Isaac of Stella, Sermons

which is not even essence, but an image after a certain trace of essence; but that [essence] where all things are truth and life, together, at once, for ever: namely the fount and efficient beginning of essence, wisdom, justice and the like; having these, being these, not such as they are in things, but as that from which the things that are in things have their being, and without which they cannot be — of which they hold out some trace to the one who searches; so that, through the things made beautiful and good, He may be beheld by the understanding as most beautiful and best, by whom they were made, who lives and reigns, God. Amen.

SERMON XXIII. ON THE SAME FEAST, VI.

True, brethren, is the promise of the Truth: Knock, He says, and it shall be opened to you (Luke 11:9). We have knocked, and there has been opened, as you see, a great and evident door, by which it has plainly appeared that the One whom we call God is before all things, can be without all things, is He without whom nothing is and from whom is the whole; how [things are] from Him, and in what manner He is in all things, which are more truly and earlier in Him than in themselves; in whom are from eternity all things that were made in time, as a certain philosopher says of Him:

... Himself most beautiful, bearing the beautiful world in His mind ..... (Boethius, The Consolation of Philosophy, III, metre 9, lines 7–8)

And another: He has made the things that are to come (Isa. 45:11). And: He who lives for ever created all things together (Ecclus. 18:1). Now, then, dearly beloved, having taken boldness from God's kindness, let us not give Him silence, for whose sake we keep silence from the world and from one another. Let us cry out to Him, and let Him not be silent, lest He hold His peace towards us and we become like those who go down from the high and lofty throne, where we have seen the Lord, into the pit of ignorance and forgetfulness, like that foolish man who, having looked at the face of his birth in a mirror, forgot what he was like (Jas. 1:23–24). For here God shows or reveals nothing of Himself so that what is seen should suffice or delight, but so that it should kindle us to inquire; nothing so as to satisfy here, but so as to stir us to thirst: I shall be satisfied, he says, when Thy glory appears (Ps. 16:15). But meanwhile: My soul has thirsted for God, the living fountain (Ps. 41:3). Whoever, then, is content with what he has already seen loses that very thing by not inquiring further. Let us inquire, then, about His holy mind, in which He bears the world before the world, where He made the things that were to come, where He created all things together. But if He has a mind, how is this not He Himself, who is His own all? For a philosopher was pleased to say even of men: The mind of each man is the man himself. And of the mind of man it is certainly said: God made man to His own image and likeness (Gen. 1:26) — if indeed God has a mind, without which He could have neither wisdom nor justice. Two things indeed present themselves: to be, and to have something; Himself to be, and something of His, which is nevertheless from Himself, and is what He is. And behold, in some wondrous way, I know not how, reasoning finds in what is truly one what is truly two: that is, what He is and what is His; what is from no one and what is from Him. And these two are one, because what He has, that He is:

and this one is itself two, because nothing can be from itself, nor have itself, nor can it be said, or is it fitting, that it is its own. It is proved, then, in this blessed and ineffable unity that we have found, by a more than wonderful duality which nevertheless does not withdraw from unity, that there is something from something, one from another: two indeed, but one; one, but two; the beginning, and from the beginning, and this very beginning the same, which is before all things; the mind in which are all things, and yet not two beginnings, since what He has, that He is: Father and offspring; [two,] in that the one is from no one, and the other cannot be except from someone. For what is from no one, and from which something always is — what can it more fittingly be called, by a borrowed word, than the father of that which is from it? And that which is from it may, not unfittingly, if no other reason stands against it, be called its offspring.

There being, then, one that is simple and immovable, which it is nevertheless plain is two, since it is and has what is its own — and yet is only one with what it has, being that very thing, and has from itself alone what it has in itself and with itself — whatever is met with there in incomprehensible truth as being from no one we call the Father. Whatever is from Him alone, who is from no one and is called Father because something is from Him as His offspring, we name the Son: other in property, because He is His, from Him, in Him and with Him; the same with Him in unity of essence, because He is all that He has, being His own all; and what is His, from Him, can in no way be other than He is, who is altogether simple and indivisible. For the simple is not divided so that one becomes two; nor is the One doubled; nor did the One begin to have what it did not have before; nor does the immutable cease to be what it always was. For there is always, and before all things, one, and from no one; and always in the same, something from someone; so that there is always the Father, and His everlasting Son from Him alone. But never is He who is from no one from someone, nor He who is from someone from no one; lest the Father should ever be His own son, or the Son His own father. Always He who is from no one, and He who is from Him — His in Him — are one and the same, simple, eternal, so that Father and offspring are one nature, the same essence, and the rest likewise. And so the Father is eternity, and the Son, from eternity, is eternity; the Father is beginning, and the Son, from the beginning, is beginning; and so of power, wisdom and the like: which according to what we have called our rational theology are many, but in the highest and divine [theology] are ineffably one; so that, though He has all these, He, being one, nevertheless has one only thing, in which together, at once, for ever, all things are one which in themselves are emptily counted as many and in truth are found to be nothing. Descending to symbolic theology also, we follow the same path of truth: so that when He is called Word, image, splendour, impress, figure, brightness, arm, hand, right hand, there is everywhere understood something of someone, and in all of them one of One, of the same essence, of distinct property.

