SR
Chapter 82SermC.1.82

Sermo 82

Generosity of the Spirit

Bernard warns against hoarding spiritual insight, urging generous sharing of what God gives.

What do you think? Can we now return to the thread of our exposition where we left off? The close kinship of the Word and the soul is clear — and it was precisely to demonstrate that kinship that the digression itself was made. We could, it seems to me, unless I felt that some small trace of doubt still lingered in what's been said. I want to steal nothing. I don't willingly pass over something I'd consider useful to you. And how would I dare to do that — especially with these things, which I myself receive from you? I know a man who, at one point while speaking, held back and kept to himself something the Spirit was suggesting — not out of bad faith, but with a less trusting heart — so that he'd have something fresh to say when he took the subject up again. And then, as it seemed to him, a voice came to him: "As long as you hold on to that, you won't receive anything else." What if he had kept it back — not out of concern for his own need, but out of envy toward the progress of his brothers? Wouldn't he deservedly have even what he seemed to have taken away from him? May God indeed keep that far from his servant always, just as he always has. So may that unfailing fountain of saving wisdom deign to overflow in me without ceasing, just as I have shared with you without envy, and poured out whatever he has deigned to pour into me so far. If I cheat you, whom would I no longer fear being cheated by? Not even by God.

The Threefold Likeness of the Soul

Bernard addresses objections from Scripture that seem to deny the soul's likeness to God.

So there's something in what's been said that I'm afraid could cause offense if it isn't smoothed over. And, unless I'm mistaken, there are things among those standing that would raise a scruple about what I want to say. That threefold likeness of the Word that we assigned to the soul — or rather, by which we notice the soul to be marked — do you recall that we saw it also to be inseparably present to it? This might seem to some to be countered by testimonies from the Scriptures — for instance, that passage in the Psalms: When man was in honor, he did not understand; he was compared to foolish beasts and made like to them — and again that passage: They changed their glory into the likeness of a calf eating hay — and also what was said plainly in the person of God: You thought unjustly that I would be like you — and many other passages that consistently affirm that the likeness of God in man was destroyed after sin.12 What then shall we say to these things? That those three are not at all in God, and so something else must be sought in which we might assign the likeness? Or that they are indeed in God but not in the soul, and that not even in this way can the likeness be found in these things? Or that they are also in the soul but can also not be present, and that through this they are not inseparable? Far be it from us! They exist in God and in the soul, and they are always present; there's no reason for us to regret having said any of this, since the whole of it rests on undoubted and most absolute truth.

The Darkened Gold

The soul's native form is covered by a foreign one, like gold darkened but not destroyed.

But when Scripture speaks of a dissimilarity that has come about, it doesn't speak because that likeness has been destroyed, but because another has been laid over it. The soul doesn't entirely strip off its native form, but puts a foreign one on over it. That foreign form was added, not this native one lost; and what came upon it could darken what was inborn, but not destroy it completely. In fact: 'The heart of the foolish has been darkened,' says the Apostle; and the prophet: 'How darkened the gold has become, how the finest color has changed!' The darkened gold grieves, yet it is still gold; the finest color has changed, but the foundation of its color has not been torn away. In its foundation, simplicity remains completely unshaken, but it scarcely appears at all, covered over by the duplicity of human deceitfulness, pretense, and hypocrisy. How incongruously is duplicity mingled with simplicity! How unworthily is such a structure entrusted to such a foundation!

The Serpent's Cunning

From the serpent's deceit onward, hypocrisy has infected every generation of Adam's children.

The serpent had assumed this kind of cunning for itself, when, in order to deceive, it showed itself as a counselor and pretended to be a friend. Led astray by it, the inhabitants of paradise had likewise assumed this for themselves, when they now tried to cover their shameful nakedness, both with the shade of a leafy tree and with girdings of leaves, and with words of excuse. How widely from that time forward has the hereditary virus of hypocrisy infected every generation! Which one will you find among the sons of Adam who does not — I do not say wish, but even allow himself to be seen as — what he is? And yet general simplicity persists in every soul alongside its original duplicity, so that from the contrast confusion grows: immortality persists equally, but dark and gloomy, as the dark shadow of bodily death rushes in. For although it is not deprived of life, the benefit of life is now no longer enough to claim its own body.

