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Chapter 2PsAugSoliloquia.1.2

Caput 2. Dei ad hominem variae habitudines.

The Soul's Lament over Its Distance from God

The soul confesses its attachment to outward, earthly, and fleeting things, contrasting itself with God who dwells in eternity and holiness.

This is also why, Lord, I don't rejoice in you and don't cling to you: because I'm among outward things, and you among inward things; I'm among fleshly things, and you among spiritual things; among things that pass away, I pour myself out in mind, wander in thought, and get tangled in speech—and you, Lord, dwell in eternal things and inhabit eternity.1 You're in heaven, I'm on earth; you love what is high, I love what is lowest; you love heavenly things, I love earthly ones. And when will these opposites ever be able to meet? Wretched me! When will my crookedness ever match your uprightness? You, Lord, love solitude, and I love the crowd; you love silence, and I love shouting; you love truth, and I love vanity; you love purity—and I chase uncleanness. What more need I say, Lord? You're truly good, I'm evil; you're merciful, I'm godless; you're holy, I'm wretched; you're just, I'm unjust; you're light, I'm blind; you're life, I'm dead; you're medicine, I'm sick; you're joy, I'm sorrow; you're the highest truth, I'm utter vanity—as every living human being (Ps.✦2 38:6).✦

Cry to the Creator and Redeemer

The soul cries out to God as its Creator, appealing to His hands that made and were nailed for it, and then to Jesus as Physician, Light, and Life.

Alas! What then am I to say, O Creator? Hear me, O Creator. I am your creature, and I am already lost; I am your creature, and I am already dying; I am your handiwork, and I am already being reduced to nothing. I am what you have shaped: your hands, Lord, made me; and they formed me (Ps.3 CXVIII, 73); those hands, I say, that were fastened with nails for me; do not despise the work of your hands, Lord; I pray you look upon the wounds of your hands.4 See — you have written me in your hands; read that very writing, and save me. See — I sigh to you, your creature; you are the Creator: remake me. Look — I cry out to you, I, your handiwork; you are life — restore me. Look — I turn my eyes to you, I, your molded clay; you are the Fashioner — restore me.5 Spare me, Lord, for my days are nothing (Job 7:16). What is a human being, that he can speak to God, his Maker? Spare me as I speak with you; forgive the servant who dares to speak to the Lord. Necessity has no law.6 Pain compels me to speak, and the calamity I suffer forces me to cry out. I am sick — I cry out to the physician; I am blind — I hurry toward the light; I am dead — I sigh for life. You are the physician, you are the light, you are life. Jesus of Nazareth, have mercy on me; Son of David, have mercy on me (Matt.✦ 20:30): fountain of mercy, hear the sick one who cries out to you.7 Light who pass by, wait for the blind man: hold out your hand, so that he may come to you and in your light see light (Ps. 35:10). Living Life, call the dead back.

The Misery of Human Life

The soul meditates on its own wretchedness, describing itself as a rotting corpse, a child of wrath, and reflecting on the fleeting, sorrowful nature of human existence.

What am I, who speak with you? Woe to me, Lord; spare me: I am a rotting corpse, food for worms, a foul vessel, fuel for the fires. What am I, who speak with you? Woe to me, Lord; spare me: unhappy man that I am—a man, I say, born of a woman, living only a short time, filled with many miseries (Job 14:1); a man, I say, made like vanity (Ps.✦ 143:4), compared to unreasoning beasts, and already made like them (Ps. 48:13).✦ What am I again? A dark abyss, a land of misery, a child of wrath, a vessel fit for disgrace, born through uncleanness, living in misery, about to die in anguish. Alas, wretched man—what am I? Oh, what will I become? And what am I? A vessel from the dungheap, a shell of rottenness, full of stench and horror: blind, poor, naked, subject to countless needs, not knowing my coming in or my going out. Wretched and mortal, whose days pass by like a shadow, whose life fades like a lunar shadow; like a flower on a tree it grows, and at once withers; now it blooms, and at once it dries up (Ps.8 101:12).9 My life, I say—fragile life, fleeting life, a life that the more it grows, the more it shrinks; the farther it advances, the nearer it comes to death: a deceitful and shadowy life, full of the snares of death. Now I rejoice, and at once I grieve; now I am strong, and already I am weak; now I live, and at once I die; now I seem happy, and yet I am always wretched; now I laugh, and at once I weep: and so everything is subject to change, so that scarcely one hour remains for me in a single state.10 From this comes fear, from this trembling, from this hunger, from this thirst, from this heat, from this cold, from this weariness—and from there pain overflows.

The Certainty of Death and the Plea for God's Appearance

The soul reflects on the certainty and unpredictability of death, confesses its own lack of fear, and finally cries out for God's help and appearance to grant life.

