Philo of Alexandria · a new plain-English translation from the Greek
"And it came to pass, when men began to multiply on the earth, and daughters were born to them" (Gen. 6:1). It is worth asking, I think, why our race increases into a multitude of people only after the birth of Noah and his sons. But perhaps the reason is not hard to give: whenever what is rare appears, its opposite is always found in great abundance.
The natural excellence of one man thus reveals the natural deficiency of countless others, and the fact that skilled, learned, good, and noble things are few shows up, by contrast, the boundless throng of the unskilled, the ignorant, the unjust, and in general the base.
Do you not see that in the universe as a whole, the sun, though one, scatters the vast and deep darkness poured out over land and sea when it shines forth? So it is fitting that the birth of the righteous Noah and of his sons should, by contrast, bring into relief the many unjust men around them; for opposites by their very nature are best recognized by their opposites.
No unjust person ever sows a male offspring in the soul at all; rather, being by nature unmanly, broken, and womanish in their thinking, such people beget only female offspring. They plant no tree of virtue, whose fruits must of necessity be fair and noble, but only trees of vice and passion, whose shoots are all womanish.
This is why these men are said to have begotten daughters, but not a single son among them. For since the righteous Noah, in pursuing perfect and upright reason, which is truly male, begets male offspring, the injustice found among the many must, in every case, appear as a begetter of females; for it is impossible for the same things to be produced by opposites, rather than opposites again by opposites.
"And the angels of God, seeing the daughters of men, that they were beautiful, took wives for themselves from all of them, whom they chose" (Gen. 6:2). These beings other philosophers are accustomed to call demons, Moses angels; they are souls flying through the air.
And let no one suppose that what has been said is a myth. For it is necessary that the whole world through and through be ensouled, since each of the primary and elemental parts contains the living creatures proper and suited to it: the earth its land creatures, the sea and rivers their water creatures, fire the creatures born of fire (this is said to occur especially in Macedonia), and heaven its stars.
For the stars too are wholly souls through and through, pure and divine, and they move in the motion most akin to mind, moving forward and in a circle; for each of them is mind in its purest form. It is therefore necessary that the air also be filled with living beings; but these are invisible to us, just as the air itself is not visible to sense.
But it is not because sight is unable to receive an impression of the shapes of souls that souls do not exist in the air; rather, they must necessarily be apprehended by mind, so that like may be perceived by like. Since, indeed, what else shall we say?
Do not all creatures of land and water live by air and breath? What then? When the air is corrupted, do not pestilential afflictions tend to arise, as though the air were the cause of ensoulment for each creature? And what of this: when the air is unharmed and free of corruption, as tends to happen especially in the north winds, does it not, by drawing in purer breath, grant a greater and stronger endurance of life?
Is it then reasonable that the very medium through which other creatures, both water-dwelling and land-dwelling, have been ensouled, should itself be empty and devoid of souls? On the contrary: even if all other living things had been barren, the air alone ought to have brought forth living souls of its own,
having received seeds set apart for this special purpose from the Creator. Of these souls, some have descended into bodies, while others have never deigned to be united with any portion of earth. These latter, consecrated and devoted wholly to the service of the Father, the Creator is accustomed to employ as assistants and ministers for the oversight of mortal things.
But those souls that descended into the body, as though into a river, have sometimes been seized and swallowed up by the most violent pull of the current, while at other times, being able to resist the stream, they first swam up against it, and then flew back up to the place from which they had set out.
These, then, are the souls of those who have practiced philosophy without pretense, training from beginning to end to die to the life lived with the body, so that they might obtain a share in the incorporeal and imperishable life in the presence of the unbegotten and imperishable God.
But those that were drowned belong to the rest of humankind, all who disregarded wisdom and gave themselves over to unstable and chance affairs, none of which are referred to the best part within us, soul or mind, but all to our congenital corpse, the body, or to things even more soulless than the body—I mean reputation, wealth, offices, honors, and whatever else is fashioned or painted by the deceit of false opinion among those who have not beheld the things that are truly good.
