THE SYMBOLISM

OF EVIL
PAUL RICOEUR

Translated from th e F ren ch b y

E m erson B uchanan

BE AC O N PRESS B O STO N
 This Beacon paperback edition reprints Volume X V II
o j the R eligious Perspectives Series
which is planned and edited by R uth N anda A nshen
D r. Anshen's Epilogue to this reprint appears an page 358

Copyright © 1967 by Paul Ricoeur

First published as a Beacon Paperback in 1969 by arrangement
with H arper & R ow , Publishers, In corporated
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Third printing, A pril 1972
 Contents

PART I

T h e P rim ary Sy m b o l s : D e file m en t , S in , G u il t

Introduction: PH E N O M E N O LO G Y O F “ CO N FE SSIO N ” 3

1. Speculation, M yth, and Sym bol 3

2. Criteriology o f Symbols 10
3. T h e Philosophical “ Re-enactm ent” o f Confession 19

C hapter 1. D E F IL E M E N T 25

1. T h e Im pure 25
2. E thical T e n o r 29
3. T h e Symbolism o f Stain 33
4. T h e Sublimation o f Dread 40

Chapter I I . SIN 47

1. T h e Category o f “ Before G od” : T h e Covenant 50

2. T h e Infinite D em and and the Finite Com m andm ent 54
3. T h e “ W rath o f G od” * 63
4. T h e Symbolism o f S in: (1 ) Sin as “ Nothingness” 70
5. T h e Symbolism o f Sin: (2 ) Sin as Positive 81
C hapter I I I . G U IL T 100

1. Birth o f a N ew Stage 101

2. Guilt and Penal Im putation 108

3. Scrupulousness 118

4. T h e Impasse o f G uilt 139

C onclusion: R E C A P IT U L A T IO N O F T H E SY M B O L ISM
O F E V IL IN T H E C O N C E PT O F T H E SE R V ILE
W IL L 151

P A R T II

T h e “ M yth s” of t h e Beginning and of th e E nd

Introduction: T H E SY M B O L IC F U N C T IO N O F M Y T H S 161

1. From the Primary Symbols to Myths 161

2. M yth and Gnosis: T h e Sym bolic Function o f die

N arration 164

3. Tow ard a “ Typology” o f the Myths o f the Beginning and

the End o f Evil 171

Chapter I . T H E D R A M A O F C R E A T IO N A N D T H E
“ R IT U A L ” V IS IO N O F T H E W O R L D 175

1. Prim ordial Chaos 175

2. T h e R itual Re-enactm ent o f the Creation and the Figure

o f d ie K ing 191

3. A “ Recessive” Form o f the Dram a o f C reation; H ie

H ebrew K in g 198

4. A “ M utant” Form o f the Dram a o f C reation: T h e

H ellenic Titan 206
Chapter I I . T H E W IC K E D G O D A N D T H E “ T R A G IC ”
V IS IO N O F E X ISTE N C E 211

1. T h e Pre-Tragic Them es 213

2. T h e C rux o f the T ragic 218
3. Deliverance from the T ragic or Deliverance within the
T ragic? 227

C hapter I I I . T H E “ A D A M IC ’ M Y T H A N D T H E
“ E SC H A T O L O G IC A L ” V IS IO N O F H IS T O R Y 232

1. T h e Penitential M otivation o f tire “ A dam ic” M yth 235

2. T h e Structure o f the M yth : T h e “ Instant” o f the Fall 243
3. T h e “ Lapse o f Tim e” o f the D ram a o f Tem ptation 252
4. Justification and Eschatological Symbols 260

C hapter V . TH E CYCLE O F TH E M Y TH S 306

1. From the Statics to the Dynamics o f the M ythc 306

2. T h e Reaffirm ation o f the T ragic 310
3. T h e A ppropriation o f the M yth o f Chaos 326
4. T he.Struggle between the A dam ic M yth and the M yth
o f Exile 330

C hapter I V . T H E M Y T H O F T H E E X IL E D S O U L A N D
S A L V A T IO N T H R O U G H K N O W LE D G E 279

1. T h e A rchaic M yth : “ Soul” and “ Body” 283

2. T h e Final M yth 289
3. Salvation and K now ledge 300

Conclusion: T H E SY M B O L G IV E S R ISE T O T H O U G H T 347

Epilogue: R E L IG IO U S PE R SPE C TIVE S,

Its Meaning and Purpose b y R uth N anda Anshen
 P art One

T he Primary Symbols:
Defilement, Sin, Guilt
 Introduction:

Phenom enology

o f "Confession”

1. Speculation , M y t h , and Sym bol

h o w sh all w b m akb the transition from the p ossibility erf evil in

naan to its reality, from fallibility to fau lt?*
W e mH try to surprise the transition in the act by “ re-enacting”
in ourselves the confession that the religious consciousness makes
o f it.
O f course, this sympathetic re-enactm ent in imagination cannot
take the place o f a philosophy o f fault. It w ill still rem ain to b e
seen what the philosopher makes o f it— that is to say, b ow he
incorporates it in to the discourse on m an begun in the fust volum e -
o f this work under the influence o f the dialectic o f the finite and
the infinite. T his final developm ent w ill occu py the third volum e.
W e cannot yet anticipate the direction it w ill take, since w e d o not
yet know the new situation from w hich philosophy w ill have to
take its bearings.1
B ut i f the "re-enactm ent” o f the confession o f the evil in m an by
the religious consciousness does n ot take the place o f philosophy,
* The present volume is the second in the author’s Finitude and Guilt.
The first volnme has been translated under the title: FaUibls Man (H.
Regnery, 1966).—Ta.
1 See the concluding chapter, “The Symbol Gives Rise to Thought.”
S
nevertheless that confession lies within the sphere o f interest o f
philosophy, fo r it is an utterance, an utterance o f man about him­
self; and every utterance can and must be taken up into the ele­
ment o f philosophic discourse. W e shall indicate presently the
philosophic locus, so to speak, o f this “ re-enactment,’ ’ which is no
longer religious experience and w hich is n ot yet philosophy. But let
us indicate first what is said in the utterance that we have called
the confession o f the evil in m an by the religious consciousness.
It seems tem pting, at first, to begin w ith the m ost elaborate, d ie
m ost rationalized expressions o f that confession, in the hope that
those expressions w ill be closest to the language o f philosophy in
virtue o f their “ explanatory” character. Thus, one w ill be inclined
to think that it is against the late constructions o f the Augustinian
epoch concerning original sin that philosophy is challenged to
measure itself. M any philosophies, classical and m odern, take this
supposed concept as a religious and theological datum and reduce
the philosophical problem o f fault to a critique o f the idea o f
original sin.
N othing is less amenable to a direct confrontation with philosophy
than the concept o f original sin, for nothing is m ore deceptive than
its appearance o f rationality. O n the contrary, it is to the least
elaborate, the most inarticulate expressions of*the con fession of evil
that philosophic reason must listen. Therefore w e must proceed
regressively and revert from the “ speculative” expressions to the
“ spontaneous” ones. In particular, it is essential to be convinced
from the start that the concept o f original sin is not at the begin­
ning but at the end o f a cycle o f living experience, the Christian
experience o f sin. M oreover, the interpretation that it gives o f this
experience is only one o f the possible rationalizations o f the root
o f evil according to Christianity. Finally and above all, this ration­
alization, w hich is em balmed by tradition and has becom e the cor­
nerstone o f Christian anthropology, belongs to a period o f thought
marked by gnostic pretentions to “ know” the mysteries o f Gad
and human destiny. N ot that original sin is a gnostic con cept; on
tiie contrary, it is an anti-gnostic con cep t But it Belongs to the age
o f gnosis in the sense "that it tries to rationalize the Christian ex­
perience o f radical evil in the same w ay as gnosis set u p as “ knowl-
 edge” its pseudo-philosophic interpretation o f prim ordial dualism,
o f the fall o f Sophia, and o f every other entity p rior to m an. It is
this contam ination b y pseudo-philosophy that, in the last resort,
forbids us to start w ith the m ost rationalized notions o f confession.
T o what does speculation refer us? T o livin g experience? N ot
y e t Behind speculation, and teneath gnosis and anti-gnostic coiP~"|
structJons, w e find mythsi M y tn 'w ill here b e taken to m ean what
the history o f religions n ow finds in it: n ot a false explanation by
Tneatia o f images and fables, but a traditional narration w hich
relates to events that'happened a t the beginning o f tim e and which-
has the purpose o f providing grounds fo r the ritual actions o f m en
3 tdday an3, in a general manner, establishing all the form s o f
action and thought b y w hich m an understands him self in his w orld.
F or us, m oderns, a m yth is only a m yth because w e can n o longer
connect that ton e w tE the tim e o f history as w e w rite it, em ploying
fh e critical m ethod, n o r can w e connect m ythical places w ith our
geographical space. T his is w hy the m yth can n o longer b e an
explanation; to exclude its etiological intention is the them e o f all
necessary dem ythologization. But in losing its explanatory pre­
tensions the m yth reveals its exploratory significance and its con­
tribution to understanding, w hich w e shall later call its sym bolic
function-v-that is to say, its pow er o f discovering and revealing the '*
bond between m an and what he considers sacred. Paradoxical as it
m ay seem, the m yth, when it is thus dem ythologized through con­
tact w ith scientific history and elevated to the dignity o f a sym bol, 1
Is a dimension o f m odem thought. —
* ~ But what is h that is thus explored, discovered, revealed? W e
shall h ot pretend to give in this book a total theory o f m yths; our

iSni&tioh "o f-o u r investigation w ill b e repaid by a m ore rigorous

understanding o f the function o f myths in relation to what w e have
just^called, in terms intentionally vague, the bond between m an
and w hat h e considers sacred. E vil— defilem ent o r sin—is the
sensitive pointTand, as it w ere, the "crisis” o f this bon d w hich m yth
makes explicit in its own way. By lim iting ourselves to myths con­
cerning the origin and the end, we have a chance o f attaining an
 intensive rather than an extensive understanding o f myth. It is, in
la c t, Because evil is supremely ffie crucial experience o f the sacred
that tiie threat o f the dissolution o f the bond between m an and
the sacred makes us m ost intensely aware o f man’s dependence on
the powers o f the sacred. Therefore the m yth a f “ crisis” is at the
same tim e the myth o f “ totality” : in recounting how these things
began and h ow they w ill end, th e m yth places th e experience o f
m an in a w hole that receives orientation and meaning from the
narration. Thus, an understanding o f hum an reality as a w hole
operates through the m yth by means o f a reminiscence^ and an
expectation.^
Shall w e begin, then, w ith a n interpretation o f the myths about
the origin and the end o f evil? N ot y e t T h e stratum o f m yths, to
w hich w e are referred by pseudo-rational "Specu&tibnTIrcFers us m
its turn back to an experience'lying at a’ low er'level than any nar-
ration or any gnosis, in u s, the account~aTtKe"faH~iinhe Bible, even
if it com es from traditions older than the preaching o f the prophets
o f Israel, gets its meaning only from an experience o f sin w hich is
itself an attainment o f Jewish piety. It is the “ confession o f. sins”
in the cult and th e prophetic appeal fa r “justice and righteousness”
th a t fu rm d ith e myrnwith. a substructure o f meaning.
'^ T h u s , speculation cm original sin sends us back to the myth o f the
and riiiiij jn its tu n ), us fauflr to Ifwifwanp o f ” ng
T h e m yth o f the fa ll is so to F fia m b e in g th e cornerstone a f the
Judeo-Christian conception o f l i n that jh e l ^ are q f A dain.'pIS&sd
by the m yth a t the origin o f the history o f hum an evil, remained" a
mute figure fo r practically all o f the writers o f the O ld Testam ent
Abraham, the father o f believers, the founder-ancestor o f the elect
people, and N oah, ti“ »- father erf p ost-diluvian humanity, produced
m ore o f an ech o in the Biblical theology o f history th an th e figure o f
'A dam , w inch rem amSTTn a state o f suspended anim ation, so to
speak, until S t_P an l.ievived~it b y malting it parallel to the sectmd
A dam , Jesus C h rist A t the same tim e, the “ event" o f the C hrist
transformed the toll o f Adam retroactively in to a snmkF^’even? ’ ;
the historicity o f the second- A dam, hy reflection, conferred upon
tbe t a t A dam , o a o p a n lfe h iM r id t, and = . «*-
* For the theory of myths, see the Introduction to Fart II.
 in t r o d u c t io n : ph e n o m e n o lo g y o p “ c o n f e ssio n ” 7
responding to the Christ’s. T h e dem ythofoofoatinn n f_the story
o f“T he fa llTwas m ade m ore urgent by this retroactive action o f
Paulinian Christalogy on the A dam ic symbol. ^
~~N ow this dimension o f the symbol can only be recovered b y the >J
“ re-enactm ent” .qf the experience m ade explicit by the m yth. I t is, ^
then. t o this experience th at w e m ust try to penetrate.
But is this re-enactm ent posable? D oes n ot the m ediative role
that w e have granted to speculation and m yth condem n in advance
the attem pt to restore the pre-m ythical and pTe-speculative founda­
tion? T h e venture w ould be hopeless if, low er than gnosis and m yth,
there were., n o longer any language. But this is n ot the case; there
is the language o f confession, w hich in th e languages o f m yth and
p ecu la tion is raised to the second and third degrees.
T h is language o f confession is the counterpart o f the triple
character o f the experience it brings to ligh t: blindness, equivocal-
neSS, Bra trid n ln u g n p J M . ^

T h e experience o f w hich the penitent makes confession is a blinds

experience, still em bedded in the m atrix o f em otion, fear, anguish.
I t is this em otional note that gives rise to objectification in dis­
course; the confession expresses, pushes to the outside, the em otion
w hich w ith ou t it w ou ld b e shut up in itself, as an im pression in
the soul. Language is the ligh t o f the emotions* Through confession
the consciousness o f fau lt is brought into the light o f speech;
through confession m an remains speech, even in the experience o f
his ow n absurdity, suffering, and anguish.
M oreover, B ub experience i^ complex^ Instead o f the simple
experience that on e m ight cxftect, the confession o f sins reveals
several layers o f experience. “ G uilt,” in the precise sense o f a feel­
in g o f B e unworthiness at the core Of one’s personal being, is only
the advanced p oin t o f a radically individualized and interiorized
experience. T h is feeling o f guilt points to a m ore fundam ental
experience, the experience o f “ sin,” w hich includes all m en and
indicates the real situation o f m an before G od , w hether m an knows
it o r n o t I t is this sin o f w hich the m yth o f the fa ll recounts the
entry into the w orld and w hich speculation on original sin attempts
to erect into a doctrine. B ut o n , in its turn, is a correction and even
a revolution w ith respect to a m ore arch aic conception o f fault—

Vi t<. tt' 5tl - * 7 S-x) »,■*iff y t t L i

 the notion o f “ defilem ent? conceived in the guise o f a strain or
blem ish that infects from w ith ou t G uilt, sin, an d defilem ent thus
constitute a prim itive diversity in experience. H ence, the feeling
involved is not only blind in virtue o f being em otional; it is also
equivocal, laden w ith a m ultiplicity o f meanings. T h is is why
language is needed a second tim e to elucidate the subterranean
crises o f the consciousness o f fa u lt
.. ^ Fihally^ the experience o f w hich the believer makes avow al in
thh confession o f sins creates a language fo r itself by its very
strangeness; the experience o f being oneself but alienated from
oneself gets transcribed immediately o n the plane o f language in
the m ode o f interrogation. Sin, as alienation from craeselfj is an
experience even m ore astonishing, disconcerting, and scandalous,
perhaps, than the spectacle o f nature, an d fo r this reason it is the
richest source o f interrogative thought. In the oldest Babylonian
psalters the believer asks: “ H ow long, O L ord ? W hat god have I
sinned against? W hat Bin have I com m itted?” Sin makes m e in­
com prehensible to m yself: G od is h idden; the course o f things n o
longer has meaning. It is in line w ith this questioning and fo r the
purpose o f warding o ff the threat o f meaninglessness that the myth
relates “how that began,” and that gnosis elaborates the fam ous
question: v68a to koko?— W hence com e evils?— and m obilizes all
its resources fo r explanation. Sin is perhaps the m ost im portant
o f the occasions fo r questioning, but also fo r reasoning incorrectly
by giving premature answers. But just as the transcendental illu­
sion, gcrarding to K ant, testifies by its very perplexities that reason
is the faculty o f the unconditioned, so the unseasonable answers o f
gnosis and o f the etiological myths testify that man’s m ost m oving
experience, that o f being lost as a tinner, com m unicates w ith the
need to understand and excites attention by its very character as
a scandal.

By this threefold route man’ s living experience o f fault gives

itself a language : a language that expresses it in spite o f its blind
character; a language that makes explicit its contradictions and its
internal revolutions; a language, finally, that reveals the experience
o f alienation as astonishing.
 N ow , the H ebraic and H ellenic literatures give evidence o f a
linguistic inventiveness that marks the existential eruptions o f this
consciousness o f fa u lt I t is by discovering the m otivations o f those
lmguistic~mventions that w e re-enact the passage from defilem ent
to tin and g u ilt Thus, the H ebrew and Greek w ords that express
tile consciousness ip f fault have a sort of. wisdom o f their ow n
w hich w e must m ake explicit and take as our guide in the labyrinth
living experience. W e are n ot, therefor^lreduced^lS^tlielM EKble
w hen w e try to chgbeneath the m y th T o fe v ilfw e 'still crane up with
alan gu age.
M oreover, the m erely semantic understanding that w e can ac­
quire from the vocabulary o f fau lt is an exercise preparatory to
the hermeneutics o f myths. Indeed, it is itself already a herm eneuTl
tics, fa r th e m ost prim itive and least m ythical language is already ¥
' a sym bolic language: defilem ent is spoken o f under the sym bol o f a
sbun o r blem ish, tin under the symbol o f m isting the m ark, o f a
tortuous road, o f trespass, etc. In short, the preferred language o f
fau lt appears to b e indirect and based an im agery. T here is some­
thing quite astonishing in this: the consciousness o f self seems to
constitute itself at its lowest level by means o f symbolism a n d 'to . '
w ork out an abstract language only subsequently, b y means of a ^
spontaneous hermeneutics o f its prim ary symbols. W e shall see biter
th e extensive unifications of*this assertion -T or the m om ent it is \
enough to have established that the “ re-enactm ent” in sym pathetic
im agination always m oves in the elem ent o f language as reflection
reverts from gnosis to m yth and from m yth to the prim ary sym bolic
expressions brought into play in the confession o f fault. T his rever­
sion to the prim ary symbols pen n itsu s henceforth to consider myths
and gnosis as secondary and tertiary symbols, the interpretation o f
w hich rests on the interpretation o f the prim ary symbols.
W e must therefore take as a w hole the elementary language o f
confession, the developed language o f myths, and the elaborated
language o f gnosis and counter-gnosis. Speculation is n ot autono­
m ous and myths themselves are secondary; but neither is there •
any immediate consciousness o f fau lt that can d o w ithout the
secondary and tertiary elaborations. I t is the w hole circle, m ade
up o f confession, m yth, and specu latin g that w e m ust understands
syrn bpf fa n b s s te t}
(sl, v s < -W W
# 4 . / * . ( f 1 / , ^
( ^r-dS!C ‘
 If, then, w e begin with the interpretation o f living experience,
w e must not lose sight o f the fa ct that that experience is abstract,
in spite o f its lifelike appearance; it is abstract because it is sepa-_
rated from the totality o f meaning from w hich w e d e t a d U t io r .
didactic purposes. W e must n ot forget, either, that tbisexperien ce
is never im m ediate; it can be expressed only by means o f the*
prim ary symbolisms that prepare the way fo r its treatment in myths
g-nd speculation.*

2. C riteriology of Sym bols

Confession, we have said, always manifests itself in the element
o f language. N ow , that language is essentially sym bolic. H ence a
philosophy that is concerned to integrate confession w ith the con­
sciousness o f self cannot escape the task o f elaborating, a t least in
outline, a criteriology o f symbols.
Before proceeding to a direct intentional analysis o f symbolism,
w e must determine the extent and the variety o f its zones o f
emergence. O ne cannot, in fact, understand the reflective use o f
symbolism— as one sees, fo r exam ple, in the exam ination o f con­
science o f the penitent o f Babylonia or Israel—w ithout reverting
to its naive form s, where the prerogatives o f reflective consciousness
are subordinated to the cosm ic aspect o f hierophanies, to the
nocturnal aspect o f dream productions, or finally to the creativity
o f the poetic wprd. T h eseth ree dimensions o f syrabolign^cosnnc,^
dneiric^and/^Doetic*—are present in every authentic symbol. T h e
reflective aspect o f symbols, w hich w e shall examine further on
(defilem ent, deviation, straying, exile, w eight o f fault, e tc .), is
intelligible only i f it is connected w ith these three functions o f
sym bols, c o s m ic
M an first reads the sacred on the w orld, on same elements or
aspects o ft h e w orld,"on 'th e heavens,' on the su n an ^ m oqn * a g
waters and vegetatioru Spoken symbolism thus refers hack to mani­
festations o f the sacred, to hierophanies, where the sacred is shown

* This second volume does not push reflection beyond myths; the elabora­
tion of speculative symbols will be the object of the third volume. It appears,
in fact, that the immediate debate of gnosis is with philosophy, and so it is
in the framework of a philosophy of fault that gnosis must be examined.
 in a fragm ent o f the^cosmos, w hich, in return, loses its concrete
limits, gets- charged w ith innum erable meanings, integrates and
urnfipa the greatest possible num ber o f the sectors o f anthropocos-
m ic experience.t^Tirgi? o f all, then, it is the sun, the m oon, the
waters—that is to say, cosm ic realities— that are symbols. Shall w e
say, therefore, that symbols, in their cosm ic aspect, are anterior to
language, or even foreign to it? N ot at alL F or these realities to b e
a symbol is to gather together at one point a mass o f significations
which, before giving rise to thought, give rise to speech. T h e sym­
bolic m anifestation as a thing is a m atrix o f sym bolic meanings as
w ordsr W e ' have never ceased to find m^nninga in the sky (to take
the first exam ple on w hich Eliade practices his com parative phe­
nom enology). It is the same thing to say that the sky m anifests
the sacred and to say that it signifies the m ost high, the elevated
am i the immense, the pow erful and the orderly, the clairvoyant
, i »J»u» 'i* :*WWN|»'>—■.<■!]. 'jin ijiBliiW^iyiWi'

and the wise, the sovereign, the im m utable. T h e m anifestation

through the thing is like the condensation o f an infinite discourse;
m anifestation and m eaning are strictly contem poraneous and re-
caprocaij the concretion in th e'th in g is the counterpart o f the” sur­
charge- o f inexhaustible m eaning w hich has ramifications in the
cosmicT in the ethical, and in the political. Thus, the sym bol-thing
is~the potentiality o f innumerable spoken symbols w hich, cm the
other hand, are knotted together in a angle cosm ic m anifestation.
H ence, although w e shall deal only w ith spoken symbols and,
indeed, only symbols o f the self, w e m ust never forget that these
symbols, w hich w ill appear to us as prim ary in com parison w ith the
elaborated and intellectualized form ations o f the consciousness o f
self, are already on the w ay to cutting themselves loose from the
cosm ic roots o f symbolism. T h e m ovem ent that w e shall follow
from the symbolism o f defilem ent to the symbolism o f a n , and then
r

to the symbolism o f guilt p roperly so-called, is at the same tim e a

»

progressive M ovem ent away from the cosm ic ground o f symbolism.

■

T h e symbolism o f defilem ent is still immersed in the cosm ic; the

subterranean equivalences and correspondences between the defiled,
the consecrated, and the sacred are perhaps ineffaceable. I t is the
hierophanies, as a sphere o f reality, that first engender the “ on to-
4 Eliade, Traiti d’Histoire its Religions (Paris, 1949), p. 385.
{
 logical regime” * characteristic o f the defiledj the peril o f the soul
w hich defilement w ill later serve to symbolize is at first peril in d ie
presence o f things w hich are forbidden to profane experience and
w hich cannot be approached without risk when one is n ot ritually
prepared. T aboo is nothing else than this condition o f objects, ac­
tions, o r persons that are “ isolated” or “ forbidden” because o f the
danger involved in contact w ith them (ibid.) . It is because the
symbolism o f defilem ent still clings b y its m anifold root hairs to the
cosm ic sacralizations, because defilem ent adheres to everything
unusual, everything terrifying in the w orld, attractive and repellent
at the same time, that this symbolism is ultimately inexhaustible
and ineradicable. A s we shall see, the m ore historical and less cosm ic
symbolism o f sin and guilt makes up fo r th e poverty and abstract­
ness o f its imagery only by a series o f revivals and transpositions o f
the m ore archaic, but m ore highly surcharged, symbolism o f defile­
ment. T h e richness o f the symbolism o f defilement, even when
this symbolism is fully interiorized, is the corollary o f its cosm ic
roots.
cognac resonswces reach vp m h rvflfchye consekasnoss
These cosm ic resonances, reaching even in to reflective conscious­
ness, are less surprising i f the second dim ension o f symbolism is
taken in to consideration—the ^ m a ric^ jhn^M ^n. It is in dreams .
that on e can catch right o f the m ost fundam ental and stable sym­
bolisms o f humanity passing from d ie “ cosm ic” f unction to the*
‘‘psychic” function. W e should n ot b e able to com prehend how
symbols can signify the band between the b a n g o f m an and total
being if w e opposed to one another the hierophanies described by
the phenom enology o f religion and the dream productions de­
scribed by Freudian and Jungian psychoanalysis (a t least those
w hich, b y Freud’s ow n admission, g o beyond the projections o f
individual history and plunge beneath the private archeology o f a
subject in to the com m on representations o f a culture, o r in to the
folklore o f humanity as a w h ale). T o manifest the "sacred” on the
'‘cosmos” and to manifest i t in the t‘gwyche” are the same tiu n gT '
Perhaps w e ought even to refuse to choose between d ie interpre­
tation that makes these symbols the disguised expression o f the
* Eliade, op. eit., p. 27.
infantile and instinctual part o f the psychism and the interpretation
that finds in them the anticipation o f our posstBOifies o f evolution
and m aturation. .Lator w e shall have^to~explore an interpretation
according to w hich “ regression” is a roundabout w ay o f “ progres­
sion” and o f the exploration o f ou r potentialities.8 F or that w e shall
have to penetrate beyond the Freudian m etapsychology o f levels
(ego, id* super-ego) and the Jungian m etapsychology (energism
and archetypes) and let ourselves b e instructed directly by Freudian
therapeutics an d Jungian therapeutics, w hich, n o doubt, are ad­
dressed to different types o f patients. Re-im m ersion in our archaism
is n o doubt the roundabout w ay b y w hich w e immerse ourselves in
the archaism id humanity, and this double “regression” is possibly,
in its turn, the w ay to a discovery, a prospection, and a prophecy
concerning ourselves.
It is tins function o f symbols as surveyor’s staff and guide fo r
“ becom ing oneself” that must be united w ith and n ot opposed to
the “ cosm ic” function o f symbols as it is expressed in the hieroph-
anies described b y the phenom enology o f religion. Cosm os and
Psyche are the tw o p oles o f the same “ expressivity” ; I express myself
in expressing the w orld ; I explore m y ow n sacrality in deciphering
th a to f the w orld.
N ow , this double “ expressivity” — cosm ic and psychic— has its
com plem ent in qTtjnrjjl m odality o f sym bols: poetic im agination. <3,
But, to understand it properly, it is necessary firm ly to distinguish
im agination from im age, i f by im age is understood a function o f
absence, th e annulment o f the real in an im aginary unreal. T h is
image-representation, conceived an the m odel o f a portrait o f the
absent, is stiII~too‘ depen d en tlin the thing that it makes unreal; it
remains a process fo r m atin g present to oneself the things o f the
w orld. A poetic im age is m u d fclo se r to a w ord than to a portrait.
As M . Bachriard excellently says, it “ puts us at the origin o f the
speaking being” ; “ it becom es a new brin g o f our language, it
expresses us in making us that w hich it expresses.” U nlike the tw o
other m odalities o f symbols, hierophanic and oneiric, the poetic

• H einz Hartm ann, E go Psychology and th e Problem o f Adaptation

(1 9 3 9 ), in D avid R apaport, Organisation and Pathology o f Thought
(Colum bia University Press, 1951).
symbol shows us expressivity in its nascent state. In poetry the
symbol is caught at the m nm m t w hen it is a w elling u p o f lan­
guage, “ when it puts language in a state o f em ergence,” 7 instead
o f being regarded in its hferatir. stability under the protection o f
rites and myths, as in th e history o f religions, o r instead of. being
deciphered through the resurgences o f a suppressed infancy.
It should be understood that there are n o t three unconnected
form s o f symbols. T h e structure o f the poetic im age is a&o the*
structure o f the dream when the latter extracts from the fragments
*of our past a prophecy o f o u r future, and the structure o f the
hierophanies that m ake the sacred manifest in the sky and in the
waters, in vegetation and in stones.

