Tuesday's Serials: "The Epic of Hades" by Lewis Morris (in English) - XII

 

BOOK III - OLYMPUS.

 

                                                      But I, my gaze

Following the soaring soul which now was lost

In the awakening skies, floated with her,

As in a trance, beyond the golden gates

Which separate Earth from Heaven; and to my thought

Gladdened by that broad effluence of light,

This old earth seemed transfigured, and the fields,

So dim and bare, grew green and clothed themselves

With lustrous hues. A fine ethereal air

Played round me as I mused, and filled the soul

With an ineffable content. What need

Of words to tell of things unreached by words?

Or seek to engrave upon the treacherous thought

The fair and fugitive fancies of a dream,

Which vanish ere we fix them?

                                                          But methinks

He knows the scene, who knows the one fair day,

One only and no more, which year by year

In springtime comes, when lingering winter flies,

And lo! the trees blossom in white and pink.

And golden clusters, and the glades are filled

With delicate primrose and deep odorous beds

Of violets, and on the tufted meads

With kingcups starred, and cowslip bells, and blue

Sweet hyacinths, and frail anemones,

The broad West wind breathes softly, and the air

Is tremulous with the lark, and thro' the woods

The soft full-throated thrushes all day long

Flood the green dells with joy, and thro' the dry

Brown fields the sower strides, sowing his seed,

And all is life and song. Or he who first,

Whether in fair free boyhood, when the world

Is his to choose, or when his fuller life

Beats to another life, or afterwards,

Keeping his youth within his children's eyes,

Looks on the snow-clad everlasting hills,

And marks the sunset smite them, and is glad

Of the beautiful fair world.

                                                   A springtide land

It seemed, where East winds came not. Sweetest song

Was everywhere, by glade or sunny plain;

And thro' the golden valleys winding streams

Rippled in glancing silver, and above,

The blue hills rose, and over all a peak,

White, awful, with a constant fleece of cloud

Veiling its summit, towered. Unfailing Day

Lighted it, for no turn of dawn and eve

Came there, nor changing seasons, but a broad

Fixed joy of Being, undisturbed by Time.

 

      There, in a happy glade shut in by groves

Of laurel and sweet myrtle, on a green

And flower-lit lawn, I seemed to see the ghosts

Of the old gods. Upon the gentle slope

Of a fair hill, a joyous company,

The Immortals lay. Hard by, a murmurous stream

Fell through the flowers; below them, space on space,

Laughed the immeasurable plains; beyond,

The mystic mountain soared. Height after height

Of bare rock ledges left the climbing pines,

And reared their giddy, shining terraces

Into the ethereal air. Above, the snows

Of the white summit cleft the fleece of cloud

Which always clothed it round.

 

ARTEMIS

                                                             Ah, fail-and sweet,

Yet with a ghostly fairness, fine and thin,

Those godlike Presences. Not dreams indeed,

But something dream-like, were they. Blessed Shades

Heroic and Divine, as when, in days

When Man was young, and Time, the vivid thought

Translated into Form the unattained

Impossible Beauty of men's dreams, and fixed

The Loveliness in marble.

                                                As with awe

Following my spotless guide, I stood apart,

Not daring to draw near; a shining form

Rose from the throng, and floated, light as air,

To where I trembled. And I knew the face

And form of Artemis, the fair, the pure,

The undefiled. A crescent silvery moon

Shone thro' her locks, and by her side she bore

A quiver of golden darts. At sight of whom

I felt a sudden chill, like his who once

Looked upon her and died; yet could not fear,

Seeing how fair she was. Her sweet voice rang

Clear as a bird's:

                                  "Mortal, what fate hath brought

Thee hither, uncleansed by death? How canst thou breathe

Immortal air, being mortal? Yet fear not,

Since thou art come. For we too are of earth

Whom here thou seest: there were not a heaven

Were there no earth, nor gods, had men not been,

But each the complement of each and grown

The other's creature, is and has its being,

A double essence, Human and Divine.

So that the God is hidden in the man,

And something Human bounds and forms the God;

Which else had shown too great and undefined

For mortal sight, and having no human eye

To see it, were unknown. But we who bore

Sway of old time, we were but attributes

[3]Of the great God who is all Things that be—

The Pillar of the Earth and starry Sky,

The Depth of the great Deep; the Sun, the Moon,

The Word which Makes; the All-compelling Love—

For all Things lie within His Infinite Form."

 

      Even as she spake, a throng of heavenly forms

Floated around me, filling all my soul

With fair unearthly beauty, and the air

With such ambrosial perfume as is born.

When morning bursts upon a tropic sea,

From boundless wastes of flowers; and as I knelt

In rapture, lo! the same clear voice again

From out the throng of gods:

                                                            "Those whom thou seest

Were even as I, embodiments of Him

Who is the Centre of all Life: myself

The Maiden-Queen of Purity; and Strength,

Divine when unabused; Love too, the Spring

And Cause of Things; and Knowledge, which lays bare

Their secret; and calm Duty, Queen of all,

And Motherhood in one; and Youth, which bears,

Beauty of Form and Life and Light, and breathes

The breath of Inspiration; and the Soul,

The particle of God, sent down to man,

Which doth in turn reveal the world and God.

 

      Wherefore it is men called on Artemis,

The refuge of young souls; for still in age

They keep some dim reflection uneffaced

Of a Diviner Purity than comes

To the spring days of youth, when all the world

Smiles, and the rapid blood thro' the young veins

Courses, and all is glad; yet knowing too

That innocence is young—before the soil

And smirch of sadder knowledge, settling on it,

Sully its primal whiteness. So they knelt

At my white shrines, the eager vigorous youths,

To whom life's road showed like a dewy field

In early summer dawns, when to the sound

Of youth's clear voice, and to the cheerful rush

Of the tumultuous feet and clamorous tongues

Careering onwards, fair and dappled fawns,

Strange birds with jewelled plumes, fierce spotted pards,

Rise in the joyous chase, to be caught and bound

By the young conqueror; nor yet the charm

Of sensual ease allures. And they knelt too,

The pure sweet maidens fair and fancy-free,

Whose innocent virgin hearts shrank from the touch

Of passion as from wrong—sweet moonlit lives

Which fade, and pale, and vanish, in the glare

Of Love's hot noontide: these came robed in white,

With holy hymns and soaring liturgies:

And so men fabled me, a huntress now,

Borne thro' the flying woodlands, fair and free;

And now the pale cold Moon, Light without warmth,

Zeal without touch of passion, heavenly love

For human, and the altar for the home.

 

      But oh, how sweet it was to take the love

And awe of my young worshippers; to watch

The pure young gaze and hear the pure young voice

Mount in the hymn, or see the gay troop come

With the first dawn of day, brushing the dew

From the unpolluted fields, and wake to song

The slumbering birds; strong in their innocence!

I did not envy any goddess of all

The Olympian company her votaries!

Ah, happy days of old which now are gone!

A memory and a dream! for now on earth

I rule no longer o'er young willing hearts

In voluntary fealty, which should cease

When Love, with fiery accents calling, woke

The slumbering soul; as now it should for those

Who kneel before the purer, sadder shrine

Which has replaced my own. But ah! too oft,

Not always, but too often, shut from life

Within pale life-long cloisters and the bars

Of deadly convent prisons, year by year,

Age after age, the white souls fade and pine

Which simulate the joyous service free

Of those young worshippers. I would that I

Might loose the captives' chain; or Herakles,

Who was a mortal once."

 

 

HERAKLES

                                                  But he who stood

Colossal at my side:

                                      "I toil no more

On earth, nor wield again the mighty strength

Which Zeus once gave me for the cure of ill.