The Double Death

The soul that sins brings mortal likeness upon its immortal nature, staining but not stripping its garment.

What then, that she doesn't even keep her own spiritual life for herself? The soul that sins — it is she herself who will die. When that double death assails her, doesn't whatever immortality she clings to become thoroughly dark and wretched? Add to this that the craving for earthly things — which are all headed toward ruin — thickens the darkness, so that in a soul living this way, no part of it can be seen as anything but a pale face and a kind of image of death. Why shouldn't she who is immortal desire things like herself — immortal and eternal — so that what she is might be visible and what she has made might live? And yet she savors and pursues what is contrary; and mortality, conforming herself to a degenerate way of life, blackens the brightness of immortality with a kind of pitch-dark color from a death-bringing habit. Won't the desire of mortals make the immortal one like what is mortal — and unlike what is immortal? Whoever touches pitch, says the Wise One, will be defiled by it. By clinging to mortal things, the soul takes mortality upon itself, and it discolors the garment of its immortality when the likeness of death falls upon it — yet it does not strip that garment off.

Eve's Stain

Eve's grasping at mortal things brought the stain of mortality upon her immortal soul.

Look at Eve: how her immortal soul brought the stain of mortality upon the glory of its own immortality by reaching out for mortal things. Why, since she was immortal, did she not despise mortal and transitory things, content with what was like herself — things immortal and eternal? She saw, it says, a tree that was beautiful to the eyes, delightful in appearance, and pleasant to eat. That sweetness, that delight, and that beauty are not yours, O woman; and if they are yours by your share of clay, they are not yours alone but common to all living creatures of the earth. What is truly yours comes from elsewhere, and it is something else: for it is eternal, from eternity. Why do you give to your soul another form — or rather, a deformity that is utterly foreign to it? Indeed, what delights you to possess, that you also fear to lose; and fear is its color. While he stains and covers that freedom, he nonetheless makes it unlike himself. How much more in keeping with her origin she would desire nothing, where she would fear nothing, and through this would defend her innate freedom from that servile fear, freedom abiding in its own vigor and beauty!

Hiding from God's Voice

The soul that once delighted in God now hides in shame, its freedom replaced by servile fear.

Alas! It is not so! The finest color has been changed. You keep running away and hiding: you hear the voice of the Lord God, and you hide yourself. Why is this, unless because the one you loved you now fear, and a servile form has shut out the appearance of freedom?

The Double Cloak

Evils added to nature's goods disgrace but do not destroy them, like a double cloak over freedom and simplicity.

But even that voluntary necessity, and the contrary law inflicted on our bodies—which I discussed in the previous sermon—weighs upon that same freedom, and subjects a creature naturally free to servitude through its own will, even as it draws it in, covering its face with shame, so that it even serves the law of sin in the flesh, and not willingly. Because, therefore, it neglected to defend the innate nobility of its nature by the goodness of its character, it was brought about by the just judgment of its Creator—not, indeed, to be stripped of its own freedom—but rather to be covered over, as with a double cloak, by its own confusion.3 And fittingly like a double cloak, where the garment is, so to speak, doubled—freedom remaining because of the will—a slavish way of life nonetheless proves the necessity. This is what you must observe regarding the soul's simplicity, and regarding its immortality: and if you consider it carefully, nothing in it will appear to you that is not covered by a double cloak of this kind, of both likeness and unlikeness. Isn't it a double cloak, where fraud is not innate to simplicity but attached to it, and, as it were, stitched on with the needle of sin; where death is not innate to immortality, and necessity is not innate to freedom? For the duplicity of the heart does not dictate to the simplicity of essence; nor does death dictate to the immortality of nature—whether the voluntary death of sin or the necessary death of the body; nor does the necessity of voluntary servitude dictate to the freedom of the will. Thus, the evils that come from outside to the goods of nature—since they do not replace them but are added to them—do indeed disgrace them, but they do not destroy them; they disturb them, but they do not cast them down. From this, the soul is unlike God; from this, it is even unlike itself; from this, it is compared to senseless beasts and has become like them; from this comes what is written, that it exchanged its glory for the likeness of a calf eating grass; from this, people, like foxes, have the holes of duplicity and fraud, and because they have made themselves equal to foxes, they will share the lot of foxes; from this, according to Solomon, there is one end for man and for beast.

