The Special Laws I

Philo of Alexandria · a new plain-English translation from the Greek

The classes of the particular laws — the so-called Ten Words — have been treated with precision in the previous treatise; now the individual statutes must be examined in the order the scripture follows. I will begin with the one that most people laugh at.

What draws the laughter is the circumcision of the male generative organ, though it is a practice taken seriously by other nations too, and especially by the Egyptians, a people thought to be the most populous, the most ancient, and the most philosophical.

For this reason it would have been more sensible and more dignified to set aside childish mockery and investigate instead the reasons that have kept this custom in force, rather than rushing to condemn the thoughtlessness of great nations — considering, as one reasonably should, that so many tens of thousands undergo this cutting in every generation, mutilating, with great pain, their own bodies and those of their nearest kin. Many considerations recommend preserving and carrying out what the ancients instituted, but the highest are four.

One is relief from a harsh and hard-to-cure disease of the foreskin, which they call anthrax — taking its name, I think, from its smoldering and burning — an ailment that arises more easily in those who retain the foreskin.

Second is cleanliness of the whole body, fitting for a consecrated order; this is why the priests in Egypt go so far as to shave their bodies entirely, since impurity collects there too.

Some things that need purifying are covered over by both hair and foreskin. Third is the resemblance of the excised part to the heart: both organs are prepared for generation — the one, the breath centered in the heart, generates thoughts; the other, the generative organ, generates living creatures. For the men of old thought it right to make the visible and perceptible part, from which perceptible things naturally come to be, resemble the invisible and superior part, through which intelligible things are constituted.

Fourth, and most necessary of all, is its usefulness for abundant offspring; for it is said that the seed travels more successfully when it neither scatters nor pools in the folds of the foreskin. Hence the circumcised among the nations are held to be the most fertile and the most populous.

These reasons, then, have come to our ears, handed down as ancient lore among inspired men who examined the writings of Moses with no casual attention. But beyond what has been said, I hold that circumcision is also a symbol of two of the most necessary things.

One is the excision of pleasures — all the pleasures that bewitch the understanding. Since the union of man and woman carries off the prize among all the enchantments that pleasure works, the lawgivers thought it right to maim the organ that serves such intercourse, hinting thereby that circumcision means the excision of excessive and overflowing pleasure — not of one pleasure only, but through that one, the most compelling of all, of every other pleasure as well.

The other reason is that a person should come to know himself and cast off that grave disease of the soul, self-conceit. For some, priding themselves as if they were skilled molders of living things, have boasted that they are able to fashion man, the most beautiful of all creatures, and, puffed up with arrogance, have deified themselves, veiling over the God who is truly the cause of generation — though they could have corrected this deception from the evidence right in front of them.

For among them there are many men who are sterile and many women who are barren, whose unions remain fruitless and who grow old childless. This wicked opinion of the mind, then, must be excised, along with every other opinion that is not devoted to God.

So much, then, for these matters. We must now turn to the particular laws, and first to those from which it is fitting to begin — the laws laid down concerning monarchy. THE LAWS CONCERNING MONARCHY.

Some have supposed the sun and moon and the other stars to be independent, sovereign gods, and have attributed to them the causes of everything that happens. But to Moses the world seemed to be both a created thing and, as it were, the greatest city, having rulers and subjects — rulers being all the heavenly bodies, both the planets and the fixed stars, and subjects being the natures beneath the moon, in the air and around the earth.

These so-called rulers, however, are not autonomous, but are lieutenants of the one Father of all, and in imitating his oversight they succeed in governing, each in accordance with justice and law, everything that has come into being. But those who do not perceive the charioteer mounted above and directing them, as it were self-acting agents of what happens in the world, fasten the causes upon the yoked animals themselves.

This ignorance the most sacred lawgiver corrects into knowledge, saying: "Lest, having seen the sun and the moon and the stars and the whole array of heaven, you go astray and worship them" (Deut. 4:19). Very aptly and rightly he called the acceptance of these things as gods a going astray.

For those who saw the seasons of the year established by the sun's advances and withdrawals, seasons within which the generation of animals and plants and fruits is brought to completion according to fixed cycles of time, and the moon serving as the sun's attendant and successor, taking up by night the care and oversight of what the sun tends by day, and the other stars, through their sympathetic bond with things on earth, working and producing countless effects for the preservation of the whole — these people went astray in an endless wandering, supposing that these bodies alone were gods.

But had they been eager to walk the unwandering road, they would immediately have recognized that just as sensation has become the subordinate servant of mind, in the same way all perceptible things have been established as servants of the intelligible — and they would have been content to attain second prize.

For it is utterly absurd to think that the mind within us, though smallest and invisible, is the leader of our organs of sensation, while the mind of the universe, the greatest and most perfect of all, is not by nature king of kings — seen by nothing, though it sees all that is seen.

All the gods of heaven, then, whom sensation surveys, must be considered not sovereign in their own right but as having received the rank that belongs to them — brought under authority by their very nature, though on account of their virtue they will not be called to account.

So then, transcending in our reasoning the whole of visible being, let us go on to honor the one who is formless and invisible and apprehensible by thought alone — who is not only god of the gods perceived by intellect and by sense, but also craftsman of them all. And if anyone assigns the worship due to the eternal Maker to some other, younger, created thing, let him be recorded as deranged and guilty of the gravest impiety.

There are some who have handed gold and silver over to sculptors as capable of fashioning gods. These, taking the inert material and using a mortal model — most absurd of all — have shaped what merely appear to be gods; and having built temples and set up altars, they honor them with sacrifices and processions and all the other rites and consecrations, performed with the utmost care and deliberation, while priests and priestesses lend the utmost solemnity to the delusion surrounding them.

To these the Father of all proclaims in advance, saying: "You shall not make gods of silver and gold along with me" (Exod. 20:23) — all but openly teaching that you shall fashion no god at all as handiwork out of any other material either, being barred from the finest materials; for silver and gold hold the first rank among all materials.

Apart from this explicit prohibition, it seems to me he is also hinting at something else, bearing directly on the formation of character, and censuring with no small force those who love money — who procure silver and gold from every quarter, and then guard what they have procured in inner vaults like a divine image, believing it to be the cause of all good things and of happiness entire.

And all those among the poor who are gripped by that harsh disease, love of money, having no wealth of their own worthy of such devotion, gape in awe at their neighbor's wealth and, bowing before it, arrive at the houses of the rich at dawn as if at the greatest temples, to pray and to beg good things from their masters as though from gods.

It is to these that he says elsewhere too: "You shall not follow idols, and you shall not make molten gods" (Lev. 19:4), teaching by way of symbols that it is not fitting to render honors equal to God's to wealth; for the notorious materials of wealth are, by nature, gold and silver, which the many follow, believing them to be the sole or chief causes of what is called blind happiness.

These are what he calls “idols”: they resemble shadows and phantoms, hung on nothing strong or stable. They are carried about like an unsteady wind, taking on every kind of turn and change. Here is clear proof of this: sometimes, before people have taken hold of them, wealth flies to them all at once, and just when they think they have it firmly in their grasp, it leaps away again — and even when it is present, it appears, like the images in mirrors, deceiving and bewitching the senses, seeming to stand there while having no real existence at all.

And what need is there to show that human wealth, or rather the vain conceit that empty opinions paint up, is unstable? Some have said that all other living things and plants too, which come into being and perish, are constantly and unceasingly flowing away, but that the flux is too faint for perception, since the keenness of our sight is always overtaken by the swiftness of the flow before it can register an exact impression.

But it is not only wealth and reputation and things of that kind that are idols and feeble shadows — so too are all the beings the myth-makers fashioned and inflated with false conceit, fortifying their lying opinions against the truth, bringing in new gods as if from a stage machine, so that the eternal God who truly exists might be delivered over to forgetfulness. And to make their falsehood easier to swallow, they set it to melodies, rhythms, and meters, thinking thereby to bewitch with ease those who encountered it.

Beyond this, they also enlisted sculpture and painting as accomplices in the deception, so that, through forms well crafted in colors, shapes, and qualities, they might lead astray those who looked upon them, luring the two ruling senses — sight and hearing — the one with lifeless beauties, the other with poetic euphony, and so seize the soul, rendering it unstable and unmoored.

Knowing this — that this vain conceit had advanced to great power, escorted by the greater part of humankind, not by compulsion but by their own free choice — he was on guard lest even the zealots of true and uncorrupted piety be swept away by it as by a torrent, and so he stamps deep impressions on their minds, engraving there the marks of holiness, so that these might never be blurred, worn smooth, or dimmed by time. And he continually chants the same refrain, saying now that God is one and is the founder and maker of all things, now that he is lord of everything that has come to be, since stability, permanence, and true authority belong, in reality, to him alone.

It has been said: “All who cling to the God who truly is, live” (Deut. 4:4). Is not this the thrice-blessed and thrice-happy life — to hold fast in love to the service of the most venerable cause of all things, and not to think it fitting to serve the underlings and gatekeepers ahead of the king? This life is immortal and long-lasting, inscribed on the very pillars of nature; and these letters must endure as long as the world itself endures.

The Father and ruler of the universe is, then, hard to conceive and hard to grasp, but that is no reason to shrink from the search for him. In inquiries about God the mind of the genuine philosopher runs into two supreme difficulties: first, whether the divine exists at all — on account of those who have practiced atheism, the greatest of vices — and second, what he is in his essence. The first is not too laborious to see; the second is not only difficult but perhaps even impossible. Both must be examined.

Now, the things that are made are always in some way marks of recognition of those who made them. Who, on seeing statues or paintings, has not at once thought of a sculptor or a painter? Who, on seeing clothing, or ships, or houses, has not conceived a notion of a weaver, a shipwright, a builder? And someone who enters a well-governed city, where the arrangements of the constitution are set in excellent order, what else will he suppose than that this city is overseen by good rulers?

So then, whoever arrives at this truly great city, the world, and beholds the mountains and the plains teeming with animals and plants, with rivers native to the land and the rush of winter torrents, the spreading expanse of the seas, the tempering of the air, and the turning of the seasons of the year, and then the sun and moon, the rulers of day and night, and the circuits and dances of the other planets and of the fixed stars and of the whole heaven — must he not, reasonably — indeed of necessity — form a conception of its maker and father and, further, its ruler?

For none of the works of skill comes into being of itself; and this world is the most skillfully and most scientifically made of all things, so that it must have been fashioned by one whose knowledge was altogether good and most perfect. In this way we arrive at a conception of the existence of God.

As for his essence, even though it turns out to be hard to track down and hard to grasp, it must nonetheless be searched out as far as possible. For nothing is better than seeking the true God, even if the finding of him escapes human power, since the very eagerness to wish to learn produces, in itself, unspeakable pleasures and joys.

Witnesses to this are those who have tasted philosophy not merely with the tips of their lips but have feasted more fully on its arguments and doctrines. For the reasoning of such people, lifted up on high from the earth, walks the upper air and travels round together with the sun and moon and the whole heaven, longing to see everything there — yet its impressions grow fainter, since a pure and abundant light is being poured out, so that the eye of the soul grows dizzy at the flashing brilliance.

But even so, worn out by the effort, it does not give up; with unconquered resolve it presses on toward whatever vision is possible, as though competing in a contest for second prize, since it has failed to win the first. Second to true perception come conjecture and inference, and whatever else belongs to the class of the reasonable and the plausible.

Just as, though we neither know nor are able to determine clearly what each of the stars is in its essence, we are nonetheless eager to inquire, taking delight in plausible accounts for the sake of our natural love of learning — in the same way,

even if we have no share in a clear perception of God who truly exists, we ought not to abandon the search for him, since the very inquiry, even without discovery, is in itself deeply to be desired. No one blames his own bodily eyes because, unable to look upon the sun itself, they see the streaming radiance of its rays falling on the earth, the furthest reach of the sun's own

light. It was with an eye to this that the hierophant, Moses, most beloved of God, besought God, saying, “Show yourself to me” (Exod. 33:13), all but seized and crying aloud outright: that this world has become for me a teacher and guide to the fact that you are and exist, teaching me, as a son teaches of a father, and as a work teaches of its craftsman; but as for what you are in your essence, though I long to know it, I find no guide to this lesson in any part of the universe.

Therefore I beg and implore you to accept the supplication of a man who is a suppliant and a lover of God, and who asks to serve you alone. For just as light, unrecognized by another, is its own mark of recognition, so too you alone could reveal yourself. Therefore I ask to find pardon, if, for want of a teacher, I have dared to take refuge in you, in my eagerness to learn about you.”

And he says: “Your eagerness I accept as praiseworthy, but your request fits nothing that belongs to created being. What is my own I grant freely to whoever is to receive it; for it is not the case that everything easy for me to give is also possible for a human being to receive. Hence I extend to the one worthy of grace every gift that he is capable of receiving.

But my own comprehension not even the nature of a human being, nor indeed the whole heaven and the world, will be able to contain. Know yourself, then, and do not be carried away by impulses and desires beyond your power, and do not let a passion for the unattainable seize and lift you off your feet; for of the things attainable you will lack none.”

Hearing this, he came with a second supplication, and says: “I am persuaded by your instruction that I would not have had the strength to receive the clear vision of your own appearance. But I beg to behold, at least, the glory that surrounds you” (Exod. 33:18). “And I think your glory to be the powers that stand guard about you, the comprehension of which, escaping me until now, works in me no small longing to know them.”

And he answers and says: the powers you seek are invisible and wholly intelligible, belonging to me who am invisible and intelligible. And when I call them intelligible, I do not mean those already grasped and swallowed up by mind, but that, were they capable of being grasped at all, it would not be sense-perception but the purest mind that would grasp them.

Though by nature ungraspable in their essence, they nevertheless display a certain impression and image of their own activity — like the seals among you: when wax, or some similar material, is applied to them, they stamp countless impressions without losing any part of themselves, remaining just as they were. In the same way one must suppose that the powers around me endow qualities upon what has no quality and shapes upon what is shapeless, without themselves being altered or diminished in any part of their eternal nature.

And some among those skilled in etymology among you name them not without purpose as “Ideas,” since they give form to each of the things that exist, setting in order what is disordered, bringing limit and boundary to what is unbounded and undefined and shapeless, giving it shape, and in general transforming the worse into the better.

