Clement of Alexandria · a new plain-English translation from the original language
This, then — the man of understanding and clear sight — is the Gnostic. His work is not abstinence from evils (for that is but the stepping-stone of the greatest progress), nor indeed doing some good thing out of fear (for it is written: "Where might I run, where could I conceal myself out of your sight? Should I climb up to heaven, you are already present; should I travel to the far edge of the sea, your mighty hand rests there too; should I descend to the deep places, your spirit is there also"), nor yet for hope of promised honor (for it is said: "See, the Lord comes, bringing his reward before him, repaying each man according to his deeds — things no eye has beheld, no ear has caught, things never arising within a human heart, which God has made ready for those who cherish him") — but for the Gnostic the only well-doing that is worthy of choice is that done through love, chosen for the sake of the good itself.
Thus God spoke to the Lord, saying: "Request it of me, and I will grant you the nations as your possession" — teaching the most kingly of requests, that the salvation of men be asked without a fee, so that we might inherit and gain possession of the Lord. For to seek after the knowledge of God for the sake of some need — that this happen to me and that not happen — is not the mark of a Gnostic; for him the ground of contemplation is knowledge itself. Indeed I would dare to say that the one who pursues knowledge for the sake of the divine understanding itself will not choose knowledge because he wishes to be saved; for understanding, through practice, extends into perpetual understanding, and perpetual understanding, becoming the very substance of the one who knows through an undivided blending, remains an eternal contemplation, a living reality. If, then, one were to propose hypothetically to the Gnostic which he would rather choose — the knowledge of God, or eternal salvation — supposing these to be separated (though in fact they are, more than anything, one and the same), he would without the slightest hesitation choose the knowledge of God, judging that this — the property that rises above faith into knowledge through love — is worthy of choice for its own sake.
This, then, is the first well-doing of the perfect man: when it comes about not for the sake of some need bearing upon himself, but because he has judged that doing good is a noble thing, and his activity, carried on unceasingly, is made good in every action — not in some cases and not in others, but having settled into a fixed disposition of well-doing, no longer for the sake of reputation or, as the philosophers say, good repute, nor for reward whether from men or even from God — he would live out his days conformed to the pattern and resemblance of the Lord. And should some adversity meet him as he does good, he will render his response as good, holding no grudge, proving just and good toward just and unjust alike. To such men the Lord says: "Become as your Father is perfect." For this man the flesh has died, and he alone truly lives, having made the tomb sacred as a shrine set apart for the Lord, having redirected the soul that once sinned, back toward God.
This man is no longer merely self-controlled, but has come into a settled state of freedom from passion, awaiting only to put on the divine form. "When you give alms," it says, "let no one else be aware of it, and when you fast, anoint your head," so that only God knows of it, and no other person — indeed, not even the merciful man himself should be conscious that he is showing mercy; otherwise he would be kind at one moment and not the next. But when he carries out his benevolent work as a settled condition, he will mirror the nature of the good; and his disposition will become both nature and ingrained habit. One must not be swept up and carried across in an instant, but must reach the goal on foot, traversing the entire narrow path; for this is precisely what being drawn onward by the Father means — arriving at a state fit to accept the strength of grace granted by God, and pressing ahead freely. And if some hate the elect one, he knows their ignorance, pitying the folly of their judgment.
Fittingly, then, this knowledge loves even those who are ignorant, and teaches and trains all creation to honor the almighty God. And if it has learned to love God, it will in no way have virtue as something it can cast off, neither waking nor in dream nor in any fantasy at all; since a fixed state never departs from itself and ceases to be a fixed state, whether one should call knowledge a fixed state or a disposition. For because no differing notions ever intrude, the governing faculty, remaining unaltered, admits no variation of fancies, dreaming up no phantom-images arising from the motions of the day. For this reason the Lord commands us to be watchful, so that not even in dream should our soul ever suffer passion, but he commands us to keep even the conduct of the night, carried on as though in the day, pure and unstained. For this is likeness to God so far as possible — to keep the mind in a constant, unchanging condition; and this is the condition of mind as mind, whereas the varied disposition arises from attachment to material things.
For this reason it seems to me that men have called the night "euphrone" (the kindly time of good sense), since it is then that the soul, having ceased from the senses, turns inward upon itself and partakes more fully of understanding. For this reason too the mystery rites take place chiefly by night, signifying that the soul's departure from the body happens during the night. Let us therefore not slumber as others do, but stay alert and clear-headed. Sleepers sleep at night, and drunkards get drunk at night; instead let us, belonging to the day, remain clear-headed, clothed in the breastplate made of faith and love, wearing as a helmet the hope of salvation.