I have run my race; I have done my work; I rest

For ever from the toilsome days I gave

To the suffering race of men. And yet, indeed,

Methinks they suffer still. Tyrannous growths

And monstrous vex them still. Pestilence lurks

And sweeps them down. Treacheries come, and wars,

And slay them still. Vaulting ambition leaps

And falls in bloodshed still. But I am here

At rest, and no man kneels to me, or keeps

Reverence for strength mighty yet unabused—

Strength which is Power, God's choicest gift, more rare

And precious than all Beauty, or the charm

Of Wisdom, since it is the instrument

Thro' which all Nature works. For now the earth

Is full of meekness, and a new God rules,

Teaching strange precepts of humility

And mercy and forgiveness. Yet I trow

There is no lack of bloodshed and deceit

And groanings, and the tyrant works his wrong

Even as of old; but now there is no arm

Like mine, made strong by Zeus, to beat him down,

Him and his wrong together. Yet I know

I am not all discrowned. The strong brave souls,

The manly tender hearts, whom tale of wrong

To woman or child, to all weak things and small,

Fires like a blow; calling the righteous flush

Of anger to the brow; knotting the cords

Of muscle on the arm; with one desire

To hew the spoiler down, and make an end,

And go their way for others; making light

Of toil and pain, and too laborious days,

And peril; beat unchanged, albeit they serve

A Lord of meekness. For the world still needs

Its champion as of old, and finds him still.

Not always now with mighty sinews and thews

Like mine, though still these profit, but keen brain

And voice to move men's souls to love the right

And hate the wrong; even tho' the bodily form

Be weak, of giant strength, strong to assail

The hydra heads of Evil, and to slay

The monsters that now waste them: Ignorance,

Self-seeking, coward fears, the hate of Man,

Disguised as love of God. These there are still

With task as hard as mine. For what was it

To strive with bodily ills, and do great deeds

Of daring and of strength, and bear the crown,

To his who wages lifelong, doubtful strife

With an impalpable foe; conquering indeed,

But, ere he hears the pæan or sees the pomp

Laid low in the arms of Death? And tho' men cease

To worship at my shrine, yet not the less

I hold, it is the toils I knew, the pains

I bore for others, which have kept the heart

Of manhood undefiled, and nerved the arm

Of sacrifice, and made the martyr strong

To do and bear, and taught the race of men

How godlike 'tis to suffer thro' life, and die

At last for others' good!"

                                              The strong god ceased,

And stood a little, musing; blest indeed,

But bearing, as it seemed, some faintest trace

Of earthly struggle still, not the gay ease

Of the elder heaven-born gods.

 

 

APHRODITÉ

                                                             And then there came

Beauty and Joy in one, bearing the form

Of woman. How to reach with halting words

That infinite Perfection? All have known

The breathing marbles which the Greek has left

Who saw her near, and strove to fix her charms,

And exquisitely failed; or those fair forms

The Painter offered at a later shrine,

And failed. Nay, what are words?—he knows it well

Who loves, or who has loved.

                                                          She with a smile

Playing around her rosy lips; as plays

The sunbeam on a stream:

                                                   "Shall I complain

Men kneel to me no longer, taking to them

Some graver, sterner worship; grown too wise

For fleeting joys of Love? Nay, Love is Youth,

And still the world is young. Still shall I reign

Within the hearts of men, while Time shall last

And Life renews itself. All Life that is,

From the weak things of earth or sea or air,

Which creep or float for an hour; to godlike man—

All know me and are mine. I am the source

And mother of all, both gods and men; the spring

Of Force and Joy, which, penetrating all

Within the hidden depths of the Unknown,

Sets the blind seed of Being, and from the bond

Of incomplete and dual Essences

Evolves the harmony which is Life. The world

Were dead without my rays, who am the Light

Which vivifies the world. Nay, but for me,

The universal order which attracts

Sphere unto sphere, and keeps them in their paths

For ever, were no more. All things are bound

Within my golden chain, whose name is Love.

 

      And if there be, indeed, some sterner souls

Or sunk in too much learning, or hedged round

By care and greed, or haply too much rapt

By pale ascetic fervours, to delight

To kneel to me, the universal voice

Scorns them as those who, missing willingly

The good that Nature offers, dwell unblest

Who might be blest, but would not. Every voice

Of bard in every age has hymned me. All

The breathing marbles, all the heavenly hues

Of painting, praise me. Even the loveless shades

Of dim monastic cloisters show some gleam,

Tho' faint, of me. Amid the busy throngs

Of cities reign I, and o'er lonely plains,

Beyond the ice-fields of the frozen North,

And the warm waves of undiscovered seas.

 

      For I was born out of the sparkling foam

Which lights the crest of the blue mystic wave,

Stirred by the wandering breath of Life's pure dawn

From a young soul's calm depths. There, without voice,

Stretched on the breathing curve of a young breast,

Fluttering a little, fresh from the great deep

Of life, and creamy as the opening rose,

Naked I lie, naked yet unashamed,

While youth's warm tide steals round me with a kiss,

And floods each limb with fairness. Shame I know not—

Shame is for wrong, and not for innocence—

The veil which Error grasps to hide itself

From the awful Eye. But I, I lie unveiled

And unashamed—the livelong day I lie,

The warm wave murmuring to me; and, all night,

Hidden in the moonlit caves of happy Sleep,

I dream until the morning and am glad.

 

      Why should I seek to clothe myself, and hide

The treasure of my Beauty? Shame may wait

On those for whom 'twas given. The sties of sense

Are none of mine; the brutish, loveless wrong,

The venal charm, the simulated flush

Of fleshly passion, they are none of mine,

Only corruptions of me. Yet I know

The counterfeit the stronger, since gross souls

And brutish sway the earth; and yet I hold

That sense itself is sacred, and I deem

'Twere better to grow soft and sink in sense

Than gloat o'er blood and wrong.

                                                                                My kingdom is

Over infinite grades of being. All breathing things,

From the least crawling insect to the brute,

From brute to man, confess me. Yet in man

I find my worthiest worship. Where man is,

A youth and a maid, a youth and a maid, nought else

Is wanting for my temple. Every clime

Kneels to me—the long breaker swells and falls

Under the palms, mixed with the merry noise

Of savage bridals, and the straight brown limbs

Know me, and over all the endless plains

I reign, and by the tents on the hot sand

And sea-girt isles am queen, and on the side

Of silent mountains, where the white cots gleam

Upon the green hill pastures, and no sound

But the thunder of the avalanche is borne

To the listening rocks around; and in fair lands[254]

Where all is peace; where thro' the happy hush

Of tranquil summer evenings, 'mid the corn,

Or thro' cool arches of the gadding vines,

The lovers stray together hand in hand,

Hymning my praise; and by the stately streets

Of echoing cities—over all the earth,

Palace and cot, mountain and plain and sea,

The burning South, the icy North, the old

And immemorial East, the unbounded West,

No new god comes to spoil me utterly—

All worship and are mine!"

                                                      With a sweet smile

Upon her rosy mouth, the goddess ceased;

And when she spake no more, the silence weighed

As heavy on my soul as when it takes

Some gracious melody, and leaves the ear

Unsatisfied and longing, till the fount

Of sweetness springs again.

Monday's Illustrated Word: " Ring of Death" by Unknown Writer (in English)

 art by A. C. Hollingsworth - Horrific #4- Harwell Publications, Inc., March 1953.

 

General Audience by Pope Benedict XVI (translated into Portuguese)

Vaticano, 27 de Janeiro de 2010.