So then, hope never that you will be able to grasp, in its essence, either me or any of my powers; but of the things attainable, as I have said, I readily and eagerly grant a share. These consist in the invitation to behold the world and the things within it, a vision that comes about not through the eyes of the body but through the sleepless eyes of the mind.

Only let the longing for wisdom be constant and unbroken — wisdom which fills those who study under her and come to know her with doctrines celebrated in song and of the utmost beauty.” Hearing this, he did not cease from his desire, but kindled all the more his longing for the things unseen.

And he welcomes all who resemble these men, whether they were such from the beginning or have become better by changing to the superior order—the former because they have not abandoned their nobility of birth, the latter because they have thought fit to migrate toward piety—and these he calls proselytes, from their having come over to a new and God-loving commonwealth, men who disregard mythical fictions and hold fast to unadulterated truth.

At any rate, granting equal honor to all newcomers, and anointing them with the same privileges he urges upon the native-born, the well-born, he bids the latter honor the former not only with marks of esteem but with a special friendship and exceptional goodwill. And rightly so, no doubt: "having left," he says, "fatherland and friends and kinsmen for the sake of virtue and holiness, let them not go without other cities, other households, other friends, but let there be places of refuge standing ready for those who desert to piety. For the honor paid to the one God is the most effective of love-charms and an unbreakable bond of unifying goodwill."

But he does not command—though he grants newcomers equality before the law and equal taxation, on the ground that they have condemned their ancestral and inherited delusion—that they should use unbridled speech and an unchecked tongue in blaspheming those whom others believe to be gods, lest those others, provoked, be stirred to utter what is not lawful against him who truly is. For through ignorance of the difference—since from childhood they have been taught the falsehood as truth and have grown up familiar with it—they would fall into sin.

But as for those of the nation itself, if any relax their honor of the One, since they have abandoned the most essential rank of piety and holiness, they ought to be punished with the utmost penalties, choosing darkness before the most radiant light and rendering blind a mind that was capable of keen sight.

And it is a fine thing to have been entrusted, all who have zeal for virtue, with exacting punishments by their own hand without delay, bringing the offenders neither to a courtroom nor to a council-chamber nor to any authority at all, but employing the passion at hand—hatred of evil and love of God—to inflict inexorable chastisement on the impious, considering themselves, for that moment, everything: councilors, judges, generals, assemblymen, accusers, witnesses, laws, people—so that, with nothing standing in the way, they might fight fearlessly and with full confidence

for holiness. There is recorded in the laws a man who dared this noble deed of daring. For when he saw certain men consorting with foreign women and, on account of their passion for them, disregarding their ancestral ways and being initiated into the mythical rites, and saw the one who was ringleader and chief of this transgression already growing bold enough to display his impious act openly, publicly offering sacrifices, unlawful sacrifices, to images and carved idols, in plain view of the whole crowd in its frenzy, he shut off from the spectacle those who had gathered on either side, and without hesitation slew him together with the woman—the man because it was profitable that others unlearn what he had taught, the woman because she had become a teacher of evils.

This deed, done suddenly in the heat of the moment, admonished countless others who were preparing to do the same. God, then, praising this feat of valor, performed with self-commanded and voluntary zeal, crowns him with a double gift, peace and priesthood—with the one, judging that a man who had taken up the contests on behalf of God's honor deserved to lay claim to a life free of war; with the other, because priesthood, the most fitting prize for a pious man, promises the service of the Father, to whom to be a slave is not merely better than freedom but better even than sovereignty itself.

But some men have carried their madness to such an excess that, leaving themselves no room even for a change of heart, they rush headlong into slavery to things made by hand, confessing that slavery in writing—not on scraps of paper, as is the custom with purchased slaves, but branding it upon their own bodies with heated iron, for permanent retention; for not even time can dim marks like these.

A like resolve the most sacred Moses evidently strives to preserve in absolutely every other matter as well, being a lover of truth and its teacher, a truth which he desires to engrave and stamp upon all his disciples, banishing false opinions far from their understanding.

Knowing, at any rate, that divination cooperates not a little with the wandering life of the many, leading them astray, he permits no use of any of its forms, and drives out of his own commonwealth all who court its favor—sacrificers, purifiers, bird-watchers, interpreters of portents, enchanters, those who put their trust in omens.

For all these are mere guessers at what is plausible and probable, catching different impressions at different times from the same phenomena, because the things underlying their art possess no fixed nature, nor has their reasoning acquired any exact test by which what is credible might be tested. All these practices are preparations for impiety. Why?

Because the one who attends to them and is persuaded by them disregards the Cause of all things, supposing that these alone are the causes of good and evil, and does not perceive that he is fastening the cares of his life to the most unstable of moorings—birds and feathers and their flight this way and that through the air, and creeping things that crawl low on the ground, which creep up from their burrows in search of food, and further, entrails and blood and dead bodies, which, deprived of soul, at once decay and are confounded, and, being altered, exchange their proper natures for a change to the worse.

For he requires that the one enrolled in the commonwealth governed by the laws be "perfect"—not in the things in which the many have been trained, divinations and omens and plausible conjectures, but in matters concerning God that admit of no ambiguity or doubt, but only undoubting and naked truth.

But since in all men there is implanted a longing for knowledge of the future, and because of this longing they turn to the sacrificial art and the other forms of divination, as though through them they would discover what is clear, while these arts are full of much obscurity and are ever refuted by their own inconsistencies, he forbids them to pursue these very earnestly, but says that if they are unswervingly pious they shall not go without foreknowledge of things to come,

but rather that some prophet, suddenly appearing, possessed by God, will speak oracles and prophesy, saying nothing of his own—for he who is truly possessed and in a frenzy cannot even comprehend what he is saying—but whatever is sounded within him he will utter, as though another were prompting him. For prophets are interpreters of God, who makes use of their organs of speech to reveal whatever he wishes. Having said this and things akin to it concerning the conception of the one God, who truly is, he goes on to describe the manner in which honor must be rendered to him. Concerning the sanctuary.

The highest and, in very truth, the sanctuary of God one must consider to be the whole universe, having as its shrine the most holy part of existing reality, heaven, as its votive offerings the stars, and as its priests the angels, his ministering powers, incorporeal souls—not compounds of rational and irrational nature, as ours happen to be, but wholly and entirely intellectual, pure reasonings, made like unto the monad.

But there is also the sanctuary made by hands. For it was necessary not to check the impulses of men who contribute to piety and wish either to give thanks by sacrifices for the good things that befall them, or to ask pardon and forgiveness for their sins. He took forethought, too, that many sanctuaries should not be built in many places, nor many in the same place, judging that, since God is one, there should be only one sanctuary.

Then, to those who wish to perform sacred rites in their own homes, he does not permit it, but bids them rise up from the ends of the earth and journey to this one place, at the same time taking from this the most necessary test of character. For a man who is not going to sacrifice in a devout manner would never endure to leave fatherland and friends and kinsmen to live as a stranger abroad; rather, it seems that a man is drawn by a pull stronger than any other, that toward piety, and so endures to be torn away from his most familiar and dearest things, as though from limbs joined to his own body.

And the clearest proof of this is what actually happens. For countless people from countless cities, some by land, some by sea, from east and west and north and south, put in at the sanctuary on each feast, as though at some common harbor and safe haven from the meddling and most turbulent life, seeking to find fair weather and to be released, for a brief span, from the cares by which they have been yoked and pressed down from their earliest age, so as to pass their time in cheerful good spirits;

and, filled with good hopes, they devote this most necessary leisure to holiness and the honoring of God, forming friendships also with those till then unknown, and through sacrifices and libations bringing about a blending of characters into the surest pledge of concord.

Of this sanctuary the outermost enclosure, being greatest in both length and breadth, is fortified with four porticoes worked to the utmost costliness; and each of these is double, constructed with an unstinting supply of timber and stone, with the skill of craftsmen and the diligence of those set over the work, a most perfect piece of work; while the inner porticoes are shorter, though of a more austere construction.

In the very center stands the shrine itself, surpassing all description, as one may conjecture from what appears outwardly; for the things within are invisible to everyone except the one high priest, and even to him it is granted to enter only once a year, and all is unseen even then; for he carries in a firepan full of coals and incense, and since much vapor naturally rises, everything round about is enveloped, and the sight is darkened and checked, unable to penetrate further.

And though it stands on lower ground, being the greatest and loftiest of structures, it falls short of none of the tallest mountains. Now works that exceed all bounds in their architecture are conspicuous and admired by onlookers, especially by visiting foreigners, who, comparing them with the constructions of public buildings in their own cities, are struck with amazement at their beauty together with their costliness.

But there is no sacred grove within the enclosure, by the ordinance of the law, for many reasons: first, because the true sanctuary seeks not pleasure and agreeable diversion but austere sanctity; second, because it is not lawful to bring in the things that nourish the greenery of trees, namely the refuse of men and irrational animals; and third, because the timber of wild growth is of no use whatever, but is, as the poets say, "a burden upon the earth," while that of cultivated trees, bearing cultivated fruit, would seduce the shallow-minded away from the solemnity proper to sacred rites.

Besides this, thickly wooded places and deep groves are the haunts of evildoers, who find safety in being screened from view and the chance to make sudden ambushed attacks on whomever they wish; whereas open spaces, spread out and unobstructed on every side, with nothing to block the view, are most fitting for a sanctuary, allowing an exact view of those who enter and linger within.

In addition, thickets and dense woodlands are dens for wrongdoers, who gain security from being hidden in shade and can launch sudden attacks from ambush against whomever they wish; whereas open spaces, spread out and unobstructed on every side, with nothing blocking the view, are most fitting for a temple, allowing an exact view of those who enter and remain within it.

The temple has revenues not only from allotments of land but also from other, far greater sources that will never be destroyed by any length of time; for as long as the human race endures—and it will endure forever—the temple's revenues will likewise be preserved, lasting on together with the whole world.

For it has been ordained that each person, beginning at twenty years of age, bring in first-fruits every year. These contributions are called "ransoms," and for this reason people make their first-fruits offerings most eagerly, bright and joyful, since they expect that, along with the deposit, they will find release from slavery or a cure for diseases, and will reap both the most secure freedom and safety for all time.

Since the nation is exceedingly populous, it follows naturally that its first-fruits are also most abundant. Indeed, in practically every city there are treasuries for the sacred funds, to which it is customary for people to come and offer their first-fruits; and at set times, sacred envoys are chosen by vote from the best men in each place, selected for excellence, to convey the safe hopes of each community; for in these lawful first-fruits lie the hopes of the pious. Concerning Priests.

The nation has twelve tribes, and one out of all of them, chosen for excellence, holds the priesthood—a prize for its manly virtue and its zeal for God, granted at the time when the multitude seemed to have sinned by following the foolish opinions of some, who persuaded them to emulate the Egyptian folly and the native delusion that fabricates myths about irrational animals, and especially about bulls. For when that tribe, of its own accord, killed all the leaders of that madness down to the young men, they were judged to have performed a holy act, having fought through the contests on behalf of piety.

These are the laws concerning priests. It is ordained that the priest be whole and complete in every part, having no defect in his body, neither from some part lacking or having been amputated, nor from some excess part that grew along with his birth or was later added through disease, nor from a change of complexion into leprosy or savage lichen-sores or warty growths or any other eruptions of rashes; all of which seem to me to be symbols of the perfection that concerns the soul.

For if the priest's body, mortal by nature, must be inspected so that it suffer no misfortune in any part, much more must the immortal soul be inspected, which they say was formed after the image of the Existing One; and reason is the image of God, through which the whole world was fashioned.

After the requirement of noble birth from patrician stock, and perfection in body and in soul, there is next legislated the matter of the vestments, which the priest must put on when he is about to perform the sacred ministrations.

The vestment is a linen tunic and a loincloth—the latter for covering the private parts, which it is not lawful to bare beside the altar, the former for the sake of swiftness in service; for it is in tunics alone, ungirded by any outer robe, that the priests, trained for the utmost speed, bring forward the sacrificial victims and the prayers and libations and everything else useful for the sacrifices.

The high priest, too, has been directed to put on a similar vestment whenever he goes into the inner sanctuary to burn incense, since the linen, unlike wool, is not produced from anything that dies; but he has also been ordained to wear another vestment, of very elaborate workmanship, so as to seem a likeness and representation of the cosmos. Its construction is clear proof of this.

For first there is a rounded garment, entirely of hyacinth-blue throughout, a tunic reaching to the feet, a symbol of air, since air too is by nature dark and in a sense reaches to the feet, stretching from the regions beneath the moon above down to the lowest recesses of the earth.

Then, over this, a woven piece shaped like a breastplate, a symbol of heaven; for on the shoulder-pieces are two stones of emerald, the most precious material, one on each side, round, representations of the two hemispheres, of which the one is above the earth and the other beneath it.

Then, upon the breast, twelve costly stones of differing colors, arranged in three rows of four, fashioned after the model of the zodiac; for that circle too, consisting of twelve signs, produces the four seasons of the year, allotting three signs to each.

The whole place is aptly called the "oracle," since everything in heaven has been fashioned and set in order by reasons and by proportions; for of the things there, nothing at all is without reason. And upon the oracle he weaves in two ornaments of contrasting color, calling the one Manifestation and the other Truth.

By Truth he hints that no falsehood at all may set foot in heaven, but the whole of it has been banished into the region around the earth, where it takes up residence in the souls of polluted men; and by Manifestation, that the natures in heaven make manifest each of the things among us, which by themselves would be entirely unknowable.

The clearest proof of this: if the sun, that unfailing sun, did not shine forth, how could the innumerable qualities of bodies have become visible, and how the manifold forms of colors and shapes? And who has revealed days and nights, months and years, and time altogether, if not the harmonious revolutions—beyond all reckoning—of the moon, the sun, and the other stars?

And who has revealed the nature of number, if not what has been said, according to the combinations of the divisions of time? And who has cut open and revealed to sailors the paths across the sea and its many expanses, if not the turnings and circuits of the stars?