Gan w e arrive at this one structure by a direct eidetic analysis,

w hich w ould account fo r this remarkable convergence o f religious
symbolism, oneiric symbolism, and poetic symbolism? I t is possible,
up to a certain point, to reveal the unifying principle o f the pre­
ceding enumeration by an intentional analysis. But, like all eidetic
reflection, this intentional analysis consists solely in distinguishing
a symbol from what is not a symbol, and thus directing attention
to the m ore or less intuitive grasp o f an identical nucleus o f mean­
ing.
W e w ill proceed, then, by a series o f increasingly d ose approxi­
m ations to tiie essence o f a symbol.
1. T hat symbols are signB is certain: they are expressions that
com m unicate a m eaning; tins m eaning is declared in an intention
o f signifying w hich has speech as its vehicle. Even when the syfnbbls
are dem ents o f the universe (dry, water, m oan) or th u gs (tree,
stone set u p ), it is still in the universe o f discourse that these realities
take on a sym bolic dimension (w ords o f consecration o r invocation,
m ythical utterances). A s Dumfirfl very w ell says: " I t is under the
sign o f logos and n ot under that o f mana that research fin the
history o f religions] takes its stand today.” 8
Similarly, dreams, although they are nocturnal spectacles, are
originally d ose to words, since they can b e told, com m unicated.

7 G. Bachelard, La Poitique de PEspace (Fans, 1957).

8 Preface to Eliade, Traiti tPHistoirt des Religions.
Finally, it has been seen that p oetic images themselves are essen­
tially wards.
2. But to say that the sym bol is a sign is to draw to o large a circle,
which m ust n ow b e m ade smaller. Every sign aim s at something
beyond itself and stands fa r that som ething; hut n ot every sign is
a symbol. W e shall say that d ie sym bol conceals in its aim a double
intenrianality. T ake the "defiled^ M he “ im pure.” T h is significant
w p w A m presents a fij^ m /h tra m ^ n ten tim ia lity that, lik e every
significant expression, supposes the trium ph o f th e conventional
sign over the natural sign. Thus, th e literal m eaning o f “ defilem ent”
is “ stain,” b u t this literal m eaning is already a conventional sign;
the words "stain,” “ unclean,” etc., d o n ot resemble the th m gjdgn i-
fied. B ut upon this first intentionality there is erected adseoantf
intentionality w hich, through the physically “ undean,” points to a
certain situation o f m an in the sacred w h ich is precisely that o f
being defiled, im pure. T h e literal and m anifest som e, then, points
beyond itself to som ething that a l i k e a stein o r spot. Thus, con­
trary” to perfectly transparent technical signs, wfiich~say only what
they w ant to say in positing that w hich they signify, sym bolic signs
axe opaque, because the first, literal, obvious m eaning itself points
analogicallyto a'secon d m eaning w inch is n ot given otherwise than
in ifX w e return to this p oin t in order to distinguish sym bol
Txom allegary). T h is opacity constitutes the depth o f the sym bol,
w hich, it w ill b e said, is inexhaustible.
~ STB ot let us~cdrrecdy understand the analogical b o ld between
the literal m eaning and the sym bolic m eaning. W hile analogy is
inconclusive m asoning that proceeds b y fourth p roportional— A is
to B as G is to D — in the sym bol, I cannot objectify the analogical
relation that connects the second m eaning w ith the first I t is b y
living in the first m eaning that I am led by it beyond itself; the
sym bolic m eaning is constituted in and b y the literal m eaning w hich
effects th e analogy in giving th e analogue. M aurice B lon dd said:
“ Analogies a re based less an notional resemblances (sirnffitudmes)
than an an interior stim ulation, an an assimilative solicitation
(m ientio ad assimHationem) . ” • In fa ct, unlike a com parison that

* Maurice Blonde!, IfB tre et Us litres, pp. 225-26, quoted in Lalande,

Vocabulaire phUosophique, art “Analogic.”
we consider from outside, the symbol is the movem ent o f the pri­
mary meaning w hich makes us participate in the latent meaning
and thus assimilates us to that w hich is symbolized w ithout our
being able to master the similitude intellectually. It is in this sense
that the symbol is donative; it is donative because it is a prim ary
intentionality that gives the second meaning analogically.
4. T h e distinction between symbol and allegory is an extension o f
our remarks on the analogy effected by the literal m eaning itself.
M . Pepin“ has elucidated this problem very w ell: in an allegory
what is prim arily signified— that is to say, the literal m eaning— is
contingent, and what is signified secondarily, the sym bolic meaning
itself, is external enough to b e .directly accessible. H ence, there is a
relation o f translation between the tw o meanings; once the trans-
lation is m ade, the henceforth useless allegory can be dropped. N ow
the specific character o f the symbol as opposed to the allegory has
been brought to light slowly and with difficulty. H istorically, al­
legory has been less a literary and rhetorical procedure o f artificial
construction o f pseudo-symbols than a m ode o f treating myths as
allegories. Such is the case w ith the Stoic interpretation o f the
myths o f H om er and H esiod, w hich consists in treating the myths
as a disguised philosophy. T o interpret is then to penetrate the
disguise and thereby to render it useless, l a other words, allegory
has been a m odality o f hermeneutics m uch m ore than a spontaneous
creation o f signs. It w ould be better, therefore, to speak of~afiegoriz-
ing interpretation rather than o f allegory. Symbol and allegory,
then, are not an the same footin g: symbols precede herm eneutics;
allegories are already hermeneutic. This is so becausePthe symbol
presents its meaning transparently in an entirely different way than
by translation. O ne w ould say rather that it evokes its m eaning
or suggests it, in the sense o f the Greek ahrirrtodai (from w inch
the w ord “ enigma” com es). It presents its meaning in the opaque
transparency o f an enigm a and not by translation. H ence, I oppose
the donation o f m eaning in trans-parency in symbols to the interpre­
tation by trans-lation o f allegories.
5. Is it necessary to say that the sent o f symbol w hich w ill be in
10M yths et alUgorie (Paris, 1958).
question here has nothing to do with that w hich sym bolic logic
rails by the same nam e? Indeed, it is the inverse o f it. But it is n ot
pnongh to say so ; one must know w hy. F or sym bolic logic, symbolism
is the acm e o f form alism . Form al logic^ in the theory o f the syl­
logism , had already replaced “ terms” by signs standing fo r anything
whatever; but the relations— fo r exam ple, the expressions “ all,”
“ some,” “ is,” “ implies” — had not been cut loose from the ordinary
linguistic expressions. In sym bolic logic these expressions are them­
selves replaced b y letters, or written signs, w hich need n o longer
be spoken and b y means o f w hich it is possible to calculate without
asking oneself how they are incorporated in a deontology o f reason­
ing.11 These, then, are n o longer abbreviations o f fam iliar verbal
expressions, but “ characters” in the Leibnisdan sense o f the w ord—
that is to say, elements o f a calculus. I t is d ea r that the land o f
symbol w ith w hich w e are concerned here is the contrary o f a
character. N ot only does it belong to a kind o f thinking that is
bound to its contents, and therefore n ot form alized, but the intim ate
bond between its first and second intentions and the impossibility
o f presenting the sym bolic meaning to oneself otherwise than by
the actual operation o f analogy make o f the sym bolic language a
language essentially bound, bound to its content and, through its
prim ary content, to its secondary content. In this sense, it is the
absolute inverse o f an absolute form alism . O ne m ight be astonished
that the symbol has tw o such rigorously inverse uses. Perhaps the
reason should b e sought in the structure o f signification, w hich is at
on ce a function o f absence and a function o f presence: a function
o f absence because to signify is to signify “ vacuously,” it is to say
things w ithout the things, in substituted signs; a function o f presence
because to signify is to signify “ something” and finally the w orld.1®
Signification, by its very structure, makes possible at the same tim e
both total form alization—that is to say, the reduction o f signs to

M R. Blanche, Introduction A la logique contempormne (Paris, 1957);

D. Dubarle, Initiation A la Logique (Bans, 1957).
12 On the relation, within signification, between a designation, void of
meaning, and reference to an object about which one says something, cf.
Husserl, Logischt Untersuchungen, II, First Investigation, “Expression and
Signification,” $$ 12—14.
 18 THE SYMBOLISM OF EVIL

“ characters” and finally to elements o f a calculus— and the restora­

tion o f a fu ll language, heavy w ith im plicit intentionalities and
analogical references to something else, w hich it presents enigmati­
cally.
6. Last criterion: h ow to distinguish myth and sym bol? I t is
relatively easy to contrast myth and allegory, hut m uch less easy
to distinguish clearly between myth and symbol. Sometimes it
I seems that symbols are a manner o f taking myths in a nan-allegori-
cal way. Thus, symbol and allegory w ould b e intentional attitudes
o r dispositions o f herm eneutics; ?*nd the sym bolic sm i iJlegnpral
interpretations w ould then b e tw o directions o f m terpretation bear­
ing on the sam e m ythical con ten t Cantrarily to this interpretation,
I shall always understand by sym bol, in a m uch m ace prim itive
sense, analogical meanings w hich are spontaneously form ed and'
immediately significant, such as defilem ent, analogue o f stain; sin,
analogue oFH eviatian; guilt, analogue o f accusation. These symbols
are an the same level as, far exam ple, th e m eaning o f water as
threat and as renewal in the flood and in baptism, and finally on
the same level as the m ost prim itive ineraphanies. In tips sense.
L X "sym bols are m ore radical than myths. I shall regard^m ytiuyis a
' imped es o f symbols, as aymbols developed in the form a f r arrations
and articulated in a tim e and a space that cannot b e co-ordmatedT
w ith the time and space o f history and geography according t o the
Identical m eth od F or exam ple, exile is a^primary symbeff ^ f human
alienation, but the history o f the expulsion o f Adam and E veirozn
Paradise is a m ythical narration o f the second degree, bringing into
play fabulous personages, places, times, and episodes. Ernie is a
I prim ary symbol and n ot a m yth, because it is a historical event
m ade to signify human alienation analogically; but the same aliena­
tion creates fo r itself a fanciful history, the exile from Eden, w hich,
as history that happened in Ulo tem pore, is m yth. I t w ill b e seen
that this thickness o f the narrative is essential to m yth, w ithout
counting the attem pt at explanation w hich, in etiological myths,
accentuates their secondary character. I w ill return to this problem
at the beginning o f the second part o f this study o f the symbolism
o f evil.
 3. T h e Ph ilo so ph ical "R e -enactm ent ” of C on fession

T his re-enactm ent o f confession, carried out at all its levels o f

symbolization,— what is it fa r philosophy? T o resume the question
left hanging, what is its
W hat w e are now seeking is not yet the philosophy o f fau lt; it
can only be a propaedeutic. M yth is aheady*logos, but it has stHT
to b e taken up into phibsoph ic discourse. T his propaedeutic re­

mite the believing soul to speak. T he philosopher adopts provirion-

ally t ie m otivations and intentions o f t i e believing soul. H e does
n ot “feel” them in their first nalvet6; he “re-feels” them in a neu-
tralized m ode, in the m ode o f "as if.” It is in this sense that p henom -
enology is a re-enactm ent in sympathetic im agination. B ut this
phcnom enology falls short o f reflection in the fu ll sense, such as w e
pursued in the first part u p to the concept o f fallibility. T h e p rob-
lem rem ains: h ow to integrate this re-enactm ent in sympathetic
imagination in to reflection? H ow give reflection a new start by
means o f a symbolics o f liberty in bondage?
W e m e n ot in a position t o answer this question, w hich w ill find
its solution in the course c l the third part o f this w ork. Nevertheless,
w e shall set forth the principle o f this solution at the end o f tins
volum e under t i e hearimy o f an excellent . m axim : svm bols pizw

w hat constitutes ou r principal m ethodological bondage.

B y beginning w ith a symbolism already there w e give ourselves

something to think about; but at the same tim e w e introduce a
radical contingency in to ou r discourse. Firsts th ere are sym bols;
I encounter them , I fin d them ; they are like the innate ideas o f
the old philosophy. W hy are they such? W hy are they? T his is
introduced in to discourse. M oreover, I d o n ot
know them a ll; m y Judd o f investigation is oriented, and because it
 is oriented it is lim ited. By what is it oriented? N ot only by m y own
situation in the universe o f symbols, but, paradoxically, by the
historical, geographical, cultural origin o f the philosophical ques­
tion itself.
/ O ur philosophy is Greek by birth. Its intention and its pretension
o f universality are "situated.” T h e philosopher does n ot speak from
nowhere, but from the depths o f his Greek memory, from which
rises the question: rt to~3v? what is b a n g ? T his question, w hich
Sounds the Greek note at the outset, embraces all later ques­
tions, including those o f existence and reason, and consequently
those o f finitude and fault. T h e fa ct that the G reek question is
situated at the beginning orients the human space o f religions
w hich is open to philosophical investigation.
N ot that any culture is excluded in principle; but in this area
oriented by the originally Greek question, there are relations o f
“proxim ity” and “ distance” that belong inescapably to the structure
o f our cultural m emory. H ence the privilege o f “ proximity” o f the
Greek and Jewish cultures; these tw o cultures, w hich w ould con­
tain nothing exceptional fo r an eye not situated anywhere in par­
ticular, constitute the first stratum o f our philosophical m emory.
M ore precisely, the encounter o f the Jewish source w ith the Greek

I
origin is the fundam ental intersection that founds ou r culture. T h e
Jewish source is the first “ other” o f philosophy, its “ nearest” other;
the abstractly contingent fact o f that encounter is the very fah» o f
our occidental existence. Since our existence begins w ith it, tins
encounter has becom e necessary, in the sense that it is the presup­
position o f our undeniable reality. This is why the history o f the
consciousness o f fault in Greece and in Israel w ill constantly he our
central point o f reference; it is our “ nearest” origin, in this spiritual
econom y o f distance.
T he rest follow s from this double privilege o f Athens and Jeru­
salem : everything that, step by step, has contributed to our spiritual
genesis belongs to our investigation, but along the lines o f motiva­
tion that are expressed by “ near” and “ far.”
W hat, then, does “ step by step” mean? V arious sorts o f relations
o f orientation: relations in “ depth,” “ lateral” relations, “ retroac­
tive” relations.
 “ Relations _in depth’C & s P There are themes o f the religious con - ‘
sciousness that appear to us today, as it were, in the “ thickness”
and the transparency o f our present m otivations. T h e conception
o f fau lt as defilem ent is the best exam ple o f this; it shows through
all ou r Greek and H ebrew docum ents. I t is im possible to over­
estimate the im portance o f this stratified structure fo r the con­
sciousness o f fault. Psychoanalysis, it w ill b e seen, tries to m ake a
logical archaism coincide w ith tins cultural “ distance.” It is to
elucidate this sedimentation erf our cultural m em ory that w e can
appeal to docum ents bearing on civilizations w hich d o n o t belong
to that memory— civilizations o f A frica, Australia, Asia, etc.— and
winch are quite often contem porary civilizations. T h e objective
likeness that ethnology discovers between them and ou r ow n past
authorizes us to use know ledge about those civilizations to diagnose
our ow n past, suppressed or buried in oblivion. I t is solely in virtue
o f their diagnostic value in relation to our m em ory that w e shall
invoke the testimony o f ethnology concerning m odes o f behavior
and consciousness o f fault.
B ut one cannot explicate these relations in “ depth” in the bosom
o f our m em ory without bringing the “lateral” relations to light also.
F or «ram plftj it is im possible today to understand the H ebrew
source without placing its beliefs and its institutions in the fram e­
work o f the culture o f the ancient M iddle East, fo r it repeats some
o f the fundam ental themes o f that culture (b y direct borrow ing, by
reference to com m on sources, o r in virtue o f the parallelism o f
material and cultural con dition s), and above all it m odifies same
others profoundly. T h e understanding o f those likenesses and un­
likenesses pertains henceforth to the proper understanding o f the
H ebrew source o f our m em ory, so that the culture o f the ancient
M iddle East itself belongs m arginally to our m em ory.
In their turn, these relations in “ depth” and in “ breadth” are
reshaped by retroactive relations. O u r cultural m em ory is unceas­
ingly renewed retroactively by new discoveries, returns to the
sources, reform s and renaissances that are m uch m ore than revivals
o f the past and constitute behind us w hat one m ight call a “ neo­
p ast” Thus, our Hellenism is not exactly the Hellenism o f the
Alexandrians, o r o f the C hurch Fathers, o r o f Scholasticism , o r o f
 the Renaissance, o r o f the A ufklarung; think, fo r example, o f the
rediscovery o f tragedy by the m odem s. Thus, by retroaction from
the successive “ nows,” ou r past never stops changing its m eaning;
the present appropriation o f the past m odifies that w hich motivates
us from the depths o f the p ast
T w o m odalities o f thiB neo-past .deserve to b e m entioned: restora­
tion o f lost intermediaries and later suppression o f distance,
j T h at such intermediaries have been lost is a part o f the situation
o f our m em ory; but suddenly their restoration transforms the
understanding that w e had o f ourselves on the baas o f that past full
o f lacunae. Thus, the discovery o f manuscripts in the desert of
Judea restores an im portant transition in the Judeo-Christian p a st
N ow , the ignorance o f that transition was part o f the m otivations
o f our consciousness u p to a recent d ate; the present discoveries
reshape the established tradition, throw light on obscure m otiva­
tions, and thus give us a new m emory.
2 . A second source o f neo-form ations in our memory com es from
later m odifications o f the "distance” between the sources o f our
consciousness. T h e science o f religion "brings together” cultures
that have not encountered each other. But these "bringings to­
gether” remain arbitrary insofar as n o bonds are fan n ed such as'
engender great works o f the sort that renew our patrim ony, as was
the case between the H ebrew and Greek cultures; w hich effectively
encountered each other in a w ay that was decisive fo r the constitu­
tion o f our memory. But there are cultures w hich have been brought
Jogether only in the m ind o f the scholar, but w hidT have n ot yet
encountered each other t o the point o f radical!^transform ing onr
tradition ; this is the case w ith the Far-Eastern civilizations; T his
explains why a phenom enology oriented by the philosophical ques­
tion o f Greek origin cannot d o justice t o the great experiences o f
In dia and China. H ere, not only the contingency but also the limits
o f our tradition becom e eviden t There is a m oment when the
principle o f orientation becom es a principle o f lim itation. It w ill
be said, n o fw ith o u t reason, that those rivilizatjans are o f equal
value w ith the Greek and Jewish civilizations. But the point o f view
from w hich this equality o f value can b e seen does n ot yet exist, and
it w ill exist eventually only when a universal human culture has
brought all cultures together in a w hole. In the m eantim e, neither
the history o f religions n or philosophy can b e a concrete universal f
rapnhlp o f em bracing all hum an experience. O n the on e hand, the
objectivity o f science, w ithout a point o f view and w ithout situation,
does n ot equahre ciilhirEs’e ^ e p t'b y h K fia lS i^ M d ie ir i ^ u e j it can^
not think the positive reasons fo r their equal value. O n the other
hand, philosophy, as w e have received it from the Greeks and
perpetuated it in the W est, w ill rem ain unequal to this concrete
universal as long as n o serious encounter and n o m utual clarifica­
tion have brought these civilizations into the field o f ou r experience
and at the same tim e rem oved its lim itation. This encounter and
this mutual clarification have n ot yet really taken place. T h ey have
taken place fo r same m en and some groups and they have been the
great concern o f their lives; but they have rem ained episodic fo r
our culture as a w hole. T his is w hy, u p to the present, they have
not had the significance o f a foundation (as did the encounter o f
the Greek question w ith the H ebrew religion) and o f a re-creation
(as have the various renaissances and returns to sources in the
bosom o f W estern cu ltu re). T h eir phenom enological character is
precisely that they have rem ained episodic, and so the relation o f
ou r culture to the Far East remains a relation to something distant.
N o doubt w e are drawing closer to the m om ent o f a creative en­
counter and the reshaping o f a m em ory based on the opposition o f
“near” and "far5’ ; but w e are n ot in a position to im agine what
that w ill m ean fo r the categories o f our ontology and fo r our read­
ing o f the Pre-Socratics, Greek tragedy, and the Bible. But one
thing is certain: w e shall n ot enter into this great debate o f each
culture w ith all w ithout our m em ory; the lessening o f the distance
between our civilization and those w hich today w e still call “ dis­
tant” w ill not suppress the structuration o f ou r m em ory, but w ill
com plicate i t It w ill n ot cease to b e true that w e w ere b om to
philosophy by G reece and that as philosophers w e have encountered
the Jews before encountering the Hindus and the Chinese.

