Letters & Polemics (CSEL) 37 part 16/28

Did the Lord perhaps wish the first man to work at agriculture? Or is it not credible that he condemned him to labor before sin? Indeed we might well suppose so, were it not that we see certain men engage in farming with such delight of soul that it is a great punishment for them to be called away from it to something else. Whatever delights, therefore, agriculture holds, then surely it held far more abundantly, when nothing adverse befell either from earth or from sky. For there was no affliction of toil, but a gladdening of the will, since the things which God had created came forth more joyfully and more fruitfully with the help of human labor;

whence the Creator himself would be praised more richly, who to the soul set within an animal body had given the reason and the capacity for working—as much as would suffice a willing mind, not as much as bodily need would compel an unwilling one.

For what greater and more marvelous spectacle is there, or where can human reason in a manner converse more with the nature of things, than when—seeds being sown, cuttings planted, saplings transplanted, shoots grafted—it is as it were asked of each power of root and germ what it can and cannot do, whence it can and whence it cannot, what in it the invisible and inner power of numbers avails, what diligence applied from without avails; and in that very consideration to perceive that neither he who plants is anything nor he who waters, but God who gives the increase—because even that part of the work which is added from without is added through him whom God nonetheless created and whom he governs and orders invisibly?

From here the eye of thought is now lifted up to the world itself as to a certain great tree of things, and in it too a twofold operation of providence is found, partly natural, partly voluntary. And the natural indeed through the hidden administration of God, by which he gives increase even to trees and herbs; but the voluntary through the works of angels and of men. According to that first, heavenly things are ordered above and earthly things below; the luminaries and stars shine; the alternations of day and night are set in motion; the earth, founded upon the waters, is bathed within and washed around; the air is spread higher over all; shrubs and animals are conceived and born, grow, age, perish—and whatever else is carried on in things by an inner and natural motion;

but in this other operation, signs are given, teaching and learning take place, fields are cultivated, societies are administered, arts are practiced, and whatever else is done either in the heavenly society or in this earthly and mortal one—in such a way that provision is made for the good even through the ignorant wicked. And in man himself the same twofold power of providence is vigorous: first, toward the body naturally, namely by that motion by which he comes to be, grows, and ages; but voluntarily, by which the body is provided for as to food, clothing, and healing. Likewise toward the soul it works naturally, that it may live and perceive; but voluntarily, that it may learn and consent.

But just as in a tree agriculture acts from outside so that what is carried on within may prosper, so in man, according to the body, medicine serves from without that which nature does within; and likewise according to the soul, doctrine is ministered from without so that nature may be blessed within. And what negligence of cultivation is to a tree, that carelessness of healing is to the body, and that sluggishness of learning is to the soul; and what useless moisture is to a tree, that pernicious food is to the body, and that the persuasion of iniquity is to the soul. God therefore, above all things, who founded all things and rules all things, being good creates all natures, and being just orders all wills.

What then is repugnant to the truth, if we believe that man was so placed in paradise that he might work at agriculture not with servile toil but with honorable delight of soul? For what is more innocent than this work for those at leisure, and what fuller of great reflection for the prudent? But what was he to keep? Paradise itself? Against whom? Surely no neighboring invader was feared, no disturber of the boundary, no thief, no assailant. How then are we to understand that a bodily paradise could be kept bodily by man? But neither did Scripture say, 'to work and to keep paradise'; rather it said, 'to work and to keep.' Although, if it be more carefully rendered word for word from the Greek, it is written thus:

And the Lord God took the man whom he had made and placed him in paradise to work him and to keep him. But whether he placed the man himself to be worked—for this is what the one understood who translated it 'to work it'—or the same paradise to be worked, that is, that the man should work paradise, this sounds ambiguous; and the phrasing seems rather to require that it be said not 'work paradise' but 'in paradise.' Yet nonetheless, lest perhaps it was said 'to work paradise' just as above it was said 'nor was there a man to work the earth'—for it is the same expression, 'to work the earth' as 'to work paradise'—let us treat the ambiguous sentence in both ways.