Wise men, too, having observed countless other things, have recorded them, taking their signs from the heavens for calms and violent winds, abundance and scarcity of crops, mild and blazing-hot summers, extraordinary winters and springlike ones, droughts and heavy rains, fruitfulness of animals and plants and, conversely, barrenness of both, and all such things; for the signs of everything on earth are inscribed in heaven.

At the lowest parts of the foot-length robe hang golden pomegranates, bells, and flower ornaments; these are symbols of earth and water—the flowers of earth, inasmuch as everything sprouts and blooms from it, and the pomegranates, so named appropriately from their "flowing" (rhysis), of water; while the bells represent the harmony, concord, and unison of the parts of the cosmos.

The arrangement, too, is well conceived: highest, where the stones are, is what is called the breastpiece, a likeness of heaven, since heaven too is highest; below it is the foot-length robe, entirely hyacinth-blue throughout, since the air, being dark, has been allotted the rank second after heaven; while the flowers and pomegranates are at the very lowest edge, since earth and water have obtained the lowest portion of the whole.

Such is the construction of the sacred vestment—an outfit, a representation of the universe—a marvelous work both to look upon and to contemplate; for it presents an appearance most striking, such as no woven fabric among us can match for elaborateness combined with costliness, and it offers a philosophical understanding of the meaning of its several parts.

For its purpose is, first, that the high priest have a visible image of the universe upon himself, so that from the continual sight of it he may render his own life worthy of the nature of the whole; and second, that in the sacred rites the whole cosmos may join him in ministering; for it is most fitting that the one consecrated to the Father of the cosmos should also bring with him the Son, namely the All, for the service of the One who fashioned and begot it.

There is also a third symbolism of the sacred vestment that must not pass unmentioned: whereas the priests of other peoples are accustomed to offer their prayers and sacrifices only on behalf of their own kin, friends, and fellow citizens, the high priest of the Jews offers prayers and thanksgivings not only on behalf of the whole human race but also on behalf of the parts of nature—earth, water, air, fire—considering the cosmos, which in truth it is, to be his own homeland, on whose behalf he is accustomed to propitiate the Ruler with supplications and entreaties, imploring him to share his gracious and merciful nature with what he has made.

Having said this beforehand, he goes on to legislate further, commanding that whoever approaches the altar and touches the sacrifices, during the time appointed for him to carry out the sacred ministrations, drink neither wine nor any other intoxicating drink, for four most necessary reasons: hesitation, forgetfulness, sleep, and folly.

For unmixed wine, by relaxing the powers of the body, makes the limbs more sluggish to move and renders them more hesitant, and forces one into sleep by compulsion; and by loosening the sinews of the soul, it becomes the cause of both forgetfulness and folly; whereas in the sober man the parts of the body, lightened, are more readily moved, the senses are purer and clearer, and the mind is sharper-sighted, so that he is able both to foresee events and to recall what he has previously seen.

In general, then, the use of wine must be considered most unprofitable for all in the conduct of life, since it oppresses the soul, dulls the senses, and weighs down the body—for it leaves nothing in us free and unconstrained, but stands as a hindrance to each faculty in the exercise of its natural function—but in sacred rites and holy ministrations the harm is more grievous still, inasmuch as sinning against God is more unbearable than sinning against man. Hence it has fittingly been ordained that they sacrifice while sober, "for the distinguishing and discerning of holy and profane, of clean and unclean," and of lawful and unlawful.

Since the priest is a man well before he is a priest, and must of necessity make use of the impulses toward intercourse, the law arranges for him a marriage with a pure virgin, one born of pure parents, grandparents, and ancestors who have been judged, by the standard of excellence, for their nobility and good birth.

For it does not allow him to approach, in body or in soul, a prostitute or a profaned woman, even if she has laid aside her trade and puts on a decent and modest appearance, because her original choice has made her unholy. Toward other men let her have the pardon due to one who has taken pains to be cleansed of her defilements—for repentance for wrongdoing is praiseworthy—and let no one else be forbidden to marry her; but let her not come near a priest. For the special privileges of the priesthood require a consistency unimpeachable from birth all the way to the end of life.

For it would be foolish that scars left on the body by wounds should bar some men from the priesthood—scars that are a token of misfortune, not of wickedness—while women who have sold their own bloom not only under compulsion but sometimes even by their own free choice, since they have repented late and reluctantly, should be joined to priests straight from their lovers, and moved from brothels into sacred precincts. For the scars and imprints of their former wrongdoings remain in the souls of those who repent no less than scars remain on bodies.

It is finely and beautifully said elsewhere, "Do not bring the wage of a prostitute into the sanctuary" (Deut. 23:18). And yet the coin itself is not guilty, but only through the woman who received it and the act for which it was given. Much less, then, should one admit into partnership with priests women whose very money is profane and counterfeit, even if in material and stamp it passes as genuine.

So exact is the law's precision about marriage for the high priest that it does not even permit him to marry a widow, whether she has been left alone by her husband's death or separated from him while he still lives, so that, first, the sacred seed may go into untrodden and pure soil, and his offspring may take on no admixture from another household; and second, so that in coming together with souls most guileless and unwarped, priests may easily mold their characters and manners. For the minds of virgins are pliant and easily led toward virtue, and most ready to be taught—

whereas a woman who has had experience of another man is naturally more resistant to instruction, since her soul is not utterly unmarked, like a smoothed wax ready for the clarity of doctrines to be inscribed on it, but roughened by imprints already stamped upon it, imprints that, remaining hard to erase, either refuse to admit other seals or, admitting them, confuse them with their own irregularities.

Let the high priest, then, marry a virgin, pure of any previous union; and by "virgin" I mean not only one whom no other man has known, but one about whom no other man has even been named through some betrothal, even if she remains bodily chaste.

For the priests of lesser rank the other rules about marriage are laid down the same as for him who holds the highest priesthood, but they are permitted to marry not only virgins but also widows—not all widows, but those whose husbands have died—without fear. For the law thinks it right to remove rivalries and factions from the priests' life. Toward living rivals there might arise quarrels from a woman's passion, jealousy; but with the dead, the hostility toward second husbands dies as well.

Besides, the law has judged the high priest worthy of a greater sanctity and purification, as in all else, so also in the partnership of marriage, allowing him to take only a maiden; but to those of the second rank it relaxed the rules concerning unions with women, permitting them to betroth even women who have had experience of other men.

In addition, the law was exact also about the lineage of those about to be married, instructing the high priest to court not merely a virgin but a priestess, one of priestly family, so that bridegroom and bride might come from one household and, in a manner, of the same blood, displaying throughout their whole life the most stable blending of characters for harmony.

But the others were permitted to marry daughters of men who were not priests, partly because the purifications required of these are slight, and partly because the nation did not wish to be altogether without kinship with, and entirely severed from, a priestly line. For this reason it did not prevent the other priests from making intermarriages with those of the nation, which are a second kind of kinship; for sons-in-law stand to fathers-in-law in place of sons, and fathers-in-law to sons-in-law in place of fathers.

These, then, and matters like them, concern marriage, for the sake of the begetting of children. But since corruption follows begetting, Moses also wrote laws for the priests concerning the dead, commanding that they not defile themselves for everyone joined to them in any way, whether by friendship or by kinship, but only for fathers and mothers, sons and daughters, brothers and virgin sisters.

But the high priest he exempted from all mourning whatsoever—and rightly so, perhaps. For the services of the other priests can be performed by one in place of another, so that even if some are in mourning, nothing of the customary rites falls short; but no one is permitted to perform the high priest's duties in his place. For this reason let him remain forever undefiled, never touching a dead body, so that, being always ready, he may perform without hindrance the prayers and sacrifices on behalf of the nation at their appointed times.

For besides, having been allotted to God and having become, as it were, the field-marshal of the sacred order, he ought to be estranged from everything that belongs to the realm of becoming, not so overcome by affection for parents, children, or brothers as to pass over or postpone any sacred duty which it is altogether better to perform at once.

He commands, then, that the high priest neither tear his garments over the death of his closest kin, nor remove from his head the insignia of the priesthood, nor go out of the sanctuary at all on the pretext of mourning, so that, showing reverence for the place and for the adornments with which he is crowned, and overcoming pity, he may remain forever free of grief.

For the law wills that he should have been allotted a nature greater than man's, one that draws nearer to the divine—a border-being, if the truth must be told, between the two natures—so that through some intermediary men may propitiate God, and God, using a kind of subordinate minister, may extend and supply his graces to men.

Having said this, Moses next legislates immediately about those who shall partake of the first-fruits. If, then, he says, any of the priests is maimed in his eyes, hands, feet, or any other part of the body, or has received some blemish, let him refrain from ministrations because of the defects that have befallen him, but let him still enjoy the common privileges of the priests, on account of his unimpeachable noble birth.

If, however, some outbreak of leprosy takes hold of one, or one of the priests becomes subject to a discharge, let him touch neither the sacred table nor the prizes set out for his kin, until the flux ceases and the leprosy, having changed, comes to resemble the color of healthy flesh.

And if a priest touches anything unclean whatsoever, or even, as often happens, has a nocturnal emission, let him partake of none of the consecrated things that day; but once evening has come and he has bathed, let him not be prevented from partaking.

Let the resident alien of a priest and his hired servant be barred from the first-fruits—the resident alien, since neighbors for the most part share hearth and table; for there is fear that someone, using this as a pretext, might give away the consecrated things out of an untimely kindness, thereby committing impiety. For not all things are to be shared with all people, but only with those fitted to receive them; otherwise the finest and most beneficial thing in life, order, will be destroyed, overtaken by the most harmful thing, confusion.

For if in merchant ships sailors were to receive an equal share with pilots, and in long triremes rowers and marines an equal share with trierarchs and admirals, and in armies cavalrymen an equal share with cavalry-commanders, infantrymen with company-commanders, captains with generals, and in cities private citizens on trial an equal share with judges, and councilmen with presiding officers and with rulers generally, then disturbances and factions would arise, and equality in words would breed inequality in deeds. For to assign equal things to those unequal in rank is itself inequality, and inequality is a spring of evils.

For this reason the privileges of the priests are not to be given, as to others, even to resident aliens who, because of mere neighborliness, would lay hold of what is not lawful for them; for the honor belongs not to the household but to the lineage.

In like manner let no one give to a hired servant either wages or recompense for service in the form of a sacred privilege; for the one who receives it will sometimes put it to improper uses, making the prizes of noble birth and of ministry at the temple profane.

For this reason the law does not permit even a foreigner in general to partake of the holy things, even if he happens to be of noble birth among the natives and beyond reproach in the eyes of both men and women, so that the honors may not be counterfeited, but may remain firmly guarded within the priestly order.

For it would indeed be absurd that the sacrifices and sacred rites and everything else consecrated about the altar should be entrusted not to all but to the priests alone, while the prizes given in return for these become common property, available even to chance comers—as though it were fitting to wear out the priests with many labors and toils and cares by day and by night, yet to declare the prizes common even to those who do nothing.

"To the household slave and the one bought with silver," it says, "let the priest who is master give a share of food and drink from the first fruits." First, because for a servant his master is his one resource, and the master's allotment is the sacred acts of kindness from which the slave is bound to be fed;

second, because whatever is going to happen must in every case be done willingly by us; but household servants, even if we do not wish it, since they are always present with us and share our daily life, standing by at the food, drink, and delicacies and tables of their masters and carrying away the leftovers, even if they do not take openly will at any rate steal them secretly, driven to theft by necessity — so that instead of one charge, if it is even a wrong to be fed from a master's goods, a second is added on top, theft, so that like thieves they enjoy the things that have been consecrated ahead of those who live blamelessly, which is most absurd;

third, one must also reckon this, that the portion of the first fruits allotted to the household servants will not be diminished on account of the master's watchfulness; for this is sufficient to check the carelessness of some, not permitting them to grow slack.

Having added this, he next records a law full of humanity. "If a priest's daughter," he says, "who has married, is widowed from one who is not a priest, whether her husband has died or is still living, and she is left without children, let her return again to her father's house to share once more in the first fruits, in which she also had a part when she was a virgin; for in a sense she is now, in effect, again a virgin, she who is bereft of both husband and children, having no other refuge but her father."

But if she has sons or daughters, the mother must remain joined to her children; for sons and daughters, belonging to the house of the one who begot them, draw their mother along with them into it. The privileges of the priests.

The law assigned the priests no allotted portion of land, so that, unlike others who reap their livelihood from the earth, they might have an abundance of necessities; instead, using an excess of honor, he said that God himself was their portion, by a reference made for two reasons: the highest honor, since they thereby become partners with God in the things offered to him in thanksgiving, and also so that they should occupy themselves with only one business, the sacred rites, as though they were stewards of God's allotment.

The prizes and rewards he sets before them are these. First, food that is ready, effortless, and free of toil; for he bids those who bake bread take from every batch of dough and every kneading a loaf as first fruits for the priests' use, at the same time providing, by this lawful instruction to those who set the portion aside, for a path leading to piety.

For by growing accustomed always to offer first fruits even from their necessary food, they will keep an unforgettable memory of God, than whom no greater good can be found. And since the nation is exceedingly populous, the first fruits too must necessarily be abundant, so that even the poorest of the priests, through this abundance of provisions, seems to be among the most well-supplied.

Second, he ordains that first fruits be offered also from every other kind of possession: from every wine-press, wine; from every threshing floor, wheat and barley; likewise oil from the olives, and cultivated fruits from the other orchard trees, so that the priests, having not merely the bare necessities, might not live out a rather harsh existence, but, well supplied also with what belongs to a life of comfort, might live more cheerfully in abundance, with fitting adornment.

The third privilege is this: all the firstborn males of land animals that serve human use and service. For he bids that these be given over to the priests — of oxen, sheep, and goats, the young themselves, calves, rams, and kids, since these are and are reckoned clean both for food and for sacrifice — but for the others, horses, donkeys, camels, and the like, that a ransom be paid instead, without lessening their value.

And these too are exceedingly numerous; for those of this nation are among the foremost breeders of cattle and other livestock, pasturing goat-flocks, herds of cattle, flocks of sheep, and countless other herds of animals of every kind.