If, then, you think of souls, demons, and angels as differing only in name but as one and the same thing underlying them, you will cast off a most grievous burden, superstition. For just as the many speak of good demons and bad ones, and likewise of souls, so too, in speaking of angels, you will not err in supposing that some are worthy of the name—certain envoys of men to God and of God to men, holy and inviolable because of this blameless and altogether beautiful service—while others, on the contrary, are unholy and unworthy of the name.
My argument is confirmed by what is said by the hymn-writer in this song: "He sent out against them the anger of his wrath, wrath and anger and affliction, a mission through evil angels" (Psalm 77:49). These are the wicked ones who assume the name of angels, not knowing the daughters of right reason, the sciences and the virtues, but pursuing instead the mortal pleasures, offspring of mortal men, pleasures that bring with them no genuine beauty—the kind beheld by the mind alone—but only a counterfeit comeliness, by which sense-perception is deceived.
And not all of them take all the daughters, but some take some out of the countless number, each choosing for himself: some the daughters that come through sight, others those through hearing, others again those through taste and the belly, some those that come after the belly, and many, even among things set at the greatest distance from one another, have laid hold of them, stretching their desires within themselves to the utmost. For necessarily the choices of varied pleasures are themselves varied, different men being attached to different pleasures.
Among such people, then, it is impossible for the spirit of God to remain and abide forever, as the lawgiver himself shows. For he says, "The Lord God said, My spirit shall not remain among men forever, because they are flesh" (Gen. 6:3).
For it does remain at times, but it does not remain continually among the majority of us. For who is so irrational or so soulless as never, whether willingly or unwillingly, to receive some notion of what is best? But indeed, even upon the most impious there often flies down, of a sudden, a fleeting vision of the good, though they are unable to grasp it and keep it within themselves.
For it departs at once, moving elsewhere, turning away from the inhabitants who have come to dwell there, having abandoned law and justice—people to whom it would never have come at all, except to convict those who choose shameful things instead of noble ones.
"Spirit of God" is used in one sense for the flowing air that rises from the earth, a third element carried upon water—hence he says in the account of the world's creation, "The spirit of God was borne above the water" (Gen. 1:2), since air, being light, is lifted up and carried upward, using water as its base—and in another sense for the pure knowledge in which every wise person naturally shares.
He makes this clear when speaking of the maker and craftsman of the holy works, saying that "God called back Bezalel and filled him with a divine spirit, of wisdom, understanding, and knowledge, to devise every kind of work" (Exod. 31:2–3); so that what spirit is,
in the divine sense, is described in outline through what has been said. Such, too, is the spirit of Moses, which comes upon the seventy elders so that they might differ from others and be improved by it; for these men could not truly become elders at all, without partaking of that all-wise spirit. For it is said, "I will take away from the spirit that is upon you and put it upon the seventy elders" (Num. 11:17).
But do not suppose that this taking-away happens by way of cutting off and separation; rather, it is like what happens with fire—even if one kindles countless torches from it, it remains undiminished in itself, exactly as it was. Such is also the nature of knowledge: having made its students and disciples experienced in every way, it is not diminished in any part, but often even increases toward what is better, just as they say of springs that are drawn from—for these too are said, by that very drawing, to grow the sweeter.
But do not suppose that this withdrawal happens by way of severance and separation, but rather as fire behaves when it kindles ten thousand torches from itself: it remains in no way diminished, but stays the same. Such is also the nature of knowledge: for though it renders all its students and associates experienced, it is diminished in no part, and often even grows toward the better, just as they say happens with springs that are drawn from — for these too, report has it, grow sweeter the more they are drawn upon.
For continual association with others, by producing practice and exercise, brings about complete perfection. Now if the spirit that belongs to Moses himself, or to any other created being, were bound to be distributed among so great a multitude of disciples, it would be diminished by being broken into so many portions.
But as it is, the spirit that rests upon him is the wise spirit, the divine spirit, the uncut, the undivided, the excellent, the spirit that is everywhere filled full throughout the whole — which, in benefiting, suffers no harm, nor is it lessened in understanding and knowledge and wisdom either by being shared with others or by being added to them.
