Sermon 374
Sermon of Saint Augustine delivered on Epiphany
To see God, let us cleanse our hearts.
The annual celebration of this day demands from us an annual sermon, which is due to your ears and hearts, and, if you listen devoutly, also due to your morals. For the fruit of our whole life is righteousness, the reward is eternal life, the beginning of righteousness is faith. For we were not called to what we already see, nor do we already possess what was promised. But because the promiser is true, we must first live in hope, that we may be worthy to live in reality: what God has promised, without doubt, He will give. But because what He is going to give is great, by delaying, He extends our desire so that He may make us capable of such a great gift. For He is not going to give perishable, changing, fragile goods that, when they abound, fill us with fears, and when they recede, fill us with sorrows. But He is going to give – what do you think? – something earthly? Far from it! Something heavenly, the like of which we see with the eyes of the body? Even that is cheap in comparison to the promised gift, for receiving which hearts are cleansed. For if God now gave you something that pertains to the present time, He would seek your eyes to see what He gives. But because He will give what the eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor has entered into the heart of man, as the Apostle says, what does He prepare to give you? Blessed, He says, are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Therefore our whole reward will be to see God. Is it a small reward to see the one by whom you were made? Stretch out the lap of your desire as much as you like, be greedy in desiring what such a great one has promised: He cannot give you anything better than Himself. For whatever God has made is cheaper and inferior to its maker.
An eternal reward is promised to the man created in the image of God.
And where does the creation of God begin? With the angels. And where does the creation of God end? It extends to earthly mortals. Upward, the end of creation is, beyond which God is. Downward, the end of creation is, beyond which nothing is. Therefore begin to count the gifts you have received for now, not yet those to which you have been called. Begin. Behold the earthly goods: light, a certain nourishment of air without which we cannot exist at any time, then the fruits of the earth, springs, the very health of the body, and other such things that can be mentioned, which were to be briefly touched upon: they are God's gifts, they are divine favors. But do not covet these greatly from Him in whose image you were made. For you see that these are still common to you with the beasts, nor will you find the source of these things except from that true God, the creator and giver of all; however, because He even gives these, you should not be content with them: He reserves something for His image which He does not give to the beasts. Therefore let us seek what it is, and having recalled it, let us desire it, having desired it, let us expect it, and, that we may attain it, let us do what He who promised commands.
"If you love the reward of faith, do not flee from the toil of labor."
There, the reward; here, the work. The Promiser of the reward is also the giver of the command: He who predicts what you will receive, commands what you should do. If you love the reward of faith, do not shun the labor of the work. He will give: for God is truthful. Whoever promises and does not give fails to give for one of two reasons, either because he is a liar, or because he cannot. What can we say like this about God? Is the truth a liar? Is there anything the Almighty cannot do? Therefore, if He is both truthful and has the means to give, why would He deceive you? Lift up your mind, hope confidently: He who promised is powerful, eternal. Do you fear that, after you have worked, before you receive, your promiser might pass away? Therefore, let us rather see what is promised. Let us transcend these common goods shared with animals; let us see what unique quality man possesses beyond what animals have: to speak, to understand, to distinguish between true and false, just and unjust, and finally, the very One by whom he was made.
The reward promised to us will not be given to the unjust.
It is a great work to seek what is a great reward to find. Therefore, man is distinguished from animals by speaking, indeed he is distinguished from animals by talking, from certain men by eloquence. This gift of eloquence is great, a great good, but even the wicked possess it. It is not shared with beasts, but it is shared with the wicked. Many have eloquence and are wicked, and they deceive many with that same eloquence and seek temporal power for themselves. All these are to be condemned, yet they are still men. Seek something from God that you may have in common not only with beasts, but not even with wicked men. If I spoke of eloquence, take this also concerning riches. For riches were given not to beasts, but to men. For it pertains to humans to rule, command, and govern. Yet many wicked men also possess riches: this earthly good is possessed by both the good and the wicked, and the good do not possess it while the wicked do not possess it. Seek something higher. Do you fear that, once you find something chosen that can be given neither to beasts nor to wicked men, the Almighty may not be able to give it to you, who has called you to do a work and receive a gift? "I have found something." What will you find? Wicked men also have intellect, wicked men also have memory, they have riches – as I said – and wicked men have honors and temporal power. What will you find?
In the absence of the good by which you become good, you will not be able to use other goods well.