Indeed the law, going further still, commands that first fruits be offered not only from possessions of each kind, but also from one's own souls and bodies; for children are divisible parts of their parents — or rather, to speak truly, indivisible parts, fitted to their offspring by kindred blood, by the accounts of their ancestors, by unseen forms, by the bonds of unifying affection and by nature's unbreakable ties.

Yet even so, he consecrates the firstborn males of these too, in a manner of first fruits, as thank-offerings for the good children already born and hoped for, and at the same time wishing that marriages be not merely blameless but altogether praiseworthy, marriages from which the first fruit that springs up is consecrated — which men and women ought to bear in mind, and so hold fast to self-mastery, care for the household, and concord, breathing together with one another in word and deed, firmly confirming in truth what is called their partnership.

As for the consecration of firstborn sons, so that neither parents may be severed from children nor children from parents, he honors this first fruit with a fixed sum of silver, ordaining that poor and rich alike contribute an equal amount, having regard neither to the standing of those who contribute nor to the health and beauty of those born, but weighing what even the very poor is able to bring.

For since the birth of children happens equally among the most distinguished and the most obscure alike, he judged it right to legislate an equal contribution as well,

aiming, as I said, chiefly at what is possible for all. After this he also allots to the priests another resource, not a small one, bidding that first fruits be offered from each source of income — from grain, wine, and oil, and further from the increase of livestock, by flocks of sheep, herds of cattle, herds of goats, and the other herds. And how great an abundance there is of these too, one might reckon from the great populousness of the nation.

From all this it is clear that the law confers upon the priests the dignity and honor of kings; at any rate, just as tribute is commanded to be given to rulers from every kind of possession, so it is given here too, but in the opposite manner from that in which cities pay tribute to their rulers;

for cities pay it out of necessity and reluctantly, groaning, eyeing the collectors of money as common plunderers, pleading now this excuse and now that, and disregarding the appointed deadlines as they lay down the fixed taxes and tributes;

but those of the nation, rejoicing and delighted over the priestly dues, anticipating those who ask, cutting short the deadlines, thinking that they are receiving rather than giving, make their contributions with words of praise and thanksgiving at each of the yearly seasons, men and women alike, with a self-prompted eagerness, readiness, and zeal beyond all description.

These, then, are the portions allotted from each person's possessions; but there are other special revenues, most fitting for priests, from the sacrifices that are brought up to the altar. For it is ordained that from every sacrificial victim two things be given to the priests from two limbs, the shoulder from the right foreleg, and from the breast whatever is fat — the one a symbol of strength, manliness, and every lawful action in giving, receiving, and doing, the other a symbol of the gracious gentleness that tempers the passions.

For there is an account that this passion resides in the breast, since nature has assigned the chest as the most fitting place for spirited passion to dwell, and has fitted it around, like a soldier, with a most secure and hard-to-capture fence, the so-called breastplate, which she fashioned out of many close-set and exceedingly strong bones, binding it very firmly with unbreakable sinews.

From the animals slaughtered outside the altar for the eating of meat, three things are ordained to be given to the priest: the shoulder, the jaws, and what is called the fourth stomach — the shoulder for the reason stated a little before, the jaws because they belong both to the head, the most authoritative of the limbs, and to speech uttered aloud, of which they are the first fruit, since without their motion the stream of speech could not flow forth; for when they are shaken — from which they also get their fitting name — struck by the tongue, the whole instrument of the voice resounds together.

The fourth stomach is an outgrowth of the belly; and the belly, it turns out, is the manger of an irrational creature, desire, which, watered by wine-drinking and gluttony, is forever flooded with successive intakes of food and drink together, and delights, like a pig, to live in filth; for this reason the region of the body's waste has been allotted as most fitting to this unrestrained and most unseemly creature.

The opponent of desire is self-mastery, which one must practice, labor at, and strive by every means to acquire, as the greatest and most perfect good, of benefit both privately and in common.

Desire, then, being profane, impure, and unholy, has rightly been driven beyond the bounds of virtue and banished; but self-mastery, a pure and unstained virtue, disregarding all matters of food and drink and claiming to stand above the pleasures of the belly, may it touch the sacred altars, bringing with it the attachment of the belly as a reminder to hold in contempt insatiable greed and gluttony

Desire, then, being profane, unclean, and unholy, has been driven and banished beyond the boundaries of virtue, and rightly so. Self-control, by contrast, a pure and unstained virtue, holding all matters of food and drink beneath its notice and claiming to stand above the pleasures of the belly, may touch the sacred altars and bring with it the clinging attachment of the stomach as a reminder of its contempt for insatiability and gluttony,

and for everything that inflames desires. Above all this, however, he commands the priests who minister at the sacrifices to take the hides of the whole burnt offerings—these are countless—not a small but an especially lucrative gift. From this it is clear that, by not assigning to the priestly tribe a single allotment as he did to the others, he gave it a more august and holier resource, under the guise of first-fruits taken from every kind of sacrifice.

So that none of those who give should reproach those who receive, he orders that the first-fruits be brought to the temple first, and only then that the priests take them from there; for it was fitting that those who received benefits in every part of life should offer thank-offerings of first-fruits to God, and that God, since he lacks nothing, should instead grant them, with all dignity and honor, to the attendants and ministers who serve around the temple; for a gift that seems to be received not from men but from the universal benefactor carries an obligation that cannot be disowned.

Since such great prizes are laid out, if any of the priests who live orderly and blameless lives are in want, they stand as accusers of our lawlessness, even if they say nothing; for if we obeyed what was commanded and made the first-fruit offerings as prescribed, not only would they have an ample supply of necessities, but they would also be filled with all else that supplies a life of comfort.

And if ever again the priestly tribe were found in possession of all the abundance that life affords, this would become a great proof of the common piety of the people and of their exact observance of the laws in every particular. But the negligence of some—for it is not safe to accuse everyone—has become the cause of poverty for the priesthood, and, to tell the truth, for the people themselves as well.

For lawlessness is costly to the lawless, even if it entices for a short time; while following the laws of nature is most beneficial, even if it seems harsh for the moment and shows nothing pleasant.

Having granted the priests so many sources of income, he did not neglect those in the second rank either; these are the temple attendants. Of these, some are stationed at the doors as gatekeepers right at the entrances; others are within, at the forecourt, to prevent anyone—whether willingly or unwillingly—from stepping where it is not permitted; others patrol in a circuit, having drawn lots in turn for night and day, serving as day-watchmen and night-watchmen; and others sweep the porticoes and the open courts and carry out the sweepings, attending to cleanliness. To all of these the tithes were appointed as wages, for this is the allotted portion of the temple attendants.

The law, at any rate, did not allow those who received the tithes to use them until they had, in turn, offered other tithes as though from their own possessions and given them to the priests of the higher rank; only then did it permit them to enjoy their portion, but not before.

He also assigned to them forty-eight cities, and around each one suburbs extending two thousand cubits in a circle, for the pasturing of livestock and for the other services that are necessary to cities. Of these, six were set apart by lot, three on each side of the river Jordan, as places of refuge for those who commit involuntary manslaughter.

For since it was not lawful for one who had in any way become the cause of a person's death to pass within the sprinkling-vessels, using the temple as a refuge for his safety, he set aside the cities just mentioned as secondary sanctuaries, possessing great inviolability because of the special privilege and honor accorded to their inhabitants, who were to preserve their suppliants safe, should some stronger force try to compel their surrender—not by preparations for war, but by the dignities and privileges which they held under the laws on account of the sanctity of the priesthood.

Let the exile be confined within the boundaries of the city to which he has fled, on account of the avengers lying in wait, who, being relatives of the dead man, out of longing for their kinsman, thirst for the blood of the killer even if the killing was unintentional, the private passion overpowering the exact reckoning of justice. And let him know that if he goes outside, he will proceed toward certain destruction; for he will escape the notice of none of the blood-relatives, by whom he will at once be caught, as in nets and snares, and done away with.

Let the term of his exile be the lifetime of the high priest, at whose death he may return, having been granted amnesty. Having legislated these and similar matters concerning the priests, he next teaches about the animals suitable for sacrifices. Concerning the animals fit for sacred rites, and what the kinds of sacrifices are.

Of the animals used for sacred rites, some are land animals and some travel through the air. Passing over the countless tribes of birds, he chose only two out of all of them, the dove and the turtledove, because the dove is the tamest of those creatures that are by nature tame and gregarious, while the turtledove is the tamest of the solitary ones.

As for the countless herds of land animals, whose very number is not easy to find, passing over the rest he selected three by preference—cattle, sheep, and goats—for these are the tamest and most manageable; indeed, great herds of cattle, flocks of sheep, and droves of goats are led by any chance person, not only a grown man but even quite a small child, both going out to pasture and, when it is time, returning again in order to their folds.

Of their tameness there are many other signs, but these are the clearest: that they all feed on grass, and none of them eats flesh; and that they have neither hooked claws nor a complete set of teeth—for the upper jaw grows no teeth in front, but only those cutting teeth that are lacking there.

Besides this, they are also the most useful of animals for life: rams provide wool for clothing, the most necessary covering of the body; oxen serve to plow the earth, to prepare it for sowing, and to thresh the resulting crop so that it may be shared in and enjoyed as food; while the hair and hides of goats, woven and stitched together, have become portable dwellings for travelers, especially for those on campaign, whom necessity often compels to spend much of their time outdoors, away from any city.

All must be whole, unblemished in any part of the body, entirely sound throughout, without share in defect; so great, indeed, is the forethought exercised, not only by those who bring the sacrifices but also by the priests, that the most highly esteemed of the priests, chosen by preference for the task of examining for blemishes, search from head to the very tips of the feet, both what is visible and what is hidden beneath the belly and thighs, lest some slight defect escape notice.

This exactness and superabundance of examination is undertaken not for the sake of the animals being sacrificed, but for the blamelessness of those who offer the sacrifice; for the law wishes to teach them, through symbols, that whenever they approach the altars, whether to pray or to give thanks, they should bring no infirmity, disease, or passion upon the soul, but should strive to sanctify it wholly and entirely without stain, so that God, seeing it, may not turn away.

Since some sacrifices are offered on behalf of the whole nation—or rather, to speak the truth, on behalf of the whole human race—while others are offered on behalf of each individual who wishes to perform a sacred rite, we must first speak of the common ones. Wonderful is their order: some are offered every single day, others on the seventh days, others at new moons and sacred months, others at fasts, and others at the three seasons of the festivals.

Every day, then, it is prescribed that two lambs be offered, one at dawn and the other in the late evening, each in thanksgiving—the one for the mercies of the day, the other for the mercies of the night, which God unceasingly and without interruption supplies to the human race.

On the sevenths he doubles the number of victims, adding equal to equal, considering the seventh day to be of equal honor to eternity, which he also recorded as the birthday of the whole world; for this reason he intended the sacrifice of the seventh day to be made equal to the 'continuity' of the daily lambs.

Twice each day the most fragrant of all incenses is burned within the veil, at sunrise and at sunset, before the morning sacrifice and after the evening one, so that the blood-offerings serve as thanksgiving on behalf of us who have blood, while the incense-offerings serve on behalf of the ruling faculty, the rational spirit within us, which was shaped after the archetypal form of the divine image.

Loaves of bread are set out on the sevenths upon the sacred table, equal in number to the months of the year, in two rows of six each, corresponding to the reckoning of the equinoxes—for there are two in every year, the spring and the autumn equinox, each reckoned by six months. For this reason... at the spring equinox all sown crops come to full growth, at the time when the trees begin to bear, while at the autumn equinox the fruit of the trees is brought to completion, and at that same season sowing begins again. Thus nature, running the long course of eternity, exchanges one gift for another for the human race, of which the two rows of six loaves set out are symbols.

They also hint at the most beneficial of virtues, self-control, which is escorted by frugality, contentment, and the desire for little, on account of the most harmful assault mounted by intemperance and greed; for bread is the lasting nourishment for the lover of wisdom, providing bodies free of disease and a reasoning faculty that is healthy and, above all, sober;

whereas delicacies and honey-cakes and seasonings, and all that the elaborate skill of bakers and cooks contrives to bewitch the unrefined, unphilosophical, and utterly servile sense of taste—serving no fine sight or sound, but only the desires of the wretched belly—often produce incurable diseases of body and soul.

Together with the loaves are placed frankincense and salt, the frankincense as a symbol that, in the judgment of wisdom, no seasoning is more fragrant than the desire for little and self-control, and the salt as a symbol of the preservation of all things—for the things that are seasoned with it are kept preserved—and of a sufficient relish.

I know that people occupied with banquets and feasts, who chase after extravagant tables — those wretched slaves to birds and fish and meats and similar nonsense, who cannot even taste true freedom in a dream — will make this a subject of laughter and mockery. But those who have resolved to live according to God and for the pleasure of the truly existent need give little thought to such people; trained to disregard the pleasures of the flesh, they pursue instead the joys and good states of the mind, exercised in the contemplation of nature.

Having ordained these things concerning the seventh day, he says that on the new moons ten whole burnt offerings must be sacrificed in all: two bull calves, one ram, seven lambs. For since the month is complete when the moon completes its own cycle, he deemed it right that a complete number of animals be offered in sacrifice.

Ten is a perfect number, which he distributed carefully among what has been said: the two bull calves, since the moon has two motions as it perpetually runs its double course, one of waxing until it is full, the other of waning until conjunction; the one ram, since there is one single principle by which it waxes and wanes through equal intervals, both when it is being lit and when it is failing; and the seven lambs, because it undergoes its complete transformations in periods of seven days — in the first week from conjunction, the half-moon; in the second, the full moon; and when it turns back again, first to the half-moon, and then it comes to an end at conjunction.

Along with the victims he prescribes bringing fine flour soaked in oil, and wine for libations, in fixed measures, because these too are brought to completion by the cycles of the moon through the yearly seasons, which especially ripen the crops; and grain, wine, and oil, the substances most beneficial to life and most necessary for human use, are fittingly consecrated together with all the sacrifices.

To the sacred month a double offering is fittingly brought, since there is also a double account of it: one as a new moon, the other as a sacred month. As a new moon, it has been ordained that the same offerings be sacrificed as on the other new moons; but as a sacred month as well, the gifts are doubled, except for the bull calves — for one is brought instead of two, since the arbiter judged it right to use, at the beginning of the year, the indivisible nature of the unit rather than the divisible pair.