This is why it is possible for the divine spirit to remain in a soul, but impossible for it to remain permanently, as we have said. And why should we be surprised? For not even in any other matter whatsoever does secure and stable possession arise, since human affairs incline now this way, now that, swaying to either side, and admit at different times different sorts of change.
The greatest cause of this lack of understanding is the flesh, and attachment to the flesh. God himself acknowledges this, saying, "because they are flesh," the divine spirit cannot remain. And indeed marriage, the raising of children, the provision of necessities, obscurity joined with lack of means, and business affairs — some private, some public — and countless other things besides, wither wisdom before it can flower.
But nothing is so great an obstacle to its growth as the nature of the flesh. For this, like some foundation of ignorance and lack of learning, is laid down first and greatest, and upon it each of the things already mentioned is built.
For souls that are without flesh and without body, spending their days in the theater of the universe, delight in divine spectacles and sounds, filled with an insatiable longing for them, and enjoy them with nothing to hinder their work. But those souls that bear the burden of the flesh, weighed down and oppressed, are unable to look up at the heavenly cycles; dragged downward, their necks are forcibly rooted to the earth like four-footed beasts.
(8.) This is why the lawgiver, knowing the lawless and illicit unions and minglings, aims to abolish them, and prefaces his law in this manner: "A man, a man, shall not approach any close relative of his flesh, to uncover shame: I am the Lord" (Lev 18:6). How could one more effectively urge contempt for the flesh and the things proper to the flesh than in this way?
And indeed he does not merely dissuade, but even firmly declares that the man devoted to truth will never willingly approach the pleasures of the body, dear and akin to it as they are, but will always practice estrangement from them. The fact that he says not once but twice, "a man, a man," is a sign that he does not mean the one composed of body and soul, but the one who lives by virtue. For this is truly the real man — the one whom, as one of the ancients said, having lit a lamp at midday, he declared he was seeking, in answer to those who asked what he was doing.
As for not approaching every close relative of the flesh — this has a necessary rationale. For some things must be approached, such as the things actually needed, by making use of which we shall be able to live without sickness and in health; but the superfluous things must be cast off, since desires, once kindled by them, burn up in a single rush everything of worth.
Let not our appetites, then, be roused toward everything dear to the flesh; for untamed pleasures, often, when they fawn upon us like dogs, turn about and bite incurably. So let us embrace frugality, the friend of virtue, ahead of what is proper to the body, and thereby dissolve the vast and endless mass of implacable enemies. And if some occasion presses us to take more than what is moderate and sufficient, let us not ourselves go along with it; for it says, "he shall not himself approach, to uncover shame."
What this means is worth unfolding. Often men who never became money-makers have possessed abundant wealth; others, who did not pursue reputation, have been deemed worthy of public praise and honors; and to others, who hoped for not even the least strength, the greatest vigor has come.
Let all such people learn, then, to approach none of these things mentioned with the judgment — that is, not to marvel at and welcome them beyond what is moderate — that each of them is not merely good, but the greatest of evils: money, reputation, bodily strength. For lovers of money have a natural inclination toward silver, lovers of reputation toward glory, lovers of athletics and exercise toward strength; for they have handed over the better part, the soul, to the worse — to soulless things — whereas those who are inward toward themselves,
make these brilliant and hotly contested advantages subject to the mind as to a ruler, welcoming them when they approach for their own improvement, but not approaching them when they stand far off, as though able to be happy even without them.
But the one who pursues them and wishes to follow in their tracks fills philosophy with shameful reputation; on account of which it is said, "to uncover the shame." For how could the reproaches not be clear and evident against those who claim to be wise but sell wisdom and offer it cheap, as they say those in the marketplace cry their wares for sale, now for a small profit, now for sweet and beguiling speech, now for an unstable hope hanging on nothing secure, and sometimes even for
promises that differ in no way from dreams? And the addition, "I am the Lord," is spoken most beautifully and most instructively. For, he says, set the good of the flesh, noble one, against the good of the soul and the good of the universe; the good of the flesh is irrational pleasure, while the good of the soul and of the universe is the mind of all things, God.