 

Queridos irmãos e irmãs,

Numa catequese recente já ilustrei o papel providencial que a Ordem dos Frades Menores e a Ordem dos Padres Pregadores, fundadas, respectivamente, por São Francisco de Assis e por São Domingos de Gusmão, tiveram na renovação da Igreja do seu tempo. Hoje, gostaria de vos apresentar a figura de Francisco, um autêntico “gigante” da santidade, que continua a fascinar muitíssimas pessoas de todas as idades e religiões.

“Nasceu no mundo um sol”. Com estas palavras, na Divina Comédia (Paraíso, Canto XI), o sumo poeta italiano Dante Alighieri alude ao nascimento de Francisco, ocorrido entre o final do ano 1181 e o início de 1182, em Assis. Pertencente a uma família rica – o pai era comerciante de tecidos – Francisco transcorreu uma adolescência e uma juventude tranquilas, cultivando os ideais cavalheirescos da época. Com vinte anos participou numa campanha militar, e foi aprisionado. Adoeceu e foi libertado. Depois do regresso a Assis, começou nele um lento processo de conversão espiritual, que o levou a abandonar gradualmente o estilo de vida mundano que tinha praticado até então.

Remontam a esta época os célebres episódios do encontro com o leproso, no qual Francisco, descendo do cavalo, deu-lhe o ósculo da paz, e da mensagem do Crucifixo na pequena Igreja de São Damião. Três vezes Cristo, na Cruz, ganhou vida, e disse-lhe: “Vai, Francisco, e repara a minha Igreja em ruínas”.

Este simples acontecimento da palavra do Senhor ouvida na igreja de São Damião esconde um simbolismo profundo. Imediatamente, São Francisco é chamado a reparar esta pequena igreja, mas o estado de ruínas deste edifício é símbolo da situação dramática e preocupante da própria Igreja naquele tempo, com uma fé superficial que não forma e não transforma a vida, com um clero pouco zeloso, com o refrear-se do amor; uma destruição interior da Igreja que implica também uma decomposição da unidade, com o nascimento de movimentos heréticos.

Contudo, no centro desta Igreja em ruínas está o Crucifixo e fala: chama à renovação, chama Francisco a um trabalho manual para reparar concretamente a pequena igreja de São Damião, símbolo da chamada mais profunda a renovar a própria Igreja de Cristo, com a sua radicalidade de fé e com o seu entusiasmo de amor a Cristo.

Esse acontecimento, que aconteceu provavelmente em 1205, faz pensar em outro evento semelhante que se verificou em 1207: o sonho do Papa Inocêncio III. Ele vê em sonhos que a Basílica de São João de Latrão, a igreja-mãe de todas as igrejas, está a desabar, e um religioso pequeno e insignificante ampara com os seus ombros a igreja, para que não caia. É interessante notar, por um lado, que não é o Papa quem dá ajuda para que a igreja não desabe, mas um religioso pequeno e insignificante, que o Papa reconhece em Francisco que o visita.

Inocêncio III era um Papa poderoso, de grande cultura teológica, assim como de grande poder político; contudo não é ele quem renova a Igreja, mas um religioso pequeno e insignificante: é São Francisco, chamado por Deus. Por outro lado, é importante observar que São Francisco não renova a Igreja sem ou contra o Papa, mas em comunhão com ele. As duas realidades caminham juntas: o Sucessor de Pedro, os Bispos, a Igreja fundada na sucessão dos Apóstolos e o carisma novo que o Espírito Santo cria neste momento para renovar a Igreja. Ao mesmo tempo, cresce a verdadeira renovação.

Voltemos à vida de São Francisco. Dado que o pai, Bernardone, lhe reprovava a demasiada generosidade para com os pobres, Francisco, diante do Bispo de Assis, com um gesto simbólico despojou-se das suas roupas, com a intenção de renunciar assim à herança paterna: como no momento da criação, Francisco nada possui, mas só a vida que Deus lhe doou, em cujas mãos ele se entrega. Depois, viveu como um eremita, até quando, em 1208, teve lugar outro acontecimento fundamental no itinerário da sua conversão: ouvindo um trecho do Evangelho de Mateus – o sermão de Jesus aos Apóstolos enviados em missão – Francisco sentiu-se chamado a viver na pobreza e a dedicar-se à pregação.

Outros companheiros se uniram a ele, e em 1209 veio a Roma, para submeter ao Papa Inocêncio III o projeto de uma nova forma de vida cristã. Recebeu um acolhimento paterno daquele grande Pontífice que, iluminado pelo Senhor, intuiu a origem divina do movimento suscitado por Francisco. O Pobrezinho de Assis tinha compreendido que cada carisma doado pelo Espírito Santo deve ser colocado ao serviço do Corpo de Cristo, que é a Igreja; portanto agiu sempre em plena comunhão com a autoridade eclesiástica. Na vida dos santos não há contraste entre carisma profético e carisma de governo e, se surge alguma tensão, eles sabem esperar com paciência os tempos do Espírito Santo.

Na realidade, alguns historiadores no século XIX e também no século passado procuraram criar, por detrás do Francisco da tradição, um chamado “Francisco histórico”, assim como se procura criar por detrás do Jesus dos Evangelhos, um chamado “Jesus histórico”. Este Francisco histórico não teria sido um homem de Igreja, mas um homem relacionado imediatamente só com Cristo, um homem que queria criar uma renovação do povo de Deus, sem formas canônicas nem hierarquia. A verdade é que São Francisco teve realmente uma relação muito imediata com Jesus e com a Palavra de Deus, que queria seguir sine glossa, isto é, tal qual é, em toda a sua radicalidade e verdade.

Verdade que, inicialmente, ele não tinha a intenção de criar uma Ordem com as formas canônicas necessárias, mas simplesmente desejava renovar o povo de Deus e, com a Palavra de Deus e com a Presença do Senhor, convocá-lo de novo para a escuta da mesma Palavra e para a obediência verbal a Cristo. Porém, além disso, ele sabia que Cristo nunca é “meu”, mas é sempre “nosso”, que não posso tê-lo “eu” e reconstruir “eu”, indo contra a Igreja, a sua vontade e o seu ensinamento, mas só na comunhão da Igreja construída sobre a sucessão dos Apóstolos é que se renova também a obediência à Palavra de Deus.

É também verdade que não tinha a intenção de criar uma nova ordem, mas apenas de renovar o povo de Deus para o Senhor que vem. Mas compreendeu, com sofrimento e dor, que tudo deve ter a sua ordem, que também o Direito da Igreja é necessário para dar forma à renovação, e assim inseriu-se realmente de modo total, com o coração, na comunhão da Igreja, com o Papa e com os Bispos.

Sabia Francisco, sempre, que o centro da Igreja é a Eucaristia, na qual o Corpo de Cristo e o seu Sangue se tornam presentes. Através do Sacerdócio, a Eucaristia é a Igreja. Onde caminham juntos Sacerdócio de Cristo e comunhão da Igreja, então ali habita também a Palavra de Deus. O verdadeiro Francisco histórico é o Francisco da Igreja, e precisamente deste modo fala também aos não crentes, aos fiéis de outras confissões e religiões.

Francisco e seus frades, cada vez mais numerosos, estabeleceram-se na Porciúncula, ou igreja de Santa Maria dos Anjos, lugar sagrado por excelência da espiritualidade franciscana. Também Clara, uma jovem de Assis, de família nobre, pôs-se na escola de Francisco. Assim, teve origem a Segunda Ordem franciscana, a das Clarissas, outra experiência destinada a dar frutos insignes de santidade na Igreja.

Também o sucessor de Inocêncio III, Papa Honório III, com a sua bula Cum dilecti (1218), apoiou o singular desenvolvimento dos primeiros Frades Menores, que iam abrindo as suas missões em diversos países da Europa e até em Marrocos. Em 1219, Francisco obteve a autorização para ir falar, no Egito, com o sultão muçulmano Melek-el-Kamel, para pregar também ali o Evangelho de Jesus. Desejo ressaltar este episódio da vida de São Francisco, que tem uma grande atualidade.