In the first season — and he calls the spring season and the equinox the first season — having prescribed that a seven-day festival be kept, called the festival of unleavened bread, he made all the days equal in honor as regards the sacrifices; for he commands that the same ten whole burnt offerings be sacrificed each day as on the new moons, apart from the offerings for transgression, amounting in all to seventy.

For he thought that the seven days of the festival held the same relation to the new-moon month as the equinox, which occurs in the seventh month, holds to it, so that he might show both the beginning of each month to be sacred, and the days equal in number to the new moons taken all together as seven.

In the middle of spring the harvest begins, at which time thank offerings are brought up to God of the plain for having borne its fruit to fullness and for the ingathering of the crops; and a festival most public of all is kept, called, fittingly, the festival of first fruits, from what actually happens, since then the first of the produce, the firstfruits, are consecrated.

It is prescribed to bring as sacrifices two bull calves, one ram, and seven lambs — these ten victims as whole burnt offerings — and two lambs for the priests to eat, which he calls offerings of deliverance, because human food has been preserved safe from many and varied dangers of destruction; for ruin is accustomed to overtake crops, sometimes through excessive rain, sometimes through drought, sometimes through other countless disturbances, and sometimes through man-made calamities, when enemies undertake to ravage their neighbors' land by invasion.

It is fitting, then, that thank offerings for deliverance be brought up to him who has scattered all such plots, offerings brought up together with loaves of bread, which they bring to the altar and lift up toward heaven, and then distribute to the priests along with the meat of the deliverance-offering, for a most sacred feast.

When the third season arrives, in the seventh month at the autumn equinox, at its beginning a sacred month is kept, called the festival of trumpets, of which I spoke earlier; and on the tenth day comes the fast, which is earnestly observed not only by those who are zealous for piety and holiness, but also by those whose whole life is otherwise entirely without reverence; for all, overcome by the sanctity surrounding it, are struck with awe, and even the worse sort then at least vie with the better in self-restraint and virtue.

The dignity of the day has a double account: one as of a festival, the other as of purification and flight from sins, for which amnesty is granted by the favor of a merciful God, who honors repentance as equal to not having sinned at all.

The sacrifices as of a festival he made equal in number to those of the sacred months — a bull calf, a ram, and seven lambs — blending the unit with the seven and directing the end back toward the beginning (for seven has been allotted as the completion of works, and the unit as the beginning); and the sacrifices as of purification — for he prescribes that two goats and a ram be brought, and then says that one goat must be wholly burned, while the he-goats are to be allotted by lot, and the one that falls to God is to be sacrificed, while the other is to be sent away into a trackless and untrodden wilderness, bearing on itself the curses laid upon those who transgressed, who through their change for the better have been purified, washing away their old lawlessness with new right conduct.

On the fifteenth day, when the moon is full, the festival called Tabernacles is kept, during which the provisions of sacrifices are more numerous; for over the seven days there are sacrificed in all seventy bull calves, fourteen rams, and ninety-eight lambs, all as whole burnt offerings. It has also been prescribed to regard the eighth day as sacred, concerning which precision must be given when the whole account of the festivals is examined, on which the same offerings are brought as on the sacred months.

The common whole burnt offerings on behalf of the nation, or more properly speaking on behalf of the entire human race, have now been described to the best of my ability. Alongside the whole burnt offerings, on each day of the festival there also accompanies a he-goat, which is called the offering for sin, and is sacrificed for the remission of transgressions, whose meat is allotted to the priests for food. What, then, is the reason for this?

Is it not that a festival is a time of gladness, and true gladness, gladness according to reality, is wisdom firmly established in the soul, and one cannot attain unwavering wisdom without healing of one's transgressions and the excision of the passions? For it would be absurd that each of the animals offered as a whole burnt offering should be found unblemished and unharmed before being consecrated, while the mind of the one sacrificing has not been purified in every way and made bright through washings and sprinklings, which the right reason of nature pours, through healthy and uncorrupted ears, upon souls that love God.

In addition to this, the following point might also fittingly be made: these festive relaxations and periods of truce have already, on countless occasions, opened up innumerable paths to sin. For unmixed wine and gluttonous feasting, arousing the belly's insatiable desires, further inflame the desires below the belly as well, and, flowing and pouring out in every direction, produce a flood of countless evils, since they have the fearless license of the festival as their base of operations and a refuge for suffering no consequence.

Perceiving this, he did not permit people to keep festival in the same manner as others do, but at the very time of gladness he first commanded them to keep themselves pure, curbing their impulses toward pleasure; then he called them into the sanctuary to share in hymns and prayers and sacrifices, so that from the place itself, and from what is seen and said, through the most authoritative senses, sight and hearing, they might come to love self-restraint together with piety; and then, above all, he reminded them not to sin, through the sacrifice for sin; for the one who asks for amnesty for what he has done wrong is not so wretched in spirit as to commit further new offenses at the very time he is asking release from his old wrongs.

Having discoursed at such length on these matters, he begins to divide the kinds of sacrifices, and cutting them into three highest classes, he calls the one the whole burnt offering, the second the deliverance offering, and the third the offering for sin; then he adorns each with what is fitting, aiming, not without care, at what is both proper and free of impurity.

The division is altogether excellent and fitting to the matters at hand, having sequence and coherence; for if one wished to examine precisely the reasons for which the first human beings decided to come to thanksgivings together with supplications through sacrifices, one would find two supreme reasons: one, the honor due to God, rendered for his own sake alone and for no other reason, as a necessary good; the other, that which chiefly concerns those who sacrifice, and this is twofold — one for sharing in good things, the other for release from evils.

To the honor rendered according to God and for his sake alone, the law assigned the fitting sacrifice, the whole burnt offering, which brings nothing of mortal self-love, being whole and complete for what is whole and complete; but as for gratitude toward men, since this notion admitted of division, he himself, defining the sacrifice for sharing in good things, named it the deliverance offering, and assigning to the flight from evils the offering for sin, so that there are rightly three offerings corresponding to three purposes,

the whole burnt offering for God alone himself, whom it is right to honor, and for no other reason; the others for our own sake — the deliverance offering for the safety and improvement of human affairs, and the offering for sin for the healing of what the soul has done wrong.

We must now speak of what has been legislated concerning each, beginning with the best. The best, he says, is, first, that the victim be male, chosen out from among the animals as the finest of its kind, a bull calf or a lamb; and the one bringing it, having washed his hands, is to lay them upon the head of the victim.

And after this, one of the priests is to take it and slaughter it, and another, holding out a bowl and receiving the blood, is to go around the altar and sprinkle it on every side; and the victim, having been flayed, is to be divided into whole limbs, the belly and the feet being washed; then the whole is to be handed over to the sacred fire on the altar, having become many from one and one from many.

This is what the express command contains. But another meaning is also indicated, one carrying a riddling account expressed through symbols; and symbols are the visible things spoken, of things unseen and hidden. The whole burnt offering victim is immediately made male, since the male is more complete than the female, more governing, and more akin to the active cause; for the female is incomplete, subordinate, and characterized more by being acted upon than by acting.

This is what the explicit command contains. But another meaning is also indicated, one that speaks an enigmatic message through symbols; for what has been stated openly are symbols of things hidden and unseen. The whole-burnt sacrificial victim is male from the start, since the male is both more perfect and more commanding than the female, and more akin to the active cause; for the female is imperfect, subordinate, and characterized by being acted upon rather than by acting.

Our soul is composed of two elements, the rational and the irrational: the rational belongs to the male line, and it is this that has been allotted mind and reasoning; the irrational belongs to the side of women, and it is this that has received sense-perception as its portion. Mind stands to sense-perception as a husband to a wife, superior in kind as a whole; and mind, when it is without blemish and purified by the purifications of perfect virtue, is itself the most acceptable sacrifice, pleasing to God wholly and in every part.

The laying of hands upon the head of the animal turns out to be a perfectly clear token of blameless actions and of a life that brings nothing liable to accusation, but is in harmony with the laws and ordinances of nature.

For the law wishes, first, that the mind of the one sacrificing be consecrated, trained in good and profitable judgments, and next, that his life be composed of the best actions, so that at the very moment of the laying on of hands he may be able, speaking freely out of a clean conscience, to say something like this:

“These hands have taken no gift for unjust ends, have had no part in distributions gained by plunder or greed, have not touched innocent blood; they have brought about no maiming, no outrage, no wound, no violence, have served nothing whatsoever that carries blame or reproach, but have become the ministers of all that is good and beneficial, all that is honored among wisdom and laws and wise and law-abiding men.”

The blood is poured all around the altar, because the circle is the most perfect of shapes, and because no part of the soul's libation should be left destitute and empty; for, properly speaking, blood is the libation of the soul. Symbolically, then, it teaches the understanding to display, in a circling dance around the whole of itself, its pleasing of God in every kind of word, purpose, and deed.

It is prescribed, quite symbolically, that the belly and the feet be washed. By the belly is intimated desire, which it is profitable to wash clean, since it is full of stains and pollutions, of drunkenness and drunken violence, an evil most harmful when it is fostered and cultivated to the ruin of human life.

By the washing of the feet is meant that one should no longer walk upon the earth but tread the upper air; for the soul that loves God truly leaps up from earth to heaven, and, taking wing, roams the heights, longing to fall into rank and to dance together with the sun and the moon and the most sacred and perfectly harmonious host of the other stars, under the command and leadership of God, who holds the unchallenged and inalienable kingship through which all things are justly governed.

The distribution of the animal into its members shows either that all things are one, or that all proceed from one and return to one - what some have called satiety and want, others conflagration and ordering-anew: conflagration, according to the mastery of heat when it prevails over the other elements; ordering-anew, according to the equal distribution among the four elements, which they exchange with one another.

To my mind, on a more accurate view, this is what is shown: the soul that honors Being for the sake of Being itself must honor it not irrationally or ignorantly, but with knowledge and reason. The account concerning God admits of division and distinction according to each of the divine powers and virtues; for God is good, and is the maker and begetter of all things, and provident over what he has begotten, and savior and benefactor, filled with blessedness and every happiness - each of which qualities is itself venerable and praiseworthy, both taken alone and examined together with its kindred qualities.

The same holds for the rest. Whenever you wish, O understanding, to give thanks to God for the coming-to-be of the cosmos, you should offer your thanksgiving both for the whole and for its most comprehensive parts, as though for the limbs of the most perfect living creature - I mean heaven and sun and moon, the wandering and the fixed stars, then earth and the animals and plants upon it, then seas and rivers, both those fed from their own springs and the winter torrents, and the creatures in them, and then air and the changes that occur in it - for winter and summer, spring and autumn, the yearly seasons most beneficial to life, are conditions of the air as it turns, for the preservation of all that lies beneath the moon.

And if ever you give thanks concerning human beings, do not give thanks only for the race as a whole, but also for its kinds and its most essential parts - men, women, Greeks, barbarians, those on the continents, those allotted the islands; and if it is for a single man, divide your thanksgiving by reason, not down to the finest details, all the way to the last particulars, but into the most fundamental components: body and soul first, of which he is composed, and then reason, mind, and sense-perception; for thanksgiving for each of these, taken by itself, could never be unworthy of God's hearing.

Let this suffice as said concerning the whole-burnt sacrifice. Next we must examine the sacrifice called the peace-offering. In this case it makes no difference whether the victim is male or female. Once it has been slaughtered, three parts are set aside for the altar: the fat, the lobe of the liver, and the two kidneys; the rest is a feast for the one who has offered the sacrifice.

Why these particular internal parts are consecrated must be examined carefully, without passing it by. Reasoning this over with myself many times and searching it out, I was puzzled as to why the law set aside, as first-fruits of the animals sacrificed, the lobe of the liver, the kidneys, and the fat, but neither the heart nor the brain, though the ruling faculty resides in one or the other of these.

I think that not a few others, too, who approach the sacred writings with the understanding rather than with the eyes, will raise the same question. If, then, upon inquiry they discover a more persuasive reason, they will benefit both themselves and us; but if not, let them weigh the explanation I have devised, to see whether it is sound. It is this: of all that is in us, the ruling faculty alone receives and gives room to folly, injustice, cowardice, and the other vices; and the house of this faculty is one or the other of the two organs mentioned, the brain or the heart.

The sacred word therefore judged it right not to bring to God's altar - through which release from every sin and transgression comes, and full remission - any vessel in which the mind, once having lurked, went astray onto the trackless road of injustice and impiety, turning aside from the road leading to virtue and true nobility; for it would be foolish to make sacrifices a reminder of sins rather than an oblivion of them. This, it seems to me, is the reason why neither of the organs holding the ruling power, brain or heart, is offered.

But the parts that are set apart have a fitting rationale. The fat, because it is both the richest part and a guardian of the inner organs - for it wraps and enriches them, and by the softness of its touch does them good. The kidneys, because of the adjacent glands and the organs of generation, next to which they lie like good neighbors, helping and cooperating so that nature's sowing may go forward well, with nothing nearby standing in the way - for the kidneys are themselves blood-colored receptacles, into which the fluid purging of waste matter is separated off, while the glands lie close by, through which the seed is watered. And the lobe of the liver is the first-fruit of the most authoritative of the inner organs, through which nourishment is turned into blood and, channeled to the heart, is carried through the veins for the preservation of the whole body.

For the gullet, lying next to the passage of swallowing, receives the food already cut by the teeth and ground fine, and works on it further, handing it to the belly; the belly, taking over this second service from the gullet, performs the task to which nature has appointed it, reducing the food to chyle; and two pipes, like channels, grow out of the belly and pour it into the liver, into the receptacles formed within it.

The liver has a twofold power, one of separation and one for the making of blood. The power of separation sifts off everything hard and indigestible into the neighboring vessel of bile, while the other power turns what is pure and strained, by the heat surrounding it, into the most life-giving blood, and presses it out toward the heart, from which, as has been said, channeled through the veins, it circulates through the whole body, becoming its nourishment.