Shall w e b e astonished, shall w e be scandalized b y th q contingent

constitution o f ou r memory B u t contingency is not only the in­
escapable infirm ity o f the dialogue between philosophy and its
34 t h e s y m b o lism or ev il

“ other” ; it inhabits the history o f philosophy itself; it breaks the

sequence w hich that history form s with itself; the springing u p o f
thinkers and their works is unforeseeable; it is always in the midst
o f contingency that rational sequences must b e detected. Anyone
w ho wished to escape this contingency o f historical encounters and
stand apart from d ie gam e in the nanu* o f a non-situated “ ob­
jectivity” w ould at the m ost know everything, but w ould under­
stand nothing. In truth, he w ould seek nothing, not being m otivated
by concern about any question.
 I. Defilement

1. T h e I mpure

dread op t h e im pure and rites o f purification are in the back-

gfonn3“ 3 ” aII ou r'feelin gs and~all our behavior relating to fa u lt
W hat~is ttieretK at”* th e 'p tiflS s o p h e rc^ 'understand~abont these
feelings and these m odes o f behavior?
H e w ould he tem pted to reply: N othing. D efilem ent itself is
scarcely a representation, and what representation there is is im­
mersed in a specific sort o f fear that blocks reflection. W ith defile­
ment w e enter into the reign o f Terror. Thereupon the philosopher
recalls Spinoza’s n ee spe nee m etu: hope fo r nothing in order to
fear nothing; and h e learns from the psychoanalyst that this fear
is akin to an obsessional neurons. T h e purifications!, fo r their part,
try to annul the evil o f defilem ent b y a specific action ; but w e can
no longer co-ordinate this ritual action w ith any type o f action fo r
which w e can construct a theory today: physical action, psychologi­
cal influence, consciousness o f ourselves. In short, even the repre­
sentation o f defilem ent, em bedded in a specific fear and tied to
ritual action, belongs to a m ode o f thought that w e can n o longer,
it seems, “ re-enact,” even “ in sympathetic im agination.” W hat d o
we think o f when w ith Pettazzoni w e d efin e/lefilem en t'as “ an act
that evolves an evil, an im parity, a fluid, a mysterious and harm ful
snmpthing that
W hat resists reflection is the idea o f a quasi-material som ething
that infects as a sort o f filth, that harms b y invisible properties, and

1 Pettazzoni, La confession its pich is (Bologna, 1929-36, 3 vols.); French

translation, VoL I (1931), p. 184.
that nevertheless works in the manner o f a force in the field o f our
undividedly psychic and corporeal existence. W e n o longer under­
stand what the substance-force o f evil, the efficacy o f a something
that maltea purity itself an exem ption from defilement and purifi­
cation an annulment o f defilement, could be.
Is it possible to “ re-enact” this sense o f defilem ent? Its irrational
character permits only an oblique approach. In theU Sst stage o f
our investigation w e shall make use o f ethnological science without
being concerned to appropriate its content; defilement w ill then
appear to us as a m om ent o f consciousness that w e have lefthehind.
Thus we^understahd through contrast the feelings and thebehavior
that w e have abandoned, But this frontier view o f the w orld of
defilement can prepare the way, in a^ econ tf stage, fo r a less remote
understanding o f those aspects o f defilement that m ade it ready to
be left behind. It is here that w e shall bring in to th e account the
sym bolic richness o f this experience o f fau lt; fo r it is in virtue o f its
unlimited potentiality fo r symbolization that w e stQl d in g to i t
W e shall have approached as dose as possible to an experience
w hich has not am ply been left behind but has been retained, and
w hich perhaps conceals something that cannot be left behind, by
w hich it survives through a thousand mutations.
It is from a double point o f view that defilement appears to us
as a m om ent in the consdousness o f fault that has b e a t left behind:
from an objective point o f view and from a subjective point o f view .
In tint first p lace, our consdence n o longer recognizes the reper­
tory o f defilem ent: what counts as defilement, fa r a consdence that
lives under its regim e, n o longer coinddes w ith w hat counts as evil
fo r us. T h e variations in this inventory indicate a displacement o f
m otivation. It is because w e can n o longer discern in im pure ac­
tions o f that sort any offense against an ethical god, any violation
o f the justice that w e ow e to other m en, any lessening o f our
personal dignity, that they are exduded fo r us from the sphere o f
evil.
Thus the repertory o f defilement appears to us sometimes too
broad, sometimes too narrow, or unbalanced. W e are astonished,
fo r exam ple, when w e see involuntary o r unconsdous human ac­
tions, the actions erf animals, and even simple material events called
defilements— the frog that leaps into the fire, the hyena that leaves
its excrements in the neighborhood erf a tent. W hy are w e aston-
idled? Because w e d o n ot find in these actions o r events any point
where w e m ight insert a judgm ent o f personal im putation, o r even
am ply human im putation; w e have to transport ourselves in to a
consciousness fo r w hich im purity is measured n ot by im putation to
a responsible agent but by the objective violation o f an interdict.
O n the^bther^faand, the inventory o f defilem ent surprises us by
its gaps. N ot infrequently the same system o f interdiction abounds
in minute prescriptions in domains that fo r ns are ethically neutral,
but does n ot regard as defilements acts w hich the Sem itic codes and
Greek legislation have taught us to characterize as ev il: theft, lying,
sometimes even hom icide. These actions becom e evil only in a sys­
tem o f reference oth er than that o f infectious contact, in connection
with the confession o f divine holiness, respect fo r interhuman ties,
and self-esteem.
Thus the inventory o f faults under the regim e o f defilem ent is
vaster an the side o f happenings in the w orld in the degree to
which it is narrower on the side o f the intentions o f the agent.
This breadth and this narrowness give eviden ce o f a stage in
which evil and~misfortune have not been"dissociated, in w h ich the
ethical order o f doing ill has.not been fmm thjrrrwmru
biological order o f faring HI: suffering, sickness, death, failure. W e
shall see after a while how the anticipation o f punishm ent, at the
heart o f the fear o f the im pure, strengthens this bond between evil
and m isfortune: punishment falls on man in the guise o f m isfortune
and transforms all possible sufferings, all diseases, all death, all
failure into a sign o f defilem ent Thus the w orld o f defilem ent em­
braces in its order o f the im pure the consequences o f im pure actions
or events; step by step, there is nothing that cannot b e pure or
impure. H ence, the division between the pure and the im pure
ignores any distinction between the physical and the ethical and
fallows a distribution o f the sacred and the profane w hich has be­
com e irrational fo r us.
CFinaHy^tfae archaic character o f the inventory o f faults, as some­
thing left behind, is revealed not only by changes in its extension,
by the subtractions and additions in the list o f evil things, b u t by
variations in intensity, b y changes that affect the degree o f gravity
o f tins o r that violation o f the Forbidden.
Thus on e is struck by the im portance and the gravity attached
to the violation o f interdictions o f a sexual character in the econom y
o f defilem ent T h e prohibitions against incest, sodom y, abortion,
relations at forbidden times— and sometimes places— are so funda­
mental that the inflation o f the sexual is characteristic o f the whole
system o f defilement, so that an indissoluble com plicity between
Sexuality and d efilem en t seem s tn h a v e been fnrmgfl fm m tim e
unmemorial. This preponderance o f sexual interdictions becomes
very strange when it is com pared w ith the tw o other characteristics
described above: the extension o f interdiction to actions m orally
neutral and the silence o f the same ritual codes with regard to
lying, theft, and sometimes hom icide. Tins convergence o f traits
reveals that the defilem ent o f sexuality as such is a them e foreign
to the ethics that proceeds from the confession o f divine holiness,
as w ell as to the ethics that is organized around the theme o f justice
or the integrity o f the m oral person. T h e defilement o f sexuality is
a belief that is pre-ethical in character ;J± can berm^e rtfriral, » « the
defilem ent o f the m urderer can becom e ethical in becom ing an
offense against the reciprocity o f the human band, although it pre­
cedes any ethics o f the second person and is immersed in th e archaic
belief in the m aleficent virtues o f shed b lood . T h e com parison
between sexuality and m urder is supported b y the same play o f
im ages: in both cases, im purity is connected with the presence of
a material “ something” that transmits itself by contact and con­
tagion. W e shall say presently what there is in the consciousness o f
defilem ent that resists a literal, realistic, even m aterialistic interpre­
tation o f im pure contact. I f, from the beginning, defilement were
n ot a sym bolic stain, it w ould be incom prehensible that the ideas
o f defilement and purity could be corrected and taken up in to an
interpersonal ethics that puts the accent an the acquisitive o r d ila ­
tive aspects o f sexuality— in short, on the quality o f the relation to
another. Nevertheless, by many o f its traits sexuality supports the
ambiguity o f a~'quasi-matgrjality o f defilem ent A t the lim it, the
infant w ould b e regarded as bom im pure, contam inated t o n the
beginning by the paternal seed~by'~the im purity afT h iem a ternal
genital region, and b y the additional im purity o f childbirth. It is
not certain that such beliefs d o n ot continue to prow l m the con­
sciousness o f m odem man and that they have not played a decisive
role in speculation an original sin. Indeed, not only does this n o­
tion remain dependent on the 'general im agery o f contact and
contagion, w hich it uses in speaking o f the transmission o f the
primordial taint, but it is still magnetized by the them e o f sexual
defilement considered as pre-em inently th e im pure."
T h is lim iting interpretation, w hich pulls sexual defilem ent in die
direction o f a m aterial im purity, is re-enforced b y the spectacle o f
rites o f purification w hich, here as everywhere else, have the nega­
tive significance o f an exem ption from defilem ent. D o not the
marriage rites, am ong others, aim to rem ove the universal im purity
af sexuality by marking out an enclosure within w hich sexuality
ceases to b e a defilem ent, but threatens to becom e so again if the
rules concerning times, places, and sexual behavior are not ob­
served? A t the end o f this line on w hich w e have just encountered
the theme o f the prim ordial defilem ent o f sexuality, there appears
the identity o f purity and virginity: viigm jty_and spgdesssess^ase
as closely bound together as sexuality and contam ination. This
double assonance is in the background o f all our ethics, where it
constitutes the archaism that is most resistant t o criticism . So true
is this that it is n ot from m editation on sexuality that a refinement
af the consciousness o f fault w ill be able to proceed, but from the
nan-sexual sphere o f existence: from the human relations created
by work, appropriation, politics. I t is there that an ethics o f rela­
tions to others w ill b e form ed, an ethics o f justice and love, capable
of turning back tow ard sexuality, o f re-evaluating and transvalu­
ing i t

2. E th ic al T error

W e have been considering defilem ent u p till now as an objective

event; it is, w e have said, a something that infects b y co n ta ct But
this infectious contact is experienced subjectively in a specific feel-2

2 Pettazzoni, op. at., pp. 163-64,169.

ing w hich is o f the order o f Dread. M an enters into the ethical
w orld through fear and not through love.
By this second trait, again, the consciousness o f impurity seems to
be a mom ent inaccessible to any re-enactment in im a g in a tion and
sympathy, a mom ent th at has been abolished b y the progress of
m oral consciousness itself. Nevertheless, that dread contains in
germ all the later moments, hecause it conceals within itself the
secret o f its own passing; fo r it is already ethical dread and not
merely physical fear, dread o f a danger w hich is itself ethical and
which, at a higher level o f the consciousness o f evil, w ill be the
danger o f not being able to love any m ore, the danger o f being a
dead man in the realm o f ends.
This is why the prim itive dread deserves to be interrogated as
our oldest m em ory.
T h e o rigin o f that dread is the primordial connection o f venge­
ance witE~defilement._,This “ synthesis” is anterior to any justifica­
tion ; it is what is presupposed in any punishment conceived as
revenge and expiation. It w ill be able to transform, transpose,
spiritualize itself. It precedes itself in all its mutations and sublima­
tions. A t first, the Im pure tabes vengeance. It w ill be posable far
this vengeance to be absorbed in to the idea a£ O rder and even into
the idea o f Salvation, by way o f the “ Passion” o f a Suffering Just
O ne. T h e initial intuition o f the consciousness o f defilement re­
m ains: suffering is the price far the violation o f order; suffering is
to “ satisfy” the claim o f purity fa r revenge.
Taken in its origin— that is to say, in its m atrix o f terror—this
initial intuition is the intuition o f prim ordial fatality. T h e invincible
bond between Vengeance and defilem ent is anterior *0 any faaritn.
turn, any intention, any decree; it is so prim itive that it is anterior
even to the representation o flm avenging god. T h e automatism in
ffie sanction that the prim itive consciousness dreads and adores
expresses this a priori synthesis o f avenging wrath, as if the fault
wounded the potency o f the interdict and as if that injury ineluc­
tably triggered the response. M an confessed this ineluctability long
before b e recognized the regularity o f the natural coder. ftVben he
first wished to express the order in the w orld, h e began by express­
ing it in the language o f retribution. T h e famous fragm ent o f
Anaximander is an exam ple: ‘‘T h e origin from w hich beings pro­
ceed ib also the end tow ard w hich their destruction proceeds ac­
cording to necessity; fo r they offer satisfaction and expiation to
one another fo r their injustice according to the order o f tim e”
(Diels, Fragm ent B 1 ).
This anonymous wrath, this faceless violence o f R etribution, is
msrrihed in the human w orld in letters o f suffering. Vengeance
causes- suffering. A n d thus, through the interm ediary o f retribution,
the whole physical order is taken up into the ethical order; the evil
of suffering is linked synthetically w ith the evil o f fa u lt; the very
ambiguity o f the w ord “ evil” is a grounded am biguity, grounded
in the law o f retribution as it is revealed w ith fear and trem bling
by the consciousness o f defilement. Suffering evil clings to doing
evO as punishment proceeds ineluctably from defilement.
Thus, fo r the second tim e, the w orld o f defilem ent is a w orld
anteriorj o the tfiviaon between wthfral the physical, F*hir»
is mingled w ith the p hysics o f suffering, while gn fferin gjf surcharged
w ith'ethical meanings.
~ ft is because vengeance fo r a violated interdict falls upon man
as an evil o f suffering that suffering can acquire the value and the
role o f a Bymptoin: if a man is unfortunate in fishing or hunting,
it is because his w ife has adulterous relations. F or the same reason,
the prevention o f defilem ent by rites o f purification acquires the
value o f prevention o f suffering: if you wish to avoid a painful or
fatal confinem ent in childbirth, to protect yourself against a calam ­
ity (storm , eclipse, earthquake), to avoid failure in an extraordinary
or dangerous undertaking (voyage, getting past an obstacle, hunt­
ing, or fishing), observe the practices for eliminating or exorcizing
defilement.
This band between defilement and suffering, experienced in fear
and trem bling, has been all the m ore tenacious because fo r a long
time it furnished a scheme o f rationalization, a first sketch o f cau­
sality. I f you suffer, if you are ill, if you fail, i f you die, it is because
you have sinned. T h e symptomatic and detective value o f suffering
with regard to defilement is reflected in the explanatory, etiological
value o f m oral evil. M oreover, piety, and n ot only reason, w ill
cling desperately to this explanation o f suffering. I f it is true that
man suffers because he is impure, then G od is innocent. Thus the
w orld o f ethical terror holds in reserve one o f the most tenacious
“ rationalizations” o f the evil o f suffering. That is why it required
nothing less than the calling in question o f this first rationalization
and the crisis o f w hich the Babylonian Job and the Hebrew Job
were the adm irable witnesses to dissociate the^ethical" w orld-pf sin
from the physical w orld o f suffering. This dissociation has beat one
o f the greatest sources o f anguish" fo r the human conscience, for
suffering has had to becom e absurd and scandalous in order that
sin m ight acquire its strictly spiritual meaning. A t this terrible price,
the fear that was attached to it could becom e fear o f n ot loving
enough and could b e dissociated from the fear o f suffering and
failure; in short, the fear o f spiritual death could be divorced from
the fear o f physical death. This conquest w as. a_cgfltlyJene«JJ'he
price to be paid was the loss o f a first ratinnaliratirm, a. first explana-
tion o f suffering. Suffering had to becom e inexplicable, a scandalous
evil, in order that the evil o f defilem ent m ight becam e d ie evil of
fa u lt1 T h e figure o f the just man suffering, im age and type of
unjust suffering, constituted the stumbling block against which h e
premature rationalizations o f misfortune were shattered. Hence­
forth, it w ill be impossible to co-ordinate doing evil and suffering
evil in an im m ediate explanation.
H ence it is in the era before this crisis o f the first rationalization,
before the dissociation o f misfortune (suffering, disease, death,
failure) and fault that the dread o f the im pure deploys its anxieties:
the prevention o f defilem ent takes upon itself all fears and all sor­
row s; m an, before any direct accusation, is already secretly accused
o f the misfortunes in the w orld ; wrongly accused— thus does man
appear to us at the origin o f his ethical experience.
This confusion o f suffering and punishment explains, in turn,
certain characteristics o f the interdict. Although interdiction pre­
cedes retribution, the latter is anticipated in the consciousness o f the
interdiction. A n interdict is m uch m ore than a negative judgment
o f value, than a sim ple “ this must not be,” “ this is not to be done” ;
it is m ore, too, than a “ thou shalt not” where I feel m yself pointed
at by a threatening finger. O ver the interdict there already stretches
« V. Jank616vitch, Le Mai (Paris, 1947).
the shadow o f the vengeance w hich w ill b e p u d to it if it is vio­
lated. T h e “thou shalt not” gets its gravity, its w eight, from “ if n ot,
thou shah die.” Thus, the interdict anticipates in itself the chastise­
ment o f suffering, and the m oral constraint o f the interdict bears
in itself the em otion-laden effigy o f the punishm ent A taboo is
nothing else: a punishm ent anticipated and forestalled em otionally
in an interdiction. Thus the pow er o f the interdict, in anticipatory
fear, is a deadly pow er.
If one goes back still further, the shadow o f punishment extends
over the w hole region and over the very source o f the interdictions,
and darkens the experience o f the sacred. Seen from the point o f
view o f the vengeance and the suffering anticipated in the inter­
diction, the sacred reveals itself as superhuman destruction o f m an;
the death o f m an is inscribed in prim ordial purity. A nd so, in fear­
ing defilement, m an fears the negativity o f the transcendent; the
transcendent is that before w hich man cannot stand; n o one can
s e God— at least the god o f taboos and interdicts— w ithout dying.
It is from this, from this wrath and this terror, this deadly pow er
of retribution, that the sacred gets its character o f separateness. It
cannot b e tou ch ed; fo r if it is touched— that is to say, violated— its
death-dealing pow er is unleashed.

3. T h e Sym bolism of Stain

Such are the tw o archaic traits— objective and subjective— o f

defilement: a “ something” that infects, a dread that anticipates
the unleashing o f the avenging w rath iff the interdiction. These are
die tw o traits that w e n o longer com prehend except as moments
in the representation o f evil that w e have gone beyond.
W hat remains astonishing is that these tw o traits w ill never be
amply abolished, b u t w ill also be retained and transform ed in new
moments. A m ong the Greeks, the tragic poets and the orators o f
Attica are the witnesses o f a reviviscence o f the representations and
the cathartic practices related to defilem ent4 I f it w ere am ply a *

* Kurt Latte, “Schuld und Silnde in der griechischen Religion,” Arch. f.

RsHgionswiisenschaft 20 (1920-21), pp. 254-98; Moulinier, Le pur et
fmpur dans la pen.sit des Greet, d’Homire A Aristote (Paris, 1952);
 question o f a belated restoration o f beliefs that life as a w hole bad
gone beyond, there w ould be n o real problem . B ut the w orld of
defilem ent n ot only persists in the form o f a survival; it furnishes
& n ~thp imaginative m odel on the basis o f w hich the fundamentaTideas
iHW~
.^ r aT~philosopkical purification are constructed. H ow was such a
'hit'W 1 “ ttanspotition” o f ritual im purity posable in principle?
T h e H ebrew exam ple is still m ore striking.* Indeed, it m ight be
alleged that the Greeks never attained the feeling o f a n in its
peculiar quality and w ith the intensity o f winch only the people of
Israel supply an exam ple, and that that is w hy the Greeks had
n o other recourse than to “ transpose philosophically” the schema
o f defilem ent. It must still b e shown just w hy the theme o f the pure
and the im pure could lend itself to such a transposition. The
H ebrew experience makes the question even m ore u rgent It is not
only ritual legislation that preserves the belief in defilement in
Israel; even the experience o f sin itself, the profound originality of
w hich in com parison w ith the experience o f defilement w e shall
show further an, is expressed in the old language o f defilem ent
Thus, d ie prophet Isaiah, at the tim e o f his vision in d ie Temple,
cries: “ W oe is m e! I am undone. F or I am a man o f undean lips
. . . and m ine eyes have seen the K in g, Yahw eh Sabaoth.” Anri
after the seraph had touched his lips w ith the live coal from the
altar: “ Behold, this hath touched thy lips,— thy sin is taken away,
— thine iniquity is expiated” (Is. 6 :5 , 7 ). Later, in the confession
w hich is attributed after the event to D avid and w hich w e shah cite
further on in the fram ework not only o f the consciousness o f sin
but o f the feeling o f guilt, the psalmist entreats: “ H ave m ercy an
m e, O G od, according to thy lovingkindness; according to the
multitude o f thy tender m ercies b lot out m y sin. W adi m e from all
iniquity; cleanse m e from my fault. . . . O G od, create in me
a pure heart” (Ps. 5 1 ). T h e theme o f defilem ent must b e very

E. R . D odds, T he G reeks and the Irrational (U niy. o f California Pren,

1951).
8 Eichrodt, T heologie des alien Testam ents (L eipzig, 1 9 3 3 -3 9 ), I I I , 23;
Sven H em er, S&hne wnd V ergebung in Israel (Lund, 1 9 4 2 ); G . von Rad,
T heologie des alien Testam ents■, V et. I (M unich, 1957), pp. 157-65, 249*
79.
strong and very.‘ rich to have thus survived the m agical and ritual
conception that was its first vehicle.
H ow could the im age o f defilem ent have survived if, from the
beginning, it had not had the pow er o f a sym bol?

In truth, defilement was never literally a stain; im purity was

never literally filthiness, dirtiness. It is also true that im purity never
attains the abstract level o f unwarthiness; otherwise the m agic o f
contact and contagion w ould have disappeared. T h e representation
erf defilement dwells in the half-light o f a quasi-physical infection
that points tow ard a quasi-m oral unworthiness. T in s am biguity is
not expressed conceptually but is experienced intentionally in the
very quality o f the half-physical, half-ethical fear that clings to the
representation o f the im pure.
But if the sym bolic structure o f defilem ent is neither reflective nor
representational, it is at least “ acted out.” O ne can catch tight o f
it in the acts o f purification and g o back from the act w hich sup­
presses to tiie “ thing” suppressed. I t is the rite that exhibits the
symbolism n f d efilem en t and just "as the rite suppresses sym H oli~
caHy, defilem ent infects symbolically.
In fa ct, even the ablution is never a am ple w ashing; ablution is
already a partial and Active act. A nd it is because the ablution is
already a sym bolic washing that the suppression it signifies can be
effected by a diversity o f equivalent acts w hich m utually symbolize
one another, at the same tim e as altogether they symbolize the same
action, basically on e; and as this exem ption from defilem ent is not
produced in any total and direct action, it is always signified in
partial, substitutive, and abbreviated signs: burning, rem oving,
charing, throwing; spitting out, covering up, burying. Each o f these
acts marks ou t a cerem onial space, w ithin which""none o f them
exhausts its significance in im m ediate and, so to speak, literal u se -"
fulness. T hey ate acts w hich stand fo r a total action addressed to
the person taken as an undivided w hole.
H ence, defilement, insofar as it is the “ object” o f this ritual sup­
pression, is itself a sym bol o f evil. Defilem ent is to stain or spojj^

6 J. Cazeneuve, L es rites et la condition humaine (Paris, 19 58 ), pp. 3 7 -

154.
 what lustration is to washing. Defilem ent is not a stain, b at like a
stain; it is a sym bolic stain. Thus, it is the symbolism o f the rites
o f suppression th at reveals in practice the im plicit symbolism con­
tained in the representation o f infection.
This is still not the most im portant thing. I f the rite o f suppres­
sion, by its sym bolic acts, introduces the thing that it suppresses
into the sym bolic universe that it marks ou t, yet the rite, considered
as act, or gesture, remains m ute. N ow , defilem ent enters in to the
universe o f man through speech, or the w ord {parole) ; its anguish
is com m unicated through speech; before being com m unicated, it is
determined and defined through speech; the opposition o f the pure
and the im pure is spoken; and the words w hich express it institute
the opposition. A stain is a stain because it is there, m ute; the
im pure is taught in the w ords that institute the taboo.
T h e case o f the m urderer is striking in this respect.1 W e have
said above what bans died b lood provides fo r a literal interpretation
o f defilem ent. N owhere else, unless in sexuality, does it appear more
difficult to distinguish defilem ent from stain. H ere, it seems, w e
have the m odel and, as it w ere, the lim iting case o f all impure
contacts. Nevertheless, the defilem ent that com es from spilt blood
is not sametiling that can be rem oved by washing. M oreover, the
maleficent power o f which the m urderer is the bearer is n o t a taint
that exists absolutely without reference to a field o f human presence,
to words that express the defilem ent A man is defiled in the sight
o f certain m en, in the language o f certain men. O nly he is defiled
w ho is regarded as defiled; a law is required to say it ; the interdict
is itself a defining utterance. It is necessary also to say what must
be done in order that the im pure m ay becam e pure; there is no
j i t e without words that confer a meaning upon the action and
consecrate its efficacy; the rite is never m ute; arid if n o wards ac-
com pany it, something said earlier provides the foundation far i t
This “ education” o f the feeling o f im purity by the language
w hich defines and legislates is o f capital im portance. Because o f it,
it is n o longer only the action, the gesture, the rite w hich is sym­
b o lic; the pure and the im pure themselves, as representations,
create fo r themselves a sym bolic language capable o f transmitting
7 M oulinier, op. « t ., pp. 176 ff.
the em otion aroused by the sacred. T h e form ation o f a vocabulary
o f the pure and the im pure, w hich w ould exploit all the resources
o f the symbolism o f stain, is thus the first linguistic and semantic
foundation o f the “ feeling o f guilt” and, first o f a ll, o f the “ con­
fession o f tins.”
As fo r us, m en o f the W est, it is to classical G reece-that-w e-ow e
our-VocahulanL flf the .pure-and the im pure;8. N ow , it is remarkable
that, the form ation o f this language o f defilem ent is in large part
dependent an an imaginary experience connected with, im aginary
examples. I t is a veritable cultural creation, relatively late, designed
to reinterpret a fabled past and to give the Greek an ethical mem­
ory.
Indeed, it has been rem arked that testimony relative to defile­
ment and cathartic practices, rare before the fifth century, becom es
suddenly abundant: the orators, w ith Demosthenes at their head,
com m ent an th e Draconian law regarding exile and public inter­
diction, w hich rem oves from contact with their fellow citizens those
rrrm inala w ho, by the same law , are nevertheless declared to be
‘involuntary” n-imtnalg and are distinguished from “ voluntary”
criminals. Thucydides, fo r his part, recounts the sacrilege— a m ur­
der in the holy p lace o f the A cropolis— w hich rendered the mem­
bers o f the •family o f the Alcm aeanides Ivaydt and m ade them
bear the weight o f Expiation. Finally, from the dram a w e lea n fth a t
Orestes and O edipus w ere defiled.
I t is also the dram a w hich, from the simply sem antic poin t o f
view, plays the m ost im portant role in this form ation o f a sym bolic
language. I t has been rem arked that the w ords plaopn, m/Mt, ptSoos,
and ptafooy are very rare in .prose when m urder is spoken o f; they
are em ployed only to expound a doctrine or to relate a legend.8
It w as in im agining monstrous defilements in legendary crim inals
that the poets opened the way to a symbolics o f im purity.
As fo r the w ord that dom inates the w hole vocabulary o f defile^
merit— icdfopos,— it expresses very w ell the am biguity o f purity,
which oscillates between th e physical and the ethical. Its central
intention is to express exem ption from the im pure: nan-inter-

8 M oulim er, op. eit., pp. 149 ff.

BIbid., p . 180.
m ixture, non-dirtiness, non-obscurity, non-confusion; and this ab­
sence plays upon all the stops o f the literal meaning and the
figurative manning. JZaOaptm itself can express physical cleansing,
and then, in the m edical sense, evacuation, purgation o f humors.
But this purgation in its turn can symbolize a ritual purification
and then a w holly m oral purity. T h e group KaBvfAe-ttdBupma thus
com es to express intellectual lim pidity, clarity o f style, orderli­
ness, absence o f ambiguity in an ora d e, and finally absence o f
m oral hlemish or stigma. Thus the w ord lends itself to the change
in meaning by w hich it w ill com e to express the essential purifica­
tion, that o f wisdom and philosophy. F or this, it is true, there w ill
be required the intervention o f a new m yth w hich w ill make the
soul exiled in the body the paradigm o f an originally pure being,
forced into “m ixtu re"; but this Greek adventure o f “ purification”
presupposes that the experience o f the pure and the im pure was,
from the beginning, rich in all these harm onics and “ ready fori*
all these transpositions.
H ence, it makes little difference to us, since w e are interested
only in the form ation o f symbolism, whether the defilements that the
rlaamral authors ascribe to the legendary age o f heroes were actually
known to the m en o f that archaic epoch. T h e pure historian has
serious reasons fo r doubting ib T h e silences o f H om er an this sub­
ject seem to indicate that the old poet was a com plete stranger to
the guilt-culture o f the sixth and fifth centuries.10 T h e heroes of
H om er, as M oulinier also notes, love cleanliness and bathe often ;
their purifications are all m aterial; it is dirtiness that repels them—
blood, dust, sweat, m ud, and squalor— because dirtiness disfigures
(ahrxyvav). T h e H om eric hero w ho has slain someone is not de­
filed, and one does not find in the Iliad and the Odyssey “ any o f
the most typical cases o f defilement o f the classical era” (p . 3 0 ),
murder, birth, death, sacrilege. But, on the one hand, “ the Iliad
and the Odyssey are n ot novels o f manners and, if they imitate life,
they d o it on a grand and ennobling scale” (p . 3 3 ). Thus, neither
the silences n or the assertions o f H om er prove anything. O n the