For if it is not necessary that we take it as 'to keep paradise' but 'in paradise,' what then was he to keep in paradise? For what he was to work in paradise we have already discussed, as it seemed. Or was it that what he worked in the land through agriculture, he should keep in himself through discipline—that is, that just as the field would obey him in his cultivation of it, so he too would obey his Lord who commanded him, so that, having received the command, he might render the fruit of obedience, not the thorns of disobedience? Finally, since as a subject he refused to keep in himself the likeness of the paradise cultivated by him, being condemned he received a field like himself: 'It shall bring forth for you,' it says, 'thorns and thistles.'

But if we understand also that he was to work paradise and to keep paradise, he could indeed work paradise, as we said above, through agriculture; but keep it not against the wicked or against enemies, of whom there were none, but perhaps against the beasts. How so? Or why? For were the beasts already raging against man, which would not happen except through sin? Indeed man himself gave names to all the beasts brought to him, as is recorded afterward; he himself also on the sixth day, by the law of God's word, received food in common with them all. Or if there was already something to be feared in the beasts, in what way could one man fortify that paradise? For it was no small place that so great a fountain watered.

For he would have to keep it, if he were able to enclose paradise with a wall so great and so mighty that a serpent could not enter it; but it would be a marvel if, before he enclosed it, he could shut out all serpents from within. Accordingly, why do we pass over the understanding that lies before our eyes? For man was placed in paradise to work that same paradise, as was discussed above, through an agriculture not laborious but delightful, and admonishing the mind of the prudent with great and useful things; but to keep that same paradise for himself, lest he admit anything whereby he might deserve to be expelled from it. Finally he also received a command, that there might be something by which he could keep paradise for himself—that is, by keeping which he would not be cast out of it.

For rightly is anyone said not to have kept his own thing, who acted in such a way that he lost it, even if it be safe for another who either found it or deserved to receive it. There is another sense in these words which I think not undeservedly to be preferred: that God was to work and to keep the man himself. For just as man works the earth, not to make it be earth, but that it may be cultivated and fruitful, so much more does God work man—whom he himself created that he might be man—God himself works him, that he may be just, provided man does not through pride depart from him; for this is to apostatize from God, which Scripture calls the beginning of pride. 'The beginning,' it says, 'of man's pride is to apostatize from God.'

Since therefore God is the unchangeable good, but man both according to soul and according to body is a changeable thing, he cannot be formed so as to be just and blessed unless, being turned toward the unchangeable good which is God, he abides therein. And through this the same God who creates man that he may be man, himself works and keeps man that he may also be good and blessed. Wherefore, by the same expression by which man is said to work the earth—which was already earth—that it may be adorned and fruitful, by that expression God is said to work man—who was already man—that he may be devout and wise, and to keep him, because man by his own power cannot be safe in himself rather than under him who is above him, delighting in his dominion and despising it.

Accordingly, I judge that it is in no way idle, but that something—and something great—is being brought to our attention: namely, that from the very beginning of this divine book, from where it thus began, 'In the beginning God made heaven and earth,' up to this place, nowhere is 'Lord God' set down, but only 'God.' But now, where it has come to the point of setting man in paradise and, through a command, working and keeping him, Scripture has spoken thus: 'And the Lord God took the man whom he had made and placed him in paradise to work him and to keep him'—not that God was not Lord of the creatures mentioned above;

but because this was written not for the sake of the angels nor for the sake of the other things that were created, but for the sake of man, to admonish him how expedient it is for him to have the Lord God—that is, to live obediently under his dominion rather than to abuse his own power licentiously—it was in no place willed to set this down earlier, except where it has come to placing him in paradise, to be worked and kept: so that it should not say, as of all the other things above, 'And God took the man whom he had made,' but should say, 'And the Lord God took the man whom he had made and placed him in paradise to work him,' that he might be just, 'and to keep him,' that he might be safe—by that very dominion of his, which is useful not to him but to us.

