what is perfect and complete. Thus, in the first and the eighth the kingdom of heaven is mentioned: Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven; and, Blessed are they that suffer persecution for justice’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven — when now it is said: Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation? or distress? or persecution? or hunger? or nakedness? or danger? or the sword? [Rom 8:35]

Seven in number, therefore, are the things which lead to perfection. The eighth maxim throws light upon perfection and shows what it consists of, so that, with this maxim beginning again, so to speak, from the first, the two together may serve as steps toward the perfection of the others also.

Notes

1. In paragraphs 1 and 2, omitted here for brevity, Augustine gives a brief introduction.  He suggests that the Beatitudes supply a perfect perfect pattern of the Christian life and embrace all the directives we need.  Jesus states that those who hear and shape their lives according to his words spoken on the mount are like the man who built his house upon a rock. [Matt. 7:24-27].  Augustine proposes that the reference to Jesus “opening his mouth” [Matt.5:2] implies these are these are His words, i.e., the New Law, whereas previously in His ministry He was wont to open the mouth of the Prophets, i.e., the Old Law.

2. by inheritance.  These words appear in the Old Latin version of the Gospels that Augustine used at the time of writing this (ca. 394).  He didn’t routinely use the Vulgate until around 400.

3. He inverts the order of the 2nd and 3rd  Beatitudes.

4. We omit a paragraph wherein Augustine remarks on the grammatical difference between seven Beatitudes (Mat. 5: 3−9) and the two further maxims in Mat. 10−11.

5. That is, Mat. 5:10.  Again, he considers this verse relevant to the present theme, but not one of the seven Beatitudes themselves.

Bibliography

Augustine, Saint, Bishop of Hippo: De sermone Domini in monte. CCSL 35 (1967). J. P. Migne (Paris, 1845), Patrologia Latina (PL) 34:1229−1308 (Latin text).

Findlay, William (tr.). Saint Augustine: Our Lord’s Sermon on the Mount. In: Philip Schaff (ed.), A Select Library of the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church, First Series 6. New York, 1903; repr. 1979.

Jepson, John J. (tr.). Saint Augustine: The Lord’s Sermon on the Mount. Ancient Christian Writers 5. Newman Press, 1948.

Kavanagh, Denis J. Saint Augustine: Commentary on the Lord’s Sermon on the Mount, with Seventeen Related Sermons. Fathers of the Church 11. New York 1951.

Paffenroth, Kim (tr.). The Sermon on the Mount (De sermone Domini in monte). In: Boniface Ramsey (ed.), Saint Augustine: New Testament I and II. New City Press, 2014.

Pryse, William. Praying the Beatitudes as a Spiritual Exercise. Satyagraha: Cultural Psychology.  2017.  Accessed 13 Oct 2020.

1st draft, 15 Oct 2020