The comparison of the incomparable is a rivalry so close that one is deceived by the near resemblance — as if one were to say that ensouled things are the same as soulless ones, rational the same as irrational, harmonious the same as discordant, well-fitted the same as ill-fitted, light the same as darkness, day the same as night, and, in general, all opposites the same as their opposites, when it comes to truth.
And indeed, even if these things, by having entered into being, have some fellowship and kinship with one another, still God is not like even the best of created things, in that the one has come into being and will suffer change, while he is uncreated and always acting.
It is a fine thing not to desert the rank assigned by God, in which all who are stationed must excel, and not to go over to unmanly and broken pleasure, which harms its friends and benefits its enemies. For its nature is most strange: those to whom it wishes to impart a share of its own goods, it harms immediately, while those from whom it takes such goods away, it benefits most greatly —
for it harms when it gives, and does a favor when it takes away. If, then, O soul, some charm of pleasure calls to you, turn yourself aside, and, redirecting your gaze, look upon the genuine beauty of virtue, and remain gazing until desire melts within you and, like a lodestone,
draws you near and fastens you to the object of your longing. The phrase "I am the Lord" must be understood not only as equivalent to "I am the perfect and incorruptible and truly good," being held fast by whom a person will turn away from the imperfect, the corruptible, and what hangs upon the flesh — but also in place of "I am the ruler, the king, and the master."
For it is not safe to act unjustly either for subjects in the presence of their rulers, or for slaves in the presence of their masters; for when those who punish are near, those not naturally disposed to be corrected by their own resources are made prudent by fear.
For God, having filled all things, is near, so that, since he oversees and is close at hand, we should, out of reverence above all — but if not that, then at least out of caution before the unconquerable might of his rule and the fearful, inexorable severity of his punishments, whenever he should decide to exercise his punitive power — restrain ourselves from wrongdoing, so that the divine spirit of wisdom may not easily depart and be gone, but may remain with us a very long time, since even with the wise Moses —
for he maintains the most peaceable postures, whether standing or sitting, being by nature least given to turning and change; for it is said, "Moses and the ark did not move" (Num 14:44), either because the wise man is inseparable from virtue, or because neither virtue is movable nor the man of worth changeable, but each is established in the stability of right reason. And again, elsewhere:
"But you, stand here with me" (Deut 5:31). This is an oracle given to the prophet: a standing and an unswerving stillness beside the God who always stands unswerving.
for what is set beside it must be tested by a sound standard. This, it seems to me, is why excessive vanity, surnamed Jethro, struck with astonishment at the unwavering, most equable, and ever-consistent purpose of the wise man, protests and inquires in this manner: "Why do you sit alone?" (Exod 18:14).
For someone who has seen the war among men that goes on continually even in time of peace — not only as it is arrayed by nation and territory and city, but also by household, or rather by each single man, and the unspeakable, heavy storm in men's souls that is fanned up by the most violent onrush of the affairs of life — has good reason to marvel if anyone is able to maintain fair weather in a storm, or a calm in the surging swell of the sea.
You see that not even the high priest Word, though able to linger continually and occupy himself with the holy doctrines, has been granted leave to resort to them at every season, but only once in the year, and even then with difficulty (Lev. 16:2, 34). For what comes with spoken word is not secure, since it is a duality, whereas what is grasped without voice, by the soul alone, in contemplation of the One who is, is most secure, because it stands firm according to
the undivided unity. So then, among the many — that is, among those who have set before themselves many ends of life — the divine spirit does not remain, even if it turns among them for a little while; it comes only to one kind of man, the one who, having stripped off everything that belongs to becoming, and the innermost veil and covering of opinion, will come to God with an understanding laid bare and naked.
So too Moses, when he had pitched his own tent outside the camp and outside every bodily encampment (Exod. 33:7) — that is, when he had established his own judgment unswervingly — begins to worship God, and entering into the darkness, the invisible region, he remains there being initiated into the most sacred mysteries. And he becomes not only an initiate, but also a hierophant of mysteries and a teacher of divine things, which he will expound to those whose ears have been purified.
To this man, then, the divine spirit is always present, leading the way along every right path, whereas from the others, as I said, it is very quickly separated — men whose life he has filled out with a number of a hundred and twenty years; for he says, "Their days shall be a hundred and twenty years" (Gen. 6:3).
