XXVII. But Grod, having taken pity on mankind, as being a Saviour and full of love for mankind, increased, as far as possible, the natural desire of men and women for a connexion together, for the sake of producing children, and detesting the unnatural and unlawful commerce of the people of Sodom, he extinguished it, and destroyed those who wTere inclined to these things, and that not by any or- dinary chastisement, but he inflicted on them an astonish- ing novelty, and unheard of rarity of vengeance; for, on a sudden, he commanded the sky to become overclouded and ON ABRAHAM. 425 to pour forth a mighty shower, not of rain but of fire; and as the flame poured down, with a resistless and unceasing violence, the fields were burnt up, and the meadows, and all the dense groves, and the thick marshes, and the impe- netrable thickets; the plain too was consumed, and all the crop of wheat, and of everything else that was sown; and all the trees of the mountain district were burnt up, the trunk's and the very roots being consumed.
And the folds for the cattle, and the houses of the men, and the walls, and all that was in any building, whether of private or public property, were all burnt. And in one day these populous cities became the tomb of their in- habitants, and the vast edifices of stone and timber became thin dust and ashes. And when the flames had consumed evervthing that was visible and that existed on the face of the earth, they proceeded to burn even the earth itself, pene- trating into its lowest recesses, and destroying all the vivifying powers which existed within it so as to produce a complete and everlasting barrenness, so that it should never again be able to bear fruit, or to put forth any verdure; and to this very day it is scorched up. For the fire of the ightning is what is most difficult to extinguish, and creeps m pervading everything, and smouldering.
And a most evident proof of this is to be found in what en to this day: for the smoke which is still emitted, Imd the sulphur which men dig up there, are a proof of the talamity which befell that country; while a most con- spicuous proof of the ancient fertility of the land is left in me city, and in the land around it. Eor the city is very )opulous, and the land is fertile in grass and in corn, and in •wry kind of fruit, as a constant evidence of the punish- nent which was inflicted by the divine will on the rest of lountry. VIII. But I have not gone through all these par- iculars for the sake of showing the magnitude of that ast and novel calamity, but because I desired to prove that f the three beings who appeared to the wise Abraham in he guise of men, the scriptures only represent two as aving come to the country which was subsequently de- fcroyed for the purpose of destroying its inhabitants, since hi' third did not think fit to come for that purpose. Inas- 420 PHILO JUD.EUS.
420 PHILO JUD.EUS.
much as he, according to my conception, was the true and living God, who thought it fitting that he being present should bestow good gifts by his own power, but that he should effect the opposite objects by the agency and service of his subordinate powers, so that he might be looked upon as the cause of good only, and of no evil whatever antecedently.
And kings too appear to me to imitate the divine nature in this particular, and to act in the same way, giving their favours in person, but inflicting their chastisements by the agency of others. But since, of the two powers of God, one is a beneficent power and the other a chastising one. each of them, as is natural, is manifested to the country of the people of Sodom. Because of the five finest cities in it four were about to be destroyed by fire, and one was des- tined to be left unhurt and safe from every evil. For it was necessar}^ that the calamities should be inflicted by the chastising power, and that the one which was to be saved should be saved by the beneficent power. But since the portion which was saved was not endowed with entire and complete virtues, but was blessed with kindness by tin power of the living God, it was deliberately accounted un- worthy to have a sight of his presence afforded to it.
XXIX. This, then, is the open explanation which is be given of this account, and which is to be addressed t' the multitude. But there is another esoteric explanation to be reserved for the few who choose for the subjects o their investigation the dispositions of the soul, and not th( forms of bodies; and this shall now be mentioned.
The five cities of the land of Sodom are a figurative reprr sentation of the five outward senses which exist in us, I organs of the pleasures, by the instrumental ity of which all fch< pleasures whether great or small are brought to perfection for we are pleased either when we behold the variet it- colours and forms, both in things inanimate and in thos endowed with vitality, or when we hear melodious soundr or again, we are delighted by the exercise of the facult of taste in the things which relate to eating and drinking or by that of the sense of smell in fragrant flavours an vapours, or in accordance with our faculty of touch whe conversant with soft, or hot, or smooth things.