10 E. R . D odds, op. cit., Chap. I I , "From Shame-Culture to G uilt-

Culture,”
other hand, the real beliefs o f the men o f the seventh century con­
cern ns less than the cultural event constituted by the literary ex­
pression o f defilem ent am ong the orators, historians, and poets o f
the classical era. T h e manner in w hich the Greeks represented their
ow n past to themselves and expressed their beliefs is the unique
contribution o f Greece to the them atics o f eviL I t is here that the
them e o f defilem ent has marked a literature from w hich w e proceed
genealogically, and affected a logos w hich is our logos.
This is still n ot d ie m ost im portant dung. This Greek reading
o f defilem ent n ot only educated feeling in giving it a literary ex­
pression, but it constitutes one o f the non-philosophical sources o f
philosophy. Greek philosophy was w orked out in contact w ith myths
w hich are themselves interpretations, descriptive and~exp!anatory
exegeses o f beliefs and rites relative to defilem ent Through those
myths, tragic and O rphic, w hich Greek philosophy contests o r re­
jects!, our philosophy is in debate n ot on ly w ith guilt, n ot only with
■mty but also w ith defilem ent This bond, so fundam ental fo r the
history o f our culture, betw een defilem ent, purification, and philoso­
phy obliges us to b e attentive to the spiritual potential o f this theme.
Because o f its connection w ith philosophy, it cannot b e a simple
survival o r a am ple loss, b u t a m atrix o f m eaning.
T h e sense o f the testimony o f the historians, orators, and drama­
tists is, therefore, com pletely missed when on e gives only a socio­
logical interpretation p f it and sees in it only the resistance o f the
archaic rights o f the fam ily to the new law o f the city. This interpre­
tation is true in its place.11 But it does n ot exclude another kind o f
“ understanding” w hich bears on the unlim ited potentiality far
symbolization and transposition o f the themes o f defilem ent; purity,
and purification. I t is precisely the connection o f defilem ent w ith
wards that define it w hich brings to light the prim ordially sym bolic
character o f the representation o f the pure and the im pure. Thus,
the “ interdiction” w inch occludes the accused from all sacred places
and public places—sacred because public— signifies exclusion o f
the defiled from a sacred space. A fter the judgm ent, the criminal

11 Gustave G lotz, La soUdariti dt la famiUe dans h droit crmdnel tn

Grice (Paris, 1904).
is afflicted w ith even graver interdictions w hich annul, so to speak,
him and his defilem ent. Exile and death are such annulments o f
rti* defiled and o f defilement.
There is n o question, o f course, o f denying d ie incom patibility
o f the tw o representations o f the same murderer— the m ore juridical
one which places him in the category o f the “ invahmtary” and
already belongs to the realm o f guilt in the precise sense that w e
shall give to that w ord, and the m ore religious one w hich places
him under the sign o f the “impure” ; but the contrast is somewhat
attenuated if one considers the equivocal flexibility o f the repre­
sentation o f defilem ent. T h e exile is n ot simply excluded from a
material area o f con tact; he is chased out o f a human environment
measured o ff b y the law. H enceforth the exile w ill n o longer haunt
the human space o f the fatherland; where the fatherland ends,
there his defilem ent also ceases. T o kill a murderer in the territory
o f the Athenian fatherland is to purify it; to kill him outride of
that territory is to kill an Athenian. N ew rites o f asylum and
w elcom e in another place, under other eyes, within the jurisdiction
o f another legislation w ill be able to give him a new purity.1*
T his relation t o defining language and a human environment,
w hich the Greek writings clearly show, can b e discovered even in
the m ost prim itive form s o f the prohibition o f defilem ent studied
by Frazer and PettazzonL T he involuntary o r unconscious actions.
the material events, the accidents w hich provoke th e em otion o f
im purity and require a process o f purification, are n ot ju st any
happeningsj~they always qualify a human erm rongym t T h e fire
m tow h ich the frog has jum ped, the tent near w hich the hyqna has
left his excrements, belong to a space haunted by m an, qualified by
his presence and his acts.
Thus, it is always in the sight o f other people w ho excite the
feeling o f 1shameM iti~under the influence o f the woriL which says
what is pure and im pure that a stain i* defilem ent4

4. T h e S ublim ation of D read

A t the same time as the “ objective” representation o f defilement

la Moulinier, op. cit., pp. 81-85.

lends itself by its sym bolic structure to all the transpositions w hich
w ill m ake o f it an enduring symbol o f the evil o f fault, the dread
w hich is the “ subjective” and affective counterpart o f this notion
o f the pure and the im pure is, n o doubt from the b e g in n in g , also
capable o f an em otional transposition. D read, as w e sh all see, is not
abolished, but changes its m eaning as it approaches the sphere o f
sin. T h e “ experience” here follow s the mutations o f the “ ohjecE”
'"’ "Dread o f the im pure is, in fa ct, n o m ore a physical fear than
dehlem enfTs a stain or spot. D read o f the im pure is like fear, but
already it faces a threat w hich, beyond the threat o f suffering and
death, aims a t a dim inution o f existence, a loss o f the personal core
o f one's bring.
A gain, it is through the w ord that dread acquires its ethical
quality. A little w hile ago w e considered the w ord as an instrument
fo r defining the pure and the im pure. N ow it insinuates itself into
the experience itself as an instrument by w hich the defiled self
becom es conscious o f itself. D efilem ent enters into the universe o f
the w ord n ot only b y w ay o f the interdict, but by w ay o f confession.
Consciousness, crushed by the interdict and by fear o f the interdict,
opens itself to others and to itself; n ot only does it begin to com ­
m unicate but it discovers the unlim ited perspective o f self-inter­
rogation. M an asks him self: since I experience this failure, this
sickness, this evil, what a n have I com m itted? Suspicion is b o m ;
tiie appearance o f acts is called in question; a trial o f veracity is
begun; the p roject o f a total confession, totally revealing the hidden
m eaning o f one’s acts, if not yet o f one’s intentions, appears at the
heart o f the hum blest “ confession o f sins.”
O f course, one cannot deny that the language o f confession is
still related to the m agical procedures o f elim ination;18 it is sup­
posed to operate m agically— that is to say, n ot by the com m unica­
tion to others, or to oneself, o f an understood m eaning, but by an
efficacy com parable to that o f lustration, o f spitting out, o f burying,
o f banishm ent T h ere is n o dispute about th a t But besides extend­
ing the sym bolic ride o f those procedures, language adds a new

u In th e same vein as Frazer, Pettazzoni w rites: “ Prim itive confession is

an enunciation o f sin that aims at evoking it in order to elim inate its
pernicious effects” {o p . ett., p . 1 8 3 ).
dem ent in relation to the verbal ejection and expulsion o f evil
w hich is confession in the strict sense. It is a beginning o f appropri­
ation and, at the same tim e, o f d u d d atian o f dread in the element
o f language. D read expressed in wards is n o longer .simply a cry,
but an avow al. In short, it is by being refracted in words that dread
reveals an ethical rather than a physical aim .
T his aim seems to m e to com prise three successive degrees, three
intentional references o f increasing depth.
In the first place, fear o f vengeance is n o t a am ple passive fear;
already it involves a dem and, the dem and fo r a just punishm ent
T his demand finds its first expression and its provisional approxi­
m ation in the law o f retribution. A s w e said above, this law is felt
at first as a crushing fatality; it is the loosing o f an elementary wrath
excited by the insolence o f a violation. But tins fata lity.to w hich
one is subject involves a demand fo r legality, the legality o f a
Justice w hich m ates just retribution. I f a m an g pm nshdT"Seeause
he tins, h e ought to b e punished as he sins. This ought to b e, seen
through fear and trem bling, is'th e prinriple o f all our reflections on
punishment.
T his reflection at first w ent astray and cam e up against an
im passe: the”belief that aU suffering is the actuaTrealrzatian af ’this
retribution. Thus the demand fo r a just punishm ent fatm T Itseff
confused w ith the explanation o f actual suffering! But this “ eth P
logical” usage o f the demand fa r a just punishment was so far from
exhausting the law o f retribution that the latter survived the crisis
o f the religious consciousness that shook and ruined the explanation
o f suffering by sin. N ot only did it survive, but, thanks to that crisis,
it revealed itself as a dem and, beyond any explanation. A nd con­
science, not finding the m anifestation o f the law o f retribution any
longer in real suffering, looked fo r its satisfaction in other directions,
whether at the end o f history, in a Last Judgm ent, or in some ex­
ceptional event, such as the sacrifice o f a victim offered fo r the tins
o f the w orld, or by means o f penal laws elaborated by society with
the intention o f making the penalty proportionate to the crim e, or
by means o f a w holly internal penalty, accepted as penance. W e are
n ot concerned here w ith the legitim acy and the com patibility o f
these m ultiple expressions o f the law o f retribution: Last Judgment,
expiatory sacrifice, juridical penalty, internal penance. T h eir mere
enumeration sufficiently attests that the dem and im plicit in die
law o f retribution is n ot exhausted in the archaic explanation o f all
human ilk by the evil o f fault.
But this appeal to a just punishment still does n ot express all that
is im plicit in prim itive anxiety. T o be punished, even justly, is still
suffering; every punishment is a penalty; every penalty is afflictive,
if n ot in the technical sense that it has received in our codes, at
least in the affective sense o f the w ord. Punishment afflicts; punish­
m ent is o f the order o f pain o r sorrow. In demanding that a man
suffer justly, we exp ect the pain to have n ot only a lim it, but a
direction— that is to say, an end. W e said above that the Sacred is
perceived, in the archaic stage o f the religious consciousness, as
that w hich does n ot perm it a m an to stand, that w hich makes him
die: A n d yet this negation is not self-enclosed. T h e very idea o f
vengeance con ceals something else; toa v en g e is n ot only to destroy,
buti~by~ destroying rp^wtnhliaVi A lon g w ith the dread o f being
stricken, annihilated, there is perception o f the m ovem ent b y w hich
order— whatever order it m ay be— is restored . T h at w hich had
been established and w hich has now been destroyed is re-established.
By negation, order reaffirms itself.
"T hu s, in the negative m om ent o f punishment, the sovereign
affirmation o f prim ordial integrity is anticipated; and, correlatively,
die dread o f avenging punishment is the negative envelope o f a still
more fundam ental adm iration, the adm iration far order, fa r any
order, even a provisional one, even on e destined to be abolished.
Perhaps there is n o taboo in w hich there does n ot dw ell same
reverence, same veneration o f order. It is the same confused, im -
p lid t feeling fo r order that already anim ates the terror o f a con­
sciousness bent under the fatality o f avenging suffering.
Platr>>indi cates the direction o f this anticipation: true punish­
ment is that w hich, in restoring order, produces happiness; true
punishment results in happiness. T his is the meaning o f the fam ous
paradoxes o f the G orgias: “ the unjust m an is n ot, happy” (421d) ;
"to escape punishment is worse than to suffer i f ’ (474b) ; to suffer
punishment and pay the penalty far ou r faults is the only way to be
 Punishment w ould thup n o longer be the death o f a man in the
presence a t the sacred, but penance w ith a view to order and pain
w ith a view to happiness.
This second anticipation, im plicit in archaic dread, seems to me
to predom inate over the first; fo r why dem and a penalty propor­
tionate to the fault if it served n o end, if it had n o purpose? The
degree o f the penalty, without the purpose o f d ie penalty, is m ean­
ingless. In other wards, what is aim ed at in vengeance is expiation
—-that is to say, the punishment that takes away defilem ent; but
what is aim ed at in this negative act o f taking away is the act of
reaffirm ing order. N ow , order cannot be reaffirm ed outside o f the
guilty person without being reaffirm ed w ithin him too. H ence,
what is aim ed at, through vengeance and expiation, is amendment
— that is to say, the restoration o f the personal w orth o f the guilty
person through a just punishm ent
This second intention, im plicit in ethical anxiety, appears to m e
to conceal a third m om en t I f the demand to e a just punishment
involves the expectation o f a punishm ent w hich has a meaning in
relation to order, this expectation involves the hope that fear itself
w ill disappear from the life o f conscience, as a rem it o f its sublima­
tion.
T h e w hole philosophy o f Spinoza is an effort to eliminate the
negative— fear and pain— from the regulation o f one’s life under
the guidance o f reason. T h e wise m an does n ot act through fear of
punishment, and he does n ot m editate an pain o r sorrow. W isdom
is a pure affirmation o f G od, o f nature, and o f oneself. Before
Spinoza, the Gospel preaches that “ perfect love casts out fear.”
But is a hum an existence entirely freed fr^im negative feelings
possible? T h e abolition o f fear appears to m e to be. only the most
distant goal o f ethical consciousness. T h e ch an ge o f rule which
leads from fea r’oif vengeance to lave at order, the principal episode
o f w hich w e shall consider presently w ith the H ebraic notion o f
the Covenant, does n ot am ply abolish fern:, but takes it over and
remakes it in a new range o f feeling.
It is not the im m ediate abolition but the m ediate sublimation at
fear, w ith a view to its final extenuation, w hich is the soul o f all
true education. Fear rem ains an indispensable dem ent in all farms
 i ■*, ;p z > n a f t c t ' ^ f

d e file m e n t 45
o f education, fam ilial, scholastic, civic, as w ell as in the protection
o f society against the infractions o f citizens. T h e project o f an
education w hich w ould dispense w ith prohibition and punishment,
and so witBTfear, is ‘undoubtedly n ot only chim erical h u t harm ful.
M uicKlirteam ed^through fear and obedience—including the liberty
which is inaccessible to fear. There are steps that cannot be dis-
pensed w itlf w ithout harm . Certain form s o f hum an relations, the
relations that are properly spealdrig“ cu«*;, cannot, perhaps, ev e rg e t
beyond tbeTstage o f fear. O n e carfim agine penalties that afflict less
and less and amend m ore and m ore, b u t perhaps one cannot
imagine a state w hich has n o necessity to m ake law respected
through the threat o f sanctions and w hich can awaken consciences
that are still unrefined to the notion o f what is perm itted and what
prohibited without the threat o f punishment. In short, it is possible
that a w hole part o f human existence, the public part, cannot raise
itself above the fear o f punishment and that this fear is the indis­
pensable means by w hich m an advances tow ard a different order,
hyperethical in a w ay, where fear w ould be entirely confounded
with love.
H ence, the abolition o f fear could only b e the horizon, and, so
to speak, the eschatological future o f hum an m orality. B efore cast­
ing ou t fear, love transforms and transposes it. A conscience that is
militant and n ot yet trium phant does n ot cease to discover ever
sharper fears. T h e fear o f not loving enough is the purest and worst
a ffea rs. It is the fear that the saints know , tbe^fearthat love itself
begets. A n d because m an never loves enough, it is n ot posable that
die fear" o f nofISem g loved enougiTin return should b e abolished.
O nly p erfect love casts out fear. .
SucJTiTthe future o f fear, o f that archaic dread which anticipates
vengeance in an interdiction. It is because that future belongs to
it potentially that the “ prim itive” dread o f the im pure w ill n ot be
an element that is simply abolished in the history o f conscience,
but w ill be able to be taken up in new form s o f feeling that at first
negate it.

I f one should ask, then, what the nucleus is that remains con­
stant through all the symbolizations o f defilem ent, w e should have
to answer that it is only in the progress o f conscience, as it advances
beyond and at the same tim e retains the notion o f defilem ent, that
its m eaning w ill b e manifested. W e shall try to show this when w e
have gone through the entire cycle o f the primary symbols o f eviL
L et us content ourselves fo r the mom ent w ith Socrates’ play an
words in the Cratylus (4 0 4 e-4 0 6 a ): A pollo is d ie god “ who
washes” UrroAovav), but he is also the god w ho speaks the “ simple”
truth (durXoBy). I f, then, sincerity can be a sym bolic purification,
every evil is symbolically a stain. T h e stain is the first “ schema”
o f evil. ’
 II. Sin

xr is necessary to have a just estimate o f the divergence in mean­

in g between defilem ent and a n . T his divergence is “ phenom eno­
logical” rather than “ historical.” In the societies studied by the
history o f religio ns, transitions from one form o f fau lt to another
are constantly observable. A m ong the Greeks, alliances o f m eaning
are fram ed between xoflapos, in the sense o f exem pt from defile­
ment^ on the one hand, and, on the other hand, the im precisely
dem arcated series o f notions such as dyvoc, consecrated, chaste,
innocent,— Sytos, venerable, august, w hich already designates the
majesty o f the gods,— Sotos, pleating to the gods, pious, in the
sense o f sacred justice, holy exactitude.1 Thus one passes easily
from the pure to the pious and the holy, and also to the ju s t T h e
reference to the gods, essential to the idea, o f piety— one recalls
Plato’s puthyphrOj— insinuates itself, then, w ithout any break in
continuity, in to the w orld o f defilem ent I f one should descend
low er in the archaic depths evoked in the introduction, one w ould
always find at least tentative transitions from defilem ent to sin,
w ith reference to something divine and m ore o r less personalized;
the fa ct that the im pure cou ld cmCe be linked to the fear o f dem ons,
and so to fright in the presence o f transcendent powers, at the risk
o f confounding the specific intentions o f im purity and sin,1 at least
indicates that the confusion is inscribed in the very reality o f the
feelings and representations. From the poin t o f view o f phenom eno-

1 See the index “Verbormn et Reran,” in Moulinier, op. cit., pp. 431 B.,
which contains all the useful references concerning the Greek vocabulary of
the Pure and the Impure.
* C f. above, p . 29.
logical types, the most remarkable example o f “ transition” from
defilement to sin is furnished by the Babylonian confession o f tins.8
T h e symbol o f defilement is dominated by the symbol o f ‘‘binding,”
w hich is still a symbol o f externality, but w hich expresses seizure,
possession, enslavement, rather than contagion and contam ination:
“ M ay the evil that is in m y body, in my muscles and tendons, depart
today,” the penitent prays; but at the same tim e as the schema o f
defilement is incorporated into that o f possession, the notions o f
transgression and iniquity are added: “ D eliver m e from the spell
that is upon m e . . . fa r an evil spell and an im pure disease and
transgression and iniquity and sin are in m y body, and a wicked
spectre is attached to me.” It is already the personal relation J o a
god that determines the spiritual space where sin is distinguished
from defilem ent; the penitent experiences the assault o f demons
as the counterpart o f the absence o f the g od : “ An evQ curse has
cut the throat o f this m an as if he were a lam b; Ins god has gone
out o f his body, his goddess has kept herself aloof.” Polarly op­
posed to the god before w hom he stands, the penitent becom es
conscious o f his tin as a dim ention o f his existence, and n o longer
only as a reality that haunts h im ; the examination o f conscience
and the interrogative thinking that it gives rise to are already there:
from facts the penitent goes back to acts and their obscure back­
ground: “ Has he afflicted a god, scorned a goddess? Can he have
scorned the nam e o f his god in making an offering? Can he have
kept back what he m ight have consecrated?” T h e question makes
its way through the labyrinths o f anguish and dereliction: “ C all?
N o cme hears. A nd that crushes m e. Cry out? N o cme answers. T h a t
oppresses m e.” A nd the feeling o f being abandoned gives a new
impulse to confession, w hich plunges into the depths o f forgotten
or unknown tins; com m itted against an unknown god or goddess:
“ T h e faults that I have com m itted I do not know. . . . T h e sins
that I have com m itted I d o not know. . . . O god, known or un-

8 r.hnrlM Fr. Jean, La p ic h i chez Its Babylonians at las M isopotam ieru

(Paris, 1 9 2 5 ); Ed. D h o r m e , Las religions da Babylonia at d‘Assyria (F ails,
1945), pp. 229-30, 239, 247, 25 0; and L a littiratura babylonianne at
assyrianna (Paris, 19 37 ), Chap. V I, “ La littfirature lyrique,” p p . 73-84.
T he principal texts w ill be found in S. Langdon, Babylonian Penitential
Psalms (O xford , 1927).
known, b lot out m y mas; goddess, known or unknown, blot out my
sms.” A n d the confession gives a new im pulse to the question :
“ H ow long, O god, w ill you d o tins to m e? I am treated as one w ho
fears neither god n or goddess.”
'W ithout .overestimating the subtle spirit o f this confession, nor
fo rgetting its place in a cultual and ritual context, n or neglecting
its connection w ith fear, one can be sensible o f all that forecasts
the Jewish experience o f sin and already exhibits it in a nascent
state. T h e lam entation “ fo r any god” already contains, in the man­
n a : o f a litany, what is essential in H ebrew confession:

Lord, my sins are many, my faults are heavy,

M y godf My tins are many, my faults are heavy,
M y goddess, my sins are many, my faults are heavy.
G od whom I know, whom I know not, my tins are many,
my faults are heavy;
May thy heart, like the heart o f the mother that
gave me birth, may it be appeased!
Like the mother that bore-me, like the father that
begot me, may it be appeased!4*

■ T h e school o f N ippur even w ent very far in the direction o f a

theology o f “ natural” and "inherent” tin that S. Langdon sees in
the background o f all the penitential hymns and expiatory prayers
o f Babylonia and Assyria.8 W hile it created a deeper consciousness
o f tin, tins theology o f tin m ade all suffering intelligible and de­
layed the crisis w hich Babylonian “ wisdom ” faced before Israel
and w hich was to entwine itself around the them e o f the suffering
o f th e innocent.8 T h e counterproof, m oreover, is conclusive: the
cultures that w ere m ost advanced in m editation upon sin as a
religious dimension “ before G od” — and, above all, the H ebrew

4 Ed. D horm e, op. c i t p p . 8 1 -8 2 . James B . Pritchard, e<L, A ncien t N ear

Eastern T exts R elating to th e O ld Testam ent, 2d ed. (Princeton, 1 9 5 5 ),
p p . 391-92.
s S. la n g d o n , Babylonian W isdom (L on don, 1 9 2 3 ), p . 19. Further on we
shall see in what m ythical context tins confession is inserted (Part I I ,
Chap. I ) .
®J. J. Stamm, D as L eiden des Unsehuldigen in Babylon nnd Israel
(Z & ich , 19 4 8 ). O n tins poin t, c f. below , Part I I , Chap. V , 2, “ T he R e­
affirm ation o f tiie Tragic.”
 culture— never broke w ith the representation o f defilement. T he
Levitical prescriptions, preserved in the H ebrew and Christian
canon o f the Bible, are evidence enough. Even if, as w e believe,
the intentions are different, and even opposed, they live together
and sometimes contam inate one another to the point o f becoming
indistinguishable. W e shall have to give an account o f these con­
taminations at the end o f this record o f the religious consciousness
o f fault. But w e have every reason not to begin there. Just as w e
have taken the idea o f defilem ent w ithout reference to demons or
gods— that is to say, powers in the presence o f w hich the impure is
im pure, w e shall take a n in its purest form ulation. O nce again our
“ re-enactment” is n ot o f the historical order; it is a ]
philosophical in character, w hich works out “ types” and conse­
quently distinguishes before uniting.