Numa época na qual se estava a verificar um confronto entre o Cristianismo e o Islã, Francisco, intencionalmente armado só com a sua fé e com a sua mansidão pessoal, percorreu com eficácia o caminho do diálogo. As crônicas falam-nos de um acolhimento benévolo e cordial recebido do sultão muçulmano. É um modelo no qual também hoje se deveriam inspirar as relações entre cristãos e muçulmanos: promover um diálogo na verdade, no respeito recíproco e na compreensão mútua (cf. Nostra aetate, 3). Parece que depois, em 1220, Francisco visitou a Terra Santa, lançando assim uma semente que teria dado muito fruto: de fato, os seus filhos espirituais fizeram dos lugares nos quais Jesus viveu um âmbito privilegiado da sua missão. Com gratidão, penso hoje nos grandes méritos da Custódia franciscana da Terra Santa.

Tendo regressado à Itália, Francisco entregou o governo da Ordem ao seu vigário, frei Pedro Cattani, enquanto o Papa confiou à proteção do Cardeal Ugolino, futuro Sumo Pontífice Gregório IX, a Ordem, que contava cada vez mais adeptos. Por seu lado, o Fundador, totalmente dedicado à pregação que desempenhava com grande sucesso, redigiu uma Regra, depois aprovada pelo Papa.

Em 1224, na ermida de La Verna, Francisco vê o Crucificado na forma de um serafim e, do encontro com o Serafim crucificado, recebeu os estigmas; ele torna-se assim um com Cristo Crucificado: um dom que expressa a sua íntima identificação com o Senhor.

A morte de Francisco – o seu transitus – aconteceu na noite de 3 de outubro de 1226, na Porciúncula. Depois de ter abençoado seus filhos espirituais, ele faleceu, estendido no chão nu. Dois anos mais tarde, foi construída em sua honra uma grande basílica em Assis, que ainda hoje é meta de muitíssimos peregrinos, que podem venerar o túmulo do santo e gozar da visão dos afrescos de Giotto, pintor que ilustrou de modo magnífico a vida de Francisco.

Foi dito que Francisco representa um alter Christus, que era verdadeiramente um ícone vivo de Cristo. Ele foi chamado também “o irmão de Jesus”. De fato, era este o seu ideal: ser como Jesus; contemplar o Cristo do Evangelho, amá-lo intensamente, imitar as suas virtudes. Em particular, ele quis dar um valor fundamental à pobreza interior e exterior, ensinando-a também aos filhos espirituais. A primeira bem-aventurança do Sermão da Montanha – bem-aventurados os pobres de espírito, porque deles é o Reino dos Céus (Mt 5, 3) – encontrou uma luminosa realização na vida e nas palavras de São Francisco.

Deveras, queridos amigos, os santos são os melhores intérpretes da Bíblia; eles, encarnando na sua vida a Palavra de Deus, tornam-na atraente como nunca, de modo que fala realmente conosco. O testemunho de Francisco, que amou a pobreza para seguir Cristo com dedicação e liberdade totais, continua a ser também para nós um convite a cultivar a pobreza interior para crescer na confiança em Deus, unindo também um estilo de vida sóbrio e um desapego dos bens materiais.

Em Francisco, o amor a Cristo expressou-se de modo especial na adoração do Santíssimo Sacramento da Eucaristia. Nas Fontes franciscanas leem-se expressões comovedoras, como esta: “Toda a humanidade trema, o Universo inteiro trema e o Céu exulte, quando no Altar, na mão do sacerdote, está Cristo, o Filho do Deus vivo. Ó favor maravilhoso! Ó sublimidade humilde, que o Senhor do Universo, Deus e Filho de Deus, a tal ponto se humilhe que se esconda para a nossa salvação sob uma modesta forma de pão” (Francisco de Assis, Escritos, Editrici Franciscane, Pádua, 2002, 401).

Neste ano sacerdotal, apraz-me recordar também uma recomendação dirigida por Francisco aos sacerdotes: “Quando quiserem celebrar a Missa, puros e de modo puro, façam com reverência o verdadeiro Sacrifício do santíssimo Corpo e Sangue de Nosso Senhor Jesus Cristo” (Francisco de Assis, Escritos, 399). Francisco mostrava sempre uma grande deferência em relação aos sacerdotes, e recomendava que fossem sempre respeitados, também no caso de serem pessoalmente pouco dignos. Dava como motivação deste profundo respeito o fato de que eles receberam o dom de consagrar a Eucaristia. Queridos irmãos no sacerdócio, nunca esqueçamos este ensinamento: a santidade da Eucaristia pede que sejamos puros, que vivamos de modo coerente com o Mistério que celebramos.

Do amor a Cristo nasce o amor às pessoas e também a todas as criaturas de Deus. Eis outra característica da espiritualidade de Francisco: o sentido da fraternidade universal e o amor pela criação, que lhe inspirou o célebre Cântico das criaturas. É uma mensagem muito atual. Como recordei na minha recente Encíclica Caritas in veritate, só é sustentável um desenvolvimento que respeite a criação e que não danifique o meio ambiente (cf. nn. 48-52), e na Mensagem para o Dia Mundial da Paz deste ano ressaltei que também a construção de uma paz sólida está relacionada com o respeito da Criação. Francisco recorda-nos que na Criação se manifesta a sabedoria e a benevolência do Criador. A natureza é entendida por ele precisamente como uma linguagem na qual Deus fala conosco, na qual a realidade se torna transparente e nós podemos falar de e com Deus.

Queridos amigos, Francisco foi um grande santo e um homem jubiloso. A sua simplicidade, a sua humildade, a sua fé, o seu amor a Cristo, a sua bondade para cada homem e mulher fizeram-no feliz em todas as situações. De fato, entre a santidade e a alegria, subsiste uma relação íntima e indissolúvel. Um escritor francês disse que no mundo só existe uma tristeza: a de não ser santo, isto é, de não estar próximo de Deus. Olhando para o testemunho de São Francisco, compreendemos que é este o segredo da verdadeira felicidade: tornar-nos santos, próximos de Deus!

Que a Virgem, ternamente amada por Francisco, nos obtenha este dom. Confiemo-nos a ela com as mesmas palavras do Pobrezinho de Assis:

 

    Santa Maria Virgem, não existe outra semelhante a ti nascida no mundo entre as mulheres, filha e escrava do altíssimo Rei e Pai celeste, Mãe do nosso santíssimo Senhor Jesus Cristo, esposa do Espírito Santo: interceda por nós... junto do teu santíssimo e dileto Filho, Senhor e Mestre!

    (Francisco de Assis, Escritos, 163)

 

BENTO XVI

 

Friday's Sung Word: "Mulata Fuzarqueira" by Noel Rosa (in Portuguese)

 Mulata fuzarqueira, artigo raro
Que samba de dar rasteira
E passa as noite inteira em claro
Não quer mais saber de preparar as gordura
Nem usar mais das costura
O bom exemplo já te dei
Mudei a minha conduta
Mas agora me aprumei

Mulata fuzarqueira da Gamboa
Só anda com tipo à toa
Embarca em qualquer canoa

Mulata, vou contar as minhas mágoa
Meu amô não tem R
Mas é amô debaixo d'água
Não gosto de te ver sempre a fazer certos papel
A se passar pros coronel
Nasceste com uma boa sina
Se hoje andas bem no luxo
É passando a beiçolina

Mulata, tu tem que te preparar
Pra receber o azar
Que algum dia há de chegar
Aceita o meu braço e vem entrar nas comida
Pra começar outra vida
Comigo tu podes viver bem
Pois aonde um passa fome
Dois podem passar também.