And so, as to what concerns the matter from which we set out,

let us investigate why He is called Word. There are, then, three exercises for the rational mind, on account of things present, past and future, from its three natural powers: reason, memory and ingenuity. Ingenuity searches out things unknown, reason judges things found, memory stores away things judged and offers things still to be judged. What ingenuity has found, then, it brings to reason; what memory has hidden away it brings back; but reason is borne above them as above things present, and, as it were in the mouth of the heart, it always [...] chews what the teeth of ingenuity bite off, or ruminates what the belly of memory brings up again. For what we have perceived, and now call knowledge, is either in the mouth of our heart, so that from there we speak with ourselves as though presently — that is, think, or, if it can be said more properly, meditate, that is, gaze inwardly on it as present, and handle it there first, as with this very thing that we are now saying, which is surely a word of the heart before it is a word of the mouth — or it is hidden, even from us, in the belly of memory. For not everything we know is always before us, nor is everything a knower knows always turning in his gaze. Yet in time, and part by part, it is drawn out from memory like something stored away, and in the mouth of the heart a present word is formed, which outwardly, in the mouth of flesh, makes a sound.

Wherefore, as is clear from what has been said, since to God nothing is future and nothing past, but the whole of what is, or can in any way come to be, in whatever direction it may vary or be able to vary, is present in the glance of His gaze, together and at once and for ever; [since] thought brings back nothing from memory — or rather neither thought nor memory has any place there, whence nothing goes and to which nothing returns — and study brings nothing from ingenuity — or rather neither has any place there, where nothing was lacking: rightly are all things said to be in His Word as more than present and immovably eternal, and in the reason of His mind, which He handles with Himself and speaks to Himself together, at once and for ever. For He speaks not only what is, or was, or will be, but also whatever can be, in whatever way and from whatever source, how, to what end and why what is, is, and why what is not, is not. Nor does He do so by parts, this first and that later — He with whom there is no change — but by one simple, eternal and fixed gaze, together, or rather, if it can be said, above together; nor does He find this more than once, as though it were finite; for what is equal to the infinite must be infinite. Nor can He speak anything else beyond this, or with this set aside, because it is plain that He utters ineffably whatever is here, or is in any way possible. Hence nothing else, nor otherwise, nor the same a second time, can by any reasoning be said, where nothing old passes away, nothing new arises, the whole remains eternal: where there is no change, nor shadow of alteration; and so, as together, so also at once; and because there is never a time when He does not see Himself above all things and all things in Himself, this also for ever. For He did not first exist and afterwards see Himself, nor, being unwise, discover wisdom by which to be wise; nor, being idle, begin to consider what He should do; nor what

He once thought and said inwardly to Himself, He afterwards changed, He the immutable, or brought to an end, He the infinite, which, as it could not begin, so cannot end. Whose inward counsel does not begin and pass away, but is born and remains whole for ever; and the thoughts of His heart are perfect, but not finished, neither begun nor passed away, from generation to generation. For there nothing is begun, nothing finished, but the whole is infinite, and yet not imperfect; nothing past, nothing future, but the whole present — yet not even this is said properly. For if we say, God speaks, or thinks, the word or the thought does not yet seem complete, as though He had yet to have spoken or forethought the whole. And if we say, He has spoken, it seems past, as if He were now silent; but if [we say] He will speak, it seems future, as though He had not yet begun. Hence it is plain, when we are compelled to speak of the ineffable God's supernature or Word, we who are not allowed to be silent, that just as no name can be devised that expresses Him of whom it is said, so neither can any word properly signify that of which it is rightly said. But behold, following the Word Himself, made a lamp to our feet, and holding to Him wherever He went, wherever He passed, and wherever He turned — nor wherever He passed, and wherever He turned; nor letting Him go wherever He penetrated and entered — at length He brought us into the house of His Father and into the chamber of her who bore Him (Song 3:4), that is, of the unbegotten paternal essence, wisdom and power. For the Father begot the Son from His own essence. We also have brought in the Word, since it is written there thus: Into the house of our mother. For while we were tracing the origin of this holy seed, that is, of the Word of God, we surely found our own; not indeed from elsewhere, but from there in another manner. For whereas all things are from the One by a temporal founding and with a beginning, He alone is from the same by a natural and eternal generation without beginning. With the lamp shining, then, as we have said, and making light for our feet, we have found in part what we set out to seek, and have spoken of it only in part; and perhaps part of us has understood only in part what we have spoken: namely, whence the Word has arisen, how, when, and of what kind; that is, who spoke first, what, to whom, how and when. Yet in all this the Word has not yet been found sown outwardly, but [only] as able to be sown outwardly. Let us inquire, then, about another beginning: where, why, how and when it was sown; asking the very Sower of the holy and secret Word that He deign to sow in us the understanding of these things. Amen.