Beastly Likeness

In conception, birth, life, and death, the human being is compared to foolish beasts and has become like them.

Why shouldn't someone who has lived in like manner depart in like manner too? After lying with earthly things in the manner of a beast, he'll leave the earth in a beastly death. Hear something else. What's so surprising if we receive a similar exit, when we also have a similar entrance? For where does that come from in human beings — unless it's from a beast's likeness — that so intemperate a burning in intercourse, so immeasurable a pain in giving birth? And so in conception and birth, in life and death, a human being is compared to foolish beasts of burden and has become like them.

Servile Desire

The soul that does not govern its desire as a mistress but serves it as a handmaid makes itself like the beasts.

What about the fact that a free creature doesn't govern the desire it has subjected to itself as a mistress would, but follows and complies with it as a servant girl would? Doesn't it, in this very act, make itself like and count itself among the other living beings — the ones nature didn't call into freedom but placed into servitude, to serve its own belly and obey its appetite? Isn't it rightly put to shame by being considered, or thought to be, like God? And so he says: You thought wrongly that I would be like you; and he adds: I will accuse you and set myself against your face. It is not for a soul that sees itself to consider God as like itself — only for a soul such as mine is, sinful and unjust. For such a one is accused: You thought wrongly, he says; and he does not say, You thought, soul, or, You thought, mortal, that I would be like you. But if the unjust person were placed before his own face, and set against the diseased and foul countenance of his inner self, so that he couldn't hide or turn away from the impurity of his conscience — but had to see, even against his will, the filth of his sins and look on the deformity of his vices — he would no longer be able to think God would be like himself; but, nearly despairing at the great dissimilarity he would see, I believe he would cry out and say: Lord, who is like you? This is indeed what is said about that voluntary and unformed dissimilarity.

The Good of the Original Likeness

The original likeness endures, making the acquired dissimilarity all the more displeasing by contrast.

For the original likeness remains, and that's why this one displeases all the more — because that first one endures. O, how much good there is in this, and how much evil in that! Yet when the two are set side by side, each thing in its own kind stands out all the more clearly.

Lord, Who Is Like You?

The soul caught between hope and despair cries out for God, drawn by grace toward its original likeness.

So when the soul perceives such a great distance within itself, measured by the weight of things, why shouldn't it cry out — caught as it is between hope and despair — 'Lord, who is like you?' It's pulled into despair by so great an evil, but called back into hope by so great a good. The result is that the more the soul is displeased by the evil it sees in itself, the more ardently it draws itself toward the good it equally perceives within itself, and longs to become what it was made to be — simple and upright, fearing God and turning away from evil. Why couldn't it withdraw from what it was once able to approach? Why couldn't it approach what it was once able to withdraw from? Both of these, I would say, are to be presumed to come from grace — not from nature, and not even from effort. Surely wisdom conquers malice — not by effort, and not by nature either. And there's no lack of opportunity to presume upon grace: its conversion is toward the Word.

Return, Shunamite

The soul's kinship with the Word draws it into the Spirit's fellowship and the vision of God.

The soul's noble kinship is not idle with the Word — the kinship we have been treating for the past three days — and the likeness is the witness of that kinship, a likeness that endures. It graciously admits into the fellowship of the Spirit one who is like it in nature. And certainly, by the logic of nature, like seeks like. The voice of the one seeking: Return, Shunamite; return, so that we may gaze on you. The one who did not see the unlike will behold the like; and will offer himself to be beheld. We know that when he appears we will be like him, because we will see him just as he is. So suppose that question arises from difficulty rather than from impossibility: Lord, who is like you?

Love Is That Vision

Love is the vision and likeness of God; when wickedness is removed, perfect union and mutual love will come.