Oh if you would listen to me, seek nothing from God except God. To whomever this is granted, he is indeed made good. What separates the good from the evil cannot be common to both. For there is a difference between a good thing which allows you to do good, and a good thing which makes you good. All good things besides God are such that you can do good with them, but God is such a good that He makes you good. You have gold: it is good, but it is something with which you do good. You have eloquence: it is good, but it is something with which you work well. You have bodily health: use it well. For many have been corrected by infirmity and ruined by health. Many have fallen ill because of their good and recovered because of their malign. Therefore, even bodily health, which is a poor man's inheritance, unless it is turned to good use, is also harmful. Sharpened wit, a great good, but still such that both the good and the evil can use it well or poorly: it is not yet the good by which you become good. All the perversities of all errors, all sects of deviation and impiety have had great minds as authors. They were not created by just any people, but were established by sharp-witted individuals. For the ruin of the human race, all theatrical absurdities were not invented except by clever people. "All are enemies, certainly disgraceful." They are disgraceful, you say. So how can what is done disgracefully be viewed honorably? You confess this is disgraceful, and yet you support it so it can exist. I do not know whom to call worse: the seller of disgrace or the buyer. Yet these things were invented and established by the sharpest minds. Therefore wit is also good, but only if used well. Up until now I have mentioned those goods with which you do good, not those with which you become good. If that good by which you become good accompanies, you will use the other goods well. But if that good does not accompany by which you become good, how can you, being evil, use other goods well? What is the good by which you become good? God Himself.
"There is an inhabitant inside, he has his own eyes."
There is a certain thing that is seen by the mind. For the eyes do not have what they see, and the mind does not have. What is better: the body or the soul? I think that even lifeless bodies, if they could, would respond that the soul is better. But it does not wish to tell me that the soul is better than the body. So I ask: Who is better, the one who rules or the one who is ruled? Now here I think even beasts would not doubt to respond that the ruler is better. Who then rules? Certainly the soul, which is better than the body. If the soul becomes absent, the windows of the body, even if they are open, do not have someone to see through them. The eyes are open, the ears are open: if the inhabitant is absent, what use are the open doors? Therefore, the soul sees certain things through the eyes: light, colors, shapes; the soul hears certain things through the ears: voices and sounds; the soul smells certain things through the sense of smell: all odors; the soul tastes all flavors through the sense of taste; the soul feels through the entire body hard and soft, rough and smooth, cold and hot, light and heavy. The eye does not hear, nor does the ear see, yet the soul sees through the eye and hears through the ear. It cannot do both through both, but yet it alone can do what it can through both. Does the soul do nothing by itself? If it can do through the body, can it not do by itself? It sees white and black through the body, can it not by itself see just and unjust? And yet many are those who think that only these things that are seen through the body exist, doing an injury to their mind, ungrateful to God by whom they were made in His image. The inhabitant is inside, it has other eyes of its own.
Only the mind perceives the nature of justice.
If I wanted to show jewels, if I wanted to show gold and silver, crafted vessels, precious garments and whatever precious and beautiful things are counted among the riches of men, if finally I wanted to show the heavens, and not a coffered, but a starry chamber of the poor, what would I seek? Eyes. When I want to show what is just and unjust, what do I seek? To whom do I show it? But perhaps I do not have something to show. For some have thought that justice is not by nature, but established by opinion, that is, that this is just—or rather called just—because men wanted it to be by some pact of human society, and not by some nature of justice. Is it then not truly by nature that justice exists? We struggle to show—and yet we ought to know most clearly what we know through the mind alone—we struggle to show what the nature of justice is, and we do not struggle to show that gold exists, that earth exists, that the heavens exist. Do I need to struggle to show these things? Every man proclaims that what can be seen through the body exists, and many deny that what can be seen only through the mind exists.
"God cannot be shown by man; He shows Himself."
It is a wonder if this soul is not ailing, it is a wonder if it does not have its eyes wounded or even extinct! Whence shall they be restored? Whence shall they be healed? The door of medicine is faith. For in order to see what it does not see, it must first believe that there is something to see, but it must also recognize that it is not yet in a condition to see. "Perhaps I can: show me." But to whom shall I show? Indeed, I cannot either, but He can who also showed me, if I see anything from here. The physician comes to the sick man having wounded eyes, or perhaps already lost eyes - he has forgotten ever seeing, or perhaps has never seen since his birth - but yet there is such a great physician who can banish ancient blindness by cure: he promises to show something if the patient allows himself to be healed. But moreover, if the patient does not believe before he sees, how shall he be healed? "There is," he says, "something for you to see, but you shall see it when your eyes have been healed." And he replies, "I will not be healed unless I see." What an absurd and perverse response: to want to see first in order to be healed, when indeed if he could see, there would be no reason why he should be healed. Therefore, believe in the physician who will demonstrate, so that you do not resist the healer. "Show me," he says. What shall I show you? "God," he says. To whom? "To me," he says, "if you wish me to believe. For I do not believe unless I see." Whom do you seek to be shown, to whom do you seek to be shown, by whom do you seek to be shown? God must be shown, to man He must be shown, He cannot be shown by man: He shows Himself. I can admonish you what to do, so that you may merit to see.