For he indeed does not need our service, but we need his dominion, that he may work and keep us. And therefore he alone is the true Lord, since we serve not for his advantage but for our own advantage and salvation; for if he needed us, by that very fact he would not be the true Lord, since his necessity would be relieved through us—a necessity under which he too would be a servant. Rightly does that man in the psalm say, 'I said to the Lord: You are my God, for you have no need of my goods.' Nor is it to be thought, as we said—that we serve him for our own advantage and salvation—as though we expect from him anything other than himself, who is our highest advantage and salvation; for thus we love him freely, according to that voice:

'But for me, to cleave to God is good.' For man is not such a thing that, once made, he could—if the one who made him forsook him—do anything well as though of himself; but his whole good action is to be turned toward him by whom he was made, and by him to be made just, devout, wise, and blessed always—to be made, not to be made and then withdraw, as one is healed by a physician of the body and then departs, because the physician of the body was a workman serving from without the nature working within under God, who works all salvation by that twofold work of providence of which we spoke above. Man ought therefore not to turn to God in such a way that, when he has been made just by him, he should depart, but in such a way that he is always being made by him.

For by this very thing, when he does not depart from him, he is justified and enlightened and blessed by his presence, God working and keeping him, while he has dominion over one who is obedient and subject. For it is not, as we were saying, as man works the earth that it may be cultivated and fruitful—who, when he has worked it, departs, leaving it either plowed or sown or watered or whatever else, the work that has been done remaining when the worker has departed—it is not thus that God works the just man, that is, by justifying him, so that, if he departed, what he had made would remain in the one from whom he departed:

but rather, just as the air was not made luminous by the presence of light but becomes luminous—since, if it had been made so, and were not being made so, it would remain luminous even in the absence of light—so man is enlightened by God's being present to him, but in his absence is straightway darkened, since one departs from him not by intervals of place but by the aversion of the will. Let him therefore work and keep man good, who is unchangeably good. We ought always to be made by him and always to be perfected, cleaving to him and remaining in that conversion which is toward him, of whom it is said, 'But for me, to cleave to God is good,' and to whom it is said, 'My strength, I will keep it toward you.'

For we are his workmanship, created not only to this end, that we may be men, but also to this end, that we may be good. For the Apostle too, when he was commending to the faithful, converted from impiety, the grace by which we have been saved, said: 'For by grace you have been saved through faith; and this not from yourselves, but it is the gift of God, not from works, lest perhaps anyone be exalted. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus in good works, which God prepared that we should walk in them.' And elsewhere, when he had said, 'With fear and trembling work out your own salvation,' lest they should think it to be attributed to themselves, as though they made themselves just and good, he immediately added: 'For it is God who works in you.'

The Lord God therefore took the man whom he had made and placed him in paradise to work him—that is, 'to work in him'—and 'to keep him.' And the Lord God commanded Adam, saying: Of every tree that is in paradise you shall eat for food; but of the tree of knowing good and evil you shall not eat of it; and on whatever day you eat of it, you shall die the death. If there were anything evil in that tree from which God forbade the man, it would seem to be poisonous unto death by the nature of that very evil.

But since he who made all things very good had planted in paradise all trees good, and no nature of evil was there—because nowhere is there any nature of evil, which we shall discuss more carefully, if the Lord wills, when we begin to speak of that serpent—man was forbidden from that tree, which was not evil, so that the very keeping of the command through itself might be good for him, and its transgression evil. Nor could it have been better and more carefully shown how great an evil disobedience alone is, since man was made guilty of iniquity for this reason: that he touched, against the prohibition, a thing which, had he touched it unforbidden, he would certainly not have sinned. For he who says, for example:

'Do not touch this herb'—if perhaps it is poisonous and forewarns of death, should one touch it—death indeed will follow the despiser of the command; but also, even if no one had forbidden it and that man had touched it, he would nonetheless certainly die. For that thing would not be conducive to his safety and life, whether it were forbidden or not forbidden. Likewise, when someone forbids that a thing be touched which would harm not the one touching but him who forbade it—as if someone should put his hand upon another's money, being forbidden by him whose money it was—then it would be a sin for the one forbidden, because it could be injurious to the one forbidding.