Now of these five outward senses there are three which hav ON ABRAHAM. 42 T the greatest resemblance to the brute beasts and to slaves, namely the senses of taste, smell, and touch: as it is with reference to these that those species of beasts and cattle which are the most greedy and the most strongly inclined to sexual connections aro the most vehemently excited. For all day and all night they are either glutting themselves in- satiably with food, or else in a state of eagerness for sexual connection. But there are two of these outward senses which have something philosophical and pre-eminent in them, namely, sight and hearing. But the ears are in some degree more slow and more effeminate than the eyes, since the latter go with promptness a,nd courage to what is to be seen, and do not wait until the objects themselves are in motion, but go forward to meet them, and desire to move themselves so as to face them.
But the sense of hearing, inasmuch as that is slow and more effeminate, may be classed in the second rank, and the tsense of seeing may be allowed an especial pre-eminence land privilege: for God has made this sense a sort of rqueen iof the rest, placing it above them all, and stationing it as it were on a citadel, has made it of all the senses in the closest connection with the soul; and any one may conjecture this from the common changes which take place in its essential organs; for when grief exists in the soul of man, the eyes are full of concern and melancholy; and on the other hand, when joy is in our heart the eyes smile and rejoice; and when fear gets the upper hand they are full of turbulent and disorderly confusion, and are subject to all kinds ol irregular motions, and quiverings, and distortions.
Again, if anger occupies us, the sight becomes more fierce and bloodshot; and when we are considerating or deliberat- ing, the eyes are tranquil and motionless, and almost as intent as the mind itself; just as at moments of the relaxa- tion and indifference of the mind, the eyes also are relaxed and indifferent; when a friend approaches the feeling of good- will towards him is proclaimed by a calm and serene look; on the other hand, if we meet with an enemy, the eyes give Em early indication of the displeasure of the soul; when our mind is inspired by boldness, our eyes bound forward and are ready to start from our heads; when we are oppressed 428 PHILO JUDiEUS.
with feelings of shame or modesty, they are gentle and repressed.
And, in short, we may say that the sight has been created to be an exact image of the soul, which is thus beautifullv represented by it through the perfection of the Creal skill, the eyes showing a visible representation of it, as in a mirror, since the soul has no visible nature in itself; but it is not in this particular alone that the beauty of the eves exceeds the rest of the outward senses, but also because the use of the other senses is interrupted during our waking moments; for we must not include in our statement the inactivity which results from sleep; for they are at rest whenever there is not some external object to put them in motion; but the energies of the eyes when they are open are continuous and uninterrupted, as the eyes are never sati- ated or wearied, but continue to operate in accordance with the connection which they have with the soul; and the soul itself is everlastingly awake, and is in perpetual motion both night and day; but to the eyes, as being to a groat degree partakers of the fleshly nature, a self sufficient gift was given, to be able to continue exercising their appro- priate energies during one half of the entire period of life.
XXX. But we must now proceed to speak of that whicl is the most necessary part of all, the advantage which \vc derive from the eyes..For it is to sight alone of the exter nal senses that Grod has caused light to arise, which is hot! the most beautiful of all existing things, and is, moreover the first thing which is pronounced in the sacred scripture: to be good. Now the nature of light is twofold: for then is one light which proceeds from the fire which we use,; perishable light proceeding from a perishable material, ant one which admits of being extinguished. But the othe kind is inextinguishable and imperishable, descending to u from above from heaven, as if every one of the stars wa pouring down its beams upon us from an everlastin; spring. And the sense of sight associates with each c these kinds of light, and through the medium of both c them does it approach the objects of sight so as to arrive a a most accurate comprehension of them. Why now nee we attempt to panegyrize the eyes further by a speeel ON ABRAHAM. 429 ON ABRAHAM. 429 when God has engraved their true praises on pillars erected in heaven, namely, the stars? For for what purpose were I the rays of the sun, and the beams of the moon, and the light of all the other planets and fixed stars called into existence, except as fields for the energies of the eyes in their service of seeing? On which account men, using the most excellent of all gifts, contemplate the things which exist in the world, the earth, the plants, the animals, the fruits of the earth, the seas, the effusion of waters springing from the earth and gushing forth in torrents and floods, and the varieties of fountains, some of which give forth cold and others hot water, and the natures of all things that I exist in the air; and all the different species, of which we ■ thus arrive at the knowlege, are innumerable and indescrib- able, and cannot be comprised in speech. And above all these things, the eyes can behold the heaven, which is truly a world created in another world, and it can also sur- vey the beauties and divine images existing in heaven. Which now of the other external senses can boast that it has ; arrived at such a pitch of power as this?