 

You can listen "Mulata Fuzarqueira" sung by Noel Rosa  and the Bando de Tangarás here.

Thursday's Serial: "Against Heresies" by St. Irenaeus of Lyon (translated into English by Alexander Roberts and William Rambaut) - VII

 

Chapter 7

Created things are not the images of those Æons who are within the Pleroma.

1. While the Demiurge was thus ignorant of all things, they tell us that the Saviour conferred honour upon the Pleroma by the creation [which he summoned into existence] through means of his Mother, inasmuch as he produced similitudes and images of those things which are above. But I have already shown that it was impossible that anything should exist beyond the Pleroma (in which external region they tell us that images were made of those things which are within the Pleroma), or that this world was formed by any other one than the Supreme God. But it is a pleasant thing to overthrow them on every side, and to prove them vendors of falsehood; let us say, in opposition to them, that if these things were made by the Saviour to the honour of those which are above, after their likeness, then it behooved them always to endure, that those things which have been honoured should perpetually continue in honour. But if they do in fact pass away, what is the use of this very brief period of honour — an honour which at one time had no existence, and which shall again come to nothing? In that case I shall prove that the Saviour is rather an aspirant after vainglory, than one who honours those things which are above. For what honour can those things which are temporal confer on such as are eternal and endure for ever? Or those which pass away on such as remain? Or those which are corruptible on such as are incorruptible?— since, even among men who are themselves mortal, there is no value attached to that honour which speedily passes away, but to that which endures as long as it possibly can. But those things which, as soon as they are made, come to an end, may justly be said rather to have been formed for the contempt of such as are thought to be honoured by them; and that that which is eternal is contumeliously treated when its image is corrupted and dissolved. But what if their Mother had not wept, and laughed, and been involved in despair? The Saviour would not then have possessed any means of honouring the Fulness, inasmuch as her last state of confusion did not have substance of its own by which it might honour the Propator.

2. Alas for the honour of vainglory which at once passes away, and no longer appears! There will be some Æon, in whose case such honour will not be thought at all to have had an existence, and then the things which are above will be unhonoured; or it will be necessary to produce once more another Mother weeping, and in despair, in order to the honour of the Pleroma. What a dissimilar, and at the same time blasphemous image! Do you tell me that an image of the Only-begotten was produced by the former of the world, whom again you wish to be considered the Nous (mind) of the Father of all, and [yet maintain] that this image was ignorant of itself, ignorant of creation, — ignorant, too, of the Mother, — ignorant of everything that exists, and of those things which were made by it; and are you not ashamed while, in opposition to yourselves, you ascribe ignorance even to the Only-begotten Himself? For if these things [below] were made by the Saviour after the similitude of those which are above, while He (the Demiurge) who was made after such similitude was in so great ignorance, it necessarily follows that around Him, and in accordance with Him, after whose likeness he that is thus ignorant was formed, ignorance of the kind in question spiritually exists. For it is not possible, since both were produced spiritually, and neither fashioned nor composed, that in some the likeness was preserved, while in others the likeness of the image was spoiled, that image which was here produced that it might be according to the image of that production which is above. But if it is not similar, the charge will then attach to the Saviour, who produced a dissimilar image — of being, so to speak, an incompetent workman. For it is out of their power to affirm that the Saviour had not the faculty of production, since they style Him All Things. If, then, the image is dissimilar, he is a poor workman, and the blame lies, according to their hypothesis, with the Saviour. If, on the other hand, it is similar, then the same ignorance will be found to exist in the Nous (mind) of their Propator, that is, in the Only-begotten. The Nous of the Father, in that case, was ignorant of Himself; ignorant, too, of the Father; ignorant, moreover, of those very things which were formed by Him. But if He has knowledge, it necessarily follows also that he who was formed after his likeness by the Saviour should know the things which are like; and thus, according to their own principles, their monstrous blasphemy is overthrown.

3. Apart from this, however, how can those things which belong to creation, various, manifold, and innumerable as they are, be the images of those thirty Æons which are within the Pleroma, whose names, as these men fix them, I have set forth in the book which precedes this? And not only will they be unable to adapt the [vast] variety of creation at large to the [comparative] smallness of their Pleroma, but they cannot do this even with respect to any one part of it, whether [that possessed by] celestial or terrestrial beings, or those that live in the waters. For they themselves testify that their Pleroma consists of thirty Æons; but any one will undertake to show that, in a single department of those [created beings] which have been mentioned, they reckon that there are not thirty, but many thousands of species. How then can those things, which constitute such a multiform creation, which are opposed in nature to each other, and disagree among themselves, and destroy the one the other, be the images and likenesses of the thirty Æons of the Pleroma, if indeed, as they declare, these being possessed of one nature, are of equal and similar properties, and exhibit no differences [among themselves]? For it was incumbent, if these things are images of those Æons — inasmuch as they declare that some men are wicked by nature, and some, on the other hand, naturally good — to point out such differences also among their Æons, and to maintain that some of them were produced naturally good, while some were naturally evil, so that the supposition of the likeness of those things might harmonize with the Æons. Moreover, since there are in the world some creatures that are gentle, and others that are fierce, some that are innocuous, while others are hurtful and destroy the rest; some have their abode on the earth, others in the water, others in the air, and others in the heaven; in like manner, they are bound to show that the Æons possess such properties, if indeed the one are the images of the others. And besides; "the eternal fire which the Father has prepared for the devil and his angels," Matthew 25:41 — they ought to show of which of those Æons that are above it is the image; for it, too, is reckoned part of the creation.

4. If, however, they say that these things are the images of the Enthymesis of that Æon who fell into passion, then, first of all, they will act impiously against their Mother, by declaring her to be the first cause of evil and corruptible images. And then, again, how can those things which are manifold, and dissimilar, and contrary in their nature, be the images of one and the same Being? And if they say that the angels of the Pleroma are numerous, and that those things which are many are the images of these — not in this way either will the account they give be satisfactory. For, in the first place, they are then bound to point out differences among the angels of the Pleroma, which are mutually opposed to each other, even as the images existing below are of a contrary nature among themselves. And then, again, since there are many, yea, innumerable angels who surround the Creator, as all the prophets acknowledge — [saying, for instance,] "Ten thousand times ten thousand stood beside Him, and many thousands of thousands ministered unto Him," — then, according to them, the angels of the Pleroma will have as images the angels of the Creator, and the entire creation remains in the image of the Pleroma, but so that the thirty Æons no longer correspond to the manifold variety of the creation.

5. Still further, if these things [below] were made after the similitude of those [above], after the likeness of which again will those then be made? For if the Creator of the world did not form these things directly from His own conception, but, like an architect of no ability, or a boy receiving his first lesson, copied them from archetypes furnished by others, then whence did their Bythus obtain the forms of that creation which He at first produced? It clearly follows that He must have received the model from some other one who is above Him, and that one, in turn, from another. And none the less [for these suppositions], the talk about images, as about gods, will extend to infinity, if we do not at once fix our mind on one Artificer, and on one God, who of Himself formed those things which have been created. Or is it really the case that, in regard to mere men, one will allow that they have of themselves invented what is useful for the purposes of life, but will not grant to that God who formed the world, that of Himself He created the forms of those things which have been made, and imparted to it its orderly arrangement?