SERMON XXIV. ON THE SAME FEAST, VII.

Now, dearly beloved, one can see in ourselves how the whole man eats his bread in the sweat of his face. For truly the sword, piercing through the flesh, has reached even to the soul. See, cutting fallow ground for ourselves, so that we may not sow upon thorns (Jer. 4:3), we are running with sweat, the midday sun burning us from above. And so, too wearied on account of the earthly seed, under the cover of the spreading holm-oak which you see close by, let us recline for a little:

where, not without a certain inward sweat, we may thresh out the seed of the divine word for ourselves, grind it, knead it, bake it, eat it, lest we faint from fasting. Our first bread today will be to search out why He went out, Who went out to sow His seed. For within, no lack could be feared, such that progress should be sought outside. And just as the one cannot be diminished, so neither can the infinite be multiplied, nor the simple decrease, nor the immeasurable be increased, nor the immovable be moved. Hence you see another bread to be set out: namely, how He can go out Who cannot be moved. Brethren, before this sensible world was made, there was nothing at all less than there is now; rather, infinitely more than exists in this sensible condition. For everything that is apparent in the copy must have come forth from the exemplar; but that everything which is in the exemplar has come into the copy is not yet true. For there not only the things that have been made, but whatever things can be made, exist more beautifully and more truly, where they are not mutable and vain things, but truth and life. For this sensible state is the last end of things, just as that archetype is the highest, of which it is written: Reaching from end to end mightily, and ordering all things sweetly (Wis. 7). This holm-oak, by whose kindness we are refreshed here, was more beautiful and more wonderful, whole, in a small acorn than it now exists in so great a trunk; and completing its circuit, it is consummated again in the acorn. For from the acorn, as from a point, the line drawn round through root, trunk, foliage, leaf and flower runs back likewise to the acorn. That small seed of so great a trunk itself also subsists, whole, more beautifully and more wonderfully in the seed-bed of mother earth. And that too [subsists] in the elements, and in matter itself; and matter itself, with all other things, [subsists] in every way more excellently and more truly in the divine mind. In the trunk, then, the holm-oak subsists actually; in the acorn, seminally; in the earth, originally; in the elements, causally; in matter, possibly; in God, potentially: in the others mutably and mortally, in God immortally.

Since, then, all things are in God, not only by the power by which they are made, but also by foreknowledge, nay by present wisdom: what did that great theologian of the gentiles mean in saying that God was lifted up with immense joy when He had completed the world? Did He see outside something new that He had not foreseen within? Something beautiful in the copy that was not more beautiful in the exemplar, in the art than in the work? Hence, if He had to rejoice, the higher occasion of rejoicing was within. Yet I would not believe that so great a philosopher (for it was Plato) said this childishly, since our Moses theologized something similar. God saw, he says, all things that He had made, and they were very good (Gen. 1). As though within He had either not seen things brighter or not approved things better. Or perhaps, the work completed, each theologian at the work's end subtly hinted at the final cause of the work, the one joy, the other goodness? How great a joy do we think, how great a delight and pleasure He has within, in so great and