XXXI. But now, dismissing the consideration of those of the outward senses which are in the stables, as it were, fattening up an animal which is born with us, namely, appetite, let us investigate the nature of that sense which receives speech, namely, hearing; the continued and vigo- rous, and most perfect course of which exists in the atmo- sphere which surrounds the earth, when the violence of the winds and the noise of thunder sound with a great dragging noise and terrible crash. But the eyes in a single moment can reach from earth to heaven, and taking in the extremest boundaries of the universe, reaching at the same moment to the east and to the west, and to the north and to the south, so as to survey them all at once, drag the mind towards K'hat is visible. And fhe mind, at once receiving a similar impression, does not continue quiet, but being in perpetual Million, and never slumbering, receiving from the sight the >ower of observing the objects appreciable by the intellect, ionies to consider whether these things which are brought • isibly before it are uncreated, or whether they have derived heir origin from creation; also, whether they are bounded >r infinite. Again, whether there are many worlds or only one; also, whether there are five elements of the whole universe, or whether heaven and the heavenly bodies have a peculiar and separate nature of their own, having received a more divine conformation, differing from that of the rest of the world.
Again, by these means it considers if the world has been created, by whom it has been created, and who the creator is as to his essence or quality, and with what design he made it, and what he is doing now, and what his mode of existence or cause of life is; and all other such questions as the excellently-endowed mind when cohabiting with wisdom is accustomed to examine.
These, and similar subjects, belong to philosophers, from which it is plain that wisdom and philosophy have not derived their origin from anything else that exists in us except from that queen of the outward senses, the sight, which God saved alone of the region of the body when he destroyed the other four, because these last were slaves to the flesh and to the passions of the flesh; but the sight alone was able to raise its head and to look up, and to find other sources of delight far superior to those proceeding from the bodily pleasures, those, namely, that are derived from the contemplation of the world and the things in it. Therefore it was appro- priate for one of the five outward senses, namely, the sight, like one city in the Pentapolis, to receive an especial reward and honour, and to remain while the others were destroved, because it is not only conversant with mortal objects as they are, but is able also to forsake such, and to depart to the imperishable natures, and to rejoice in the sight of them.
On which account the holy scriptures very beautifully represent it as " a little city, and yet not a little one," * describing the power of sight under this figure. For it i* said to be little, inasmuch as it is but a small portion of the faculties which exist in us; and yet ^reat, inasmuch as it desires great things, being eager to behold the entire heaveD and the whole world.
XXXII. AVe have now, then, given a full explauatior concerning the vision which appeared to Abraham, and con- cerning his celebrated and all-glorious hospitality, in wbicl the entertainer, who appeared to himself to be entertaining * Genesis xix. 20.
ON ABRAHAM. 431 others, was himself entertained; expounding every part oi the passage with as much accuracy as we were able. But nsc must not pass over in silence the most important action of all, which is worthy of being listened to. For I was Dearly saying that it is of more importance than all the actions of piety and religion put together. So we must say what seems to be seasonable concerning it.
A legitimate son is borne to the wise man by his wedded wife, a beloved and only son, very beautiful in his person, and very excellent in his disposition. Eor he was already beginning to display the more perfect exercises of his age, so that his father felt a most strong and vehement affection .for him, not only from the impulse of natural regard, but also from the influence of deliberate opinion, from being, as lit were, a judge of his character. To him, then, being con- scious of such a disposition, an oracular command suddenly pomes, which was never expected, ordering him to sacrifice this son on a certain very lofty hill, distant three days' journey from the city. And he, although attached to his child by an indescribable fondness, neither changed colour, jiior wavered in his soul, but remained firm in an unyielding rod unalterable purpose, as he was at first. And beiug wholly influenced by love towards God, he forcibly repressed dl the names and charms of the natural relationship: and •vithout mentioning the oracular command to any one of lis household out of all his numerous body of servants, he -ook with him the two eldest, who were most thoroughly attached to their master, as if he were bent upon the cele- )ration of some ordinary divine rite, and went forth with '.is sou, making four in all.