/
1. T h e C ategory of “ B efore G od” : T h e C ovenant

T h e category that dominates the notion o f sin is the category o f

“ before” G od.7 But if this category determines all strict usage o f
the notion o f “ sin,” w e must n o t restrict it unduly at the outset
Before G od does n ot m ean before the W holly O ther, as the
H egelian analysis o f the unhappy consciousness, began to make it
mean. That analysis is, strictly speaking, m isleading; the initial
moment is n ot the separation o f existence from its meaning, the
emptiness and the vanity o f a human consciousness that has emptied
itself o f its substance for the advantage o f an absolute that has
becom e its vam pire; the initial m om ent is n ot the nothingness o f
m an before the being and the all o f G od. T h e initial m om ent is
n ot the “ unhappy consciousness,” but the “ Covenant,” the B en t
o f the Jews. It is in a preliminary dimension o f encounter and
dialogue that there can appear such a thing as the absence and the
silence o f G od, corresponding to the vain and hollow existence o f

7 For the general relation between the idea o f sin and the idea of
Covenant, see E ich rodfs magistral T heologie des alien Testam ents (Leipzig,
1933-39, 3 v ola.). I refer in particular to V oL I I I , $ 23, “ Sfinde im d
Vergebung.” See also the excellent synthesis in E d. Jacob, Las th&mes
essentiels d’ une th iologie de FAncien Testam ent (N en d ittri, 19 55 ), pp.
7 5 -8 2 , 91 -9 4 , 170-77, and 226-40.
m an. It is, then, the prior establishment o f the band o f the C ove­
nant that is im portant fo r the consciousness o f sin; it is this that
makes sin a violation o f the Covenant.
Shall w e say that sin presupposes a “ theistic?* perspective? T his
proposal is juster, but on tw o conditions: that w e take the theistic
thesis in a sense that includes both m onotheistic and polytheistic
representations, and that w e take theism prior to the elaboration
o f any theology, as the fundam ental situation o f a m an w ho finds
him self im plicated in the initiative taken by someone w ho, on his
side, is essentially turned tow ard m an; a god in the im age o f m an,
if yon wish, but above all a god concerned about m an ; a god w h o
is anthropotropic—before being anthropom orphic.
This initial situation, this disconcerting initiative that rails and
elects, appears suddenly and becom es silent, is n o less foreign to
philosophical discourse— at least discourse instituted b y a reason
defined by universality and non-tem porality—than defilem ent; inter­
dict; and vengeance. But, just as defilem ent was related to philo­
sophical m editation insofar as it had the character o f language, or
the w ord (parole) — the w ord o f prohibition and rite, the w ord o f
confession,— so the Covenant as w ord penetrates into the same
space o f reflectionT T h e ruah o f Yahw eh in the O ld Testam ent,
w hich w e translate b v Spirit fo r lack o f % better term ,..designates
the'irrational aspect o f the C ovenant; but this ruah is also davar,
w ard (parol*)»8 I t is n o accident th a t the only suitable equivalent
o f the H ebrew davar was the Greek logos. This translation, even
though only approxim ate and inexact, was itself an im portant
cultural event. I t expresses the conviction, first, that all languages
are translatable in to one another, and that all cultures belong to a
jtngleTium anity; and then that w e must seek the least bad eqiuva-
lentTfor the calling o f m an by G od in the logos, in w hich the Grades
recognized the unity o f ratio and oratio. T h e projection o f the
H ebrew davar upon the Greek logos, a projection pregnant with
equivocations in one sense; m arked first of^all the recognition o f
thETTact: the initial situation o f m an as G od’s pray can enter into
the
■« p i.w *
universe o f discourse because
—-
it is itself analyzable
» it w w -
in to an
- n m w tfi

utterance o f G od and an utterance o f m an, in to the reciprocity o f

8 A Nfiher, L’ E ssenct du prophitism e (Baris, 19 5 5 ), pp. 85-116.
a vocation and an invocation. Thus this initial situation, which
plunges into the darkness o f the p ow er'a n d violence o f the Spirit,
also emerges into the light o f the W ord.
It is in this exchange between vocation and invocation that the
w hole experience o f sin is found.
Another w ay~of lim iting the scope o f “ before G od” w ould b e to
reduce this W ord prematurely to a m oral com mandment w hich
w ould refer us to G od or the gods as to a legislative and ju dicial
power. A Law given by a Legislator and sanctioned by a Judge is
m uch less than that total w ord into w hich the Covenant is trans­
posed. T h e ethical character o f the w ord o f com m and is already a
product o f abstraction. T h e notion o f law appears only when the
ward o f com m and is on the point o f detaching itself from the situ­
ation o f calling, from the dialogal relation. T hen it becom es a
com m andm ent that can be understood as an im perative, as a
“ T h ou shalt” that n o one has uttered and that can be ascribed only
secondarily to an absolute Legislator. There is n o question o f ascrib­
ing the c o m m an dm en t to Someone after the fact, because there is
in the first place n o com m a n d m e n t w hich w ould have a m eaning
o f its own after the fashion o f a V alue-Idea which w ould be valid
and make demands by itself. W hat there is in the first place is n ot
essence but presence; and the com m andm ent is a m odality o f the
presence, namely, the expression o f a holy w ill. Thus sin is a re­
ligious dim ension before bring ethical; it is not the transgression o f
an abstract rule— o f a value— but the violation o f a personal bond.'
That is why the deepening o f the sense o f tin w fiTbe finked with
the deepening o f the meaning o f the prim ordial relationship which
is Spirit and W ord. W hen the god is still one god amongv others,
and when the bond with that god is still only an alliance for battle,
in w hich god and people win or lose together, the violations o f the
band between people and god have only as m uch weight as the god
and the bond. Thus, from beginning to end sin is a religious di­
mension and not a m oral one.
T his subordination o f the im perative to a w ord or utterance that
includes it and confers upon it the d ram atic, accent o f a summons,
o f an alliance, is reflected in the docum ents w hich the history o f
religions explores and w hich our phenom enology takes into ac-
 count. T h e “ codes” are n ot the only docum ents w e have to be
acquainted with, nor even the most im portant T h e Jews, like the ]
other Sem itic peoples, elaborated ritual, penal, civil, and political •
codes to regulate con du ct; but it is less in the letter o f these codes
than in their life and in the direction o f their transformations that
w e must look fo r the H ebrew experience o f sin. N ow this life, this
dynamism that produces the codes, is revealed in docum ents other ;
| than the codes— in “ chronicles” that tell stories o f sin and death,
like the Chronicles o f Saul and D a vid ; in d ie “ hymns” in w hich
distress, confession, and entreaty sing; in “ oracles” in w hich the
f prophet accuses, warns, threatens; and finally in “ sayings,” in
S w hich the im perative o f the code, the lament o f the psalm , the i
\ thunder o f the oracle are reflected in wisdom . Such is the rich
• palette o f the “ knowledge” o f sin ; it is in proportion to the vast
| utterance in w hich the Covenant is proclaim ed.9
This utterance, this wend, vaster than the im perative, is also
vaster than “ speculation.” T h e knowledge o f G od and m an, to
[ speak as Calvin does at the beginning o f the Institutes, is not
“ thought” in the sense o f Greek philosophy, n or even in the sense <
o f the rabbinical, Islam ic, and Christian theologies, w hich presup­
pose philosophical speculation; nothing that resembles m ethodical
study o r a search fo r definitions. T h e prophet through .whom this >
w ord is expressed (I here extend the notion o f prophet to such j
f personages aB Abraham and M oses) does n ot “ think” in the H el­
lenic sense o f the w ord ; he cries out, he threatens, he orders, he
groans, he exults. H is “ oracle,” w hich gives rise to chronicles, codes,
hymns, and sayings, possesses the breadth and the depth o f the
prim ordial w ord that constitutes the dialogal situation at the heart
o f w hich tin breaks forth. '
• A . Lock, in Ins H iston e d e la litera tu re hebnuque e t jtttoe (Paris,
1950), follow s a very valuable historical and literary guideline. 6 . von R ad, i
, in his T heologie des alten Testam ents (V oL I , D ie T heologie d er geschicht- '
lichen U berlieferungen Israels, M unich, 1 9 5 7 ), is m uch farther away than
Lods from WeDhausen’s interp retation o f the "sources" and refers to a
m uch m ore rem ote past the origin o f docum ents w hich the school o f W ell- !
hausen supposes to have been edited a t a date later than prophetichm .
H is study o f theology in terms o f docum entary groups rather than in terms
o f guiding themes, w hich is E ich rod fs m ethod, gives a considerable value
to his monumental work.
 A philosophical phenom enology that wishes to re-enact the
“ before G od” which is essential to sin must re-enact the form -of-,
the “ ward” m ost foreign to the w ard o f Greek speculation from
w inch philosophy was bom , namely, the prophetic “ arade” -r-a
“ word” foreign to the Greek logos, but a w ord, nevertheless, that
cam e to the Gentiles in the Greek translation o f logos.

2. T h e I n f in it e D em a n d an d t h e F in it e C o m m a n d m e n t

T h e prophet does not “ reflect” on sin; he “ prophesies” aeainst.

T h e spoken oracle is not in itself a peculiarly H ebraic reality;
other cults also have their seers and their soothsayers.10 W hat is
absolutely new and bewildering is n ot the prophetic form but the
content o f the oracle. T w o traits principally concern the discovery
o f tin.
1. T h e prophet Am os, and after him H osea and Isaiah, an-
nounces the destruction o f his people by Yahweh. It is, then, under
the sign o f a total threat and in a sort o f aggression o f G od against
his people that m an is revealed to him self. O ne must n ot weaken
this disconcerting “ announcement,” but take it in its initial fu ry:
you shall be destroyed, deported, ravaged. W e can hardly imagine
the sort o f religious traumatism that this preaching must have
caused. It is n ot an unknown and distant G od w ho threatens man,
but the G od w ho m ade his people as a potter, w ho begot them as
an ancestor; this is the G od w ho reveals him self as the Enemy. T o
be a tinner is to find oneself subject to that wrath, involved in that
enm ity: “ the day o f Yahw eh w ill b e darkness and n ot light.”
2. But this dreadful threat is tied to a kind o f indignation and
accusation w hich gives it its peculiarly ethical character :

F or three crim es o f D am ascus, and fa r fou r . . .

F or three crim es o f G aza, and fo r fou r . . .
F or three crim es o f T yre, an d fo r fou r . . .

For a m editation on sin, prophecy is this m ixture o f threat and

indignation, o f imminent terror and ethical accusation. Thus, sin
is m ade known in the union o f W rath and Indignation.

10 A N fher, op. cit., pp. 17-85.

 Follow ing tiie didactic order adopted fa r the study o f defilement]
w e shall g o from the "objective” to the "subjective” pole. Conse­
quently, w e shall g o straight to the ethical m om ent in sin that
follow s upon the representation o f the im pure; then w e shall try to
understand the new land o f dread, connected w ith sin, by the con­
tent o f prophecy; and finally w e shall attempt to disengage the
symbolism peculiar to this specific m om ent in the experience o f
fhult
In w hat does the “ ethical” m om ent o f prophecy consist? W e
should grossly oversim plify and travesty the sense o f this second
m om ent in the religions consciousness o f evil i f w e reduced it to
the victory o f m oral law over ritual law. W e should rather say, in
Bergsonian language, that m oral law is attained only because the
prophetic dem and aims further. Ethics is rather the slackening o f
an im pulse that is fundam entally hypercritical. T h e prophetic
mom ent in the consciousness o f evil is the revelation in an infinite
measure o f the dem and that G od addresses to m an. I t is this infinite
dem and that creates an unfathom able distance and distress between
G od and m an. But as this infinite demand does n ot declare itself
in a sort o f preceding void , but applies itself to a preceding matter,
that o f the old Sem itic "codes,” 11 it inaugurates a tension character-
11 T h e B ible preserves traces o f a legislation n ot yet touched by the
infinite dem and. B efore the prophets, Yahw eh, G od o f battles, tribal G od,
is n o t yet the G o d o f holiness w ho requires ju stice; the struggle against the
Baals is a struggle fo r m onotony w ithout any specifically m oral a ccen t; it is
le a parity a f heart than rite jealous exclusiveness o f a cu lt that b ea n witness.
T in t is why, according to A . L ods (o p . cit., } 3, “ L e D roit” ) , the demands
that serve to measure sins am n ot yet the radical demands o f the prophets;
thus the pre-decalogue o f Band ns 3 4 :1 4 -2 6 , sometimes called the “second
decalogue,” still places in the tin t rank respect fa r festivals, cultual obliga­
tions, and the w holly ritual interdiction o f im ages m ade o f precious metals.
T h e “ Book o f tin Covenant” (E xodus 20 :24— 5 3 :1 9 ) is still m ore interest­
in g ; in all its cultual, crim inal, civil, and m oral prescriptions, that docu­
m ent resembles th e other codes o f the A ncient N ear E ast This kinship o f
a il oriental law (A . L ods, p p . 2 1 0 -1 1 ) is interesting fo r our purpose; it
warns us that the specific character o f the B iblical "message” is n ot to he
sought in tire direction o f tills elaboration o f codes. N either am the m ore
I* ™ * "" aspects (prescriptions concerning the stranger, the w idow , and the
orphan, tb s restoration o f pledges, equity, etc.) peculiar to fo e B ible:
indeed, A . L ods remarks that o n m any points the “ B ook o f the Covenant”
represents a m ore archaic stage in the evolution o f oriental legislations than,
fo r exam ple, the Babylonian code, although the latter is ten centuries older.
istic o f all H ebrew ethics, the tension between an infinite demand
and a finite Commandment It is this polarity that must be re­
spected; it is this dialectic o f unlimited indignation and detailed
prescription that w e must now understand w ithout shattering i t
Amos— the shepherd Am os—was the first to elevate righteousness
and ju stice~ (5 :7 ; 5 :2 1 j 6 :1 2 ) above the cult and its rites.1* But
there is n o question o f com paring theseTrbtions and all those which
g o with them— good, evil, life, iniquity— to those w hich the Sophists
and Socrates tried to work out in their kind o f pedagogical reflec­
tion. It is in the mmument o f Indignation an d accusation that
Am os professes “ righteousness and ju s tice ” ; these words indicate
the direction o f a demand m ore radical than any enumeration o f
faults. T h e examples enumerated— cruelty o f leaders in war, luxury
am ong the great, traffic in slaves, harshness towards the low ly—
are the scattered and convergent signs o f one central evil that the
prophet calls “ iniquity.” Thus the prophet aims at the wicked
heart from w hich iniquity com es forth. Expressions such as “ living”
and “ dying” designate this undivided root o f the existence which
is in question in justice and iniquity; the unlimited character o f the
demand reveals how deeply rooted human evil is. A t the same
tim e the prophet gives the man whom he calls to account a vis-k-vis,
a neighbor, with whom he is never finished, contrary to the lim ited
dem and o f the ritual codes. Thus, dem and is unlim ited with
respect to its transcendent origin, w ith respect to its existential root,
w ith respect to others, w ith respect to those low ly ones in whom
the appeal fo r “ righteousness and justice” is incarnated. Such is
the ethical distance that indignation creates in the very heart o f
the C ovenant Each accusation, in pointing to the seat o f iniquity,
is a summons to a conversion m ore com plete than any partial cor­
rection: “ Seek the Eternal and you shall live.” T o seek and to
live— these tw o words indicate the radical level o f the conversion—
radical as the evil is radical.

In other words, the B iblical discovery o f sin does n ot reside in the measuring
o f faults by a code. These views o f L ods are complem ented by the m uch
less evolutionary interpretation o f G . von B ad {op. eit., pp. 192 ff .) .
as F or this contribution o f the Scriptural prophets to the theme o f sin, see
A . Ndher, op. eit,, pp. 213 ff.r and A . Lods, op. eit., Second Period.
 Ilosea, it is true, introduces into the consciousness o f sin a note
o f tenderness that dings to his m etaphor o f the conjugal bond. F or
the ritual pact he substitutes the pact o f affection, with its reciproc­
ity and its abandon: “ They did n ot understand that I brought
them healing; I drew them w ith the bonds o f kindness, w ith the
chains o f love. . . But this affection is n o less dem anding than
tiie justice o f A m os; the G od o f tenderness is a husband jealous o f
the lovers w hom an adulterous w ife prefers to h im ; and the prophet
mim ics, even in his own sexual behavior, the parable o f adultery,
accusation, and desertion. Thus adultery, crim inal preference fo r
another lover, becom es a m etaphor fo r tin, at the same tim e as
G od reveals him self as the master w ho repudiates. T his symbol o f
repudiation is frightening; it announces that m an is abandoned
by G od’s absenting him self. T his absence o f G od, according to
H osea, is already the dereliction o f the m odem s, that is to say, an
insecurity and an anguish worse than suffering. It is from the
depths o f this desolation o f the repudiated spouse that H osea tries
to instigate the m ovem ent o f return: “ It is tim e . . . com e back
to me.”
But Isaiah, in the lightning-like vision in the Tem ple (6 :1 -1 3 ),
discovers another dimension o f G od, and so a new dim ension o f
tin : after the G od o f justice, after the G od o f the conjugal bond
betrayed, here is the G od o f sovereignty and m ajesty, the holy G od.
B y his measure man appears “ undean in lips-an d h ^ r t ” H ence-
forth tin is represented by the figure o f violated suzerainty; tin is
pride, arrogance, false greatness. Isaiah draws from it a policy
that anticipates the defeatism o f Jerem iah during the siege o f
Jerusalem ; i f tin is the false greatness o f purely hum an dom ination,
Judah should n ot seek support in its m ight or in its alliances; if
Judah h ad abandoned itself to unarm ed obedience, w ithout any
reliance on itself, w ithout defense and w ithout alliance, Judah
w ould have been saved. This unarm ed obedience, true contrary o f
tin, Isaiah, it seems, was the first to ca fi.fa ith j Thus, the consdous-
ness o f tin advances and becom es boundless as historical insecurity
grows, as the sign o f history as devastator replaces the sign o f vic­
tory, and as the failure o f m ight becom es the sacrament o f holy
majesty. H e w h o threatens infinitely is he w ho demands infinitely.
 Shall w e say that this infinite measure, this immeasurability o f
perfection, this ethical immensity sets u p an “ im potence” o f m an,
a “ wretchedness” that alienates him before tire face o f an Other
beyond reach? D oes not tin m a le G od the 'W holly O ther?
T his question must be placed against the background o f the
Covenant, w hich is the all-em bracing factor in the Biblical relation
between G od and man. Then it takes an a specific form : H ow does
the bond o f the Covenant em body the “ ethical distance” between
the holy G od o f the vision in the Tem ple and the man o f unclean
lips and heart? H ow does the Covenant involve tins indignation
and this distance? It is here that the dialectic o f an nnlitnitad de­
mand and a lim ited imperative is disclosed.
W e cannot understand Biblical sin if w e consider only a con­
science crushed beneath an im perative foreign to it ; in this way
one speaks facflely o f the “ m orality o f Sinai.” W e d o n ot under­
stand it any better if we purely and simply oppose the “ m orality o f
the prophets,” as an open m orality, to a closed m orality, the ritualis­
tic, legalistic, particularistic m orality o f the priests and the Levites.
T h e dialectic o f the code and the unlimited demand is the basic
ethical structure o f the Covenant.
W e have already alluded to the codes w hich preceded the a c­
tivity o f the prophets o f Israel and which relate Israel to its neigh­
bors in the Near E ast Prophet!sm introduces a tension between the
immeasurability o f perfection and d ie measure o f the im perative.
T he consciousness o f tin reflects this tension: on the one hand, it
penetrates beyond faults towards a radical evil that affects the
indivisible disposition o f the “ heart” ; on the other hand, it is
coined into m ultiple infractions denounced by particular com ­
mandments. Thus prophetism unceasingly leads u p the slope from
infractions to tin, w hile legalism unceasingly leads back down it
from sin to infractions; but prophetism. and legalism farm an in -
divitibte whole. T h e D ecalogue o f Exodus 20 is the central witness
o f this dialectic; even if w e are less sure today than the preceding
critical generation was that the D ecalogue expresses the penetra­
tion o f prophetic preaching into sacerdotal circles, it remains true
that it expresses a tension that n o doubt goes back to a tim e m uch
before the scriptural prophets; fo r the old Sem itic codes were re-
vised and am ended in a spirit akin to that o f the prophets. The
specific character o f the D ecalogue resides, then, less in the material
content o f its articles than in the sense o f this elevation to a higher
level undergone by the ancient codes. In spite o f the negative char­
acter o f its interdictions, the fragm entation that it introduces into
the “ w ill o f G od,” the apparent indifference o f its enunciations to
intentions, nevertheless tire rhythm o f prophetism and legalism is
visible in i t I t is viable in the prohibition o f “ idols,” inseparable
from the prophetic preaching o f the -G od o f justice, o f m ercy, o f
fidelity, inseparable also from the reference to the “ G od w ho
brought thee out o f Egypt, out o f the house o f bondage” ; so the
code becom es the charter o f a liberated people. T his rhythm is
visible also in the designation o f “ covetousness,” in article 10, as an
evil disposition m ore internal than the forbidden m odes o f be­
havior: “ covetousness” recalls the endless dem and that proceeds
from divine holiness and that makes one’s neighbor and all that
belongs to him infinitely respectable.
There was a tim e when Biblical critics failed to recognize this
rhythm o f prophetism and legalism, essential to the H ebraic con ­
ception o f tin. T hey also displayed an excessive contem pt for
legalism, w hich, they said, rem ained under the influence o f the
negative character o f the ancient prohibitions, disregarded inten­
tions, and finally fragm ented, “ atomized” the “ w ill o f G od.” This
tension between the absolute, hut form less, dem and and the finite
law , which breaks the demand in to crum bs, is-essential to the con-
srionmess o f tin : one cannot just feel oneself guilty in general;
tEfTlaw”is a _“ pedagogue” w hich helps the penitent to determine
h ow b e is a tinner; he is a tinner through idolatry, filial disrespect,
etc. It is true that h e w ould fall back in to m oralism if he ceased to
regard tin as something beyond the enum eration o f his fau lts; but
the breakthrough o f prophetism w ould have rem ained futile if it
h ad n ot carried forw ard an already ancient m ovem ent o f revision
o f earlier codes and given a new im petus to the rhythm o f the
indeterm inate dem and and the determinate com m andm ent S o far,
then, is the law from being a concession o f prophetic circles to the
archaic religion o f the priests that prophetism presupposes the law
a n d refers to the law . T h e Covenant lives by this alternation o f the
 prophet and the Levite. H ow cou ld the prophet becom e indignant
against injustice, if his indignation w ere n ot articulated in definite
reproaches: exploitation o f the poor, cruelty towards enemies, the
insolence o f luxury?
It may he granted without difficulty that this survival o f the old
codes was at the same tim e a snare and that the tension could be
slackened in compromises. H istory confirm s tins fa ct: the reform of
Jonah, connected w ith the m ore or less accidental “ discovery” of
’ tE e'book w hich present criticism usually recognizes as Deuteronomy,
again gave first place to the suppression o f the high places, the
concentration o f worship at Jerusalem, the destruction o f idols and
baals. T hat reform in one sense extended the first commandment
o f the D ecalogue; but at the same tim e it brought back religious
scrupulousness alongside the rites.18
This displacement o f accent in the Law has its counterpart in a
new style o f historiography. W hile the older chronicles o f Saul and
D avid, Ahab and Jehu were marked with the brand o f th e pro­
phetic spirit and unfolded the stark tragedy b om o f the confronta­
tion o f the guilty king and the accusing prophet, the new history
o f the longs concentrates an the “ tins” denounced by the reform of
Jotiah: worship on the high places apart from d ie Tem ple, re­
ligious syncretism with baals and other idols. Such are the tins
designated by the books o f Kings as “ the tin o f Ahab,” “ the tin
o f Jeroboam .” 1*
Nevertheless, it is this same ritualistic and legalistic Deuter­
onom y15 w hich, in its parenetic parts, contains the m ost vibrant

** A . Lods, op. cit., pp. 371-74. The author sees In Deuteronom y the
birth o f Judaism, in the precise sense o f the term , founded on the authority
o f the written w ord : “ Deuteronom y, m oreover, was the first layer o f die
Torah in d ie Jewish sense, a written and definitive form ula o f the w ill of
G od. It was, at the same tim e (and thereby it has a still m ore extensive
historical im portance), the first nucleus o f th e B ible, con caved as the divine
standard o f life” (p . 3 7 4 ).
15 A . Lods, op. cit., pp. 375 ff.
15 G . von B ad, in his Devteronom ium studien (1948) and his T htologit
das alien Testam ents, p p . 21 8-3 0, using a m ethod akin to that o f the
Porm geschichte school, has restated d ie problem o f th e structure o f Deuter­
onom y aw f o f ttia h ah iifa between exhortation, fnTTimBT|^mprit«J benediction,
amt mnlmiirritwt, w irin g therein the unity o f a liturgical developm ent The
w ord T orah (w e translate it by Law , fo r want o f a better alternative),
pages on the unlim ited demands o f faith and love, and thereby
internalizes sin in the m ost radical fashion. A t the m om ent when
Moses is supposed to prom ulgate the m oral and cultual charter
that w ill sanction the im m inent establishment o f the people in the
promised land, it is to the inner obedience o f the heart that he
appeals (D e u t 6, 11, 29, 3 0 ). Thus Deuteronom y repeats the same
balancing o f infinite demand and determinate com m andm ent at a
new stage that anticipates Judaism and the religion o f the Torah.
It is n ot b y chance that Jesus, w h o taught us at the same tim e to g o
beyond the L aw and to retain it, took the Summary o f th e Law
from Deuteronom y and n ot from a prophetic b o o k : “ H ear, O
Israel, Yahweh our G od is the only Yahweh. T h ou shalt love
Yahweh thy G od w ith all thy heart, with all thy soul, and with all
thy m igh t L et these words w hich 1 com m and thee this day be
graven in thy heart” (D eut. 6 :4 - 6 ) . T h e “ fear” o f G od, like the
“ covetousness” nam ed in the D ecalogue, proceeds from that fine
point o f existence that th e prophets had sharpened by threats and
indignation.
That the reform o f Jonah had brought a false security into the
consciousness o f tin is sufficiently evidenced by the disconcerting,
scandalous behavior o f Jeremiah and Ezekiel. T hose w h o had
satisfied the cultual demands o f the deuteronam ic reform m ight
nourish a legitim ate confidence in the face o f the storm that broke
over Judah. But here is Jeremiah taking up the how ling o f A m os:
“Y ou shall be destroyed because o f your tins.” H is non-resistance

which presides over the theological unity o f the book, covers, then, all
Yahweh’* Interventions and tends to raise to a “ didactic” level what first
appears as a liturgical unity. It is within this w hole that one m ust place
the exhortations (Chaps. 6 -1 1 ) and the body o f laws (Chaps. 12 f f .) ,
winch, m oreover, sound hom iletic rather than ju ridical, in the style o f
preaching'. T he legalistic and cultual aspect then gets a new m eaning,
pniemiral and m ilitant, directed against the Canaanitish nature-religion.
Finally, one must never lose sight o f the fa ct that all these im peratives are
motivated by the recognition o f the gratuitous apd m erciful election o f
Israel by its G od, w ho loved it first Even the situation in w hich D euteron­
omy is supposed to be proclaim ed by M oses is fu ll o f sym bolic meaning :
between Egypt and Canaan, betw een the going ou t and the com ing in ,
between the prom ise and th e fulfillm ent— that spiritual “ moment” is the
moment o f the Torah.
rises up accusingly against the false confidence spread by legalistic
piety; his prophecy thus makes contact, over the reform o f Josiah,
w ith the accusation o f the first prophets. It is within the horizon
o f the already declared wrath o f history that he shatters any as­
surance that the pious man m ight draw from his observance o f the
com mandm ents; the catastrophe m ust b e consummated even to the
end, Israel must have neither seal, nor temple, n or king (there were
tw o kings, one protected, the other deported, but Jeremiah and
Ezekiel worked unremittingly to destroy their influen ce). In short,
there must be nothing left o f Israel from a human paint o f view,
n o room fo r political hopes, in order that the song o f hope o f die
second Isaiah m ight be heard.
ThiS political “ nihilism” i« smwntial to thw IfpT-irair. m p y jouaress
o f sm ^itls^ in fact, the expression o f a pedagogy.-^!historical failure
that aiirm at placing the ethical demand beyond any assignable
historical end, beyond any finite observance, beyond any self-justi­
fication. T h e deuteronom ic spirit, then, is only an episode between
the terrible preaching o f Justice by Am os and the defeatism in
w hich Jeremiah and Ezekiel mask their unlim ited demand fo r sefi-
abandonment to the absolute o f Yahweh.
Thus, from Am os to Ezekiel the ethical tension essential to the
Covenant was never broken, even if it was stretched in one direc­
tion o r another:1* on one side, an unconditional but formless de­
m and that finds the root o f evil in the “heart” ; on the other, a
finite law that determines, makes explicit, and breaks up sinfulness
into enumerable ‘ ‘transgressions,” subjects fa r a future casuistry.
I f this dialectic is broken, the G od o f the infinite demand with­
draws into the distance and the absence o f the W holly O ther; or
the legislator o f the commandments becom es indistinguishable from
the finite m oral consciousness and is confounded w ith the witness
that the Just O ne bears to him self. In this double m anner the para­
d ox o f distance and presence w hich constitutes the “ before God”
is abolished at the heart o f the consciousness o f sin.
i* It is true that "post-exilic” Judaism is an undisputed historical dimen­
sion; but the moment that we have wished to grasp is thereafter out­
distanced. We shall discover the contribution o f the Judaism of die second
Temple in the framework of a reflection on Scrupulousness (below, Chap.
n i, f 3).
 3. T h e “ W rath or G od”

Shifting ou r gaze from the “ objective” to the “ subjective” p ole o f

the consciousness o f sin, w e are n ow led back to the threat and
the fear that w e provisionally placed w ithin brackets in order to
consider the ethical content o f the indignation o f the prophet,
namely, the balance between the infinite dem and and the finite
com mandment. A s was said above, it is n ot possible, in H ebrew
prophecy, to separate W rath from Indignation, T error from A ccu­
sation.
It is necessary, therefore, to look this enigm a in the fa ce : in
rising from the consciousness o f defilem ent to the consciousness o f
sin, fear and anguish did not disappear; rather, they changed their
quality. I t is this new quality o f anguish that constitutes what w e
call the “ subjective” p ole o f the consciousness o f tin. Perhaps w e
can understand the sense o f this specific sort o f anguish if w e place
it in relation w ith the tw o characteristics o f tin studied above—
the “ before G od” and “ the infinite dem and” — or, in other words,
if we place it within the Covenant, and i f w e see therein a dramati­
zation o f tiie dialogal relation that is constitutive o f the C oven an t

It stamps all the relations o f m an w ith G o d ; the religion o f

b ra d is im bued w ith tins conviction that m an cannot see G od
without dying; M oses at H oreb, Isaiah in the Tem ple, Ezekiel face
to face w ith th e glory o f G od , are terror-stricken; they experience in
die nam e o f the w hole people the incom patibility o f G od and
man.11 T his terror expresses the situation o f sinful m an before G od.
It is the truth o f a relation w ithout truth. S o the veridical rerpre-
sentatkm o f G od that corresponds to it is "W rath” : n ot that G od
iTwickttlj ' but that W rath is the countenance o f H oliness fo r sinful
IMH.
This symbol o f the W rath o f G od, o f th e D ay o f Yahw eh, directly
u A . M . D ubarle, L t p ic h i origm tl dans f& ctitu re (Paris, 1 9 5 0 ), Chap.
1, “L a condition burnable dans 1’A n den Testament” ; especially, “ L’incom -
patihifitfi de D ieu et de lTunmne,” pp. 22-25. O n the wrath o f G od, see
Ed. Jacob, op. cit., p p . 91-94.
concerns the political fate o f the com munity o f Israel. This point
is o f capital im portance and dominates to a great extent the dis­
tinction between sin and guilt that w ill be introduced later on.
G uilt represents an internalization and a personalization o f the
consciousness o f a n . This double operation w ill encounter the re­
sistance o f the historical and communal interpretation o f a n which
found in the them e o f the W rath o f G od and the D ay o f Yahweh
its most pow erful symbol. In fact, it is as a people that Israel feels
itself threatened through the m outh o f the prophet; it is by the
roundabout way o f a theology o f history, o f an oracle concerning
the future o f the com m unity, that the people feels itself condem ned.
H istorical failure is thus erected into a symbol o f condem nation.