This, too, belongs with what has been said: the liver, being suspended aloft and perfectly smooth, has, on account of that smoothness, the character of a most radiant mirror, so that whenever the mind, withdrawing from the concerns of the day, with the body relaxed in sleep and none of the senses standing in its way, begins to circle back upon itself and to survey its own thoughts purely by itself, it may, gazing as into a mirror - the liver - behold each of the objects of thought with perfect clarity, and, looking all around at the images reflected in a circle, see whether any disgrace attaches to them, so as to flee the one and choose its opposite, and, having taken pleasure in all its visions, may prophesy the future through dreams.

The law permits the use of the peace-offering for only two days, leaving nothing over into the third, for many reasons. One is that everything belonging to the sacred table must be consumed promptly, with care taken that it not spoil through length of time; for the nature of stale meat is quick to putrefy, even if it has been seasoned with spices.

Another is that sacrifices ought not to be hoarded but set out openly for all who are in need; for they no longer belong to the one who sacrificed but to the one to whom the victim has been sacrificed, who, being a benefactor and generous giver, has made the company of those celebrating the sacrifice partakers of his altar and guests at his own table, and instructs them not to think of themselves as hosts; for they are stewards of the feast, not hosts - the host is the one to whom the provision itself belongs, which it is not right to hide away out of stinginess, an ignoble vice, when one ought to prefer generosity, the mark of noble virtue.

The last reason is that the peace-offering is brought on behalf of two things, soul and body, and to each of these one day was allotted for the feasting on the meat; for it was fitting that an equal span of time be set for those parts of us naturally disposed to be preserved, so that on the first day, together with the eating, one might receive a reminder of the soul's preservation, and on the second, of the body's health.

But since there was nothing third that could, properly speaking, receive preservation, the law forbade absolutely the use of it on the third day, ordaining that even if something happened to be left over through ignorance or forgetfulness, it should at once be consumed by fire. It declares the one who tastes of it alone guilty, and says to him: “You imagine you have sacrificed, ridiculous man, but you have not sacrificed; I have not accepted these unholy, unconsecrated, profane, unclean meats you have cooked, you glutton, for you have not so much as dreamed of true sacrifices.”

Included as a species of the peace-offering is the one called the offering of praise, whose rationale is this: the person who has met with nothing at all unwanted, neither in body nor in outward circumstance, but leads a life free of struggle and at peace, tested amid comforts and good fortunes, unharmed and unstumbling, steering the long sea of life in fair weather and calm waters, with good fortune ever blowing favorably at the stern - such a person is bound of necessity to repay, in a manner fitting to piety, with hymns and words of blessing, with prayers, sacrifices, and other acts of thanksgiving, the God who steers him and grants him health and preservation, unharmed benefits, and, in short, good things unmixed with evil; and all these together, taken as one, have received the single name “praise.”

So much for that offering. Next in order we must examine the third kind, which is called the sin offering. It is divided in many ways, both by the persons involved and by the kinds of victims: the persons are the high priest, the whole nation, a ruler acting individually, and a private person; the victims are a bull calf, a male goat, a female goat, or a ewe lamb.

A distinction is drawn, and it was above all necessary that it be drawn, between voluntary and involuntary offenses, since those who consider that they have sinned undergo a change for the better, blaming themselves for their transgressions and steering their course toward a blameless life.

Now the offenses of the high priest and of the nation are purified by a victim of equal honor, while those of the ruler are purified by a lesser one, though still male—for the victim is a male goat—and those of the private person by a still lower kind—for the sacrifice offered is not a male but a female, a female goat.

For it was fitting that the ruler should carry more weight than the private person even in matters of sacrifice, and the nation more than the ruler, since the whole must always outweigh the part; yet the high priest was judged worthy of the same privilege as the nation in his purification, and in seeking amnesty for wrongdoing from God's gracious power. This equality of honor he enjoys not so much for his own sake, it seems, as because he is the servant of the nation, offering the common thanksgivings on behalf of all in the most sacred prayers and the most reverent sacrifices.

Solemn and wondrous, too, is the ordinance concerning these matters. "If," it says, "the high priest should sin unwillingly," and it adds, "so that the people sin" (cf. Lev. 4:3), all but openly teaching that the high priest who is such in truth, and not falsely named, has no part in sins; but if he should ever slip, he will suffer this not on his own account but through a fault common to the nation—a fault, moreover, that is not incurable but readily admits of healing.

When the calf has been slaughtered, he commands that the blood be sprinkled seven times with the finger opposite the veil before the inner sanctuary, further within than in the previous case, in the place where the most sacred vessels are set; and then that the four horns of the incense altar—for it is square—be smeared and anointed, and that the rest of the blood be poured out beside the base of the altar in the open court.

Onto this altar he directs that three things be brought up: the fat, the lobe of the liver, and the two kidneys, following the same arrangement as for the peace offering; but the hide and the flesh, and the whole of the rest of the calf's body from head to foot together with the entrails, are to be carried outside and burned in a clean place, where it is customary for the sacred ashes to be removed from the altar.

He legislates the same procedure also for the case when the whole nation sins. But if a ruler should transgress, purification is made with a male goat, as I said; if a private person, with a female goat or a ewe lamb—for to the ruler he assigned a male animal, to the private person a female—while in all other respects he ordained the same procedure for both: to smear the horns of the altar in the open court with the blood, to bring up the fat, the lobe of the liver, and the two kidneys, and to give the rest to the priests for food.

Since some offenses are committed against human beings and others against sacred and holy things, he has already discussed the case of unwilling offenses against human beings; but for the purification of offenses against sacred things he legislates propitiation by a ram, after the guilty party has first repaid the value of the object in respect of which the wrong was done, adding a fifth part over and above its worth.

Having legislated these and similar matters concerning involuntary offenses, he next lays down rules concerning voluntary ones. If someone, he says, lies about a partnership, or a deposit, or something plundered, or something found that another had lost, and having come under suspicion, is put under oath and swears—and though he seems to have escaped conviction by his accusers, becomes his own accuser, convicted within by his own conscience—and blames himself for what he denied and for perjuring himself, and, openly confessing the wrong he committed, asks for forgiveness, he commands that amnesty be granted to such a person,

provided he proves his repentance genuine not by promise but by deed: by restoring the deposit, and whatever he plundered or found or in any way appropriated from his neighbor, adding also a fifth part in payment as consolation for the wrong done.

And when he has first made propitiation to the one he wronged, let him go, he says, thereafter to the sanctuary as well, to ask forgiveness for his sin, bringing as his advocate the unimpeachable witness within the soul, which has rescued him from an incurable disaster by releasing the deadly disease and restoring him to complete health.

For this case too the victim prescribed is a ram, just as for the one who has transgressed against sacred things; for the unwilling offense against sacred things he made equal in value to the willing offense against human affairs—unless indeed this too is in some sense a sacred matter, since an oath has entered into it, an oath which, though it was not made in soundness, he set right again by a turn toward what is better.

It should be observed that the parts brought to the altar from the sin offering are the same as in the peace offering: the lobe of the liver, the fat, and the kidneys. For in a sense the one who repents is also saved, having turned away from the disease of the soul, which is harder to bear than the passions of the body.

The remaining parts of the animal are set apart for food, but with a distinct treatment. The difference lies in three things: place, time, and those who receive it. The place is the sanctuary; the time, one day instead of two; and those who share in it are the priests, not those on whose behalf the sacrifice is offered, and among priests, only the males.

He does not permit it to be carried outside the sanctuary, wishing that if the repentant person has previously sinned, this should not become notorious, handed over to the ungracious judgments and unbridled tongues of the envious and the quarrelsome for reproach and slander, but should remain within the sacred bounds, where the purification itself has taken place.

He commands that the priests feast on the sacrifice for many reasons. First, so that he may honor those who have offered it, for the esteem shown to the guests adds honor to their hosts. Second, so that they may be most firmly persuaded that those into whom remorse for their sins has entered have God gracious toward them; for he would not have called his attendants and servants to share such a table had the amnesty not been complete. Third, because no one is permitted to minister among the priests who is not whole in body, for he is rejected on account of blemish.

He thus offers comfort to those who no longer walk the path of wrongdoing, on the ground that, for the sake of belonging to the priestly line, they have received a share in purity of purpose and have been raised to equal honor with the priests. This is why the sin offering, too, is consumed within a single day, since it is fitting that those who are about to sin should always delay and be slow to do so, but that in doing what is right they should act with hastened speed.

But the offerings slaughtered on behalf of the high priest or the nation for their transgression are not prepared for food; instead they are burned upon the sacred ashes, as has been said. For no one is greater than the high priest or the nation to serve as an intercessor for those who have sinned.

It is fitting, then, that the flesh be consumed by fire, in imitation of the whole burnt offerings, out of honor for the persons involved—not because the sacred judgments are made according to rank, but because the offenses of those who are great in virtue and truly holy are of such a kind as to be reckoned the achievements of others.

For just as deep and fertile plowland, even if it should sometimes fail to bear, still yields more fruit than land poor by nature, in the same way it happens that the failures of the good and God-loving in the pursuit of nobility are better than the successes that the base achieve by chance; for these latter cannot endure to do anything sound by deliberate purpose.

Having laid down these regulations concerning each kind of sacrifice individually—the whole burnt offering, the peace offering, and the sin offering—he now adds legislation for another kind common to all three, so as to show that these are friendly and akin to one another; and the offering that gathers them together is called the great vow.

Why it received this name must be explained. When people offer first fruits from every part of their possessions—wheat, barley, oil, wine, the finest of the tree fruits—and then the firstborn males of their animals, consecrating the clean ones and paying the assessed value for the unclean, and, having no more material with which to express their piety, dedicate and consecrate themselves, they display an ineffable holiness and a certain excess of God-loving purpose. That is why it is fittingly called the great vow: for the greatest of a person's possessions is one's own self, and this is what he yields up and relinquishes.

Having made the vow, he prescribes the following: first, that the person not partake of unmixed wine, nor of "anything produced from the grape," nor drink any other intoxicant that would impair the reasoning faculty, considering that time to be a period of priestly service; for even the ministers among the priests, when thirsty, are forbidden anything touching on drunkenness and must quench their thirst with water alone.

Second, that he not cut the hair of his head, providing onlookers with a clear symbol that he is not debasing the currency of his vow; third, that he keep his body clean and undefiled, so as not to go in to his dead parents or brothers, since piety overcomes the natural affection and sympathy toward one's own kin and dearest ones—a victory that it is always good to win, both...

When the appointed time has elapsed, the law commands three animals to be brought forward for the release of the vow: a male lamb, a ewe lamb, and a ram — the male lamb for a whole burnt offering, the ewe lamb as a sin offering, and the ram as a sacrifice of salvation.

For in all these the one who made the vow is somehow represented: in the whole burnt sacrifice, because he yields not only the firstfruits of other things but of himself; in the sin offering, because he is human — for even the perfect man, insofar as he is a created being, cannot escape falling into error; and in the sacrifice of salvation, because he has inscribed the true Savior, God, as the cause of his salvation, and not physicians and their powers. For physicians are frail and mortal, unable even to provide health for themselves, and their powers benefit neither everyone nor always the same people, but sometimes even do great harm, since authority over both the powers and those who use them belongs to another.

What astonishes me is that although the three animals are brought forward for different sacrifices, none of them differs in kind — all belong to the same genus: ram, male lamb, and ewe lamb. For the law wishes, as I said a little earlier, to establish through this that the three forms of sacrifice are sisters and kin, since the one who repents is saved, and the one who is saved from the sicknesses of the soul repents, and each hastens toward a whole and complete disposition, of which the whole burnt offering is the symbol.

Since he had vowed to offer up himself, but it is not lawful for the sacred altar to be polluted with human blood, and yet some part had absolutely to be consecrated, he was eager to take a part which, when removed, causes neither pain nor disfigurement. For of the plant-like growth of the body, like the superfluous branches of a tree, he shaved off the hair of his head and handed it over to the fire on which the flesh of the sacrifice of salvation is boiled — fittingly, so that some part belonging to the one who made the vow, which is not permitted on the altar, might at least be mingled in with the sacrifice, becoming fuel for the sacred flame.

These, then, are common to all others. But the priests too were required to offer some firstfruits to the altar, so that they would not suppose that the services and ministries to which they had been appointed had won them exemption. The firstfruits fitting for priests come from none of the blood offerings, but from the purest of human food.

For their continual sacrifice is fine wheat flour, a tenth of the sacred measure each day, half of it offered in the morning and half in the evening, fried in oil, with none of it left over for eating. For there is an oracle that every sacrifice of a priest must be wholly burnt, and none of it allotted for food. Having spoken, as far as was possible, about sacrifices, we shall next speak about those who offer sacrifice. On those who sacrifice.

The law wishes the one who brings sacrifices to be pure in body and soul — the soul pure from passions and diseases and sicknesses and vices in both word and deed, and the body pure from whatever it is customary

to be defiled by. He devised the fitting purification for each: for the soul, through the animals prepared for sacrifices as remedies; for the body, through washings and sprinklings, about which we shall speak a little later. For it is right to grant the seat of honor in matters of reason to the better and more governing part within us, the soul. What, then, is its purification?

"Look," he says, "my friend, at the victim you bring forward — how it is whole and entirely without blemish, judged best from among many by the incorruptible judgment of the priests and by their eyes, sharpened by continual practice, for blameless inspection. For if you do not see this more with your eyes than with your reasoning, you will wash away your sins and all the stains you have contracted throughout your whole life, some by involuntary circumstance, some by deliberate choice."

For you will find that such precision concerning the animal hints, through a symbol, at the improvement of your own character. For the law is not concerned with irrational creatures, but with those who possess mind and reason; so it is not the victims that are its care, that they should have no blemish, but those who sacrifice, that they should be sick with no passion.

As for the body, as I said, he purifies it with washings and sprinklings, and does not allow one who has been sprinkled or washed once to enter straightway within the sacred precincts; instead he commands him to spend seven days outside and to be sprinkled twice, on the third and seventh days, and after this, once washed, grants him fearless entry and access to the sacred rites.

How much foresight and philosophy there is even in this must be examined. Almost all other peoples are sprinkled with unmixed water — most with sea water, some with river water, others drawing it in jars from springs. But Moses, having first prepared ashes left over from a sacred fire — the manner of which will be shown presently — says that one must take from these, and, casting them into a vessel, pour water on top, and then, dipping sprigs of hyssop into the mixture, sprinkle those being purified.