And when, looking as it were from a watch-tower, he saw he appointed place afar off, he bade his servants remain hero, and he gave his son the fire and the wood to carry, hulking it proper for the victim himself to be burdened kith the materials for the sacrifice, a very light burden, for totliing is less troublesome than piety. And as they pro- reeded onwards with equal speed, not marching more rapidly kith their bodies than with their minds along that short load of which holiness is the end, they at last arrive at the ippointed place. And the father collected stones wherewith o build the altar; and when his son saw everything else 432 PHILO JUD.EUS.
])repared for the celebration of the sacrifice, but no animal, he looked to his father and said, " My father, behold the lire and the wood, but where is the victim for the burnt sacrifice?" * Therefore, any other father, knowing what be was about to do, and being depressed in his soul, would have been thrown into confusion by his son's words, and being filled with tears, would, out of his excessive affliction, bv his silence have betrayed what was about to be done; but Abraham, betraying no alteration of voice, or countenance, or intention, looking at his son with steady eye, answered his question with a determination more steady still, "Mv child," said he, " God will provide himself a victim for the burnt offering," although we are in a vast desert where perhaps you despair of such a thing being found; but all things are possible to G-od, even all such things as are im- possible and unintelligible to men. And even while saying this, he seizes his son with all rapidity, and places him on the altar, and having taken his knife in his right hand, he raised it over him as if to slay him; but God the Saviour stopped the deed in the middle, interrupting him by a voice from heaven, by which he ordered him to stay his hand, and not to touch the child: calling the father by name twice, so as to turn him and divert him from his purpose, and forbid him to complete the sacrifice.
XXXIII. And so Isaac is saved, God supplying a gift in- stead of him, and honouring him who was willing to make the offering in return for the piety which he had exhibited. But the action of the father, even though it was not ultimately given effect to, is nevertheless recorded and engraved as a complete and perfect sacrifice, not only in the sacred scrip- tures, but also in the minds of those who read them. But to those who are fond of reviling and disparaging every- thing, and who are by their invariable habits accustomed tc prefer blaming to praising the action which Abraham was enjoined to perform, it will not appear a great and admirable deed, as we imagine it to have been. For such persons saj that many other men, who have been very affectionate tc their relations and very fond of their children, have given u[ their sons; some in order that they might be sacrificed foi their country to deliver it either from war, or from drougnt * Genesis xxii. 7.
ON ABRAHAM. 433 or from much rain, or from disease and pestilence; and others to satisfy the demands of some habitual religious observances, even though there may be no real piety in them.
At all events they say that some of the most celebrated men of the Greeks, not merely private individuals but kings also, caring but little for the children whom they have be- gotten, have, by means of their destruction secured safety to } mighty and numerous forces and armies, arrayed together in an allied body, and have voluntarily slain them as if they had been enemies. And also that barbarous nations have for many ages practised the sacrifice of their children as if it were a holy work and one looked upon with favour by God, whose wickedness is mentioned by the holy Moses. For he, blaming them for this pollution, says, that " They burn their sons and their daughters to their gods."* And they say that to this very day the G-ymnosophists among the Indians, when that long or incurable disease, old age, begins to attack them, before it has got a firm hold of them, and while they might still last for many years, kindle a fire and burn themselves. And, moreover, when their husbands are already dead, they say that their wives rush cheerfully to the same funeral pile, and whilst living endure to be burnt along with their husbands' bodies. One may well idmire the exceeding courage of these women, who look thus contemptuously on death, and disdain it so exceedingly that >hey hasten and run impetuously towards it as if they were gasping immortality.