Or, if you prefer it this way, it's the voice of someone marveling. That likeness which the vision of God accompanies — or rather, which is itself the vision of God — is utterly amazing and astonishing; but I'm speaking of it in terms of love. Love is that vision; it is that likeness. Who wouldn't be stunned by the love of a God who was scorned and yet calls us back? Rightly is that person condemned as wicked who, clothed in God's likeness, claims it for himself, since by loving wickedness he can neither love himself nor God: for so you have it written, 'Whoever loves wickedness hates his own soul.' Once wickedness has been removed from the midst — that wickedness which creates the dissimilarity that exists only in part — there will be a union of spirits, a mutual seeing, and a mutual love. For when what is perfect comes, what is partial will pass away; and there will be between them a pure and perfected love, full knowledge, clear vision, firm union, unbreakable fellowship, and perfect likeness. Then the soul will know as it is known; then it will love as it is loved; and the bridegroom will rejoice over the bride — knowing and known, loving and beloved — Jesus Christ our Lord, who is God over all, blessed forever.

Amen

The sermon concludes with a single doxological 'Amen' through Christ our Lord.

Amen.

Read the original Latin

Quid vobis videtur? possumusne iam regredi ad exponendi ordinem unde digressi sumus; quia patet propinquitas Verbi et animae, pro qua utique demonstranda digressio ipsa facta est? Possemus, ut mihi videtur, nisi parum quid dubietatis in his, quae dicta sunt, adhuc residere sentirem. Nil furari volo. Non libenter praetereo quod vobis utile putem. Et quomodo id audeam, de his praesertim quae vobis accipio? Scio hominem aliquid aliquando inter loquendum ex his quae suggerebat Spiritus, etsi non infideli, minus tamen fidenti animo retentantem et reservantem sibi, ut haberet quod diceret denuo tractaturus; et ecce vox ad eum, ut quidem ei visum est: 'Donec istud tenebis, aliud non accipies.' Quid si retinuisset, non providendo suae inopiae, sed fraternis profectibus invidendo?

nonne merito et hoc ipsum, quod videbatur habere, auferretur ab eo? Quod quidem longe a servo vestro semper faciat Deus, sicut et semper fecit. Sic mihi iugiter abundare dignetur fons ille indeficiens sapientiae salutaris, quomodo sine invidia vobis communicavi, et refudi quidquid mihi infundere hactenus dignatus est ipse. Si ego vos fraudo, a quo iam non verear ipse fraudari? Ne a Deo quidem.

Est itaque in his quae dicta sunt aliquid, quod, ut vereor ego, offendiculum dare queat, si non complanetur. Et, ni fallor, sunt de hic stantibus, quibus scrupulum movit quod dicere volo. Trina illa Verbi similitudo, quam animae assignavimus, imo qua insignitam advertimus, recolitisne quod etiam inseparabiliter inesse illi visa fuerit nobis? Id quidem videatur aliquibus Scripturarum testimoniis obviare, ut verbi gratia, est illud in psalmis: Homo, cum in honore esset, non intellexit; comparatus est iumentis insipientibus, et similis factus est illis; et item illud: Mutaverunt gloriam suam in similitudinem vituli comedentis fenum, sed et quod aperte dictum est in persona Dei: Existimasti inique, quod ero tui similis : et pleraque alia, quae similitudinem Dei in homine post peccatum deletam concorditer asseverare videntur. Quid ergo dicemus ad haec? Tria illa in Deo minime esse, et sic alia quaerenda, in quibus similitudinem assignemus? aut esse quidem in Deo, sed non in anima, et ne sic quidem in his similitudinem inveniri? aut esse et in anima, sed posse etiam non inesse, ac per hoc non inseparabilia esse?

Absit! Et in Deo, et in anima sunt, et semper insunt; nec est quod nos aliquid horum dixisse poeniteat, ita totum subnixum est indubitata et absolutissima veritate. Sed quod Scriptura loquitur de dissimilitudine facta, non quia similitudo ista deleta sit loquitur, sed quia alia superducta. Non plane anima nativam se exuit formam, sed superinduit peregrinam. Illa addita, non ista perdita est: et quae supervenit, obscurare ingenitam potuit, sed non exterminare. Denique: Obscuratum est insipiens cor illorum, ait Apostolus; et propheta: Quomodo obscuratum est aurum, mutatus est color optimus? Obscuratum aurum plangit, sed aurum tamen; mutatum colorem optimum, sed non fundamentum coloris evulsum. Manet in fundamento prorsus inconcussa simplicitas, sed minime apparet duplicitate operta humanae dolositatis, simulationis, hypocrisis.