6. But, again, how can these things [below] be images of those [above], since they are really contrary to them, and can in no respect have sympathy with them? For those things which are contrary to each other may indeed be destructive of those to which they are contrary, but can by no means be their images — as, for instance, water and fire; or, again, light and darkness, and other such things, can never be the images of one another. In like manner, neither can those things which are corruptible and earthly, and of a compound nature, and transitory, be the images of those which, according to these men, are spiritual; unless these very things themselves be allowed to be compound, limited in space, and of a definite shape, and thus no longer spiritual, and diffused, and spreading into vast extent, and incomprehensible. For they must of necessity be possessed of a definite figure, and confined within certain limits, that they may be true images; and then it is decided that they are not spiritual. If, however, these men maintain that they are spiritual, and diffused, and incomprehensible, how can those things which are possessed of figure, and confined within certain limits, be the images of such as are destitute of figure and incomprehensible?

7. If, again, they affirm that neither according to configuration nor formation, but according to number and the order of production, those things [above] are the images [of these below], then, in the first place, these things [below] ought not to be spoken of as images and likenesses of those Æons that are above. For how can the things which have neither the fashion nor shape of those [above] be their images? And, in the next place, they would adapt both the numbers and productions of the Æons above, so as to render them identical with and similar to those that belong to the creation [below]. But now, since they refer to only thirty Æons, and declare that the vast multitude of things which are embraced within the creation [below] are images of those that are but thirty, we may justly condemn them as utterly destitute of sense.

 

 

Chapter 8

Created things are not a shadow of the Pleroma.

1. If, again, they declare that these things [below] are a shadow of those [above], as some of them are bold enough to maintain, so that in this respect they are images, then it will be necessary for them to allow that those things which are above are possessed of bodies. For those bodies which are above do cast a shadow, but spiritual substances do not, since they can in no degree darken others. If, however, we also grant them this point (though it is, in fact, an impossibility), that there is a shadow belonging to those essences which are spiritual and lucent, into which they declare their Mother descended; yet, since those things [which are above] are eternal, and that shadow which is cast by them endures for ever, [it follows that] these things [below] are also not transitory, but endure along with those which cast their shadow over them. If, on the other hand, these things [below] are transitory, it is a necessary consequence that those [above] also, of which these are the shadow, pass away; while; if they endure, their shadow likewise endures.

2. If, however, they maintain that the shadow spoken of does not exist as being produced by the shade of [those above], but simply in this respect, that [the things below] are far separated from those [above], they will then charge the light of their Father with weakness and insufficiency, as if it cannot extend so far as these things, but fails to fill that which is empty, and to dispel the shadow, and that when no one is offering any hindrance. For, according to them, the light of their Father will be changed into darkness and buried in obscurity, and will come to an end in those places which are characterized by emptiness, since it cannot penetrate and fill all things. Let them then no longer declare that their Bythus is the fullness of all things, if indeed he has neither filled nor illuminated that which is vacuum and shadow; or, on the other hand, let them cease talking of vacuum and shadow, if the light of their Father does in truth fill all things.

3. Beyond the primary Father, then — that is, the God who is over all — there can neither be any Pleroma into which they declare the Enthymesis of that Æon who suffered passion, descended (so that the Pleroma itself, or the primary God, should not be limited and circumscribed by that which is beyond, and should, in fact, be contained by it); nor can vacuum or shadow have any existence, since the Father exists beforehand, so that His light cannot fail, and find end in a vacuum. It is, moreover, irrational and impious to conceive of a place in which He who is, according to them, Propator, and Proarche, and Father of all, and of this Pleroma, ceases and has an end. Nor, again, is it allowable, for the reasons already stated, to allege that some other being formed so vast a creation in the bosom of the Father, either with or without His consent. For it is equally impious and infatuated to affirm that so great a creation was formed by angels, or by some particular production ignorant of the true God in that territory which is His own. Nor is it possible that those things which are earthly and material could have been formed within their Pleroma, since that is wholly spiritual. And further, it is not even possible that those things which belong to a multiform creation, and have been formed with mutually opposite qualities [could have been created] after the image of the things above, since these (i.e., the Æons) are said to be few, and of a like formation, and homogeneous. Their talk, too, about the shadow of kenoma— that is, of a vacuum — has in all points turned out false. Their figment, then, [in whatever way viewed,] has been proved groundless, and their doctrines untenable. Empty, too, are those who listen to them, and are verily descending into the abyss of perdition.

 

 

Chapter 9

There is but one Creator of the world, God the Father: this the constant belief of the Church.

1. That God is the Creator of the world is accepted even by those very persons who in many ways speak against Him, and yet acknowledge Him, styling Him the Creator, and an angel, not to mention that all the Scriptures call out [to the same effect], and the Lord teaches us of this Father who is in heaven, and no other, as I shall show in the sequel of this work. For the present, however, that proof which is derived from those who allege doctrines opposite to ours, is of itself sufficient — all men, in fact, consenting to this truth: the ancients on their part preserving with special care, from the tradition of the first-formed man, this persuasion, while they celebrate the praises of one God, the Maker of heaven and earth; others, again, after them, being reminded of this fact by the prophets of God, while the very heathen learned it from creation itself. For even creation reveals Him who formed it, and the very work made suggests Him who made it, and the world manifests Him who ordered it. The Universal Church, moreover, through the whole world, has received this tradition from the apostles.

2. This God, then, being acknowledged, as I have said, and receiving testimony from all to the fact of His existence, that Father whom they conjure into existence is beyond doubt untenable, and has no witnesses [to his existence]. Simon Magus was the first who said that he himself was God over all, and that the world was formed by his angels. Then those who succeeded him, as I have shown in the first book, by their several opinions, still further depraved [his teaching] through their impious and irreligious doctrines against the Creator. These [heretics now referred to], being the disciples of those mentioned, render such as assent to them worse than the heathen. For the former "serve the creature rather than the Creator," Romans 1:25 and "those which are not gods," Galatians 4:8 notwithstanding that they ascribe the first place in Deity to that God who was the Maker of this universe. But the latter maintain that He, [i.e., the Creator of this world,] is the fruit of a defect, and describe Him as being of an animal nature, and as not knowing that Power which is above Him, while He also exclaims, "I am God, and besides Me there is no other God." Isaiah 46:9 Affirming that He lies, they are themselves liars, attributing all sorts of wickedness to Him; and conceiving of one who is not above this Being as really having an existence, they are thus convicted by their own views of blasphemy against that God who really exists, while they conjure into existence a god who has no existence, to their own condemnation. And thus those who declare themselves "perfect," and as being possessed of the knowledge of all things, are found to be worse than the heathen, and to entertain more blasphemous opinions even against their own Creator.

 

 

Chapter 10

Perverse interpretations of Scripture by the heretics: God created all things out of nothing, and not from pre-existent matter.

1. It is therefore in the highest degree irrational, that we should take no account of Him who is truly God, and who receives testimony from all, while we inquire whether there is above Him that [other being] who really has no existence, and has never been proclaimed by any one. For that nothing has been clearly spoken regarding Him, they themselves furnish testimony; for since they, with wretched success, transfer to that being who has been conceived of by them, those parables [of Scripture] which, whatever the form in which they have been spoken, are sought after [for this purpose], it is manifest that they now generate another [god], who was never previously sought after. For by the fact that they thus endeavour to explain ambiguous passages of Scripture (ambiguous, however, not as if referring to another god, but as regards the dispensations of [the true] God), they have constructed another god, weaving, as I said before, ropes of sand, and affixing a more important to a less important question. For no question can be solved by means of another which itself awaits solution; nor, in the opinion of those possessed of sense, can an ambiguity be explained by means of another ambiguity, or enigmas by means of another greater enigma, but things of such character receive their solution from those which are manifest, and consistent and clear.