XXXIV. But why, say they, ought one to praise Abra- lam as the attempter of a wholly novel kind of conduct, when it is only what private men and kings, and even whole nations do at appropriate seasons? But I will make the olio-wing reply to the envy and ill-temper of these men.
Of those who sacrifice their childen, some do so out of nabit, as they say some of the barbarians do; others do it uvause they are unable by any other means to place on a ^ood footing some desperate and important dangers threat- •ning their cities and countries. And of these men, some lave given up their children because they have been con- strained by those more powerful than themselves: and )thers, out of a thirst for glory, and honour, and for renown * Deuteronomy xii. 31. VOL. II. F F 434 PHILO JUD^US.
434 PHILO JUD^US.
at the present moment, and celebrity in all future ages. Now those who sacrifice their children out of deference to custom, perform, in my opinion, no great exploit; for an inveterate custom is often as powerful as nature itself; so that it diminishes the terrible impression made by the action to be done, and makes even the most miserable and intolerable evils light to bear. Again: surely, they who offer up their children out of fear deserve no praise; for praise is only given to voluntary good actions, but what is involuntary, is ascribed to other causes than the immediate actors — to the occasion, or to chance, or to compulsion from men.
Again, if any one, out of a desire for glory, abandons his son or his daughter, he would justly be blamed rather than praised; seeking to acquire honour by the death of his dearest relations, while, even if he had glory, he ought rather to have risked the loss of it to secure the safety of his children. We must investigate, therefore, whether Abraham was under the influence of any one of the aforesaid motives, custom, or love of glory, or fear, when he was about to sacri- fice his son.
Now Babylon, and Mesopotamia, and the nation of the Chaldseans, do not receive the custom of sacrificing their children; and these are the countries in which Abraham had been brought up and had lived most of his time; so that we cannot imagine that his sense of the misfortune that he was commanded to inflict upon himself was blunted by the frequency of such events. Again, there was no fear from men which pressed upon him, for no one knew of this oracular command which had been given to him alone, nor was there any common calamity pressing upon the land ir which he was living, such as could only be remedied by th( destruction of his most excellent son.
May it not have been, however, from a desire to obtaii praise from the multitude that he proceeded to this action But what praise could be obtained in the desert, when ther wa3 no one likely to be present who could possibly say anj thing in his favour, and when even his two servants were lei at a distance on purpose that he might not seem to b hunting after praise, or to be making a display by bringin witnesses with him to see the greatness of liis devotion?
ON ABRAHAM. 435 ON ABRAHAM. 435 XXXY. Therefore putting a barrier on their unbridled and evil-speaking mouths, let them moderate that envy in themselves which hates everything that is good, and let them forbear to attack the virtues of men who have lived excellently, which they ought rather to reward and decorate with panegyric. And that this action of Abraham's was in reality one deserving of praise and of all love, it is easy to see from many circumstances. In the first place, then, he laboured above all men to obey God, which is thought an excellent thing, and an especial object for all men's desire, by all right-minded persons, to such a degree, that he never omitted to perform anything which God commanded him, not even if it was full of arrogance and ingloriousness, or even of positive pain and misery; for which reason he also bore, in a most noble manner, and with the most unshaken fortitude, the command given to him respecting his son.
In the second place, though it was not the custom in the land in which he was living, as perhaps it is among some nations, to offer human sacrifices, and custom, by its frequency, often removes the horror felt at the first appear- ance of evils, he himself was about to be the first to set the example of a novel and most extraordinary deed, which I do not think that any human being would have brought himself to submit to, even if his soul had been made of iron or of adamant; for as some one has said, — " 'Tis a hard task with nature to contend."
In the second place, after he had become the father of this his only legitimate son, he, from the moment of his birth, cherished towards him all the genuine feelings of affection, which exceeds all modest love, and all the ties of friendship which have ever been celebrated in the world. There was added also, this most forcible charm of all, that he had become the father of this son not in the prime of his life, but in his old age. For parents become to a cer- tain degree insane in their affection for children of their old age, either from the circumstance of their having been wishing for their birth a long time, or else because they have no longer any hope that they shall have any more; nature having taken her stand there as at the extreme and furthest limit.