The soul moves the flesh, God moves the world.
"Absolutely not," he says, "there is no God." All are horrified. Who has said this: "There is no God"? And yet the psalm did not remain silent about this: The fool said in his heart, "There is no God." Because it is such a word that horrifies everyone, he said it in his heart, he did not entrust it to his tongue and voice. Nevertheless, I also seek something. "Show me," he says, "God." Brother, let us seek together. Even if I try to show and cannot—as indeed it probably requires time, effort, and certain teachings—nevertheless I also ask something. You say: "Show me God"; I say: Show me your soul. You ask me for the most lofty thing, I ask for the humble; you for the one who is absent, I for the one who is present; you for the sought, I for the seeker. Behold, if I say you do not have a soul, what would you do? For if we must believe only in the eyes, you do not have a soul; unless I see your soul, I will not believe it exists. You will say: "Indeed, a soul cannot be seen with the eyes, but it can be shown through works. You see a person walking, you hear a person speaking; you speak, I respond, and you doubt that I have a soul?" In the meantime, I have not seen your soul, but I have seen the works of your soul. If I recognize your soul through its works, recognize God through the works of God. There is a soul because it moves the flesh, and there is no God who moves the world? Does the order of things not terrify you: earthly things subjected to celestial, the alternation of night and day, the arrangement of seasons, the brightness of the sun that fills the clarity of the day, the moon and stars that temper the darkness of night, fruits emerging from the earth, flowing springs? The very animals that are born on earth are born with life: what is made lives, and He who makes does not live? Therefore there is a God, far be it that we doubt! But perhaps still one who doubts seeks, but let him seek in such a way that he first believes, so that by not believing he does not fail to deserve to find what he seeks.
"As God wanted Himself to be worshiped, He also wanted Himself to be written about."
Therefore, God is, and the question arises more about how He should be worshiped than whether He exists. What then? And hence we shall say something. I think it is easy for me to speak to Christians: God should be worshiped as He ordered Himself to be worshiped. For if a Christian asks me how God ordered Himself to be worshiped, I do not put forth my own word, but I recite the book to which, without a doubt, he is rightfully subject in his faith. For it is not permitted for him to doubt the divine writings: God also willed it to be written how He wished to be worshiped; what He willed to be written, He willed to be recited, and He placed such a peak and summit of authority on that Scripture that He placed beneath it all the authors of other books. For there were those who wrote what they wanted, as they wanted. Whose book is placed at such a peak of authority that the world responds to it with “amen”? When we deal with someone perhaps not subject to the great authority of those books and contending with me and saying: "Men wrote these things for themselves," what should I do? From where shall we prove that these writings are divine?
The daily miracles of God have become commonplace through their frequent occurrence.
Apart from this administration of nature by which the world is governed, men have not been awe-struck by certain divine works except through wondrous deeds and sayings. Nature indeed is full of miracles, but all things to be wondered at have become common through constant occurrence. For instance, if one man who was among men rises from the dead, the divine work is proclaimed by all: every day many who were not are born, and no one marvels. Christ turned water into wine, a great miracle: what else does he do every year in the vine? Do you think it is a small thing to be wondered at, that moisture is drawn from the earth, turned into the quality of that wood, passes through the tendrils, unfolds into leaves, and even produces swelling clusters, increases immature grapes, and colors the ripe ones? Ask the root how all these things happen. What numbers, what measures, what art of working in such a small and contemptible appearance? I still wonder at the workmanship of the root, but the seed grain is even more to be marveled at. How small, how almost nothing, yet where all the numbers of the future root, strength, branches, fruits, leaves are contained, and the workmen numbers drawing sap, turning it into such a beautiful and delightful work. These are the astounding works of the Creator. You have not yet gone up to heaven to see him present, and already you find him creating on earth. These things require consideration. For is there anything more wondrous than such works? However, because they are daily occurrences, as I said, they have become common. Therefore God, wanting to quicken the minds of men, reserved for himself certain things not greater, but certainly rarer. For it is more to make a man than to raise one. But because now no one marvels at him making every day, he sometimes presented himself as raising the dead. He gave sight to the blind, hearing to the deaf, speech to the mute. He who does these things without a miracle in seeds, did them with a great miracle in men.
"Every miracle is either in deed or in word."