F or three crim es o f D am ascus, and fo r fou r,

I have decid ed irrevocably!
. . . I w ill send a fire in to the house o f H azael . . .
Am os 1 :3 -4

F or three crim es o f G aza, and fo r fou r,

I have decid ed irrevocably!
. . . I w ill send a fire against the w alls o f G aza . . .
A m os 1 :6 -7

F or three crim es o f Israel, and fo r fou r,

I have decided irrevocably!
. . . I w ill nail you to the ground.
A m os 2 :6 , 13

T hus saith Yahw eh.

F or three crim es o f th e children o f A m m on, and fo r fou r,
I have decided irrevocably!
Because; they have ripped up the w om en w ith ch ild o f G ilead,
that they m ight enlarge their border.
I w ill kin dle a fire in the w all o f R abbah,
and it shall devour the palaces thereof,
w ith shouting in th e day o f battle,
w ith a tem pest in th e day o f th e w hirlw ind:
A n d th eir king shall g o in to captivity,
h e and his princes together,
saith Y ahw eh.
A m os 1 :1 3 —15
 A nd again:

W oe unto them that desire the day o f Y ahw eh!

W hat w ill it b e fo r yon , the day o f Y ahw eh?
It w ill b e darkness, and n ot light.
A s if a m an d id flee from a lion ,
and a bear m et h im !
A s i f h e w ent in to th e house, and leaned ins hand on the w all,
an d a serpent b it h im !
Shall n ot th e day o f Y ahw eh b e darkness, and nOt ligh t?
I t w ill b e dark, w ithout any brightness.
A m os 5 :1 8 -2 0

H osea, the tender H osea, the terrible H osea, roars w ith s im ila r

violence:

F or I w ill b e unto Ephraim as a lion ,

and as a lion ’s cub to the house o f Ju dah:
I , I , w ill tear and g o away;
I w fll take away m y prey, and n on e shaU rescue him .
H os. 5 :1 4

Isaiah, the prophet o f divine M ajesty and Holiness, w h o recog­

nized in sin the same arrogance that the Greeks called hybris, sees
in his turn, in the day o f Yahweh, the day when all pride is re­
duced to n ought:

U nm an p rid e w ill low er its eyes,

th e arrogance o f m en w fll b e hum bled.
Y ahw eh alone wiU b e exalted
in that day.
Y ea, that w fll b e the day o f Yahw eh Sabaoth
against aU pride and all arrogance,
against a fl greatness, to brin g it low ,
against a ll th e cedars o f L ebanon . . .
and a ll the oaks o f Bashan,
against a ll th e high m ountains
an d a ll the elevated h ills,
against aU th e h igh tow ers
and all the steep ramparts,
against an d ie ships o f Tarshish
an d a ll precious objects . . .
 Human pride will be bumbled,
the arrogance o f men will be made low.
Yahweh alone will be exalted
in that day,
and all the idols will be thrown down.
Go into the holes of the rocks
and into the caves of the earth,
for fear of Yahweh
and the brightness of his majesty,
when he rises up
to make the earth tremble.
Is. 2:11-19

Jeremiah has no doubt that the true prophet is a prophet o f mis­

fortune. W hen the prophet Hananiah prophesies the end o f servi­
tude and snatches away the yoke that die prophet Jeremiah carries
on his neck for a mimed parable and breaks it, Jeremiah attacks
him in these terms: “ H ear now , H ananiah! Yahweh has n ot sent
you, and you have m ade this people trust in a lie. T herefore thus
says Y ahw eh: Behold I w ill cast you o ff from the face o f the earth;
this year you shall die, because you have preached rebellion against
Yahweh” (Jer. 2 8 :1 5 -1 6 ).
Ezekiel and Jeremiah even g o to the extent o f co-operating ac­
tively w ith disaster by olitical defeatism. This defeatism and, in
truth, jh is treason have a profound religiouB significance; they have
a share in the deriphering o f the W iath o f G od in h istory:_bv.de-
featism and treason the prophet fulfills the enmity o f G od against
his people. N o commentary can reconstitute the em otional violence
o f that aggression against the_security_of m an, far no people has
ever been called to judgment with such brutality.
A nd yet it is within the horizon o f the Covenant that w e must
consider what w e have called, from the beginning o f this study of
sin, a traumatism o f the religious consciousness.
T h e bond o f the Covenant is not broken, but stretched, and thus
deepened.
It is first o f all its breadth, its universal scope that is perceived.
By the cipher o f defeat, the prophet manifests the movement of
history as a w h ole; the tribal god becom es m ore distant; Yahweh
is n o longer the guarantor o f the historical success o f his p eop le;
the consciousness o f sin, through the symbol o f the D ay o f Yahweh
and a n inim ical history, reveals its other p o le : the L ord o f H istory.
This transcendence and this breadth are the correlatives o f d ie
ethical Holiness that is m anifested in another w ay through the
infinite demand. T h e threat places the L ord at a greater distance
from history and shatters his historical com plicity w ith the chosen
people in the same way as the infinite dem and introduced into the
codes increases the ethical distance between G od and man.
A t the same tim e, it appears that this 'W rath is n o longer the
vindication o f taboos, n or the resurgence o f a prim ordial chaos, as
old as d ie oldest gods, but the W rath o f Holiness itself. W ithout
doubt, there is still a long w av to go in order to understand r
guess that the W rath o f G od is anly jh e sadness o f love. This W rath
m il have to be converted and becom e the sorrow o f the “ Servant o f
Yahweh” and the lowliness o f d ie “ Son o f M an” . . . .
Nevertheless, the symbol o f the “ W rath erf G od” owes to its dose*
ness to the symbol o f Holiness certain traits that anddpate its future
absorption into another group o f symbols generated by the theology
of Love.
It is, in the first place, quite remarkable that the threat erf the
“Day o f Yahweh,” terrible as it is, remains a threat internal to his­
tory; n o trace o f a “ hell” or “ eternal punishments,” outride histori­
cal tim e and geographical space; n o “ time” w ithout recourse, n o
“place” without return. Thus, the final seal is never placed an the
foretold catastrophe;1* prophecy remains within the lim its o f a
penal interpretation o f real history (it m ust n o t b e forgotten that
the deportations and the other disasters foretold actually hap­
pened). Prophecy, then, consists in deciphering future history by
giving it m advance a m eaning relative to the ethical life erfJ&e
peopleTThis remark is far-reaching, fo r the calam ity designated by
the' expression “ D ay o f Yahweh” does not exactly consist in the

18H ell, it seons, is a product o f the Apocalypses. A s d ie Son o f M an

ram « "o n the clouds o f Heaven” in D aniel, Enoch, and the Gospels, so the
day of judgm ent and d ie place o f eternal punishments are separated from
anr history and the place o f our abode. It is true that the “ abode o f the
deaf* o r Sheol belongs to the oldest representations o f H ebrew thought* but
it it not die absolute place o f catastrophe, it is n ot at all "hell.”
occurrence o f defeat and destruction. A s something that happened,
the occurrence was irrevocable, and the prophet anticipated it as
happening and as irrevocable. T h e calam ity consists rather in due
m eaning attached to the occurrence, in the penal interpretation of
the event prophesied. T h at is why the D ay erf Y abw eh is not only
in history; it is in an interpretation o f history. ,
I f, history is revealed as chastisement only through the
ministration o f the prophecy that interp rets h in this way, the bare
occurrence can be prophesied as irrevocable and its meaning as
revocable.
T h is is w hat happened in fa c t: the same prophet w h o announces
the imminent catastrophe join s prom ise to threat18 T h e mother-cell
o f prophecy is, then, n o longer the prediction o f a calamity, but the
douhle im nim aice o f catastrophe and salvation. This double oracle
keeps u p the tem poral tension characteristic o f the C ovenant Of
course, this “ dialectic” is not “ thought” ; it never rises to the level
o f "speculation” and a “ logic o f bring” ; it is a dialectic in imagina­
tion and experience. It is m odeled after the symbolism o f the Cove­
nant fam iliar to every p rop h et W ith Am os, salvation is a discreet
“ perhaps” th at gives a touch o f h ope to the inexorable itself: “ Yon
shall surely die . . . perhaps G od w ill have mercy.” W ith Hosea,
an interval o f nothingness separates the tw o successive events of
death and life. W ith TsaiaVi, the salvation o f a “ remnant” is con­
tem porary with the destruction o f the Tem ple, as the survival of
the »famnp is contem porary w ith the fall o f the tree; while with the
Second faafati the new day is bam. in sorrow.
Sometimes it even happens that this dialectic o f destruction and
salvation admits a sort o f respite, in which the inexorable appears
to b e subject to human ch oice: “ I f you do justice, perhaps God will
have mercy” (Am os 5 :1 5 ). In a m ore urgent tone, even the prophet
o f the D ay o f Y ahw eh cries out in the nam e o f G o d : *T have set
life, and death b efore y o u ; choose "Me and you shall hvrf* (tteut

T h is appeal, considered b y itself, would seem to declare he

ambiguity o f history, held in suspense by the ethical choice of rnnr,

*• On die twofold oracle, cf. N£her, L ’Esstnc* da profhitians, pp. 213-

the D ay o f Yahweh, considered by itself, w ould m ake history fate.
The paradox is that the inexorable is m odified b y an appeal to
right rhmrB, b u t d ie choice does n ot, in its turn, annex either the
Wrath o f G od o r h is pardon to d ie arbitram ent o f man.
Thus, the threat is inseparable from the “ nevertheless” o f a
reconciliation that is always posable and is prom ised in the en d;
and the fury o f the Jealous O n e also is inscribed in the dram a o f
a love that is at the same rim e broken and always carried beyond
the paint o f rupture. Thus d ie distance that anguish discloses does
not make G od am ply the W holly O th er; anguish dramatizes the
Covenant without ever reaching the poin t o f rupture w here abso­
lute otherness w ou ld be absence o f relation. Just as jealousy is an
affliction o f love, so anguish is a m om ent that dialecdzes the dia­
logue, but does n ot annul it.
The rhythm o f distance and presence, w hich remains hidden in
the preaching o f the “ D ay o f Yahweh,” is m ade m anifest through
the poetic structure o f the psalm. It is, in fact, in the psalm that
die “ unhappy consciousness” o f the sinner discovers that its sepa­
ration from G od is still a relation.10 I t is to D avid, the D avid w ho
was shown by the oldest chronicles in the situation o f one accused,
face to face with d ie prophet N athan, that the tradition attributes
the famous Psalm 51, w hich is called a penitential psalm . T h e
suppliant confesses that he has sinned against G o d ;b u t the “ against”
God is disclosed only in the m ovem ent o f invocation that manifests
the dialogal relation: O G od, I have tinned against thee. “ O ut o f
die depths I cry unto thee, Yahweh” — thus begins Psalm 130. “ R e­
turn, Yahweh, deliver m y soul,” is the cry o f Psalm 6. T h e vocative
—O God— w hich expresses the invocation o f the petitioner, puts
die m om ent' rif rupture back within the band a f participation; if
God were the W holly* O ther, he w ould n o longer be* invoked. A nd
if the sinner were only the object o f the prophetic accusation, he
would no longer be invoking. In the m ovem ent o f invocation the
dnner becomes fully the subject o f sin, at the same tinie as tHe“
(SriEfe God oHlestructian becom es the supreme T hou.

**For a study o f the penitential psalms, c t Sven H em er, Suhne and

Vtrgtbung m Israd, pp. 92-109 (especially the study o f Psalms 31, 130,
J2,6). We d o ll return to this ssb je ctin Chap. II I .
 Thus the psalms reveal the tenderness hidden in the heart o f
the prophetic accusation and proclaim that the W rath w hich has
already shown itself as the W rath o f "H oliness m ight he~only. the
W rath o f L ove, if one dare say so.

4. T h e Sym bolism of S in : (1 ) Sin a s “ N oth ingness ”

W e have tried to view the new experience o f fault in as dose

proxim ity as posable to the dram a o f the Covenant in w hich it
gets meaning. But this experience is not m ute; the summons o f the
prophet, the confession o f the sinner issue forth in the element of
language. M oreover, w e could not om it this im pact o f the experi­
ence o f sin on discourse when w e exam ined the diverse modalities
o f prophetic accusation: injustice according to Am os, adultery ac­
cording to Hosea, arrogance according to Isaiah, lack o f faith ac­
cording to Jeremiah, etc.
T h e mom ent has com e to consider in a m ore systematic manner
the linguistic creations that correspond to this new cycle o f experi­
ence. W e shall take fo r reference the symbolism o f defilement
worked out at the preceding stage o f the consciousness o f fa u lt It
was, w e rem ember, the representation o f a something, o f a positive
pow er, that infects and contaminates by con tact; even if those
representations are n ot to be taken literally, but sym bolically, never­
theless the secondary intention that runs through the literal sense
o f stain indicates the positive character o f defilement and the nega­
tive character o f purity. This is why the symbolism o f defilement
was necessarily shattered under the pressure o f a new experience
and gave way little by little to a new symbolism. I f sin is primarily
the rupture o f a relation, it becom es difficult to express it in terms
o f defilem ent W e shall look fo r the trail o f this conversion from
positive to negative in the vocabulary o f tin.
U nder this first aspect, the symbolism o f tin breaks with that of
defilement. But sin is n ot only the rupture o f a relation; it is also
the experience o f a pow er that lays hold o f man . la this respect the
symbolism o f tin rediscovers the m ajor intention o f the symbolism
o f defilem ent; sin, too, is a “ something,” a “ reality.” Thus, w e have
to give an account at the same tim e o f the preferm ent o f a new
symbolism and o f the survival o f the old under the direction o f the
new.
T h e break w ith the symbolism o f defilem ent and its reaffirm ation
on a new level becam e still m ore striking when the symbolism o f tin
is com plemented by the symbolism af redem ption] indeed, it is not
possible to understand the one without the other. It was n o m ore
possible to apeak o f defilem ent w ithout speaking o f purification.
W ith stronger reason, the establishment, the negation, and the
reaffirm ation o f the Covenant form a coherent sym bolic w hole.
Although, in an investigation dedicated to the symbolics o f evil,
the principal emphasis must fall on the symbolism o f sin as such,
this symbolism itself is n ot com plete unless it is considered retro­
spectively from the point o f view o f the faith in redem ption. Far
this reason w e w ill m ark each o f the stages o f the symbolics o f tin
by a parallel symbolics o f redem ption.

L et us, then, consider, first o f all, in the pair tin-redem ption,

that w hich is most opposed to the symbolism o f defilem ent. T he
Covenant being the symbol o f a quati-personalistic relation, the
fundam ental symbolism o f tin expresses the loss o f a bond, o f a
root, o f an ontological ground. T o this there corresponds, from the
tide o f redem ption, the fundam ental symbolism o f “ return.”
It is remarkable that the H ebrew Bible does n ot have any ab­
stract w ord to express tin, but a bundle o f concrete expressions,
each erf which, in its ow n way, is the beginning in a figurative man,
ner o f a possible line o f interpretation and announces w hat m ight
b e called a “ theologoum enon.” *1 M oreover, it w ill n ot be without
interest, as w e enumerate the H ebraic images and roots, to note
the corresponding images and roots o f the Greek language w hich,
in their turn, w ere able to furnish equivalents to the H ebraic
schemata when the Bible was translated into G reek Furthermore,
this translation is an im portant cultural event; it unitecLdhe des­
tinies erf the tw o languages and gave rise to a H elleno-H ebraic

21 Theologisches W orterbuch turn N. T. (K itte l), art. "iitaprdvu,

ifL&pniiui, iiutprla," J, 267 f . ; Ludw ig K ohler, T heologie des alien Testa­
m ents (Tubingen, 1 9 3 6 ); E d. Jacob, op. cit., p . 2 2 6 ; E ichrodt, op. eit.,
V oL m , $ 23.
schematization and conceptualization, beyond which it is n o longer
posable to return.
W e have a first root (ch attat) which means missing the target,
to w hich w e can relate a second symbol, that o f a tortuous road
(*aw on) . These tw o roots, joined to one another, forecast the con­
cept o f the a-namalous, a purely form al concept in w hich diver­
gence from order, deviation from the straight road, are considered
without regard to the m otive o f d ie act and the inner quality o f
the agent. T h e Greek d/iapnjpo, w hich furnished the abstract
concept o f sin through the Latin peceatum , is akin to the first
H ebrew root. O n the other hand, the symbolism o f the “ way” or
“ road” is w ell known from Pythagoreanism; besides, it is almost
universal. T h e symbolism o f a journey is akin to it and furnishes
the controlling schema fo r the Prelude o f the Poem o f Parmenides:
“ T h e horses w hich draw m e carry m e along, answering to the ardor
o f my desire. For in guiding m e, they have led m e along the famous
route— o f the Goddess w ho conducts m en possessing the light of
knowledge through all cities.” It is true that am ong the Greeks the
symbol o f the “ way” did not produce as distinctly as am ong the
Hebrews the symbol o f a circuitous, curving, tortuous way. T he
symbol o f error or going astray, m ore adapted to the problem o f
truth than to that o f ethical obedience, takes its place. O n the other
hand, w e shall presently discover something like a symbol o f going
astray am ong the Hebrews.
A third root denotes rebellion (pesha‘ ) , revolt, stiff-neckedness. It
is the evil intention itself that is here designated and n ot the ob­
jective deviation from the w ill o f G od. H ere the rupture is thema-
tized as initiative; and as the fram ework o f schematization is that
o f a personalistic relation between G od and m an, it is the opposi­
tion o f the human w ill to the holy w ill that furnishes the nucleus
o f the im age: sin is “ against” G od, as existence is “ before” G od.
T h e intersubjective, social symbol o f revolt thus becom es the least
form al and most existential symbol o f sin. T o this cycle belon g the
words and images that speak o f infidelity, adultery, refusal to listen
and to hear, hardness o f hearing, and stiffness o f neck. Every time
the Greeks oriented themselves toward a relation o f a personalistic
character between m an and the gods, they approached this them e
o f pride and arrogance and saw human evil in it ; but the tragic and
even pre-tragic hybris, w hich seems so d ose to the p ride and arro­
gance denounced b y Isaiah and Deuteronom y, is m uch m ore closely
related to the “ je a lo u s /’ o f the gods w ith regard to men inclined
to transgress the lim its o f their finitude than to the idea o f a pact
broken, a dialogue interrupted. H ence, the closeness o f the images
should not be overestimated, even though the sym bol o f the “ W rath
o f G od” and that o f the “ jealousy” o f Yahw eh towards false gods
creates a certain room fo r com parison between B iblical pride and
Greek hybris.
Finally, another symbol (shagah) , w ith apparently less em otional
resonance, designates precisely the situation o f having gone astray,
o f bring lost, in w hich the sinner finds him self. But if the im age
o f revolt is m ore forcefu l, the im age o f having gone astray is m ore
radical, fo r it directly envisages a total situation, the state o f bring
astray and lo st Thus, it forecasts the m ore m odem symbols o f
alienation and dereliction; the interruption o f the dialogue, having
becam e a situation, makes m an a bring alien to his ontological
place. T h e silence o f G od, the absence o f G od, are in a way a
correlative symbol to the symbol o f having gone astray, o f being
lost; fo r the being w ho has strayed is “ abandoned” by G od. A s one
sees, the “ erro r” o f the P oem o f Parmenides is n ot w ithout analogy,
at least on the figurative level: “ I put you on guard against that
other w ay o f investigation an w hich m ortals w ithout knowledge
wander in every direction, monsters w ith tw o heads. F or in them
im potence guides their unsteady m inds in their breasts. T hey are
pushed this way and that, deaf as w ell as blind, thrown into a
stupor, a m ob w ithout judgm ent— fo r w hom being and n ot being
appear the same and not the same, and fo r whom the path o f all
things turns back upon its steps.” But the problem atics o f Truth
and O pinion separates “ error” according to Parmenides from
“ straying” according to the Prophets o f Israel n o less than the
tragic problem erf the “ jealousy” o f the gods just n ow separated
Greek hybris from H ebrew pride. T h e structural relationship o f
the symbols nevertheless permits exchanges, even on the level o f
meanings. I f it is true that error is m ore than intellectual error and
is already m oral fault, and if, on the other hand, there is n o fault
without same change in “ opinion,” in the representation o f the
“ apparent” good, it is intelligible that the tw o symbols o f “ having
gone astray” and “ error” could cross their fires and exchange their
intentions on a m ore speculative level o f reflection on evil. But the
sense o f this developm ent w ill n ot appear until later.
Thus, in various ways, a first conceptualization o f tin radically
different from that o f defilement is outlined on the sym bolic level:
missing the mark, deviation, rebellion, straying from the path do
not so m uch signify a harm ful substance as a violated relation. This
change in the intentionality o f the symbol, arising from the new
experience o f evil, is reached through an upheaval on the level of
the baric images themselves: fo r relations o f contact in space, re­
lations o f orientation are substituted; the way, the straight fine,
straying, like the m etaphor o f a journey, are analogies o f the m ove­
m ent o f existence considered as a w hole. A t the same tim e, the
symbol passes over from space to tim e; the "w ay” is the spatial
projection o f a m ovem ent that is the evolution o f a destiny. Thus
the revolution in the images prepares the way fo r the revolution in
tin* meanings themselves.
T h e symbolism o f sin, then, suggests the idea o f a relation broken
off. But the negativity o f rin remains im plicit in it ; and w e shall be
able presently to survey these same key images from the point o f
view of the “ power” o f rin and also to extract from them an allu­
sion to the positivity o f human evil. This is why it is n ot without
interest to join to this first bundle o f symbols some other expres­
sions that make the negative m om ent explicit and p rin t toward the
idea o f a “ nothingness” o f sinful m an. O f course, a culture that has
not worked out the idea o f bring does not have a concept o f noth­
ingness either; but it may have a symbolism o f negativity— through
failure, deviation, rebellion, going astray. T h e sinner has “ gone
away from ” G o d ; he has “ foigotten” G od ; he is “ foolish,” “ without
understanding.” But there are m are striking expressions o f this
negativity that can be classed w ith the “ breath o f air” that passes
and is n ot retained or w ith the “ idol” that deceives because it is not
the true G od.83 T h e form er schema is m ore concrete and corre-