Quam incongrue simplicitati duplicitas admiscetur! quam indigne tali fundamento talis structura committitur! Huiusmodi sibi versutiam serpens induerat, cum se, ut deciperet, consiliarium exhibebat, simulabat amicum. Huiusmodi quoque seducti ab eo paradisi incolae induerant sibi, cum pudendam iam nuditatem tegere conarentur, et umbra frondosi ligni, et frondium succinctoriis, et verbis excusatoriis. Quam late extunc et deinceps omnem posteritatem haereditarium hypocrisis virus infecit! Quem dabis de filiis Adam qui quod est, non dico velit, sed vel patiatur videri? Sed perseverat nihilominus in omni anima cum originali duplicitate generalis simplicitas, ut de collatione confusio augeatur: perseverat aeque immortalitas, sed fusca et tetra, irruente tenebrosa corporeae mortis caligine. Nam, etsi non privatur vita, vitae tamen beneficium suo corpori iam non sufficit vindicare.

Quid, quod ne suam quidem spiritualem duntaxat vitam retinet sibi? Anima nempe quae peccaverit, ipsa morietur. Nonne morte ista duplici incursante, illa qualiscunque immortalitas, quam retentat, tenebrosa satis redditur, et misella? Adde quod appetentia terrenorum, quae quidem omnia ad interitum sunt, densat tenebras, ita ut in anima sic vivente nilla parte aliqua nisi pallida facies et imago quaedam mortis apparere cernatur. Cur non enim quae immortalis est, similia sibi immortalia appetit et aeterna, ut quod est appareat, et quod facta est vivat? Caeterum, contraria sapit et quaerit, et mortalitas sese degeneri conversatione conformans, immortalitatis candorem quodam mortiferae consuetudinis piceo colore denigrat. Quidni mortalium appetitus immortalem mortali similem, immortali dissimilem faciet? Qui tangit picem, ait Sapiens, inquinabitur ab ea.

Fruendo mortalibus mortalitatem se induit, et vestem immortalitatis incidente mortis similitudine decoloravit, non exuit.

Evam attende, quomodo eius anima immortalis, immortalitatis suae gloriae fucum mortalitatis invexit, mortalia utique affectando. Utquid enim, cum immortalis esset, mortalia non contempsit et transitoria, contenta sibi similibus, immortalibus et aeternis? Vidit, inquit, lignum quod esset pulchrum oculis, et aspectu delectabile, ac suave ad vescendum. Non est tua, o mulier, ista suavitas, ista delectatio, istaque pulchritudo: et si tua pro parte luti, non tua solius, sed communis cunctis animantibus terrae. Tua, quae vere tua est, aliunde, et alia est: nam aeterna est de aeternitate. Quid tu animae tuae aliam formam, imo deformitatem imprimis alienam? Enimvero quod delectat habere, id etiam perdere timet: et timor color est. Is libertatem dum tingit, tegit, et eam nihilominus sibimet reddit dissimilem.

Quam dignius sua origine nihil cuperet, ubi nihil metueret, ac per hoc a servili timore isto ingenitam sibi defenderet libertatem, manentem in vigore et decore suo! Heu! non ita est! mutatus est color optimus. Fugitas, et latitas: audis vocem Domini Dei, et abscondis te. Cur hoc, nisi quia quem amabas times, et libertatis speciem forma servilis exclusit?