2. But these [heretics], while striving to explain passages of Scripture and parables, bring forward another more important, and indeed impious question, to this effect, "Whether there be really another god above that God who was the Creator of the world?" They are not in the way of solving the questions [which they propose]; for how could they find means of doing so? But they append an important question to one of less consequence, and thus insert [in their speculations] a difficulty incapable of solution. For in order that they may know "knowledge" itself (yet not learning this fact, that the Lord, when thirty years old, came to the baptism of truth), they do impiously despise that God who was the Creator, and who sent Him for the salvation of men. And that they may be deemed capable of informing us whence is the substance of matter, while they believe not that God, according to His pleasure, in the exercise of His own will and power, formed all things (so that those things which now are should have an existence) out of what did not previously exist, they have collected [a multitude of] vain discourses. They thus truly reveal their infidelity; they do not believe in that which really exists, and they have fallen away into [the belief of] that which has, in fact, no existence.

3. For, when they tell us that all moist substance proceeded from the tears of Achamoth, all lucid substance from her smile, all solid substance from her sadness, all mobile substance from her terror, and that thus they have sublime knowledge on account of which they are superior to others — how can these things fail to be regarded as worthy of contempt, and truly ridiculous? They do not believe that God (being powerful, and rich in all resources) created matter itself, inasmuch as they know not how much a spiritual and divine essence can accomplish. But they do believe that their Mother, whom they style a female from a female, produced from her passions aforesaid the so vast material substance of creation. They inquire, too, whence the substance of creation was supplied to the Creator; but they do not inquire whence [were supplied] to their Mother (whom they call the Enthymesis and impulse of the Æon that went astray) so great an amount of tears, or perspiration, or sadness, or that which produced the remainder of matter.

4. For, to attribute the substance of created things to the power and will of Him who is God of all, is worthy both of credit and acceptance. It is also agreeable [to reason], and there may be well said regarding such a belief, that "the things which are impossible with men are possible with God." Luke 18:27 While men, indeed, cannot make anything out of nothing, but only out of matter already existing, yet God is in this point pre-eminently superior to men, that He Himself called into being the substance of His creation, when previously it had no existence. But the assertion that matter was produced from the Enthymesis of an Æon going astray, and that the Æon [referred to] was far separated from her Enthymesis, and that, again, her passion and feeling, apart from herself, became matter — is incredible, infatuated, impossible, and untenable.

 

 

Chapter 11

The heretics, from their disbelief of the truth, have fallen into an abyss of error: reasons for investigating their systems.

1. They do not believe that He, who is God above all, formed by His Word, in His own territory, as He Himself pleased, the various and diversified [works of creation which exist], inasmuch as He is the former of all things, like a wise architect, and a most powerful monarch. But they believe that angels, or some power separate from God, and who was ignorant of Him, formed this universe. By this course, therefore, not yielding credit to the truth, but wallowing in falsehood, they have lost the bread of true life, and have fallen into vacuity and an abyss of shadow. They are like the dog of Æsop, which dropped the bread, and made an attempt at seizing its shadow, thus losing the [real] food. It is easy to prove from the very words of the Lord, that He acknowledges one Father and Creator of the world, and Fashioner of man, who was proclaimed by the law and the prophets, while He knows no other, and that this One is really God over all; and that He teaches that that adoption of sons pertaining to the Father, which is eternal life, takes place through Himself, conferring it [as He does] on all the righteous.

2. But since these men delight in attacking us, and in their true character of cavillers assail us with points which really tell not at all against us, bringing forward in opposition to us a multitude of parables and [captious] questions, I have thought it well, on the other side, first of all to put to them the following inquiries concerning their own doctrines, to exhibit their improbability, and to put an end to their audacity. After this has been done, [I intend] to bring forward the discourses of the Lord, so that they may not only be rendered destitute of the means of attacking us, but that, since they will be unable reasonably to reply to those questions which are put, they may see that their plan of argument is destroyed; so that, either returning to the truth, and humbling themselves, and ceasing from their multifarious phantasies, they may propitiate God for those blasphemies they have uttered against Him, and obtain salvation; or that, if they still persevere in that system of vainglory which has taken possession of their minds, they may at least find it necessary to change their kind of argument against us.

 

 

Chapter 12

The Triacontad of the heretics errs both by defect and excess: Sophia could never have produced anything apart from her consort; Logos and Sige could not have been contemporaries.

1. We may remark, in the first place, regarding their Triacontad, that the whole of it marvellously falls to ruin on both sides, that is, both as respects defect and excess. They say that to indicate it the Lord came to be baptized at the age of thirty years. But this assertion really amounts to a manifest subversion of their entire argument. As to defect, this happens as follows: first of all, because they reckon the Propator among the other Æons. For the Father of all ought not to be counted with other productions; He who was not produced with that which was produced; He who was unbegotten with that which was born; He whom no one comprehends with that which is comprehended by Him, and who is on this account [Himself] incomprehensible; and He who is without figure with that which has a definite shape. For inasmuch as He is superior to the rest, He ought not to be numbered with them, and that so that He who is impassible and not in error should be reckoned with an Æon subject to passion, and actually in error. For I have shown in the book which immediately precedes this, that, beginning with Bythus, they reckon up the Triacontad to Sophia, whom they describe as the erring Æon; and I have also there set forth the names of their [Æons]; but if He be not reckoned, there are no longer, on their own showing, thirty productions of Æons, but these then become only twenty-nine.

2. Next, with respect to the first production Ennœa, whom they also term Sige, from whom again they describe Nous and Aletheia as having been sent forth, they err in both particulars. For it is impossible that the thought (Ennœa) of any one, or his silence (Sige), should be understood apart from himself; and that, being sent forth beyond him, it should possess a special figure of its own. But if they assert that the (Ennœa) was not sent forth beyond Him, but continued one with the Propator, why then do they reckon her with the other Æons — with those who were not one [with the Father], and are on this account ignorant of His greatness? If, however, she was so united (let us take this also into consideration), there is then an absolute necessity, that from this united and inseparable conjunction, which constitutes but one being, there should proceed an unseparated and united production, so that it should not be dissimilar to Him who sent it forth. But if this be so, then just as Bythus and Sige, so also Nous and Aletheia will form one and the same being, ever cleaving mutually together. And inasmuch as the one cannot be conceived of without the other, just as water cannot [be conceived of] without [the thought of] moisture, or fire without [the thought of] heat, or a stone without [the thought] of hardness (for these things are mutually bound together, and the one cannot be separated from the other, but always co-exists with it), so it behooves Bythus to be united in the same way with Ennœa, and Nous with Aletheia. Logos and Zoe again, as being sent forth by those that are thus united, ought themselves to be united, and to constitute only one being. But, according to such a process of reasoning, Homo and Ecclesia too, and indeed all the remaining conjunctions of the Æons produced, ought to be united, and always to co-exist, the one with the other. For there is a necessity in their opinion, that a female Æon should exist side by side with a male one, inasmuch as she is, so to speak, [the forthputting of] his affection.

3. These things being so, and such opinions being proclaimed by them, they again venture, without a blush, to teach that the younger Æon of the Duodecad, whom they also style Sophia, did, apart from union with her consort, whom they call Theletus, endure passion, and separately, without any assistance from him, gave birth to a production which they name "a female from a female." They thus rush into such utter frenzy, as to form two most clearly opposite opinions respecting the same point. For if Bythus is ever one with Sige, Nous with Aletheia, Logos with Zoe, and so on, as respects the rest, how could Sophia, without union with her consort, either suffer or generate anything? And if, again, she did really suffer passion apart from him, it necessarily follows that the other conjunctions also admit of disjunction and separation among themselves — a thing which I have already shown to be impossible. It is also impossible, therefore, that Sophia suffered passion apart from Theletus; and thus, again, their whole system of argument is overthrown. For they have yet again derived the whole of remaining [material substance], like the composition of a tragedy, from that passion which they affirm she experienced apart from union with her consort.