33 Theologisches W orterbuch turn I f. T . (K itte l), art. "lUrtuot” (N ich -

 spends to a less advanced stage o f conceptualization; but it furnishes
tiie most pow erful em otional analogue o f nothingness. Starting from
tiie impression o f the light, the empty, the unsubstantial, the futile,
w hich is connected w ith the material im age o f exhalation, breath,
dust, it apprehends in a single glance the total character o f human
existence as “ abandoned” ; “ m an is like a breath o f a ir; his days
are as the shadow that passes away” (Ps. 1 4 4 :4 ). “ T h e sons o f
A dam are only a breath o f air, the sons o f m an a lie ; if they were
placed in tire balance together, they w ould be less than a breath o f
air*’ (Ps. 6 2 :9 ). T o this im age o f a breath o f air w e can relate the
im age a t a desert and its em pty desolation: “ A ll nations are as
nothing before h im ; they are counted to him as nothing and vanity”
(Is. 4 0 :1 7 ). T h e place accorded to this im age o f “ vanity” by the
K ohelet is w ell known. In that book it almost reaches the abstrac­
tion o f nothingness. But if the w ord has lost its concrete sense and
tends toward the non-being o f error or, better, errancy that the
Greeks w orked out systematically, if it is almost equivalent to the
“ doxa o f mortals” o f Parmenides' P oem , it never breaks com pletely
w ith the original im age a t “mist” or “ breath” : “ Behold, all is
vanity and pursuit o f the w ind” (1 :1 4 ).
T his existential im age o f “ vanity” gets blended w ith the im age o f
“ idols,” w hich com es from a m m elaborate theological reflection
an false gods. It is fed n ot b y th e spectacle o f unsubstantial things—
vapor, exhalation, m ist, w ind, dust—b u t by the spectacle o f false
sacredness. F rom this vanity receives its transcendent m eaning:
“ F or all the gods o f the -nations are idols, but the L ord m ade the
heavens” (Ps. 9 6 :5 ), (T h e B ible o f Jerusalem translates: “ A ll the
gods o f the nations are nothing.” ) T o the false gods Y ahw eh de­
clares through the m outh o f the Second Isaiah: “ Y ou are nothing
and your works are nought; to choose you is abom inable” (4 1 :2 4 ).
H ence, priests and oracles o f the false g o d s share in their nothing­
ness: “ A ll o f them together are nothing. T h eir works are nothing;
their statues are w ind and void ” (4 1 :2 9 ), H ere the m eaning o f the
“ jealousy” o f Yahw eh is m a de m anifest: the “ nothingness” o f the
id ols is the symbol o f that O ther w hich is N othing and o f w hich,
t ig ) ; K fihler, op. eit., a it. an EH1 (g a d s= n oth in g), H ebei (exhalation,
vapor, dusfc=vanity=idol» o f nothingnes s ), Avan (vanity, nothing, n ou gh t).
nevertheless, Yahweh is “ jealous.” But if the idol is N othing in the
eyes o f Yahweh, it is real non-being fo r m an. This is why Yahweh
is jealous o f that w hich is N othing far him , but w hich is a Pseudo-
Something fo r m an. Am os had already forged the im age o f a choice
between “ good” and “ evil” w hich is the equivalent o f a radical
choice between “ G od” and “ N othing.” 18 Far all the prophets, an
id ol is m ore than a “ graven image” ; it is a m odel o f nothingness^
H ence, the m an w ho takes pleasure in it is nothing; the vision or
the prophecy that is not sent by the L ord is nothing; sin itself, al­
ready symbolized by adultery, is now symbolized by idolatry. Finally,
the tw o images o f breath and id ol transpose their significations and
blend their m eanings: the vanity o f breath becomes d ie vanity o f
the idol, “ by pursuing vanity they have becom e vanity” (Jer. 2 :5 ) ;
fo r man becomes that w hich he adores: “ lik e unto their idols shall
be they that made them, whoever puts his trust in them” (Ps.
1 1 5 :8 ).
This schema o f the “ nothingness” o f idols and idolatry is the
correlative, from the side o f man, o f the schema o f the “ W rath of
G od” which w e grasped directly in the oracle o f the D ay of
Y ahw eh: man abandoned is the m anifestation o f G od as the one
w ho abandons; man’s forgetfulness o f G od is reflected in G od’s
forgetfulness o f m an. Thus, G od is n o longer d ie “ Yes” o f the wcsrd
“ w ho speaks and it is so” ; he is the “ N o” w ho puts down the
w icked, his idols, and all his vanity:
** Nfeher very judiciously compares d ie ethical choice o f Am os 5 :1 4 -1 5
( “ Seek good and not evil . . . hate the evil and love the good” ) w ith die
ontological alternative set up in 5 :5 : "Seek not Beth-El, n or enter into
G ilgal, and pass not to Beer-sheba [these are sanctuaries, high places;
Bcth-El, m ore particularly, means “ house o f G od” ] ; fa r G ilgal shall surely
g o in to captivity and Beth-El shall be Aven [==vanity, nothing, nought].”
"T h e good,” N fb er writes (A m os, p. 1 1 2 ), “ is G o d ; evil is non-G od, d ie
idol, or, in the term inology o f Am os, vanity, nought. H ere the paronomasia
from Beth-El to Beth-Aven gets all its force. . . . W hat is opposed to El,
G od, is Aven, nought, nothing.” Deuteronom y repeats d ie same schem a: on
the one hand, the ethical choice, “ See, I have set before thee this day life
and good, and death and evil. . . . 1 have set before you life and death,
blessing and cursing; therefore choose life” (3 0 :1 5 and 1 9 ); an the other,
the ontological alternative, “ They have provoked m e w ith non-G od, they
have angered m e w ith their fu tile vanities; I w ill provoke them w ith non-
people, I w ill anger them w ith a foolish nation” (3 2 :2 1 ), quoted by
N ih er, ibid ., p. 113.
 By thine anger we are consumed,
B y thy w rath w e are frightened.
T h ou hast set our iniquities before thee,
O ur secret sins in th e ligh t o f thy countenance.
U n der th y w rath ou r days decline,
W e spend ou r years as a sigh.
Ps. 9 0 :7 -9

Perhaps even the “ N o” o f the Interdiction, in the m yth o f the

fall,** is a naive projection, in the sphere o f innocence, erf a nega­
tion issuing from tin itself. Perhaps the order o f creation is sup­
ported w holly b y affirm ation, even when it envelops dissonances,
oppositions, and a prim ordial disproportion : “ L et it be so.” Even
when tins order signifies a lim it fo r m an, still this lim it is constitu­
tive o f m an ; it protects his liberty and thus pertains simply to man’ s
position in existence. Perhaps it is tire nothingness o f vanity, issuing
from tin, w hich turns this very first creative lim it in to an Interdic­
tion. Thus, step by step, vanity extends itself over everything and
makes G od him self appear as the “ No” that forbids and destroys,
as the Adversary whose w ill is summed u p in the pursuit o f death
fo r the tinner. T hen the man fo r w hom G od w ould n o longer be
anything but wrath and the w illing o f death, the m an w h o w ould
g o to the end o f this frightening possibility, w ould truly reach the
bottom o f the abyss and w ould be reduced to a cry, to this cry:
“ M y G od, m y G od, w hy hast thou forsaken m e?” (Ps. 2 2 :1 ). In
this cry the agony o f the Son o f M an is consummated.
This symbolism o f sin gets a new emphasis when tin is con­
sidered retrospectively from the standpoint o f that w hich goes be­
yond it, nam ely, “ pardon.” A t the end o f this first part w e shall
stress the fa ct that the com plete and concrete m eaning o f tin be­
com es apparent only in this retrospection.
L et us set aside fo r the m om ent the com plex notion o f “ expiation”
w hich w e shall n o t be able to understand until w e have explained
the resumption o f the symbolism o f defilem ent in that o f tin. L et us
rather concern ourselves w ith the p air “ pardon-return,” which
raises few er difficulties o f interpretation, and refrain from any

84 C f. below , Part IX, Chap. I l l , “ T h e A dam ic M yth.”

theological elaboration, any conceptual dialectics, any attempt at
concordism or synergy between d ie initiative o f G od and the initia­
tive o f man. A t the level where the concepts com e to birth in
images (or schemata) that have the potency o f symbols, it is the
whole, “ pardon-return,” that is full o f m eaning and that signifies
as a w hole the restoration o f the C ovenant
Let us take as our point o f departure the divine p ole o f “ pardon.”
W e shall soon find ourselves referred to the other pole, that o f the
“return” o f man.”
T h e theme o f “ pardon” is itself a very rich symbol, o f the same
nature as that o f the wrath o f G od, and its m eaning is elaborated
in connection w ith the latter. Pardon is, as it w ere, the forgetting
or the renouncing o f the w rath o f holiness; it often takes the figura­
tive form o f a “ repentance o f G od” (E x. 3 2 :1 4 ), as if G od changed
his ow n course, his own plan w ith regard to m en. This im agined
change in G od is fu ll o f m eaning; it means that the new direction
im printed on the relation o f m an t o G od has its origin in G od, is
divinely initiated. T his origin, this initiative is represented as an
event occurring in the divine sphere; instead erf condem ning m an,
G od raises Mm up. Sometimes wrath and pardon are superimposed,
the one an the oth er: when the nam e o f the Eternal is proclaim ed
(E x. 3 4 ), the Eternal is called G od o f m ercy, slow to anger, abound­
ing in grace and fidelity, w ho keeps his grace fo r thousands, toler­
ates faults, transgression, and sin, but leaves nothing unpunished
and visits chastisement fo r the fault o f the fathers upon the children
and the grandchildren, even to the third and fourth generation
(E x. 3 4 :6 -7 ). T h e relation o f “ three generations” to “ a thousand
generations” anticipates the argument “how m uch m ore,” which
w ill be fayniliar to S t Paul, as w ill be said further on. M ore aston­
ishingly, w e read in H osea:

s* The most im portant study is E. K . D ietrich, D ie Um kehr im A , T . und

in Judentum (1 9 3 6 ). F or a study, book by book, o f the ideas o f “ pardon”
and “ expiation,*' see Sven H erner, SUhne und V ergebung in Israel. E d.
Jacob gives an excellent synthetic view in L es thim es essentials d’ une
W o lo g ie de TAneien Testam ent, pp. 233 ff. H . W . W olff examines the
theological im plications in “ Das Them a ‘Umkehr’ in der alttestarnentlichen
Prophetic," / . T heol. <1. Kvrehe (1 9 5 1 ). J. J. Stamm combines
the exegetical and theological points o f view in ErlSsen und V ergebung im
A . T . (Berne, 1940).
 I will not execute the fierceness of my wrath,
I w ill n o t return to destroy E phraim ;
F o r I am G od , and n ot m an,
I am th e H oly O ne in th e m idst o f thee,
an d I d o n ot love to destroy.
H os. 1 1 :9

T h e Biblical writers read this repenting o f wrath in to history

itself, into the course o f events w hich are interpreted as a divine
pedagogy a t work. Sometimes it is the postponem ent o f a disaster,
the end o f a plague, a healing, w hich are im m ediately understood
as “ pardon.” Thus the schema o f pardon is taken u p in to a theology
o f history, like m ost o f d ie H ebraic schemata. Sometimes, m ore
subtly, pardon is discovered n ot in an actual and even physical
deliverance, but in the punishment itself, w hich, although painful
and even cruel, loses its aspect o f irrevocable condem nation (it is
thus in the denouement o f the crim e o f D avid, reported in I I
Samuel 1 2 :1 3 -1 4 ); pardon does n ot abolish suffering, but grants a
respite w hich is interpreted as a horizon determ ined b y divine pa­
tience. A nother idea can then enter into tins conception o f pardon
w hich is expressed by means o f punishm ent: in addition to m itiga­
tion o f the punishment, pardon appears as the transform ation o f an
obstacle into a test; punishment becom es the instrument o f aware­
ness, the path o f confession. Pardon is already fu lly evident in this
restored capacity o f knowing oneself in one’ s true situation in the
bosom o f the C ovenant Thus the penalty, felt as an affliction, is a
part o f punishment and o f pardon at the same tim e. B y the same
token, *‘pardon” is “ return” ; fo r return, a parte D ei, is nothing else
than the taking away o f blam e, the suppression o f the charge o f
tin : “ I have acknowledged m y tin to thee, I have n ot concealed
my iniquity. I said, I w ill confess m y transgressions to the Eternal!
A nd thou hast w iped out th e penalty o f m y tin” (Ps. 3 2 :5 ).
T h is schema o f “ return” (root sk u b ), to w hich w e are led by the
schema o f pardon, is at the origin o f all our ideas concerning re­
pentance (w e shall see later the role o f the Judaism o f the second
Tem ple in the elaboration o f this concept, by m eans o f the new
term teshubah, w hich w e shall translate by repentance*6) . T he

28 Erik SjSberg, G ott und die Sftnder im palestinischen Judentum (Stutt­

gart, 19 39 ), pp. 125-84.
harmonics o f this symbol o f “ return” are numerous. O n the one
hand, it belongs to the cycle o f images o f the “ way.” Just as sin is
a “ crooked way,” the return is a tinning from the evil w ay: “Let
everyone turn from his evil way,” says Jeremiah. This turning away
anticipates the m ore abstract idea o f renunciation. O n the other
hand, the return is a renewal o f the prim itive bond, a restoration.
As such, it is often associated w ith images o f tranquillity and repose,
close to the rock o f life : “ By returning and being at rest you shall
be saved” (Is. 3 0 :1 5 ). Thus, the return is the equivalent o f a re­
instatement in stability; it is the end o f the wandering o f C ain, the
possibility o f “ dwelling in the land” (Jot. 7 :3 -7 ; 2 5 :5 ). T he
schema o f return has something in com m on also with the conjugal
m etaphor; it is the end o f adultery, o f prostitution, in Hosea’ s
sense. Jeremiah takes up this them e o f love w ith a com pelling
pathos: “ Return, unfaithful Israel! says the Eternal” (3 :2 2 ). Far
the second Isaiah, “ to return” is to “ seek G od” ; the return becomes
a quest fo r the living water, as in the Johannine Gospel.
Such is the sym bolic tidiness o f this pair, pardon-return: if we
try to surprise it at the level o f images, it immediately throws us
into the very m idst o f a paradox w hich can perhaps n ot b e ex­
hausted by any systematic theology but only shattered. Thus the
prophet does not hesitate to exhort the people to “ return,” as i f it
depended entirely cm m an, and to im plore the “ return,” as i f it
depended w holly on G od : “ M ake m e return and I shall return,”
cries Jeremiah. Sometimes G od’s side alone is em phasized; then
the “ return” is the fruit o f a free choice o f the hidden m ajesty, the
effect o f a love, o f a hesed beyond all reasons (D eut. 7 :5 i f .) . This
hesed is m agnified and am plified by Jeremiah, fa r exam ple, to the
dimensions o f a universal reconciliation, from w hich even untamed
nature is not excluded. “ Pardon” and “ return” then coincide in
the gift o f a “ heart o f flesh,” substituted fo r a “ heart o f stone” (a
theme com m on to Jeremiah and E zekiel). But it was, perhaps, the
Second Isaiah w ho had the most acute sense o f the gratuitousness
o f grace in com parison with the nothingness o f creatures (fo r ex­
ample, Isaiah,4 0 :1 and f f .) . A nd yet the pendulum always swings
b a d :: it is Jeremiah, again, w ho transmits these w ords: “ But if
that nation, against which I have spoken, turn from its wickedness,
I w ill repeat o f the evil that I thought to d o to it” (Jer. 1 8 :8 ).
T h is suspensive pow er o f human choice, w hich seems to malm par­
don conditional, leads us back to the fam ous choice in Deuteron­
om y: “ Behold, I set before you this day a blessing and a curse . .
(1 1 :2 6 ); “ Behold, I set before you ibis day life and good, death
and evil” (3 0 :1 5 ).aT Thus the symbolism o f “ return” and o f “par­
don,” in the land o f its birth, holds in suspense all the aporias o f
theology concerning grace and free w ill, predestination and liberty.
But perhaps it also holds in reserve the hyperlogical recondliatian
o f terms that speculation isolates and sets in opposition.
L et us leave this symbolism o f redem ption fo r the m om ent. W e
shall take it u p again at a new stage, corresponding to a new stage
in the symbolism o f tin.

5. T he Sy m b o u s m o f S i n : (2 ) S in a s P o sitive

W e have follow ed the slope o f negativity in the symbols o f tin

to its ultim ate outcom e: the violated pact makes G od the W holly
O ther and m an N othing in the presence o f the L ord. It is the
m om ent Of the “ unhappy firmsrfrnisnmui11
A nd yet, the structure o f the symbolism o f tin cannot be enclosed
within this elementary opposition between the “ nothingness” o f
vanity and the “ something” o f defilem ent Through other char­
acteristics, w hich m ay b e called realistic, sin is also positive, as
Kierkegaard w ill say. I t is these characteristics w hich assure a cer­
tain continuity between the tw o systems o f symbols and a resump­
tion o f the sym bol o f defilem ent in the new symbol o f tin.
T h is “ realism.” o f tin w ill n ot b e fully understood until it is ap­
proached through the new fa ctor in the consciousness o f fau lt that
w e shall call guilt. Strictly speaking, it is only w ith this new m om ent
that the consciousness o f tin becom es the criterion and the measure
s7 A n d ri JNteher,. Am os, p . 108. A ll tb s exhortations o f D euteronom y are
based on the schem a: I f you keep the commandments, then you vdQ be
blessed; or, K eep the commandments in order that you m ay be happy. But
th e same exhortations say: M em em ber that you have been graciously
rescued from E gyp t; the Eternal has chosen yon n ot because you are great,
bu t because h e loves you. T h e parados Is n ot elaborated speculatively; it
rem ains a t the level o f religious praxis and maintains the tendon by means
o f exhortation.
o f fault. T he feeling o f guilt w ill coincide exactly w ith the con­
sciousness that the guilty one has o f himself and w ill b e indistin­
guishable from the “ fo r itself’ o f the fa u lt
It is not so with the “ canfogiaa” o f sin; "c o nfession” is the
frontier view o f a rea l evil that has been revealed and denounced
by the prophetic summons and that is not measured by the sinner's
consciousness o f i t This is w hy d ie “ reality” o f sin— one m ight
even say the ontological dimension o f sin— must be contrasted w ith
the “ subjectivity” o f the; consciousness o f g u ilt It is d ie “heart” o f
man that is evil— that is to say, his very existence, whatever his
consciousness o f it may be.
It is this realism o f sin that allow s the penitent to repent o f for­
gotten sins, or sins com m itted unwittingly—in short, sins that are,
because they characterize his true situation within the C ovenant
This first trait is one o f those that m ost obviously insure the con­
tinuity between the system o f defilement and that o f a n . W e re­
m ain at the surface o f dungs if w e see in this structural relationship
only a survival o f the archaic conception o f objective sacrilege.
O f course, a great number o f crimes— true crim es without gufit—
can be explained thus,*8 as w ell as the precept: “ I f anyone tins and

88 A m urder o f which the perpetrator is unknown spreads a -curse that

the priest must conjure away by a special technique o f expiation, fo r pro­
tection against the vengeance o f blood (D e n t 2 1 :1 -9 ). T h e anathema
pronounced against Jericho a t the- moment o f its destruction cannot be
violated without sacrilege, even by an unknown person; the sacrilege calls
for vengeance; the sacred lots w ill designate the “ guilty one,” w ho w ill be
stoned and destroyed by fire— him self, his fam ily, and his goods (Josh. 7 ).
That is why tile "consequences” o f sin, as w ell as the faction * and the
“ heart” from w hich it springs, are part o f the tin. The am bivalence, from
the semantic poin t o f view , o f such expressions as the follow ing faqs been
n oticed: “ But if you do not so, you w ill sin against the E ternal; and he
sure that your sin w ill find you out” (N um . 3 2 :2 3 ); o r “ to h ea r the
penalty o f sin” (Num . 1 2 :1 1 ), an expression that does n ot differ at all
from “ to bear the punishment” (G en. 4 :1 3 ). Intention, act, consequences,
punishment— it is the w hole process that is sin (G . van B a d , op . a L ,
pp. 2 6 2 -6 7 ). That is why sin is something that is “ home” as lon g as it is
not forgiven ; that, is why also getting rid o f sin can b e sym bolised fay
“ transference” to a scapegoat, w hich “ carries away a ll their iniquities”
(L ev. 1 6 :2 2 ) on the great day o f atonement. As we shall see further on,
this resurgence o f a rite o f elim ination in a full-blow n theology o f s is is
explained perfectly by tire “ realism” o f sin and fay tile sym bolic transposition
o f the ritual o f purification to tile plane o f the remission a t tins.
does unwittingly any o f the things that are forbidden by the com ­
mandments o f Yahweh, he shall be responsible and shall bear the
weight o f his fault” (L ev. 5 :1 7 ). But the explanation o f these
examples by some survival o f the system o f taboo, sacrilege, and
ritual expiation must n ot conceal the m ine im portant fa ct that
makes this survival possible, nam ely, that the L aw , as the ethico-
ju ridical expression o f the Covenant, has been substituted fo r the
anonymous pow er o f taboo and the automatism o f its vengeance,
and establishes a hypersubjective reference fo r sin. It is finally the
“ real” situation o f m an within the Covenant that is the measure
o f sin and confers upon it a genuine transcendence in relation to the
consciousness o f guilt,
A second trait confirm s this realism o f sin : because it cannot be
reduced to its subjective measure, neither can sin be reduced to its
individual dim ension; it is at on ce and prim ordially personal and
com munal.” T h e misdeeds o f the theory o f retribution erected on
this theme o f collective im putation w ill receive sufficient attention
when w e com e to the question o f etiological m yths; b u t the con­
structions o f second degree and the abortive rationalizations to
w hich the confession o f the sin o f the people gave license should
not hide from us the profound significance o f this confession at the
level o f living experience and o f d ie prim ary symbols that express
i t Speculation on the transmission o f a sin issuing from a first man
is a later rationalization that mixes ethical categories w ith biological
ones. Indeed, it was because the original significance o f a sin that
is personal and com m unal had been lost that an attem pt was m ade
to com pensate fo r the individualism o f guilt by a solidarity on the

A . M . D ubarie, L e p ich e original dans l‘£ critv re, pp. 25 -3 8 . The

author studies the solidarity between successive generations, w ithin the
fam ily and the nation; the solidarity between contem poraries, fa r example
between a prince and h h people, punished because o f his tin s; and finally,
collective tins, such as the proud pretention o f tile builders o f Babel or, still
better; tile idolatry o f an entire people. Those tw o examples are striking,
fa r they exclude determ ination o f personal gu ilt: the confusion o f tongues,
opposition o f groups, form s o f w orship, sum anonymous phenom ena, on a
linguistic and institutional level, w hich a t on ce reveal the com m unal scale
o f human e v il; the hindrance to com m unication and the seductive pow er
o f idols represent a purely cultural alienation and corruption. W e shall
return to this p oin t in our third volum e.
biological level, constructed on the m odel o f heredity. But this con­
fusion o f categories in the pseudo-concept o f hereditary sin reflects
intentionally a com m unal bond attested by the liturgical confession
o f «* « - W e must try, then, to recapture, a t a stage prior to any
speculation concerning d ie transmission o f an individualized an,
ih e confession o f a specific Us, o f “ us p oor sinners,” in w hich the
hyperbiological and hyperlristorical unity o f the “ people” and even
o f “humanity” is attested. T h e A dam ic m yth expresses this con­
crete universal, acknowledged in the confession o f sins; it expresses
it, but does n ot create it ; rather, it presupposes it and only presents
it by means o f a fanciful explanation.
There is n o question o f denying that the personal im putation o f
fault marks an advance over the scandalous collective responsibility
that perm its som eone other than the guilty person to b e punished.
But it must be understood that the price o f this advance is the loss
o f the unity o f the human species, gathered together “ before G od”
by the m ore than biological and m ore than historical bond o f fault.
T h e pseudo-concept o f original sin is only the rationalization at
the third degree, through the A dam ic m yth, o f that enigm atic bond
w hich is acknowledged rather than understood in the “ we” o f the
confession o f sins.
T hird characteristic trait o f the hypersubjective reality o f a n :
my sin is within the absolute sight {regard.) o f G od. G od— and n ot
m y consciousness— is the " fo r itself’ o f sin. D oes this mean that th e
person w h o confesses, ashamed o f being seen, feels him self stripped
o f his subjectivity by being thus seen, and reduced to the condition
o f an ob ject? T h at is n ot the dom inant note that makes itself heard
in the believer’s acknowledgm ent o f being seen b y G o d ; w onder at
such seeing, w hich “ searches out the reins and the heart,” is suffi­
cient to keep the “ fear” o f G od within the region o f respect and
sublimity (Ps. 139:1—6 ). It is still the dialogal relation o f the
Covenant that rules all those affective m odulations w hich color this
consciousness o f being in the sight o f G od . T h e very act o f invoca­
tion— O G od, thine eye is upon m e!— keeps the observed conscious­
ness from falling to the rank o f an ob ject; the first person w ho in­
vokes feels him self becom e second person fo r this perception that
sees right through him . Finally, if the principal emphasis is not
placed on the degrading character o f the situation o f being-seen-by
G od, it is because the prim ordial significance o f this seeing is to
constitute the truth o f m y situation, the justness and the justice o f
the ethical judgm ent that can b e passed on m y existence. T h at is
why this seeing, far from preventing the birth o f the Self, gives rise
to self-awareness; it enters into d ie field o f subjectivity as the task
o f knowing oneself better; this seeing, w hich is, lays the foundation
fo r the ought-to-be o f self-awareness. T h e exam ination o f conscience
is thus justified: m y ow n observation o f m yself is the attem pt o f
self-awareness to approxim ate the absolute view ; I desire to know
myself as I am known (Ps. 1 3 9 :2 3 -2 4 ). T h e preferred form o f this
act o f awareness is interrogation, the putting in question o f the
m eaning o f acts and motives.*0 T h e absolute view separates the
appearance from the reality by the sharp edge o f suspicion. Sus­
picion o f myself is thus the taking u p by m yself o f the absolute
view point; it co-operates thus w ith the growth o f interrogative
thought, w hich perhaps owes m ore to the problem o f evil than to
the enigmas o f m eteorology.
T h e advanced point o f this awareness aroused by the absolute
Seeing [R egard) is the “ wisdom” that knows the “ vanity” o f man
as G od knows it : “ T h e Eternal knows the thoughts o f m an; he
knows that they are vain” (Ps. 9 4 :1 1 ), A s w e see, to know that one
is “ vain” is n ot to becom e an ob ject; it is to penetrate into the
enclosure o f salvation through the strait gate o f truth.
This faith in the truth and justice o f the Seeing [R egard ) w ill
have to grow weaker before the believer feels him self becom e an
o b je ct Consciousness congealed in to an object arises from the
decom position o f the prim ordial relation o f the absolute Seeing to
the Self. T h e book o f Job is the witness o f this crisis: Job feels the
absolute seeing as an inim ical seeing that pursues him and finally
krlla him . W e shall say later how the problem o f suffering affects
the problem o f sin and how the destruction o f the old theory o f
retribution raised a doubt about this seeing, w hich suddenly reveals
itself as the seeing o f the hidden G od w ho delivers m an u p to unjust

so This interrogative structure o f the exam ination o f conscience am ong

penitents o f the ancient East is particularly striking. C f. C h . F . Jean, L e
picks chee Us Babylometu et Us Misopotanuens, pp. 99-104.
suffering. T hen the absolute Seeing is n o longer the seeing that
gives rise to self-awareness, but that o f the H unter w ho lets fly the
arrow. A nd yet, even at this extreme point, d ose to the breach, the
accusation against G od remains enveloped in the invocation, under
pain o f losing the very object o f its resentment; w hich means that
the discovery o f the hostile Seeing is always inscribed within a rela­
tion in w hich the absolute Seeing continues to be the foundation
o f truth fo r the view that I have o f myself.
Because it is the possible truth o f the knowledge o f oneself, this
Seeing preserves the reality o f m y existence beyond the conscious­
ness that I have o f it, and m ore particularly the reality o f tin beyond
the feeling o f gu ilt
T h e traits that we have just analyzed attest that this tin, "in­
ternal” to existence, contrary to the defilement that infects it from
“ without,” is n o less irreducible to consciousness o f g u ilt; it is
internal but objective. This first group o f characteristics assures
the phenom enological continuity between defilement and tin.