After all this comes relentless death, which every day snatches wretched people away in a thousand ways. It crushes one person with fevers and another with pain; hunger wastes one away, and thirst kills another. It drowns one in the water, kills another by the noose, destroys another by fire; it swallows another in the teeth of wild beasts; it cuts one down with the sword, ruins another with poison, and drives another by sheer, sudden terror to end a wretched life.11 And on top of all this, there is a great misery: though nothing is more certain than death, a person still doesn't know when their end will come; just when they think they stand firm, they are taken away, and their hope perishes. A person doesn't know when, where, or how they will die—and yet they are certain that they must die. See, Lord, how great is the human misery I am in—and I don't fear; how great the calamity I suffer—and I don't grieve, and I don't cry out to you. I will cry out, Lord, before I pass away—that perhaps I may not pass away, but remain in you.12 So I will speak—I will speak of my misery. Let me confess my baseness before you, and not be ashamed.13 Help me, my strength, through whom I am lifted up; come to my aid, power through whom I am held up; come, light through whom I see; appear, glory through whom I rejoice. Show Yourself, I say, and I will live.

Read the original Latin

Hinc etiam est, Domine, quod in te non gaudeo, et tibi non adhaereo: quia ego in exterioribus, tu in interioribus; ego in carnalibus, tu in spiritualibus; ego in transitoriis animo diffundor, cogitatione versor, locutione implicor, et tu, Domine, in aeternis habitas aeternitatem. Tu in coelo, ego in terra; tu diligis alta, ego infima; tu coelestia, ego terrestria. Et quando poterunt haec contraria convenire? Miser ego! quando poterit obliquitas mea tuae rectitudini adaequari? Tu, Domine, diligis solitudinem, ego multitudinem; tu silentium, ego clamorem; tu veritatem, ego vanitatem; tu munditiam, ego immunditiam sequor. Quid plura, Domine? Tu vere bonus, ego malus; tu pius, ego impius; tu sanctus, ego miser; tu justus, ego injustus; tu lux, ego caecus; tu vita, ego mortuus; tu medicina, ego aeger; tu gaudium, ego tristitia; tu summa veritas, ego universa vanitas, ut omnis homo vivens (Psal.

XXXVIII, 6).

Heu! Quid igitur, o Creator, dicam? Audi, o Creator. Creatura tua sum, jam perii; creatura tua sum, jam morior; factura tua sum, jam ad nihilum redigor. Plasma tuum sum: manus tuae, Domine, fecerunt me; et plasmaverunt me (Psal. CXVIII, 73); manus, inquam, illae quae clavis affixae sunt pro me; opus manuum tuarum, Domine, ne despicias; vulnera manuum tuarum precor ut aspicias. Ecce in manibus tuis descripsisti me; lege ipsam scripturam, et salva me. En ad te suspiro creatura tua; Creator es, recrea me.

En ad te clamo factura tua; vita es, refice me. En ad te respicio tuum plasma; plasmator es, restaura me. Parce mihi, Domine, nihil enim sunt dies mei (Job VII, 16). Quid est homo, ut possit alloqui Deum factorem suum? Parce mihi colloquenti tibi, ignosce servo qui praesumit loqui Domino. Legem non habet necessitas. Dolor me compellit dicere, et calamitas quam patior, cogit me exclamare. Aegrotus sum, ad medicum clamo; caecus sum, ad lucem propero; mortuus sum, ad vitam suspiro.

Tu es medicus, tu lux, tu vita. Jesu Nazarene, miserere mei; fili David, miserere mei (Matth. XX, 30): fons misericordiae, audi qui ad te clamat infirmum. Lux quae transis, exspecta caecum: praebe manum, ut ad te veniat, et in lumine tuo lumen videat (Psal. XXXV, 10). Vita vivens, revoca mortuum.

Quid sum ego, qui loquor tecum? Vae mihi, Domine, parce mihi: ego cadaver putridum, esca vermium, vas fetidum, cibus ignium. Quid sum ego qui loquor tecum? Vae mihi, Domine, parce mihi: infelix ego homo; homo, inquam, natus de muliere, brevi vivens tempore, repletus multis miseriis (Job XIV, 1); homo, inquam, vanitati similis factus (Psal. CXLIII, 4), comparatus jumentis insipientibus, et jam similis illis factus (Psal XLVIII, 13). Quid iterum ego? Abyssus tenebrosa, terra miseriae, filius irae, vas aptum ad contumeliam, genitus per immunditiam, vivens in miseria, moriturus in angustia. Heu miser quid sum?