But when that is touched which would harm neither the one touching, if it were not forbidden, nor anyone else, whenever it might be touched, why was it forbidden, except that the good of obedience through itself and the evil of disobedience through itself might be shown? Finally, by the one who sinned nothing else was sought except not to be under the dominion of God, when that was committed in which, that it might not be committed, the command of the ruler alone ought to have been heeded. And if that alone were heeded, what else would be heeded but the will of God? What else would be loved but the will of God? What else would be set before the human will but the will of God? Why the Lord commanded, let him look to; what he commanded must be done by the servant—and then, perhaps,

the one who has proved himself worthy may see why he commanded. But nevertheless, that we may not inquire any longer into the cause of this command: if this very thing is a great benefit to man, that he serves God, then in commanding God does something useful whatever he wills to command, concerning which it need not be feared that he could command what is useless. Nor can it come about that one's own will should not fall upon man with a great weight of ruin, if by exalting it he sets it before the will of a superior. This man experienced, despising the command of God; and by this experience he learned what was the difference between good and evil—namely, the good of obedience, but the evil of disobedience, that is, of pride and obstinacy, of the perverse imitation of God, and of harmful liberty.

But in what tree this could happen received its name from the very thing, as was already said above. For we would not perceive evil except by experience, since there would be none if we had not committed it. For no nature is evil, but the loss of good has received this name. For the unchangeable good is God; but man, as far as pertains to his nature in which God founded him, is indeed good, yet not unchangeable as God. But a changeable good, which comes after the unchangeable good, becomes a better good when it has cleaved to the unchangeable good by loving and serving it with a rational and its own will. For this too is by that very fact a nature of great good, because it has received this: that it can cleave to the nature of the highest good.

But if it is unwilling, it deprives itself of the good, and this is evil for it, whence through the justice of God torment also follows. For what is so unjust as that it should be well with one who forsakes the good? Nor can it in any way come about that it should be so. But sometimes the evil of the higher good that has been lost is not felt, when the inferior good that was loved is possessed. But it is divine justice that he who by his will lost what he ought to have loved should lose with grief what he loved, while the Creator of natures is praised everywhere. For it is still a good thing that grieves over a lost good; for unless some good had remained in the nature, there would be no grief of the lost good in the punishment.

But he to whom the good is pleasing without the experience of evil—that is, who, before he feels the loss of good, chooses to hold it fast lest he lose it—is to be extolled above all men. But unless this were a matter of a certain singular praise, it would not be attributed to that Child who, born of the race of Israel, made Emmanuel, God with us, reconciled us to God—the mediator of men and of God, man; the Word with God, flesh among us; the Word made flesh between God and us. For of him the prophet says: 'Before the Child knows good or evil, he shall reject the evil, that he may choose the good.' How does he either reject or choose what he does not know, except because these two are known differently—the good through prudence, the evil through experience? Through the prudence of good, evil is known, even if it is not felt;

for the good is held fast, that the loss of it may not be felt as evil. Likewise through the experience of evil the good is known, since he to whom it has gone ill through a lost good feels what he has lost. Therefore before the Child knew through experience either the good which he lacked or the evil which he would feel through the loss of good, he rejected the evil that he might choose the good—that is, he was unwilling to lose what he had, lest by losing it he should feel what he ought not to have lost. A singular example of obedience! For indeed he came not to do his own will, but the will of him by whom he was sent—unlike that man who chose to do his own will, not the will of him by whom he was made.

Rightly, just as through the disobedience of one many were made sinners, so also through the obedience of one many shall be made just; because, as in Adam all die, so also in Christ all shall be made alive. But some have vainly become sharply obtuse, when they inquire how it could be called the tree of the discernment of good and evil, before man had transgressed the command in it and by that very experience discerned what was the difference between the good which he lost and the evil which he committed. For the tree received such a name that, by its not being touched according to the prohibition, that might be guarded against which, by its being touched against the prohibition, would be felt.

For it was not because they ate from it against the command that that tree therefore became the tree of the discernment of good and evil; but assuredly, even if they had been obedient and had usurped nothing from it against the command, it would rightly be called that which would there befall them, had they usurped it. Just as if a tree were called the tree of satiety, because from it men could be satisfied, would that name therefore be unfitting if no one had approached it? Since indeed when they approached and were satisfied, they would then prove how rightly that tree was so called. 'And how,' they say, 'would man understand what was said to him—the tree of the discernment of good and evil—when he did not know at all what evil itself was?'