Sed et voluntaria illa necessitas, et contraria lex inflicta membris, de qua proximo sermone disserui, eidem incubat libertati, et liberam natura creaturam per propriam ipsius voluntatem, dum allicit, subiicit servituti, implens faciem eius ignominia, ita ut vel carne serviat legi peccati, et non volens. Quia ergo naturae ingenuitatem morum probitate defensare neglexit; iusto auctoris iudicio factum est, non quidem ut libertate propria nudaretur; sed tamen superindueretur, sicut diploide, confusione sua. Et bene sicut diploide, ubi veste veluti duplicata, manente libertate propter voluntatem, servilis nihilominus conversatio necessitatem probat. Hoc de simplicitate, hoc de immortalitate animae advertere est: et nil tibi in ea, si bene consideres, apparebit, quod non sit istiusmodi similitudinis pariter et dissimilitudinis diploide adopertum. Annon diplois, ubi non innata, sed affixa, et quadam quasi acu peccati assuta est simplicitati fraus, immortalitati mors, necessitas libertati? Neque enim essentiae simplicitati praescribit duplicitas cordis; non naturae immortalitati mors, aut voluntaria peccati, aut necessaria corporis; non arbitrii libertati necessitas voluntariae servitutis. Ita bonis naturae mala adventitia, dum non succedunt, sed accedunt, turpant utique ea, non exterminant; conturbant, non deturbant. Inde anima dissimilis Deo, inde dissimilis est et sibi; inde comparata iumentis insipientibus, et similis facta est illis; inde quod legitur commutasse gloriam suam in similitudinem vituli comedentis fenum; inde homines, tanquam vulpes, duplicitatis et fraudis foveas habent, et quia pares vulpibus se fecerunt, partes vulpium erunt; inde iuxta Salomonem, unus exitus homini, et iumento.

Quidni similiter exeat, qui similiter vixit? More bestiali incubuit terrenis, morte bestiali excedet terris. Audi aliud. Quid mirum si similem sortimur exitum, qui et similem habemus introitum? Unde enim hominibus, nisi de similitudine bestiali, ille tam intemperans ardor in coitu, tam immoderatus dolor in partu? Ita homo in conceptu et ortu, in vita et morte comparatus est iumentis insipientibus, et similis factus est illis.

Quid, quod libera creatura sibi subditum appetitum non regit ut domina, sed sequitur et obsequitur ut ancilla? Nonne et in hoc se assimilat et annumerat caeteris animantibus, quae natura non in libertatem vocavit, sed condidit in servitutem servire suo ventri, appetitui obedire? Nonne tali merito confunditur perhiberi vel existimari similis Deus? Ideoque ait: Existimasti inique, quod ero tui similis; et infert: Arguam te, et statuam contra faciem tuam. Non est sese videntis animae, Deum existimare similem sibi, animae duntaxat, qualis mea est, peccatricis et iniquae. Eiusmodi namque arguitur: Existimasti inique, ait; et non dicit: Existimasti, anima; vel, existimasti, homo, quod ero tui similis. Sed, si statuatur iniquus ante faciem suam, et contra vultum quemdam morbidum putidumque interioris hominis sui sistatur, ut dissimulare aut declinare non queat impuritatem conscientiae suae, sed videat vel invitus sordes peccatorum suorum, vitiorum inspiciat deformitatem; nequaquam iam poterit existimare Deum fore similem sibi, sed quasi diffidens pro tanta dissimilitudine quam videbit, puto exclamabit, et dicet: Domine, quis similis tibi? quod quidem dictum pro voluntaria illa et novitia dissimilitudine.

Nam manet prima similitudo: et ideo illa plus displicet, quod ista manet. O quantum bonum ista, quantumque malum illa! Ex mutua tamen collatione utraque res in genere suo plus eminet.

Cum ergo anima tantam in se una rerum distantiam cernit, quidni clamet, inter spem et desperationem utique posita: Domine, quis similis tui? Trahitur in desperationem pro tanto malo; sed revocatur in spem a tanto bono. Inde est ut quo sibi plus displicet in malo quod in se videt, eo se ardentius ad bonum, quod aeque in se conspicit, trahat, cupiatque fieri ad quod facta est, simplex et recta, et timens Deum, ac recedens a malo. Quidni recedere possit, ad quod accedere potuit? quidni accedere, a quo recedere potuit? Quod tamen utrumque dixerim de gratia praesumendum, non de natura, sed ne de industria quidem. Nempe sapientia vincit malitiam, non industria, vel natura. Nec deest occasio praesumendi: ad Verbum est conversio eius.

Non est apud Verbum otiosa animae generosa cognatio, de qua triduo iam tractamus, et cognationis testis similitudo perseverans. Dignanter admittit in societatem Spiritus similem in natura. Et certe de ratione naturae, similis similem quaerit. Vox requirentis: Revertere, Sunamitis; revertere, ut intueamur te. Intuebitur similem, qui dissimilem non videbat; sed et se intuendum praestabit. Scimus quoniam, cum apparuerit, similes ei erimus, quoniam videbimus eum sicuti est. Puta ergo de difficultate magis, quam de impossibilitate venire illam percunctationem: Domine, quis similis tibi?