The reason for this, one might say, is not beside the point: he wishes those who approach the service of the Existing One to know themselves first, and their own being. For how could one ignorant of himself be able to grasp the supreme power of God, which surpasses all things?

Our being, as far as the body is concerned, is earth and water, of which he reminds us through the purification, supposing this very thing to be the most beneficial purification: that one should know oneself, and from what things — worthy of no esteem, ash and water — one has been compounded.

For once he has recognized this, he will immediately turn away from treacherous self-conceit, and, having cast down his arrogance, will be well-pleasing to God and will exchange his insolence for God's gracious power. For it has been well said somewhere that the one who undertakes haughty words or deeds provokes not only human beings but also "God," the maker of equality and of everything most excellent. (Num. 15:30)

So, when they are sprinkled and struck and roused, it is as though the very elements, earth and water, cry out and say: We are the substance of your body; nature, blending us by divine art, shaped us into human form; compacted out of us when you came into being, you will again be resolved into us when it is time to die. For nothing that exists is by nature destroyed into non-being, but the end returns to that from which the beginning came.

Now it is necessary to redeem the promise concerning the peculiar property of this ash. For it is not merely wood consumed by fire, but also an animal fit for such a purification.

For he commands that a red heifer, unyoked and unblemished, be brought and slaughtered outside the city, and that the high priest, taking of its blood, sprinkle it seven times facing the temple, and then burn the whole of it with its hide, flesh, blood, and belly full of its contents. And as the flame dies down, he commands that three things be thrown into the very middle of it: cedar wood, hyssop, and scarlet wool. Then, once it has gone out, a clean man is to gather the ashes and deposit them again outside the city in a clean place.

What these things hint at, as through symbols, we have set out precisely elsewhere through allegory. It is necessary that those who are about to frequent the temple to share in sacrifice should brighten both the body and, before the body, the soul; for the soul is mistress and queen and superior in all things, since it has been allotted a more divine nature. What brightens the mind is wisdom, and the doctrines of wisdom that guide one toward contemplation of the cosmos and the things in it, and the sacred choir of the other virtues, and the fine and highly praised actions done in accordance with virtue.

Let the man adorned with these things, then, go forward with confidence into the temple most akin to him, the finest dwelling place of all, ready to show himself as the sacrificial victim. But whoever harbors and lies in wait for greed and desires for injustice, let him cover himself and keep his shameless recklessness and excessive boldness quiet, restraining them where caution is profitable; for the sanctuary of the truly Existing One is inaccessible to unholy sacrifices.

I would say: noble sir, God does not rejoice even if one brings up hecatombs; for all things are his possessions, yet, possessing them, he needs nothing. He rejoices in god-loving minds and in men who practice holiness, from whom he gladly receives cakes and barley and the cheapest offerings as though they were the most precious, ahead of the costliest.

And indeed, even if they bring nothing else, but bring themselves as the most perfect fulfillment of nobility, they offer the best sacrifice, honoring the benefactor and savior God with hymns and thanksgivings — some through vocal instruments, others without tongue or mouth, making their intelligible processions and outcries with the soul alone, of which only the divine ear takes hold; for the hearing of human beings cannot perceive them.

That this account is not false, and not mine but nature's own, is attested somehow by clear evidence itself, which offers plain proof to those who do not practice disbelief out of love of contention; and it is attested also by the law, which ordained that two altars be constructed, differing in materials, in locations, and in uses.

For the one has been built of unhewn, selected stones and stands in the open air near the approaches to the temple, and has come to be for the use of blood offerings; the other has been constructed of the purest gold and stands within the inner sanctuary, behind the first curtain, visible to none of the others except the priests who are purified, and has come to be for the use of incense.

From this it is clear that God considers even the smallest grain of frankincense from a holy man more precious than countless herds of cattle, whatever a man not truly noble might sacrifice. For just as, I think, gold is better than random stones, and things within the inner sanctuary are more sacred than those outside, by so much is thanksgiving through incense offerings superior to that through blood offerings.

From this it is clear that God considers even the smallest pinch of frankincense more precious than the sacrifice of countless victims offered by a man who is not truly good; for I think that, just as gold is better than ordinary stones, and the things within the inner sanctuary are holier than those outside it, so by that same measure thanksgiving offered through incense is superior to thanksgiving offered through blood sacrifices.

For this reason the altar of incense is honored not only by the costliness and craftsmanship of its material and by its location, but also by the fact that it is the first to be served each day with the thank offerings that human beings bring to God; for it is not permitted to bring forward the whole burnt offering outside until the incense has been offered within, at deep dawn.

And this is a symbol of nothing other than the truth that, in God's sight, it is not the multitude of victims sacrificed that is precious, but the purest rational spirit of the one sacrificing. For if a judge, who cares about a holy verdict, would not take gifts from one of the parties on trial—or if he took them would be guilty of bribery—nor would a good man take gifts from some wicked person, one human being from another wealthy human being, even if he himself were in need, would you really suppose that God can be bribed—God, who is entirely self-sufficient and in need of nothing that has come into being, who, being the first good, the most perfect, the ever-flowing spring of wisdom and justice and all virtue, turns away the gifts of the unjust?

And the one who brings such gifts—is he not the most shameless of all, since he offers, from what he has stolen or seized or denied or taken by fraud, a portion, as though making God a partner in his own wickedness and greed? Most wretched of all men, I would say to such a person, you expect one of two things: either that you will escape notice, or that you will be found out.

If you suppose you will escape notice, you are ignorant of God's power, by which he sees all things and hears all things at once; and if you think you will be exposed and still bring the offering, you are utterly reckless. For instead of hiding what you did wrong, as you ought, you bring out into the open the very evidence of the wrongs you have committed, and, giving yourself airs, you distribute it to God, bringing him unholy first fruits, without ever reckoning that neither does law admit lawlessness, nor does the light of the sun admit darkness. But God is both the archetypal pattern of laws and the sun of the sun, the intelligible sun of the sensible one, who from invisible springs supplies visible light to what is seen. M. On not bringing the wages of a prostitute into the temple.

It is a very fine thing that this too has been inscribed on the sacred tablets of the law: that the wages of a prostitute must not be brought into the sanctuary, from a woman who has sold her own bloom of youth, choosing, for the sake of shameful gain, a life open to reproach.

But if the gifts from a woman who has played the harlot are unholy, how much more so are the gifts from a soul that has prostituted itself—a soul that has flung itself into shame and the utmost outrages: drunkenness, gluttony, love of money, love of glory, love of pleasure, and countless other forms of passion, sickness, and vice? What length of time could wash away those stains? I, for one, do not know of any.

For old age often puts an end to the trade of courtesans, since once they have passed their prime no one approaches them any longer, their bloom having withered like that of certain flowers; but what age could ever turn the prostitution of a soul—trained and habituated in a licentiousness that has grown up with it—toward good order? No age at all; only God, for whom what is impossible for us is possible.

The one who is about to sacrifice must examine, not whether the victim is unblemished, but whether his own understanding is whole and complete in every part. Let him also search out the reasons for which he thinks fit to bring sacrifices: whether he is giving thanks for benefits already received, or asking for the securing of present goods or the acquisition of future ones, or for the averting of present or expected evils. In all these cases he must furnish his reasoning with health and soundness.

For if he gives thanks for benefits already received, let him not prove ungrateful by becoming base—for favors were given to a person of worth—and if he is seeking confirmation of present goods while hoping for good things to come, let him make himself worthy of good fortune by being a person of true worth; and if he is asking for escape from certain evils, let him not do things deserving of punishments and penalties. Other matters concerning the altar.

"Fire," it says, "shall burn continually on the altar and never be extinguished"; and rightly and fittingly so, I think. For since the graces of God are ever-flowing, unfailing, and uninterrupted, which human beings receive by day and by night, so too the symbol of thanksgiving, the sacred flame, must be kept alive and never allowed to go out.

Perhaps too it is his wish, by this means, to join the old sacrifices to the new and unite them through the permanence and presence of the same fire, by which all are consecrated, as a sign that thanksgiving must be complete, whatever the countless occasions from which the offerings come, whether out of abundant plenty or, on the contrary, out of the scarcity of what is brought.

These, then, are the literal meanings [symbols of things perceived by the intellect]; but the matters bearing on the understanding must be examined by the rules of allegory. In truth, the altar of God is the grateful soul of the wise man, established out of complete, undivided, and indivisible virtues; for no part of virtue is useless.

On this altar the sacred light is forever kindled, kept unextinguished; and the light of the understanding is wisdom, since the opposite darkness of the soul is folly. For what perceptible light is to the eyes for the apprehension of bodies, knowledge is to reasoning for the contemplation of things incorporeal and intelligible—and its brightness shines forever, never dimmed.

After this he says: "upon every offering you shall bring salt," by which, as I said before, he hints at permanence extending to everything; for salt is a preservative of bodies, honored with second place after the soul. For just as the soul is the cause of bodies not decaying, so too salt, holding bodies together for the greatest length of time, in a certain way makes them immortal.

This is why he has called it "altar," giving it a name of its own and distinct, evidently derived from its preserving the sacrifices—even though the meat is in fact consumed by fire—so that it is the clearest proof that God supposes the sacrifice to consist not in the victims but in the understanding and eagerness of the one offering, in which alone lies the stability and firmness that comes from virtue.

Moreover he further legislates, commanding that every sacrifice be brought without leaven and without honey, deeming neither fit to be offered up on the altar. Honey, perhaps, because its producer, the bee, is not a pure creature, being generated—so the account goes—from the decay and corruption of dead oxen, just as wasps are generated from the bodies of horses.

Or perhaps it is a symbol that all excessive pleasure is unholy, sweetening what is swallowed but afterward bringing bitter and hard-to-cure pains, by which the soul is inevitably shaken and disturbed, unable to establish itself firmly.

And leaven, because of the swelling it produces—again symbolically—so that no one approaching the altar should ever be puffed up, inflated by arrogance, but rather, looking toward the greatness of God, should perceive his own weakness as a created being, even if he surpasses others in good fortune, and, making the fitting calculation, should curb the overweening height of his pride, destroying the treacherous conceit within him.

For if the founder and maker of all things, in need of nothing that he has generated, does not look to the excesses of his own power and authority but to your weakness, and shares with you his gracious power, filling up the deficiencies you suffer from—what is it fitting for you to do toward other people, your kin by nature, sown from the same elements, you who have contributed nothing to the world, not even yourself?

For you came naked, marvelous man, and naked again you will depart, having received from God for your use the time between birth and death, in which it was fitting to do nothing other than to attend to fellowship, concord, equality, kindness to your fellow man, and every other virtue, casting away that unequal, unjust, and unsociable vice which makes the gentlest creature by nature, man, savage and untamed.

Again, he commands that lamps be kept burning on the sacred lampstand within the veil from evening until morning, for many reasons. One is so that, in succession to the light of day, the holy place, always untouched by darkness, may be illuminated in the likeness of the stars; for these too, when the sun sets, display their own light, never abandoning the position assigned to them in the universe.

Another reason is that even by night something akin and related to the daytime sacrifices should be carried out, for God's pleasure, so that no time or occasion for thanksgiving may be left out; and the sacrifice most fitting and most suited to the night for thanksgiving—for it deserves to be called a sacrifice—is the radiance of the most sacred light within the inner sanctuary.

A third reason, and a very necessary one: since we are well cared for not only while awake but also while asleep, God, in his love of giving, has provided sleep as a great assistance to the mortal race, for the benefit of both body and soul—the body being released from its daytime labors, and the soul being relieved of its cares and withdrawing into itself, away from the crowd and clamor of the senses, able then, at least, to be alone and to converse with itself. It was fitting, then, that the law should apportion thanksgivings accordingly: for waking hours, through the victims that are brought, and for sleep and its benefits, through the kindling of the sacred lamps.

These, then, are the things legislated for piety, by way of commands and prohibitions, together with matters like them; but as for what belongs to philosophical instructions and exhortations, this must be said: God, it says, O understanding, asks nothing burdensome, complicated, or difficult of you, but something entirely simple and easy.

And this is: to love him as a benefactor, or, failing that, at least to fear him as ruler and lord, and to walk in every path that leads to pleasing him, and to serve him not carelessly but with the whole soul, filled with a disposition devoted to God, and to hold fast to his commandments and to honor justice. As a result of all this, he himself remains in the same unchanging nature, while everything else in the universe attains improvement—sun or moon or the multitude of the other stars or the whole heaven. And of the earth too, the mountains rise to their utmost height, while the plain, like substances that have been poured out, spreads to its greatest breadth, and the sea changes to fresh water, or the rivers become equal in size to the open seas. But no—each of these things is fixed within the same bounds in which it was set from the very beginning, when God made it; whereas you will become better by living blamelessly. What, then, of all this, is burdensome or laborious?

We need not cross unnavigable seas, tossed up and down at the height of winter by the swell and the force of contrary winds, nor tramp rough and untrodden wilds instead of roads, forever cowering before the attacks of bandits or wild beasts, nor keep watch on walls, camping in the open at night while enemies lie in wait and threaten the gravest dangers — no, let nothing unpleasant be said of what is good; we must speak only well of things that so benefit us.

The soul need only give its assent, and everything is at hand, ready. Or do you not know that both the sensible heaven and the intelligible heaven belong to God — the intelligible heaven being, one might properly say, “the heaven of heaven” — and likewise the earth and everything in it, and the whole cosmos, both the visible and the invisible and incorporeal, the model of the visible heaven?

Yet even so, from the whole human race he chose out, by merit, those who are truly human, and judged them worthy of every privilege, calling them to the service of himself, the ever-flowing fountain of good things, from which he also rained down the other virtues and poured them out for the most beneficial enjoyment — a draught that makes immortal no less than, or even more than, nectar.