such majesty of power, and in the light of power: where He beholds in Himself, and above all things, all beauty, every reason, every order, every cause, every effect? Why then did He desire outside things certainly incomparably less comely? Perhaps for the sake of that very ineffable and incomprehensible joy and delight. But see, there begins to shine through, in this incomprehensible, one and simple immobility, some third thing, which can be neither from none nor from one alone. For if within He rejoices and delights in this His light, and with it, it is manifest that that joy and delight proceeds from both: namely, from Him Who rejoices, and from Him in Whom and with Whom He rejoices. For each is clearly a principle of the joy, which is of this One from that One. But since it was established above that He Who rejoices is one with Him in Whom He rejoices and delights, and that whatever He has is one, is this very thing: He is certainly one with His joy; for in Him nothing alien can befall, nothing new begin, nothing old perish; but the whole abides eternal, though it has now been found to be threefold. Moreover, in Whom He rejoices He loves, and in Whom He delights He cherishes. Hence love is from both in both, but the selfsame with both. Since, then, in this adorable unity whatever is met with as being from none we call the Father, and whatever is from one alone we call the Son, it remains that whatever is found in Him to be from the two should be called of both: yet not the Son, lest confusion arise; but the Holy Spirit, that the property may be distinguished, and the sweetness, love, peace and delight of both be understood, and that this whole be firmly held to be one, lest we depart from the unity on account of the Trinity.

So then, exulting and rejoicing in its own light, what need had the true Light of our darkness, to see outside as obscure what it had within so bright? For if it was light, it was certainly shining. For what else is to shine than to beget light from oneself? But what light does the light beget from itself, while it shines, except what it itself is that shines? Do "light" and "shining" signify two lights? Yet not the same indifferently either. For "light" signifies the essence of light alone; but "shining" declares that light is from light: yet it signifies not one from another, but the same otherwise, so that the property is other, not the truth of the light other. And truly, what is it to give light, but to afford light? Nor indeed other light than that very light which shines from light. Yet light, though it exists as light, by no means affords light if it does not shine; and shining, if it be not light, has no power at all. Shining, then, is from light, and to afford light is from both. When, therefore, this alone is said, namely to afford light, it is understood, and as it were in some way signified with it, that it shines and that it is light; and when "to shine" is said, it is likewise understood in it that it is light, whence it gleams, and that by shining it illuminates and affords light. And when "light" alone is said, it is understood too that by shining, that is, by begetting light from itself, it affords light and illuminates. But these meanings

not so much from the property of the words, or of the differences which they themselves express, as from the undifferentiated nature of the thing they signify, that is, of the light; or else all are signified together as one and held together, all in each and each in all. For one nature of light, three properties, are designated by those three words. Come, brethren: since Rachel could not bear, she put forward her handmaid (Gen. 30). For since we were unable to say properly of so inaccessible a light what it truly is, we have, using an imaginative contemplation, spoken by a likeness of what is like in a far unlike manner. Since, then, light exists and begets light from itself, by which the light itself is seen, and of its own nature offers itself visible, so that by its natural gift it is itself seen through itself: is it not this above all in light, and this especially, that makes it most lovable, that it is itself givable, receivable and enjoyable? What is everything powerful, strong, wise, just, good to me, if it is not communicable, if it cannot be shared? This, then, in light makes light most loved: that through its brightness it offers itself visible and enjoyable, even if there is nothing that sees it or uses it; yet this is the nature of light, and, as far as in it lies, it always bestows. Hence in it, from it, there is by nature a certain gift, that it shines; and [shining] it has from this, that it is light. And so all its use lies in the gift; and from this comes the cause for which it is held dear and loved.

Let love, then, be from use, use from the gift, the gift from the form or natural image, that is, from the native brightness or whiteness; and the gift and the image from the eternity of the light, that is, from the very being or essence of the light: which essence, in that inaccessible Light itself, which we picture as best we can in this bodily light, is from none whatever, and is the beginning of brightness and illumination. This, then, my God, my illumination, I love most in Thee, whence I am able to love Thee, and have power to know Thee and share in Thee: that is, Thy natural gift, namely that by nature Thou art givable, receivable and enjoyable. For whenever I ask Thee for anything, this is what I look to, that is, Thy Holy Spirit, natural goodness and gratuitous bounty, not accidental or temporal, stirred by some affection or work of mine, but eternal, immutable, by which Thou art always such. But since in Thee, Who art the holy Trinity, my God, true Light, this gift of light is not from itself, for us the whole is from Him, to whom it is given that in some part we enjoy it; but from the form and brightness, as from the offspring of the paternal light, and through it from the paternal light itself. For from the light, because it shines, there is the gift of light, and use from the gift. Under one veneration, with undivided charity, we love in Thee the Holy Spirit, in Whom also the Son, through Whom also the Father, from Whom is every best gift and every perfect gift (Jas. 1). For the Father in the name of the Son, that is, through the Son, gives the Spirit; the Son from the Father gives the Spirit; the Spirit from the Father and the Son gives Himself. For nothing is given to one to whom nothing is owed except freely, that is, by gift. But neither is a debt forgiven to a debtor, nor good returned for ill desert, except by a great gift, a greater,