Those who think this pay too little attention to how many things unknown are understood from their contrary notions, so that even the words of things which do not exist, when they are interposed in speaking, cause no hearer to be in the dark. For that which utterly is not is called 'nothing'; and these two syllables no one who hears and speaks Latin fails to understand. Whence, except when the sense observes that which is, and by its privation recognizes what also is not? So too when 'empty' is said, by observing the fullness of a body, by its privation as a contrary we understand what is called empty. Just as by the sense of hearing we judge not only concerning sounds,

but also judge concerning silence, so from the life which was in man he could guard against its contrary, that is, the privation of life which is called death. And the very cause by which he would lose what he loved—that is, any deed of his own by which it would come about that he should lose life—by whatever syllables it might be named (just as in Latin when 'sin' or 'evil' is said)—he would understand as a sign of that which he would discern with his mind. For how do we understand, when 'resurrection' is said, which we have never experienced? Is it not because we perceive what it is to live, and call the privation of that thing death, whence we name the return to that which we perceive 'resurrection'?

And if by any other name in any language this very thing is called, a sign of it is at any rate insinuated to the mind in the voice of the speakers, at whose sounding it may recognize what it would think even without a sign. For it is a marvel how nature avoids the loss even of things which it has, even when that loss is unexperienced. For who taught the beasts the avoidance of death, except the sense of life? Who taught the little child to cling to his bearer, if he threatened to throw him down from on high? This begins from a certain time, and yet before he has experienced anything of the kind. So then, to those first men life was already sweet, which assuredly they sought to avoid losing; and this very thing, God signifying it by whatever modes or sounds, they were able to understand.

Nor otherwise could sin have been persuaded to them, unless it was first persuaded to them that they would not die from that deed—that is, that they would not lose what they had and rejoiced to have: whence in its place we must speak. Let those therefore take note, if any are moved, how they could understand God naming or threatening things unexperienced; and let them see that we recognize the names of all unexperienced things only from contraries—which we already know, if they are of privations—or from likenesses, if they are of forms—without any tumult of doubt. Unless perhaps someone is moved by how they could speak, or understand one speaking, who had not learned either by growing up among speakers or by some instruction;

as if it were a great thing for God to teach those to speak whom he had so made that they could learn even this from men, if there were any from whom to learn. Rightly indeed is it asked whether God gave this command only to the man, or also to the woman. But it has not yet been narrated how the woman was made. Or was she perhaps already made, but how this came about—which had happened earlier—was afterward narrated by way of recapitulation? For the words of Scripture stand thus: 'And the Lord God commanded Adam, saying'; it did not say 'he commanded them.' Then it follows: 'Of every tree that is in paradise you shall eat for food'; it did not say 'you (plural) shall eat.' Then it adds: 'But of the tree of knowing good and evil you shall not eat of it.'

Here now it speaks as if to both in the plural, and terminates the command in the plural, saying: 'And on whatever day you (plural) eat of it, you shall die the death.' Or did he, knowing that he was going to make the woman for him, thus command in the most orderly way, so that the Lord's command might reach the woman through the man? This discipline the Apostle preserves in the church, saying: 'But if they wish to learn anything, let them ask their husbands at home.' Likewise it can be asked how God now spoke to the man whom he had made, who was already certainly endowed with sense and mind, so as to be able to hear and understand one speaking. For otherwise he could not have received the command, of which he would be a transgressor, unless he understood it once received. How then did God speak to him?

Or was it inwardly, within the mind, according to the understanding — that is, so that he wisely comprehended the will and command of God without any bodily sounds or likenesses of bodily things? Yet I do not suppose that God spoke to the first man in this way. For Scripture recounts such things that we ought rather to believe that God spoke to man in paradise just as he afterward spoke to the patriarchs — as to Abraham, as to Moses — that is, in some bodily form. For this is why they heard his voice as he walked in paradise toward evening, and they hid themselves.

There is therefore set before us a great topic, not to be passed over, that we may contemplate, as far as we can and as far as He himself deigns to aid and grant, the twofold work of divine providence, which above, when we were speaking of agriculture, we touched upon in passing on a certain fleeting occasion, so that from it the reader's mind might already begin to accustom itself to contemplate what is of the greatest help: namely, that we may think nothing unworthy of the very substance of God.