Pitiable and unfortunate are all who have not feasted on the drink of virtue, and most unfortunate of all are those who have never once tasted nobility of character, when it was possible to rejoice and delight in justice and holiness. Instead they are uncircumcised in heart, as the Law says, and through the hardness of their disposition are rebellious, kicking wilfully and stiffening their necks;

them he admonishes, saying, “Circumcise the hardness of your heart” (Deut. 10:16) — that is, cut away with all diligence the excess growths of the ruling faculty, which the unmeasured impulses of the passions have sown and made to flourish, and which folly, that evil farmer of the soul, has planted.

“And let your neck,” he says, “not be stiff” — that is, let the mind not be unbending and utterly self-willed, nor let it cultivate, out of excessive obstinacy, the most harmful ignorance; rather, having laid aside its naturally difficult and intractable temper as an enemy, let it change over to gentleness, in obedience to the laws of nature.

Or do you not see that the first and greatest of the powers surrounding Being are the beneficent and the punitive? And the beneficent has been called God, since it was by this power that he established and ordered the universe, while the other is called Lord, since by it he holds fast the mastery over all things. And God is God not only of men but also of gods, and ruler not only of private persons but also of rulers, being truly great and mighty and

powerful. And yet he who is so great in virtues and powers takes pity and compassion on those most destitute in their want, not disdaining to become a judge for converts, orphans, or widows, but looking past kings and tyrants and those in great positions of power, he deems worthy of his providence the lowliness of the ones just named.

For converts, for this reason: having left behind the ancestral ways in which they were reared, ways full of false fictions and vanity, and having become genuine lovers of truth free from vanity, they have moved over to piety; being suppliants and worshippers of the truly Existent, worthy as they are, they receive a fitting share of providence, finding as the fruit of their taking refuge in God the help that comes from him.

For orphans and widows, since they have been deprived of their protectors — the former of parents, the latter of husbands — and no refuge from among men remains for those left so utterly alone; therefore they are not without a share in the greatest hope, that of God, who, because of his gracious nature, does not turn away his providence and care from those so bereft.

“Let God alone,” he says, “be your boast and your greatest glory, and do not pride yourself on wealth or reputation or rule or bodily beauty or strength or anything of that kind, on which the empty-minded are wont to be puffed up, considering first that these things have no share in the nature of the good, and second that they have a swift season for change, withering in a sense before they have securely bloomed.”

Let us instead pursue that good which is fixed, unchangeable, and immutable, and hold fast to supplication and service of it, and let us not, even when we have conquered our enemies, emulate their impieties, which they think of as acts of piety — burning their sons and daughters to their own gods — not

because it is the custom of all barbarians to burn their children in fire (for their natures have not grown so savage as to endure doing in peace, to their dearest and closest kin, what they would not even do to enemies and irreconcilable foes in war), but because they truly scorch and destroy the souls of those they have begotten, by failing, from the very swaddling clothes, while their souls are still tender, to engrave upon them true beliefs about the one and truly existing God — let us not, then, be overcome and give way, led astray by their good fortunes as though they had conquered through piety;

for immediate successes often come upon many as a snare, being the bait of severe and incurable evils; and it is likely too that unworthy men should prosper, not for their own sake, but so that we, who were born into a God-loving commonwealth and reared under laws that train us toward every virtue, and who from our earliest years have been taught the noblest things by divinely inspired men, may be pained and grieved all the more severely when we act impiously — we who neglect the one and cling to what truly deserves neglect, counting serious things as play and things worthy only of play as serious.

And if anyone, assuming the name and guise of a prophet, seeming to be inspired and possessed, should lead people to the worship of the gods customarily recognized in various cities, one ought not heed him, deceived by the name of prophet; for such a man is a charlatan, not a prophet, since in his falsehood he has fabricated oracles and pronouncements.

And if a brother, or a son, or a daughter, or a wife who keeps the house, or a genuine friend, or anyone else who seems to be well disposed, should urge one toward the same things, pressing one to join in festivity with the crowd and to go to the same temples and the same libations and sacrifices, such a person must be punished as a public executioner and common enemy, with little regard paid to kinship; and his exhortations must be reported to all lovers of piety, who will rush without delay to take vengeance on the unholy man, judging it a righteous act to slay him.

Let there be for us one kinship and one token of friendship: pleasing God, and saying and doing everything for the sake of piety. As for those other kinships said to come from ancestry by blood, and those relations arising through marriage or other similar causes, let them be cast aside, if they do not press toward the same end — the honor of God, which is the indissoluble bond of all unifying goodwill; for such people will lay hold of a more venerable and more sacred kinship.

My promise is confirmed by the Law itself, which says that those who do “what is pleasing” to nature and “what is good” are sons of God; for it says, “You are sons to the Lord your God” (Deut. 14:1) — clearly meaning that they will be deemed worthy of providence and care as from a father; and this care will differ from that of men just as much, I think, as the one who provides the care differs.

Beyond this, he also removes from the sacred legislation everything concerning initiations and mysteries and all such charlatanry and buffoonery, judging it unfitting that those reared in such a commonwealth should hold orgiastic rites, and, hanging upon mystic fabrications, neglect the truth, and pursue what has been allotted to night and darkness, abandoning what belongs to day and light. Let none of the disciples and associates of Moses, then, either perform initiations or be initiated; for both teaching and learning such rites is no small act of impiety.

For what is the good, O initiates, if these things are noble and beneficial, of shutting yourselves up in deep darkness and benefiting only three or four people, when it was possible instead to set forth their benefit for all mankind in the middle of the marketplace, so that all without fear might share in a better and more fortunate life? For envy has no part in virtue.

Let those who do harmful deeds feel shame, seeking out hiding places and the recesses of the earth and deep darkness in which to conceal themselves, casting a shadow over their great lawlessness so that no one may see it; but let those who do things beneficial to the community have freedom of speech, and let them walk by day through the middle of the marketplace, meeting crowds of people, reflecting their own life in the clear sunlight, and benefiting their gatherings through the most authoritative senses — offering sights at once most pleasant and most striking to see, and words, sweet as drink, to hear and feast on, words that are wont to gladden the minds of those not utterly without taste. Or do you not

see that nature too has hidden none of her own celebrated and altogether beautiful works, but has displayed the stars and the whole heaven both for the delight of sight and for the desire of philosophy, and the seas and springs and rivers and the temperate blending of the air through winds and breezes for the yearly seasons, and countless forms of plants and animals and, further, of fruits, for the use and enjoyment of mankind?

Should we not, then, following her purposes, likewise set before all who are worthy everything necessary and useful, for their benefit? But as things now stand, it often happens that none of the good men are initiated, while sometimes bandits and pirates and bands of loathsome and unrestrained women are, once they have provided money to those who perform the initiations and officiate as hierophants. Let all such people be banished, as outsiders, from the city and the constitution in which the noble and the true are honored for their own sake. So much, then, for this.

Being in the highest degree an advocate of community and humanity, the Law has preserved the dignity and solemnity of each of these virtues, allowing none of those in an incurable state to take refuge in them, but driving them off to the greatest possible distance.

Knowing, at any rate, that in the assemblies not a few base persons slip in unnoticed thanks to the size of the gathered crowd, in order that this should not happen he bars in advance all who are unworthy of the sacred assembly, beginning with those afflicted with the female disease, effeminate men, who counterfeit the coinage of nature and force themselves into the passions and shapes of unrestrained women; for he drives out eunuchs and those whose generative organs have been cut off, men who store up the bloom of youth so that it may not easily wither, and who alter the male stamp into a womanish form. And he drives out not only prostitutes but also the offspring of a prostitute,

Bringing upon themselves their mother's shame, because their first sowing and begetting has been adulterated and confused on account of the multitude of men who have had intercourse with their mothers, so that they cannot recognize and distinguish who is their true father.

This passage, if any other, admits of allegory, being full of philosophical theory. For the impious and unholy do not have one manner but many and different kinds. Some say that the incorporeal Forms are an empty name having no share in real existence, thereby doing away with the most necessary of all substances, which is the archetypal pattern of all the things that are qualities of substance, according to which each thing was given its form and measured out.

These men the sacred pillars of the law denote as “crushed” (thladias): for just as a crushed thing has no quality, no form, and is nothing else than, properly speaking, formless matter, so too the opinion that does away with the Forms confuses everything and drags it down to that higher substance of the elements which is formless and without quality.

What could be more absurd than this? For God begot all things out of that formless matter, not touching it himself — for it was not right for the blessed and happy one to touch boundless and confused matter — but he made use of the incorporeal powers, whose proper name is the Forms, so that each kind might receive its fitting shape. But this opinion introduces much disorder and confusion; for in doing away with the things through which qualities exist, it does away with qualities as well.

Others, as though striving in a contest of vice to carry off the prize of impiety, go even further, and along with the Forms conceal also the existence of God, saying that he does not exist but is said to exist for the sake of human advantage — so that men, out of reverence for one who seems to be present everywhere and to see everything with sleepless eyes, might restrain themselves from wrongdoing. These the law rightly calls “cut off,” since they have cut away the very notion of him who begets all things, barren of wisdom and practicing the greatest of vices, atheism.

Third are those who cut in the opposite direction, introducing a multitude of gods, male and female, elder and younger, filling the universe, as it were, with talk of many governments, so that they might excise from human thought the conception of the One who truly is.

These are the ones the law symbolically calls “sons of a harlot.” For just as those whose mothers are harlots neither know their true father nor can register him, but have many — almost all — of their mother's lovers and consorts, in the same way those who are ignorant of the one true God, fashioning many false-named gods, are blind concerning the most necessary of all realities — the very thing it would have been fitting to be taught, alone or first of all, from the very cradle; for what teaching is nobler than that of the God who truly is?

A fourth and a fifth group he drives out, pressing toward the same end, though not by the same reasoning. Both are zealots of the great evil, self-love, and have, as it were, divided between themselves as common property the whole soul, which is composed of a rational and an irrational part: the one group has taken as their portion the rational part, which is mind, the other the irrational part, which is divided among the senses.

Now the champions of mind ascribe to it dominion and kingship over human affairs, and say that it is capable both of preserving the past by memory, vigorously grasping the present, and picturing and reasoning about the future by plausible conjecture.

For it is mind that sowed and planted the deep and fertile earth of both mountain and plain, and discovered agriculture, most beneficial to life; it is mind that built the ship and, by inventions surpassing all reckoning, made the nature of dry land navigable, cutting through the sea in many branching highways as far as the harbors and roadsteads of cities, and made known to one another mainlanders and islanders who would never have come together had a vessel not been built; it is mind, too, that is the discoverer of the menial as well as the more refined arts.

It is mind that devised letters and numbers and music and all general education, and increased them and brought them to fulfillment; it is mind, too, that begot the greatest good, philosophy, and through each of its parts benefited human life — through the logical part toward interpretation free from deception, through the ethical part toward the correction of character, through the physical part toward knowledge of heaven and the universe. And they recount, besides, a vast multitude of other praises of mind, heaping and gathering them together, all bearing on what has already been said, which it is not the occasion to trouble over.

The champions of the senses, for their part, dignify their own praise quite solemnly, apportioning to reason the benefits that arise from the senses, and say that there are two causes of living — smell and taste — and two of living well — sight and hearing.

Through taste, then, the nourishment of food is conveyed; through the nostrils, air, on which every living creature depends; and this too is a food, continuous and unceasing, which sustains and preserves not only the waking but also the sleeping. Clear proof of this: if the passage of breath were checked for even the briefest moment by cutting off the stream of air that naturally flows in from outside, death would inevitably and inescapably follow.

Of the philosophical senses, however, through which the good life is attained, sight beholds light, the most beautiful of existing things, and through light it beholds all else — sun, moon, stars, heaven, earth, sea, the countless varieties of plants and animals, and, in sum, all bodies, shapes, colors, and magnitudes, the contemplation of which has produced extraordinary understanding and given birth to a great longing for knowledge.

Sight also affords us, apart from these, the greatest of benefits: the distinguishing of kin from strangers and friends from enemies, the avoidance of what is harmful, and the choice of what is beneficial. Each of the other parts of the body, too, has come to be for fitting and quite necessary uses — feet for walking and running and all else accomplished through the legs, hands for doing, giving, and receiving; but the eyes, as if some common good, furnish to these and to all the others the cause of their being able to succeed.

Most truthful witnesses are those deprived of sight, who can use neither hands nor feet for the better, thereby confirming the very name — which those who first named the disabled meant to set not so much in reproach as in pity; for along with the destruction of the eyes, the powers of the body are not merely tripped up but destroyed. Hearing, too, is a most wonderful thing, through which melodies and meters and rhythms—

—and further, harmonies and concords and the transitions of genera and systems, and all that is judged according to music, and, in matters of speech, through its many channels, the countless forms of forensic, deliberative, and celebratory oratory; and further, those found in histories and dialogues, and those in the necessary conversations about the affairs of life with whomever one happens to meet. For, in sum, since the voice has a twofold power, both for speaking and for singing, hearing distinguishes each of these to the soul's benefit.

For song and speech are healthy and saving remedies: the one charms away the passions and checks in us with rhythms what is unrhythmic, with melodies what is discordant, with measures what is unmeasured — and each of these is varied and manifold, as musicians and poets attest, whom the well-educated must trust as a matter of necessary practice — while speech, restraining and beating back the impulses toward vice and nursing back to health those overpowered by folly and unpleasantness, treating more gently those who yield and more forcefully those who resist, becomes the cause of the greatest benefits.

Weaving together such arguments, both the devotees of mind and the devotees of the senses — the one deifying mind, the other the senses — out of self-love forget the God who truly exists in reality. For this reason he rightly banished from the sacred assembly all these: those who do away with the Forms, whom he called, as we said, “crushed”; those who are utterly atheist, to whom he gave the fitting name “cut off”; those who, in the opposite direction, introduce a begetting of gods, whom he called “sons of a harlot”; and, besides all these, the self-lovers, of whom some deified reason and others each of the senses. For all these press toward the same end, even though setting out from different plans, in silencing the one who alone truly is God.

But we, the disciples and familiars of the prophet Moses, will not give up the search for him who is, believing that knowledge of him is the goal of happiness and of long life, just as the law also says that all who cleave to God live (Deut. 4:4), laying down a doctrine both necessary and philosophical; for in truth the atheists are dead in soul, while those who have been assigned their place beside the God who truly is live an immortal life.

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