But Moses too, having reached the same number of years, departed from mortal life (Deut. 34:7). How then is it reasonable that men liable to blame should be of the same span of years as the all-wise prophet? For the present it will suffice to say this: that things called by the same name are not in every case alike, but are often even separated by an entire class of being, and that the tribe of the worthy man can indeed have equal numbers and equal spans of time — since even a twin is introduced — while their powers are detached and set far apart from one another.
The precise account of the hundred and twenty years we shall defer to our examination of the whole prophetic life, whenever we become capable of being initiated into it; for now let us say what comes next.
"Now the giants were upon the earth in those days" (Gen. 6:4). Perhaps someone supposes that the lawgiver is here hinting at the things fabled by the poets about the giants, though he stands as far apart as possible from myth-making, and holds it right to set foot on the very tracks of truth.
For this reason he also banished from his own commonwealth the celebrated and elegant arts of painting and sculpture, because, by falsifying the nature of what is true, they contrive deceptions and sophistries through the eyes for souls that are easily led astray.
So he introduces no myth whatsoever about giants; rather, he wishes to set this before you: that some men are of earth, some of heaven, and some of God. Those of earth are the hunters after the pleasures of the body, who make it their practice to enjoy and use them, and are procurers of whatever contributes to each; those of heaven are all who are craftsmen and men of knowledge and lovers of learning — for the heavenly element within us is the mind (and mind is what heaven is to each thing) — and it is the mind that practices the encyclical studies and all the other arts, one and all, sharpening and whetting itself, and moreover exercising and hardening itself among the objects of intellect —
while men of God are priests and prophets, who have not deigned to obtain citizenship in the world or to become citizens of the cosmos, but, having risen above the whole realm of sense-perception, have removed to the intelligible world and have taken up their dwelling there, enrolled among incorruptible and bodiless
Abraham, at any rate, so long as he was dwelling in the land and the reputation of the Chaldeans, before he was renamed, being called Abram, was a man of heaven, searching out the nature of things aloft and of the upper air, and the events that occur and their causes, and philosophizing about anything else of like kind — for which reason he also came to have a name proper to what he practiced; for Abram, when interpreted, means "exalted father," a name for the mind of the father who surveys on every side all things aloft and in the heavens, and the mind is the father of the composite being, reaching as far as the upper air and yet still further —
but when, having become better, he was about to be renamed, he becomes a man of God, in accordance with the oracle spoken to him: "I am your God; be well-pleasing before me, and be blameless" (Gen. 17:1).
And if the God of the cosmos, who alone is God, is by a special grace peculiarly his own God as well, then of necessity he too belongs to God. For he is called Abraham, which when interpreted is "chosen father of sound," that is, the reasoning of the worthy man; for it has been chosen out and purified, and is father of the voice with which we resound in harmony. And such a man has been allotted to the one God alone, and becoming his follower he steers the path of his whole life straight, making use in truth of the royal road belonging to the one king and ruler of all,
turning aside and swerving to neither side. But the children of earth, having driven the mind out of the exercise of reason and transformed it into the soulless and unmoving nature of flesh — for "the two became one flesh," as the lawgiver says (Gen. 2:24) — have adulterated the finest coinage, and have abandoned the better and proper rank, deserting to the worse and opposite one, with Nimrod as the one who began the work.
For the lawgiver says that "this one began to be a giant upon the earth" (Gen. 10:8), and Nimrod, when interpreted, means "desertion." For it was not enough for this most wretched soul to stand with neither side, but, having gone over to the enemy, it took up arms against its friends, and openly stood against them and made war. For this reason he also assigns Babylon as the beginning of Nimrod's kingdom, and Babylon means "transposition," a name akin to desertion, name to name and deed to deed; for the preludes to every desertion are a change of judgment and a transposition of it.
It would follow, then, to say that, according to the most sacred Moses, the base man, like one without house or city, without a settled place, a fugitive, is likewise a deserter, while the man of worth is a most steadfast ally. Having now said enough for the present about the giants, let us turn to what follows in the discourse. It is this: