Chapter 1. That the Knowledge of God and of Ourselves Are Things Joined, and How They Are Linked the One with the Other

The whole sum in a manner of all our wisdom, which only ought to be accounted true and perfect wisdom, consists in two parts, that is to say, the knowledge of God, and our selves. But whereas these two kinds of knowledge are with many bands linked together, yet whether one goes before or engenders the other, it is hard to discern. For first no man can look upon himself, but he must needs by and by turn all his senses to the beholding of God, in whom he lives and is moved: because it is plain that those gifts with which we are endowed are not of ourselves, indeed even that which we have as a being is nothing else but an essence in the one God. Finally, by these good things that are as by drop by drop poured into us from heaven, we are led as it were by certain streams to the springhead. And so by our own neediness, there better appears that infinite [reconstructed: plenty] of good things that abides in God. Especially that miserable ruin, into which the fall of the first man has thrown us, compels us to lift up our eyes, not only being [reconstructed: foodless] and hungry, to crave from there what we lack, but also being awakened with fear, to learn humility. For as there is found in man a certain world of all miseries, and since we have been despoiled of the divine apparel, our shameful nakedness discloses an infinite heap of filthy disgraces: it must needs be that every man be pricked with knowledge in conscience of his own unhappiness, to make him come at least to some knowledge of God. So by the understanding of our own ignorance, vanity, beggary, weakness, perverseness, and corruption, we learn to acknowledge that nowhere else but in the Lord abides the true light of wisdom, sound virtue, perfect abundance of all good things, and purity of righteousness. And so by our own evils we are stirred to consider the good things of God: and we cannot earnestly aspire toward him, until we begin to dislike ourselves. For of all men what one is there that would not willingly rest in himself? Indeed, who does not rest, so long as he does not know himself, that is to say, so long as he is contented with his own gifts, and ignorant or unmindful of his own misery? Therefore every man is by the knowledge of himself, not only pricked forward to seek God, but also led as it were by the hand to find him.

Again it is certain, that man never comes to the true knowledge of himself, unless he have first beheld the face of God, and from beholding thereof does descend to look into himself. For (such is the pride that is naturally planted in us) we always think ourselves righteous, innocent, wise and holy, until that with manifest proofs we be convinced of our unrighteousness, filthiness, folly and uncleanness. But we are not convinced thereof, if we look upon ourselves only, and not upon God also, who is the only rule whereby this judgment ought to be tried. For because we are naturally inclined to hypocrisy, therefore a certain vain resemblance of righteousness does abundantly content us instead of righteousness indeed. And because there appears nothing among us, nor about us, that is not defiled with much filthiness, therefore that which is somewhat less filthy pleases us as though it were most pure, so long as we hold ourselves within the bounds of man's uncleanness. Like as the eye that is used to see nothing but black, thinks that to be pure white, which yet is but darkish white, or brown. Indeed, we may yet more plainly discern by our bodily sense how much we are blinded in considering the powers of the soul. For if at midday we either look down upon the ground, or behold those things that round about lie open before our eyes, then we think ourselves to have a very assured and piercing force of sight: but when we look up to the sun, and behold it with fixed eyes, then that same sharpness that was of great force upon the ground is with so great brightness by and by dazzled and confounded, that we are compelled to confess that the same sharp sight which we had in considering earthly things, when it comes to the sun is but mere dullness. Even so it comes to pass in weighing our spiritual good things. For while we look no further than the earth, so long well contented with our own righteousness, wisdom and strength, we do sweetly flatter ourselves and think ourselves in a manner half gods. But if we once begin to raise up our thought to God, and to weigh what a one he is, and how exact is the perfection of his righteousness, wisdom and power, after the rule of which we ought to be framed: then that which before did please us in ourselves with false pretense of righteousness, shall become loathsome to us as greatest wickedness: then that which did marvelously deceive us under color of wisdom shall stink before us as extreme folly: then that which did bear the face of strength shall be proved to be most miserable weakness. So poorly does that which in us seems even most perfect, answer in proportion to the pureness of God.

From this proceeded that trembling and amazedness, with which the Scripture in many places recites that the holy men were stricken and astonished so often as they perceived the presence of God. For when we see that they which in his absence did stand assured and [reconstructed: unmoved], so soon as he discloses his glory, begin so to quake and are so dismayed, that they fall down, indeed are swallowed up and in a manner as destroyed with fear of death: it is to be gathered thereby that man is never sufficiently touched and inwardly moved with knowledge of his own baseness until he have compared himself to the majesty of God. But of such dismaying we have often examples both in the Judges and in the Prophets: so that this was a common saying among the people of God: We shall die, because the Lord has appeared to us. And therefore the history of Job, to throw men down with knowledge of their own folly, weakness, and uncleanness, brings always his principal proof from describing God's wisdom, strength and cleanness. And that not without cause. For we see how Abraham, the nearer that he came to behold the glory of God, the better acknowledged himself to be earth and dust. We see how Elias could not abide to tarry his coming to him with uncovered face: so terrible is the beholding of him. And what may man do that is but corruption and a worm, when even the Cherubim for very fear must hide their faces? Even this is it that the Prophet Isaiah speaks of: The sun shall blush and the moon shall be ashamed, when the Lord of hosts shall reign, that is to say, when he displays his brightness and brings it nearer to sight, then in comparison thereof the brightest thing of all shall be darkened. But however the knowledge of God and of our selves are with mutual knot linked together, yet the order of right teaching requires that first we treat of the knowledge of God, and after come down to speak of the knowledge of our selves.

Nearly the whole sum of our wisdom — the only wisdom that deserves to be called true and complete — consists of two parts: the knowledge of God and the knowledge of ourselves. These two kinds of knowledge are tightly bound together, yet it is difficult to say which one comes first or produces the other. No one can look at himself without immediately turning all his attention to the contemplation of God, in whom he lives and moves. It is clear that the gifts with which we are endowed are not from ourselves — indeed, even our very existence is nothing other than a subsistence in God alone. So the good things that are poured into us drop by drop from heaven lead us as though along streams back to their source. In this way, our own poverty makes the infinite abundance of good things residing in God all the more apparent. In particular, the miserable ruin into which the fall of the first man has thrown us compels us to lift up our eyes — not only in hunger and need, to seek from God what we lack, but also in fear, to learn humility. For there is in man a whole world of miseries, and since we have been stripped of the divine covering, our shameful nakedness exposes an endless heap of filthy disgraces. Every man must therefore be pierced by the knowledge of his own wretchedness in his conscience, driving him to at least some knowledge of God. So by understanding our own ignorance, vanity, poverty, weakness, perverseness, and corruption, we learn to acknowledge that nowhere but in the Lord dwells the true light of wisdom, genuine virtue, perfect abundance of all good things, and purity of righteousness. Thus our own evils stir us to consider the good things of God, and we cannot earnestly reach toward Him until we begin to be dissatisfied with ourselves. For what man is there who would not gladly rest content in himself? Indeed, who does not rest content, so long as he does not know himself — that is, so long as he is satisfied with his own gifts and ignorant or unmindful of his own misery? Therefore every man, through self-knowledge, is not only driven to seek God but also led as if by the hand to find Him.

On the other side, it is certain that a man never comes to true self-knowledge unless he has first looked on the face of God and, from that sight, descends to examine himself. For, such is the pride naturally planted in us, we always think ourselves righteous, innocent, wise, and holy until we are confronted with undeniable evidence of our unrighteousness, filthiness, folly, and uncleanness. But we are not confronted with this if we look only at ourselves and not also at God, who is the only standard by which such a judgment ought to be made. Because we are naturally inclined toward self-deception, a vague imitation of righteousness satisfies us in place of true righteousness. And because there is nothing among us or around us that is not stained with much filthiness, whatever is somewhat less filthy pleases us as if it were perfectly pure — as long as we measure ourselves only against the standard of human uncleanness. It is like an eye accustomed to seeing only darkness, which thinks something merely gray to be pure white. We can see this even more clearly in the way our bodily senses work. If at midday we look down at the ground or at the things spread out before our eyes, we think our vision is very keen and reliable. But when we look directly at the sun and try to gaze at it with steady eyes, that same sharpness of sight that worked so well on the ground is instantly dazzled and overwhelmed by the brightness — and we are forced to admit that what seemed like sharp vision for earthly things is mere dullness when turned toward the sun. The same thing happens when we evaluate our spiritual condition. As long as we look no further than the earth, we rest comfortably in our own righteousness, wisdom, and strength, gently flattering ourselves and thinking we are almost like gods. But if we begin to lift our thoughts toward God and consider what He is — how perfect is the righteousness, wisdom, and power by whose standard we ought to be measured — then what formerly pleased us in ourselves as righteousness will become hateful to us as the greatest wickedness. What marvelously deceived us under the appearance of wisdom will stink before us as utter folly. What bore the face of strength will be exposed as the most pitiable weakness. So poorly does even what seems most perfect in us measure up against the purity of God.

From this comes the trembling and amazement which Scripture in many places describes as striking the holy men when they perceived the presence of God. We see that those who stood firm and undisturbed in God's absence begin to tremble and are so overcome as soon as He reveals His glory — they fall down, are overwhelmed, and are virtually undone with the terror of death. From this we gather that man is never sufficiently touched and inwardly moved by knowledge of his own lowliness until he has compared himself with the majesty of God. Examples of such overwhelming awe are found frequently in the Judges and the Prophets, so that a common saying arose among the people of God: 'We shall die, because the Lord has appeared to us.' And so the book of Job, in order to bring men down with the knowledge of their own folly, weakness, and uncleanness, builds its principal case by describing the wisdom, strength, and purity of God. And this is not without reason. For we see how Abraham, the closer he came to beholding the glory of God, the more clearly he acknowledged himself to be earth and dust. We see how Elijah could not endure to wait for His coming with his face uncovered — so overwhelming is the sight of Him. And what can man do — man who is but corruption and a worm — when even the cherubim must hide their faces in fear? This is what the prophet Isaiah speaks of: the sun will be ashamed and the moon will blush when the Lord of hosts reigns — that is, when He displays His brightness and brings it close to sight, even the brightest things are darkened by comparison. Yet however closely the knowledge of God and of ourselves are joined together, the proper order of teaching requires that we first treat the knowledge of God, and then come down to speak of the knowledge of ourselves.