And whatever is said about sleep must be understood likewise concerning death. For each one discloses the soul's exit, one to a greater degree, the other to a lesser — a point one might likewise draw from Heraclitus: "A man in the kindly dark kindles a light for himself, his sight having died out, extinguished; living, he brushes against the dead while he sleeps, his eyesight put out; and waking, he brushes against the one who sleeps." Blessed indeed are those who grasp the moment, as the apostle states, "that the hour has now come for you to wake out of sleep; for our deliverance is now closer than it was when we first believed. The night is nearly over, day is approaching. Let us therefore throw off the deeds of darkness, and put on the weapons of light." And he allegorizes the Son as day and light, and the commandments, by metaphor, as the armor of light. This is why they say one must go washed to the sacred rites and to prayers, pure and radiant —
and this outward adornment and purification happens for the sake of a symbol, whereas true purity is to think holy thoughts; and indeed the image of baptism would also be that handed down from Moses to the poets, in some such way as this: "she, having washed herself, having garments clean upon her skin," namely Penelope, approaches to make her petition; and Telemachus, "having rinsed his hands in the gray sea," offers prayer to Athena. This is a custom of the Jews, as also the frequent washing at the bed. And well was that also said: "be pure not by washing, but in mind." For purity, I think, is complete when it belongs to the mind and to works and to thoughts, and further to sincerity of words, and last of all, freedom from sin even in one's dreams.
Sufficient, I think, for man's cleansing is exact and firm repentance, if indeed, having condemned ourselves for our former deeds, we press forward, having afterward come to understanding and having emerged in mind both from the pleasures of the senses and from our earlier transgressions. If, then, one ought to give an etymology of "understanding" (epistēmē), and one should take its meaning from "standing" (stasis), since it makes our soul stand firm amid affairs, whereas before it was carried now this way, now that — likewise "faith" (pistis) should be given its etymology from the standing (stasis) of our soul with regard to what truly is. But we desire to learn of the man who is just always and in all things, who remains just neither fearing the punishment that comes from the law, nor cautious of the hatred of wrongdoing shown by those who are present and who prosecute offenses, nor suspecting the danger arising from the wronged themselves; for the one who abstains from doing any unjust act for these reasons is not willingly upright, but is good out of fear. And indeed Epicurus says that the wise man, according to his teaching, does not wish to do wrong even for some gain; for he cannot gain assurance that he will escape notice. So that if he should be persuaded he would escape notice, he would, on Epicurus's own principle, do wrong.
Such, then, are these dark doctrines. But if one abstains from wrongdoing also out of hope for the recompense that comes from God upon the just, this man too is not willingly upright; for just as fear makes the former just, so reward makes this one just — or rather, shows him merely to seem to be just. But the hope that comes after death is known not only by those who follow the wisdom of the barbarians, as fair for the good and, conversely, ill for the base, but also by the Pythagoreans; for they too held out hope as the end for those who pursue philosophy. Indeed Socrates too, in the Phaedo, says that beautiful souls depart from here with good hope, and again, reproaching the wicked, sets against them the saying that they live with evil hope. And Heraclitus too appears to agree with this, in the words where he speaks concerning men: "there await men after death things they do not expect nor imagine."
Divinely, then, does Paul write plainly to the Romans: "Affliction produces endurance, and endurance, proof, and proof, hope, and hope does not put to shame." For endurance exists for the sake of the hope to come; and "hope" is used equally of the fulfillment and restoration of that hope, which likewise does not put to shame, no longer being reproached. But the man who obeys the bare call simply because he has been called does not press on toward knowledge either out of fear or out of pleasures; for he does not look about to see whether some profitable gain or enjoyment from outside follows for him, but, drawn by love of him who truly is the beloved, and led toward what is fitting, he worships God.
Hence not even if, by hypothesis, he should receive from God the power to do the forbidden things and go unpunished, nor even if he should further receive the promise that he would get as reward the good things of the blessed for these acts — no, not even if he should be persuaded that he would escape God's notice in what he does (which is impossible) — would he ever wish to do anything contrary to right reason, having once for all chosen that the truly noble and worthy of choice is so of itself, and for this reason lovable. For we have not defined what is good as consisting in the belly's feeding. And that man has heard that food will not commend us to God, nor indeed marriage, nor yet abstinence from marriage practiced in ignorance, but the work in accordance with virtue that is the Gnostic's own — since even a dog, an irrational animal, might be said to be "continent," fearing the one who raises the stick against it and for this reason abstaining from the food. Know well that of such men, once the promise formerly held out is taken away, and the threatened fear is removed, and the looming danger is separated from them, their true purpose stands exposed.
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