heu quid futurus sum? Et quid sum? Vas sterquilinii, concha putredinis, plenus fetore et horrore: caecus, pauper, nudus, plurimis necessitatibus subditus, ignorans introitum et exitum meum. Miser et mortalis, cujus dies sicut umbra praetereunt, cujus vita sicut umbra lunaria evanescit; sicut flos in arbore crescit, et statim marcescit; nunc floret, et statim aret (Psal. CI, 12). Vita, inquam, mea, vita fragilis, vita caduca, vita quae quanto magis crescit, tanto magis decrescit; quanto magis procedit, tanto magis ad mortem accedit: vita fallax et umbratica, plena laqueis mortis. Nunc gaudeo, statim contristor; nunc vigeo, jam infirmor; nunc vivo, statim morior; nunc felix appareo, et semper miser; nunc rideo, et statim fleo: sicque omnia mutabilitati subjacent, ut mihi vix una hora in uno statu permaneat. Hinc timor, hinc tremor, hinc fames, hinc sitis, hinc calor, hinc frigus, hinc languor, inde dolor exuberat.

Subsequitur his importuna mors, quae mille modis quotidie miseros homines rapit. Hunc namque febribus, illum doloribus opprimit; hunc consumit fames, illum sitis exstinguit: illum vero suffocat aquis, hunc interimit laqueo, illum perimit flammis, alium dentibus bestiarum ferocium vorat, hunc trucidat ferro, illum veneno corrumpit, alterum tantum repentino terrore miseram vitam finire compellit. Et nunc super haec omnia magna miseria, quia cum nihil sit certius morte, ignorat tamen homo finem suum; et cum stare putat, tollitur et perit spes ejus. Nescit enim homo quando vel ubi vel quomodo morietur: et tamen certus est quod eum mori oportet. Ecce, Domine, quam magna miseria hominis in qua sum, nec timeo; quam grandis calamitas quam patior, nec doleo, et ad te non clamo. Clamabo, Domine, antequam transeam: si forte non transeam, sed in te maneam. Dicam ergo, dicam miseriam meam: confitear, nec erubescam ante te, vilitatem meam. Adjuva me, fortitudo mea per quam sublevor; succurre, virtus per quam sustentor; veni, lux per quam video; appare, gloria per quam gaudeo.

Appare, inquam, et vivam.

Scripture echoes

  1. ↩Ps.39.6 — Surely you have made my days a mere handbreadth, and my lifetime is as nothing before you; surely every person, standing at their strongest, is only a breath. Selah.
  2. ↩Ps.39.6 — Surely you have made my days a mere handbreadth, and my lifetime is as nothing before you; surely every person, standing at their strongest, is only a breath. Selah.
  3. ↩Mark.10.47 — And when he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out and say, 'Son of David, Jesus, have mercy on me!'
  4. ↩Ps.144.4 — Man is like a breath; his days are like a passing shadow.
  5. ↩Ps.49.13 — And a man in honor does not endure; he is like the beasts that perish.

Notes

  1. 1 ↩habitas aeternitatem rendered as 'inhabit eternity'; the Latin takes eternity as the object of dwelling.
  2. 2 ↩Sentence ends mid-citation at '(Psal.'; the printed reference continues in the next section as 'XXXVIII, 6)'.
  3. 3 ↩Parenthetical Psalm citation is split across s5–s6 in the source sentence segmentation; rendered as printed.
  4. 4 ↩After closing the Psalm citation, manus is reapplied to Christ's crucified hands (clavis affixae); the petition then asks God not to despise his handiwork and to look on those wounds.
  5. 5 ↩plasma / plasmator keep the molded-clay / fashioner pair from the surrounding chapter rather than flattening to generic 'creature' / 'Creator'.
  6. 6 ↩Proverbial maxim (necessitas non habet legem): distress itself excuses the boldness of speech that follows.
  7. 7 ↩infirmum taken as appositive object of the petition (the sick one), not as a second finite construction with clamat.
  8. 8 ↩Parenthetical Psalm citation is split across s4–s5; umbra lunaria rendered as 'lunar shadow' (waning/moonlit shadow).
  9. 9 ↩Sentence is only the continuation of the Vulgate Psalm citation begun in s4: (Psal. CI, 12).
  10. 10 ↩Uncontracted forms kept for the grave self-accusation of mutability; et semper miser rendered adversatively as 'and yet I am always wretched.'
  11. 11 ↩Subject throughout is mors from s1; the alternating hunc/illum/alium/alterum catalogue is retained as death's varied means.
  12. 12 ↩transeam can mean pass over/away (death) or pass by; in context of remaining in God, 'pass away' is the intended sense. si forte taken as hoped outcome of the cry, not mere chance.
  13. 13 ↩vilitatem meam rendered 'baseness' (contemptible lowliness), not social cheapness; object of confitear, with nec erubescam ante te.

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