Aut, si hoc magis probas, vox est admirantis. Admiranda prorsus et stupenda illa similitudo, quam Dei visio comitatur, imo quae Dei visio est; ego autem dico in charitate. Charitas illa visio, illa similitudo est. Quis non stupeat charitatem Dei spreti et revocantis? Merito iniquus arguitur ille, qui supra inductus est, Dei similitudinem usurpans sibi, cum diligendo iniquitatem, neque possit se diligere, neque Deum: sic enim habes: Qui diligit iniquitatem, odit animam suam. Facta igitur de medio iniquitate, quae eam quae ex parte est dissimilitudinem facit, erit unio spiritus, erit mutua visio, mutuaque dilectio. Siquidem veniente quod perfectum est, evacuabitur quod ex parte est; eritque ad alterutrum casta et consummata dilectio, agnitio plena, visio manifesta, coniunctio firma, societas individua, similitudo perfecta. Tunc cognoscet anima, sicut cognita est; tunc amabit, sicut amata est; et gaudebit sponsus super sponsam, cognoscens et cognitus, diligens et dilectus, Iesus Christus Dominus noster, qui est super omnia Deus benedictus in saecula.

Amen.

Scripture echoes

  1. Matt.25.29For to everyone who has, more will be given, and he will have an abundance; but from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away.
  2. Ps.48.13Walk around Zion, go around her, count her towers.
  3. Ps.105.20A king sent and released him; a ruler of peoples set him free.
  4. Ps.50.21These things you did, and I kept silent; you thought that I would be just like you. But I will rebuke you and set the charge before your eyes.
  5. Gen.3.6And the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and the tree was desirable to make one wise. She took of its fruit and ate, and she gave also to her husband with her, and he ate.
  6. Gen.3.6And the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and the tree was desirable to make one wise. She took of its fruit and ate, and she gave also to her husband with her, and he ate.
  7. Gen.2.7Then the LORD God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.
  8. Gen.3.8And they heard the sound of the LORD God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the LORD God among the trees of the garden.
  9. Rom.7.23-Rom.7.25But I see another law in my members, waging war against the law of my mind, and making me captive to the law of sin which is in my members. Rom.7.24 — Wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Rom.7.25 — Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, I myself with my mind serve the law of God, but with my flesh, the law of sin.
  10. Ps.106.20And they exchanged their glory for the likeness of an ox that eats grass.
  11. Ezek.13.4Your prophets, Israel, have been like foxes among the ruins.
  12. Eccl.3.19For what happens to the children of man and what happens to the beast is the same event; as one dies, so dies the other, and they share the same breath. Man has no advantage over the beast, for all is vanity.
  13. Ps.51.21Then you will delight in sacrifices of righteousness, burnt offerings and whole offerings; then bulls will be offered on your altar.
  14. Hab.3.6;Ps.34.6He stood and measured the earth; he looked and scattered the nations; the eternal mountains were shattered, the ancient hills sank low—his ways are everlasting. Ps.34.6 — Look to him and be radiant, and let your faces not be ashamed.
  15. Ps.11.5The LORD examines the righteous, but his soul hates the wicked and the one who loves violence.
  16. 1Cor.13.10But when the complete comes, the partial will be done away.
  17. Rom.9.5whose are the fathers, and from whom is the Christ according to the flesh, who is over all, God blessed forever. Amen.

Notes

  1. 1Quoted Psalm passages: Ps 48:13 (49:12 Vulgate) 'Homo, cum in honore esset, non intellexit; comparatus est iumentis insipientibus, et similis factus est illis' and Ps 105:20 (106:20 Vulgate) 'Mutaverunt gloriam suam in similitudinem vituli comedentis fenum'. Both are candidate allusions pending Moses resolution.
  2. 2Quoted divine speech 'Existimasti inique, quod ero tui similis' — likely echoing Ps 50:21 (Ps 51:19 Vulgate) or a patristic harmonization; candidate allusion pending Moses resolution.
  3. 3Diploide (Greek διπλοΐς) refers to a double or folded garment; here it serves as a metaphor for the 'double' nature of the soul's current state, covered by an alien condition.

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