4. If, however, they impudently maintain, in order to preserve from ruin their vain imaginations, that the rest of the conjunctions also were disjoined and separated from one another on account of this latest conjunction, then [I reply that], in the first place, they rest upon a thing which is impossible. For how can they separate the Propator from his Ennœa, or Nous from Aletheia, or Logos from Zoe, and so on with the rest? And how can they themselves maintain that they tend again to unity, and are, in fact, all at one, if indeed these very conjunctions, which are within the Pleroma, do not preserve unity, but are separate from one another; and that to such a degree, that they both endure passion and perform the work of generation without union one with another, just as hens do apart from intercourse with roosters.

5. Then, again, their first and first-begotten Ogdoad will be overthrown as follows: They must admit that Bythus and Sige, Nous and Aletheia, Logos and Zoe, Anthropos and Ecclesia, do individually dwell in the same Pleroma. But it is impossible that Sige (silence) can exist in the presence of Logos (speech), or again, that Logos can manifest himself in the presence of Sige. For these are mutually destructive of each other, even as light and darkness can by no possibility exist in the same place: for if light prevails, there cannot be darkness; and if darkness, there cannot be light, since, where light appears, darkness is put to flight. In like manner, where Sige is, there cannot be Logos; and where Logos is, there certainly cannot be Sige. But if they say that Logos simply exists within (unexpressed), Sige also will exist within, and will not the less be destroyed by the Logos within. But that he really is not merely conceived of in the mind, the very order of the production of their (Æons) shows.

6. Let them not then declare that the first and principal Ogdoad consists of Logos and Sige, but let them [as a matter of necessity] exclude either Sige or Logos; and then their first and principal Ogdoad is at an end. For if they describe the conjunctions [of the Æons] as united, then their whole argument fails to pieces. Since, if they were united, how could Sophia have generated a defect without union with her consort? If, on the other hand, they maintain that, as in production, each of the Æons possesses his own peculiar substance, then how can Sige and Logos manifest themselves in the same place? So far, then, with respect to defect.

7. But again, their Triacontad is overthrown as to excess by the following considerations. They represent Horos (whom they call by a variety of names which I have mentioned in the preceding book) as having been produced by Monogenes just like the other Æons. Some of them maintain that this Horos was produced by Monogenes, while others affirm that he was sent forth by the Propator himself in His own image. They affirm further, that a production was formed by Monogenes — Christ and the Holy Spirit; and they do not reckon these in the number of the Pleroma, nor the Saviour either, whom they also declare to be Totum (all things). Now, it is evident even to a blind man, that not merely thirty productions, as they maintain, were sent forth, but four more along with these thirty. For they reckon the Propator himself in the Pleroma, and those too, who in succession were produced by one another. Why is it, then, that those [other beings] are not reckoned as existing with these in the same Pleroma, since they were produced in the same manner? For what just reason can they assign for not reckoning along with the other Æons, either Christ, whom they describe as having, according to the Father's will, been produced by Monogenes, or the Holy Spirit, or Horos, whom they also call Soter (Saviour), and not even the Saviour Himself, who came to impart assistance and form to their Mother? Whether is this as if these latter were weaker than the former, and therefore unworthy of the name of Æons, or of being numbered among them, or as if they were superior and more excellent? But how could they be weaker, since they were produced for the establishment and rectification of the others? And then, again, they cannot possibly be superior to the first and principal Tetrad, by which they were also produced; for it, too, is reckoned in the number above mentioned. These latter beings, then, ought also to have been numbered in the Pleroma of the Æons, or that should be deprived of the honour of those Æons which bear this appellation (the Tetrad).

8. Since, therefore, their Triacontad is thus brought to nought, as I have shown, both with respect to defect and excess (for in dealing with such a number, either excess or defect [to any extent] will render the number untenable, and how much more so great variations?), it follows that what they maintain respecting their Ogdoad and Duodecad is a mere fable which cannot stand. Their whole system, moreover, falls to the ground, when their very foundation is destroyed and dissolved into Bythus, that is, into what has no existence. Let them, then, henceforth seek to set forth some other reasons why the Lord came to be baptized at the age of thirty years, and [explain in some other way] the Duodecad of the apostles; and [the fact stated regarding] her who suffered from an issue of blood; and all the other points respecting which they so madly labour in vain.

Good Reading: “The Barefoot Boy” by John Greenleaf Whittier (in English)

Blessings on thee, little man,

Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan!

With thy turned-up pantaloons,

And thy merry whistled tunes;

With thy red lip, redder still

Kissed by strawberries on the hill;

With the sunshine on thy face,

Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace;

From my heart I give thee joy, —

I was once a barefoot boy!

Prince thou art, — the grown-up man

Only is republican.

Let the million-dollared ride!

Barefoot, trudging at his side,

Thou hast more than he can buy

In the reach of ear and eye, —

Outward sunshine, inward joy:

Blessings on thee, barefoot boy!

 

Oh for boyhood's painless play,

Sleep that wakes in laughing day,

Health that mocks the doctor's rules,

Knowledge never learned of schools,

Of the wild bee's morning chase,

Of the wild-flower's time and place,

Flight of fowl and habitude

Of the tenants of the wood;

How the tortoise bears his shell,

How the woodchuck digs his cell,

And the ground-mole sinks his well;

How the robin feeds her young,

How the oriole's nest is hung;

Where the whitest lilies blow,

Where the freshest berries grow,

Where the ground-nut trails its vine,

Where the wood-grape's clusters shine;

Of the black wasp's cunning way,

Mason of his walls of clay,

And the architectural plans

Of gray hornet artisans!

For, eschewing books and tasks,

Nature answers all he asks;

Hand in hand with her he walks,

Face to face with her he talks,

Part and parcel of her joy, —

Blessings on the barefoot boy!

 

Oh for boyhood's time of June,

Crowding years in one brief moon,

When all things I heard or saw,

Me, their master, waited for.

I was rich in flowers and trees,

Humming-birds and honey-bees;

For my sport the squirrel played,

Plied the snouted mole his spade;

For my taste the blackberry cone

Purpled over hedge and stone;

Laughed the brook for my delight

Through the day and through the night,

Whispering at the garden wall,

Talked with me from fall to fall;

Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond,

Mine the walnut slopes beyond,

Mine, on bending orchard trees,

Apples of Hesperides!

Still as my horizon grew,

Larger grew my riches too;

All the world I saw or knew

Seemed a complex Chinese toy,

Fashioned for a barefoot boy!

 

Oh for festal dainties spread,

Like my bowl of milk and bread;

Pewter spoon and bowl of wood,

On the door-stone, gray and rude!

O'er me, like a regal tent,

Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent,

Purple-curtained, fringed with gold,

Looped in many a wind-swung fold;

While for music came the play

Of the pied frogs' orchestra;

And, to light the noisy choir,

Lit the fly his lamp of fire.

I was monarch: pomp and joy

Waited on the barefoot boy!

 

Cheerily, then, my little man,

Live and laugh, as boyhood can!

Though the flinty slopes be hard,

Stubble-speared the new-mown sward,

Every morn shall lead thee through

Fresh baptisms of the dew;

Every evening from thy feet

Shall the cool wind kiss the heat:

All too soon these feet must hide

In the prison cells of pride,

Lose the freedom of the sod,

Like a colt's for work be shod,

Made to tread the mills of toil,

Up and down in ceaseless moil:

Happy if their track be found

Never on forbidden ground;

Happy if they sink not in

Quick and treacherous sands of sin.

Ah! that thou couldst know thy joy,

Ere it passes, barefoot boy!