A second group o f characteristics re-enforces this structural con­

tinuity. W e have insisted above on tire “ negativity” o f tin —vanity
o f a breath o f air and vanity o f idols—in com parison with tire
“ positivity” o f defilement. Nevertheless, that contrast is too sim ple;
fo r “ vanity,” w hich deprives existence o f its force, is also, in a way,
a potency.
H ere, again, it was easy to recognize a survival o f the system of
defilem ent and o f the them e o£ " possession" that belongs to that
system. T h e descriptive situation is m ore com plex.
W hat assures the continuity from one type to the other is the
consdousness o f alteration, o f alienation, w hich is com m on to tire
tw o types. T his consdousness was first fixed in the representation
o f a m aleficent substance, without that m aleficent substance’s being
necessarily dramatized in the shape o f dem ons or evil gods. O n the
other hand, the sacred texts o f the ancient East illustrate a stage
at w hich this consdousness o f alienation is fixed in th e superabun­
dant representation o f quasi-personal forces o f a dem onic character,
w hich take the place o f the god and literally take -up their abode
in the sinner. T h e tenadous confusion o f tin and sickness gives
added support to this representation o f personalized forces that take
possession o f the m iner and M ad him . H ere w e are at a stage prior
to the distinction o f sickness and fau lt, a distinction bound u p with
the realization o f guilt, in the precise sense o f im putation o f fa u lt
This disjunction im plies a certain dualism w hich is n ot necessarily
the dualism o f soul and body, but the dualism o f a m oral agent,
author o f m oral evil, and a course o f events that brings sickness,
suffering, and death. T h e confusion o f tin and sickness has as its
counterpart an interpretation o f pardon as being a healing, an
unbinding, and a deliverance, all in one. “ M ay the evil that is in
m y body, in m y m uscles and m y sinews, depart from m e this day,”
the suppliant begs. “D eliver m e from the spell that is upon m e. . . .
F or an evil spell and an im pure disease and transgression and
iniquity and tin a re in m y body, and a wicked spectre is attached
to m e." “ W here the wrath o f the god is, to that place the [evil
spirits] betake themselves in haste, they utter loud cries. I f a god
has departed from a m an, they settle upon him and cover him like
a garm ent”
In those texts one finds a m ixture o f the negative and the positive
under th e com bined form o f exile o f the god (o r o f the good
genius) and invasion by an evil dem on: “ A n evil curse has cut the
throat o f this m an as i f he were a lam b; his god has gone out o f
his body, his goddess has kept herself aloof.” A nd one dem on after
another is nam ed carefully and distinctly in interminable litanies,
in w hich dem onic figures abound.81
It is remarkable that prophetic preaching, otherwise so sparing
with regard to representations o f gods, demons, spirits,— so de-
m ythologizing, one m ight say,— retains this experience o f the pow er
o f tin that binds the tinner. W hat is remarkable is that this experi­
ence becom es m ost acute when it is freest o f any dem onic repre­
sentations.88 It is at the very heart o f the evil disposition, which has
been called separation, rebellion, going astray, that the Biblical
writers discern a fascinating, binding, frenetic force. T h e pow er o f

w Cited in Ch. F. Jean, op. cit., passim.

as W e ghaQ see in the next chapter how fa r the psychological m yth o f the
fall contains a residue o f the dem onological myth under the figure o f the
Serpent
a m an is mysteriously taken possession o f by an inclination to evil
that corrupts its very source: “ A spirit erf debauchery leads them
astray and they g o awhoring, abandoning their G od” (H os.
4 :1 2 ) ;** “ wickedness burns as the fire that devours the briers and
thorns and hindlqt the thickets o f the forest, h am w hich columns
o f smoke m ount up” (Is. 9 :1 8 ). Jeremiah, perhaps m ore than any­
one else, felt w ith terror the evil indination o f the hardened heart
(3 :1 7 ; 9 :1 4 ; 1 6 :1 2 ); he com pares it to the savage instinct, to the
rut o f beasts (Jer. 2 :2 3 -2 5 ,“ also 8 :6 ) . This inclination is so
deeply anchored in the w ill that it is as indelible as the blackness
o f skin o f the Ethiopian or the spots o f d ie leopard (1 3 :2 3 ).
T h e them* o f radical evil is expressly proclaim ed by the prophet:
“ T h e heart o f m an is deceitful above all things and incurably evil:
w ho can know it? . . . I, the Eternal, search the heart and try
the reins” (1 7 :9 -1 0 ). Ezekiel calls this hardness o f an existence
inaccessible to the divine summons a “ heart o f stone.” T h e Yahwist
w ho was responsible fo r the essential part o f the pessimistic chapters
at the beginning o f the book o f Generis sums up in one stroke this
theology o f wickedness (G en. 6 :5 “ and 8 :2 1 ): “ Yahw eh saw that
the wickedness o f m an was great on the earth and that his heart
farm ed only evil designs all the d ay long.”
H ere one sees the beginning o f an anthropology w hich is not

83 H osea here continues the im age o f adultery w hich covers a ll sorts of

sins.
s« Ezekiel adopts the same violent im age: “ [Jerusalem] lusted after those
lechers [the children o f Babylon], whose carnal heat is like th at o f asses and
whose lewdness is like that o f stallions” (2 3 :2 0 ). “ Y ou shall b e dealt with
so harshly because you have gone awhoring after the nations, because you
have defiled yourself w ith their idols” (2 3 :3 Q ).
“ Generis 8 :2 1 also says: “ 1 w ill never again curse the earth because o f
rnmij because the o f the heart o f m an are evil from his youth.” This
wmt, w hich w e translate by “ design” — in the double sense o f im agination
m id inclination,— w ill b e the subject o f farther comments in connection
w ith the Pharisees and scrupulousness; the rabbinical literature u sed tins
♦heme to initiate a theory o f evil that could lead in a different direction
then the Adam ic myth. T h e author o f P , w ho is n ot interested in the
psychological aspect o f sin, sees in evil the “ co rruption” and the “ violence”
that fill the “ earth” (G en. 6 :1 1 ,1 3 ), thus giving to evil a cosm ic dimension
in keeping with the flood w hich overwhelms “ all flesh” to “ destroy them
w ith the earth,” and in keeping w ith the cosm ic covenant signified to Noah
(G en. 9 ).
only pessimistic— that is to say, one in w hich the w orst is to be
feared— but w hich is strictly “ tragic” — that is to say (as w e shall
say in the chapter an the tragic in Bart I I ) , one in w hich the worst
is n ot only to b e feared, but is strictly inevitable, because G od and
man conspire to produce evil. T here is n o great difference in this
respect between the “hardness” o f certain texts o f the O ld Testa­
ment and the “ blindness” (A ti) o f th e H om eric writings and the
Greek tragedians. T h e “ hardness” is here depicted as a state in­
distinguishable from the very existence o f the aim er and, it seems,
a state far w hich he is n ot responsible; n ot only does this hardness
define him entirely, but it is the w ork o f the divinity in his w rath:
“ I w ill harden the heart o f Pharaoh.” W e w ill discuss this theology
o f the “ G od w h o leads astray” at greater length in d ie fram ework
o f myths o f the beginning and the end. L et us say now that there
is only a trace o f this theology in the H ebrew Bible, although it
riuqped a com plete w orld, that o f G reek “ tragedy.” In the H ebrew
Bible it is held in check b y a theology o f holiness o n the one hand,
o f m ercy on the other. Nevertheless, this abortive theology cou ld
b e conceived because it is the prolongation o f one o f the constitu­
tive experiences o f the consciousness o f sin, the experience o f a
passivity, o f an alteration, o f an alienation, paradoxically blended
w ith d ie experience o f a voluntary deviation, and hence o f an
activity, an evil initiative.
T ins experience o f alienation is equally one o f the com ponents
o f the later dogm a o f original sin.*8 W e have already evoked it once
in connection w ith the universality o f sin. I f that universality,
which is originally the universality o f a tie that is m ore than biologi­
cal and m ore than historical— the “ we” o f a com m unity o f tinners,
— could lend itself to pseudo-biological rationalizations and project
itself in the representation o f a hereditary transmission, it is through

In deed, a universal tie w hich is- at the same tim e an experience

o f passivity suggests an “ explanation” through birth. Is not the
hardness, as it w ere, the “ nature” o f the tinner, and so “ b om with
him” ? T h e fifty-first Psalm expresses this dogm a in its nascent state
w ell enough: “ A las! I was born in iniquity and m y m other con-
88 A . M . D ubarie, op. cit., p p . 14-18.
ceived m e in sin.” ” That is not a ll; neither the confession o f the uni­
versality o f sin n or the avowal o f its alienating character accounts
sufficiently fo r the com plex m otivation w hich lies a t the origin of
the dogm a. There was needed, in addition, a resumption o f the af­
fective categories o f defilem ent in the system o f tin. This resumption
does not surprise u s: the double character o f reality and power in
sin, relating it to defilement, makes possible the inclusion o f the
system o f defilement in that o f sin. H istorically this resumption was
manifested through the inclusion o f the cultual religion o f the
Israelites in the ethical religion preached by the Prophets; and so
ritual impurities w ere juxtaposed t o “ iniquities” such as violence,
treachery, cruelty, and the destinies o f the tw o systems w o e min­
gled. A s a result o f these contam inations and exchanges, tin, in the
strong sense o f tin against G od, becom es charged w ith the emotion
o f defilem ent, in the strong sense o f unclean contact. '1’h at same
fifty-first Psalm, although it proceeds from an acute experience of
personal fault, o f gu ilt in the prerise sense, adopts the language of
defilem ent: “ W ash m e thoroughly from m y iniquity and cleanse
m e from m y sin! . . . Cleanse m e with hyssop and I shall b e with­
out spot; wash m e, and I shall he w hiter than snow.” This assonance
between tin and defilem ent is n ot without danger; the experience
o f sin is, as it were, dragged backward by the experience o f defile­
ment. As an exam ple o f this regressive tendency w e can rite the
reactivation, so frequent in the confession o f tins, o f the ancient tie
between defilement and sexuality, the great affective com plexity of
w hich w e have shown above: the sexual act, like birth, giving a
physical basis to the symbol o f unclean con ta ct I t w ill b e enough
that the fault confessed be itself o f the sexual order— as is the case
in the confession o f Psalm 51, in which K ing D avid repents die

A . Feuhlet, “ Verset 7 du M iserere et le p£ch£ originel,” in Racharcha

da Sdance Raiigiause (1 9 4 4 ), pp. 5 -2 6 . That verse does not mean that the
sexual a ct as such is culpable; th e author uses current ideas about the
ritual defilem ent attached to conception and childbirth fo r the purpose of
expressing the m ore profound idea that, before any personal act, m an finds
him self already separated from G o d ; the band established between the
generations by birth becom es the symbol o f that anteriority o f evfl. I t should
be remarked further that the verse does not say that that state “m " which
we exist constitutes an inclination to evil, and neither does it say tin t tin t
state proceeds from an ancestral transgression. See D ubarle, op. cit., p . 21.
tape o f Bathsheba and d ie m urder o f U riah— in order to reactivate,
one after the other, all the associations between the universality and
the alienation o f sin on the one hand and the symbolism o f unclean
contact on the other, as w ell as the sexual echoes o f the them e o f
defilement. Finally, the m yth o f a first a n , com m itted by a first
man and transmitted to his descendants conceived “ in his im age,”
will place its seal upon all these associations in an “ explanation” in
terms o f origin, the structure o f w hich w e shall study further an.
But this reactivation o f the ancient associations connected w ith the
theme o f defilem ent is only the counterpart o f the taking up o f the
symbolism o f defilem ent into the symbolism o f an .

T his second cycle o f symbols o f sin, w hich insure the taking up

o f the symbolism o f defilem ent into the symbolism o f a n , finds its
prolongation in a symbolism o f redem ption w hich com pletes the
symbolism o f pardon that w e left hanging, and w hich guarantees,
in its turn, that the symbolism o f “ purification” w ill b e taken up
into the symbolism o f “ pardon.”
In fa ct it is necessary-to add to the cycle o f symbols o f “ return”
a new cycle o f symbols that gravitate around “ buying bade.” T h e
symbolism o f "return” refers us to the idea o f a n as a breaking o f
the bond o f the C ovenant; that o f “ buying hack” refers us to the
idea o f a pow er w hich holds man captive, and fo r the suppression
o f w hich a ransom must be given in exchange.
Q f the three roots w hich express the idea o f deliverance, each
develops one aspect o f tins exchange,88 w hich evokes a sim ilar idea
in the Phaedo, where an “ exchange” o f passions fo r virtue is p ro­
posed. T h e root g a d preserves something o f the notion o f g o d , o f
the avenger or protector w ho can and even must m arry the w idow
o f a near relation. This root furnishes a w hole chain o f symbols:
protect, cover in the sense o f hide, buy back, deliver. Like all
symbols, it keeps something o f the initial analogue, but im m ediately
goes beyond it in the direction o f an existential situation.
A neighboring symbol— root padah— is furnished b y the custom
o f buying back the offerin g o f the firstborn o r slaves b y a ransom.

“ E d. Jacob, L *s thim es essentieb d’une th iologie d e FAncien Testa­

m ent, p p . 235-36.
It is w ell known that this im age o f ransom , o f buying back, was
sufficiently pow erful to lend support to d ie conceptualization of
redem ption (w hich means buying b a ck ).
T h e root kapar, w hich has been com pared to the Arabian “ to
cover,” and to the Akkadian "to efface,” furnishes a symbol related
to the preceding ones; the kopher is the ransom by w hich one can
be released from a severe penalty o r save one’s life. It is true that
it is the m an w h o offers the koph er; but d ie symbolization extends
far enough to furnish the basic im age o f “ expiation,” w hich we
shall leave aside fo r the tim e being, in order to rem ain in the cycle
o f “ buying back.”
This symbolism o f "buying back” owes a p art o f its force to its
being coupled w ith that o f d ie Exodus, the departure from Egypt.
That event is at the center o f the U rbekenntnis o f Israel j8® re­
interpreted b y the theology o f history o f the Biblical writers, it
stands fo r a ll deliverance. N ow the Exodus did n ot display its power
o f ethical symbolization until it passed through the gate o f the
symbolism o f “ buying back” ; the Exodus is a buying back ; the two
symbols o f buying back and o f going ou t o r u p re-enforce each
other, to the point o f making the Exodus the m ost significant cipher
o f the destiny o f Israel: “ Y ou shall say to the children o f Israel: I
am Yahweh, and I w ill faring yon out from under the burdens that
the Egyptians im pose upon you. I w ill free you from the bandage
in w hich they keep you and I w ill deliver you by striking hard and
rhnstimng severely” (E x. 6 :6 ) .
B ut the sym bol, as one sees in m any psalms, makes its w ay from
on e transposition to another. A t the en d o f these transpositions, the
theme o f the “ liberator” w ho “ buys back” his people is almost

*® G . von R ad, op. eit., p p . 1 7 7 -8 1 , studies, from a form geschichtlich

point o f view, the rich palette o f the meanings deposited and sedimented in
this historical confession,, beginning w ith the sim ple story o f a military
Tnirar-Ia (E x. 14) w hich already has the value o f “ deliverance,” o f “ buying
back” (v . 3 0 ; cf. the confession o f Deuteronom y 2 6 :5 ). T h e theme o f the
“ threat o f the waters” (A s . 1 0 6 :9 ; 1 1 4 :3 ) gives a cosm ic resonance to the
historical event, w hile the theology o f election, so forcibly expressed in
Deuteronom y 7 :6 -8 , makes it the sign and the prom ise o f all “ buying back,”
o f all “ redemption” (Second Isaiah, 43, 44 f f .) . A t this extreme paint, the
symbol a t die Exodus is indistinguishable from the sym bol o f “ return”
(Is. 5 1 :9 -1 0 ).
com pletely freed from its origin in d ie theology o f history and in
the end designates any internal deliverance. But a ll these levels o f
meaning w ere already superimposed in the m ost historical celebra­
tions o f the Exodus. A t the lim it, the symbols o f "buying back,” o f
"pardon,” and o f “ return” join their forces: “ R eturn to m e, fo r I
have bought you back,” w e read in the second Isaiah (4 4 :2 2 ).
"Forgive, O Eternal O n e, thy people Israel, w hom thou hast
bought back” (D e u t.2 1 :8 ).
A t the same tim e, the w hole problem atics o f sin is enriched
retrospectively: Egypt itself becom es by contrast the cipher o f
captivity and even the most pow erful symbol o f the human condi­
tion under d ie influence o f evil. T h e solemn exordium o f the D eca­
logue speaks in these term s: “ I t is I , Yahweh, th y G od, w h o have
brought thee ou t o f the land o f Egypt, ou t o f the house erf bondage”
(E x. 2 0 :2 ).
T h e captivity is literally a social, intersubjective situation. In
becom ing the symbol erf sin, this cipher displayed the alienating
character erf gin; the sinner is “in ” the sin as th e H ebrew was “ in”
bandage, and sin is thus an evil “ in which” m an is caught. T h at is
why it can b e at the same tim e personal and com m unal, transcend­
ing consciousness, known to G od alone in its reality and its truth;
that, too, is w hy it is a pow er that lands m an, hardens him , and
holds him captive; and it is this experience o f the im potence o f
captivity that makes posable a taking over o f the them e o f defile­
m en t H ow ever “ internal” to the heart o f man the principle o f
this bondage m ay be, the bondage in fa ct constitutes an enveloping
situation, like a snare in w hich m an is caught; and so something erf
unclean contact is retained in this idea o f the “ captivity” o f sin.
H enceforth the fundam ental problem o f existence w ill b e less
that o f liberty, understood in the sense o f a choice to be m ade in the
free o f a radical alternative, than that o f liberation; the m an held
captive by sin is a m an to b e delivered. A ll our ideas o f salvation,
o f redem ption— that is to say, o f buying back— proceed from this
initial cipher.

This m editation on the second cycle o f symbols o f tin and de­

liverance prepares us to understand, as fa r as it is posable, how
the symbolism o f defilem ent and purification could be taken up,
reaffirmed, and even am plified when it came into contact with die
symbolism o f sin conceived as possession and the symbolism o f par*
don conceived as buying back and deliverance. This effort o f under­
standing is im perative in d ie presence o f texts as troubling as dune
o f Leviticus and, in general, o f the F cycle {Priester C od ex, or
priestly docum ent), in which there is fully displayed a sense o f
cerem onial expiation that is all the m ore baffling because the edit­
ing is post-exilic (w hich o f course does n ot exdude the content’s
b o n g ancient and even archaic*0) .
T o understand, as fa r as it is possible. . . . It must be confessed
that fa r reflection there remains something impermeable in die
idea o f cerem onial expiation, sofnething that refuses even to be
reduced to the richest symbolism o f "pardon.” W hat resists reduc­
tive reflection is the ritual praxis itself. This praxis is nan-reflective
by its essence; the sacrifice is perform ed thus and not otherwise; the
ritual behavior is inherited from a succession o f other cultual ac­
tions, o f w hich the m eaning and even, in m ost cases, the memory
are lost to the celebrant and to the faithful. M odem criticism
likewise always finds other rituals at the origin o f any ritual, and
is never present at d ie birth o f ritual in general. T h at is w hy a
catalogue o f rites, such as that o f Leviticus, remains in the end a
mute and sealed work, even when, and especially when, it dis­
tinguishes species o f sacrifice: th e holocaust (sacrifice o f animals
consumed by the fir e ), the sacrifice o f thanksgiving (holocaust o f
d ie fat o f animals and sacred repast), the offering (o f flour, oil,
incense), d ie sacrifice o f expiation "fo r tin” (hattat) (L ev. 4 :1 -5 ,
13, and 6 :7 -1 3 ), the sacrifice o f expiation "fo r an offense” (SSSm)
(5 :1 4 -1 9 ). It is unusual i f any o f the circumstances in w hich this
or that sacrifice (fourth and fifth types) is to b e offered are indi­
cated: the case in w hich "on e has transgressed through ignorance
against on e o f the commandments o f Yahweh,” the case in which
one has through ignorance kept back the dues owed to the sanctu­
ary, or, through ignorance or false swearing, has appropriated a
deposit, a pledge, an object found, stolen, or unjustly k ep t But in
40 R , D uanud, la s originss cananiennts du sacrifice israSlite (Baris,
1921).
the end these circumstances are difficult to define.41 In the ritual,
the principal emphasis is n ot placed on these circumstances, but an
the cerem onial praxis. As V a n R ad says, ‘th e theory o f the sacral
procedure,” its "basic idea,” remains h idden; m oreover, the same
ritual lends itself to shifts and substitutions a t m otives; the ritual is
a sort o f cultual receptacle w h ich is th e r e , w h ich reflection finds,
and w hich can receive various successive significations w ithout be­
ing exhausted b y any one o f them . T h e fe e t is that the ritual ignores
subjectivities and recognizes only the exactitude o f the praxis.**
A n d yet cerem onial expiation, although it is irreducible to any
purely subjective or internal operation, is not a foreign body in
the concrete totality o f the relations o f Israel to G o d ; fo r if the cult
com es from further back than the prophets, than M oses, and even
than th e people o f Israel itself, the faith o f Israel rem odels it in­
ternally and expresses the w hole o f itself therein.
F or one tiring, the id ea o f expiation developed after the exile
corresponds to an idea o f sin in w hich the “ realistic” tide and the
“ dangerous” aspect alone were emphasized. Sin, as w e have seen,
cou ld always fin d a sym bol fo r itself in defilem ent, w hich neverthe­
less it radically transforms. As early as Ezekiel one finds the ex­
pression “ bear the punishment” o f tin (1 4 :1 0 )— an expression later
so frequent in Paul— to express the subjective w eight and the ob ­
jective m aleficence o f a tin that has n ot been forgiven. W ithout
doubt, this disquieting note must also b e placed in the general
tonality o f dread, o f threat o f death, o f a “blow ” o r a “ w ound”
that lurks in all the narratives and warnings o f the priestly cycle
(fa r exam ple, L ev. 1 0 :6 ; N um . 1 :5 3 ; 1 7 :1 2 ; 1 8 :3 ). T his anxiety
concerning the always possible annihilation o f m an by G od explains
in part the emphasis on the rites o f expiation w hich w ere always

SuppUm sni au Die& m naire d t la B ible, VoL H I, a r t '^Expiation,”

cols. 5 5 -6 8 . E d. Jacob, op . d t., p p . '236-38. V an R a d , op. d t., p p . 249-74.
Sven H am er, SUhne and V ergebung in Israel (L en d , 1 9 4 2 ), p p . 77 -92 .
42 The procedure o f the various sacrifices takes place “ in a dom ain beyond
man and his inwardness . . . ; n o m atter how fa r one penetrates, even the
m ost fu lly comprehensive interpretation o f the ancient sacrifibe is arrested
at an absolnte Em it beyond which there is n o further explanation. A n d the
exegete is obliged to say to him self that it is precisely w hat is m ost essential
in the sacrifice that lies beyond that Emit” (V o n R ad, op. cti., p p . 252 and
2 5 9 ).
to accom pany the cult o f Israel. There is nothing astonishing,
therefore, in the fact that sensitiveness to sin understood as a threat
o f death reanim ated all the earlier representations o f defilgnimti
O n the other hand, the old idea o f defilem ent -was raised to the
level o f the experience o f sin according to the Prophets.**
As to sacrifice itself, cm the other hand, its objective efficacy is
not without relation to “ pardon” understood, as we have tried to
understand it, without any reference to sacrifice. T h e very word
“ expiation” (kipper**) is connected by its m oral harmonics with
the other symbols o f buying back and ransom ; the gesture o f “ cov­
ering,” o r m ore probably o f “ w iping out” fay rubbing, has imme­
diately a sym bolic resonance and signifies pardon itself (inversely,
the wend pardon— scloch— recalls the ritual gesture o f sprinkling*51.
O n e m ight believe at first that pardon and expiation are contrasted
as the action o f G od w h o delivers and the action o f the man (the
priest) w ho “ makes expiation.” But d ie expression “ make expia­
tion” does not prejudge any o f the representations connected with
this verb; it is equivalent to : perform the action defined as expia­
tory by the ritual. It is n ot said w hat happens every time die ritual
proclaim s: “ thus shall the saaificer make expiation fo r them and
it shall be forgiven them” (L ev. 4 :2 0 , 26, 31, 35, and 5 :1 0 and
1 3 ); it cannot b e concluded therefrom that the priest and his per­
form ance have a m agical h old over th e divine. O n the contrary,
the only breakthrough that Leviticus proposes in the direction of
a theology o f sacrifice— all the m ore precious because of its char­
acter as an exception— gives a h in t o f a posable m d iw m of the
gestural symbolism o f th e expiatory rite in the altogether spiritual
symbolism o f pardon. T h e text is this:

I f any m an o f the house o f Israel or any stranger that sojourns among

you shall eat any m anner o f b lood , I w ill turn against him w ho has eaten
this b lo o d , an d I w ifi cu t him o ff from am ong his people. F or the life of
th e flesh is in th e b lo o d . T h is b lo o d I have given you that you might4 8

48 Van Bad, op, dt,, pp, 267—68.

44 SuppU m snt au 2>ictianmnrm dm la Biblm9 a rt "E n iiarinn ," cob. 48-53.
44 Jacob, op , p . 235.
perform upon the altar the rite of expiation for your lives; for it is the
blood 1hat atones for a life.
Lev. 17:10-11
H ub text gives an indication that the symbolism o f blood con*
sotutes the bon d between the rite o f expiation and the faith in
pardon (a fa ith w hich is itself connected w ith the confession o f sins
and repentance). I n fact, it is n ot on ly forbidden to eat blood
(G en. 9 :4 ) ou t o f respect fo r the life w hich has its seat in the
blood ( “ far th e soul o f the flesh is in the blood!’ o r, as another text
says, “ the b lood is th e life,” D ent. 1 2 :2 3 ); the b lood , withdrawn
from profan e use, is reserved fo r expiation “ fo r you r souls.” H ow ?
Here the Seventy interpreted the instrumental particle (th e b lood
makes expiation by means o f the soul, hence o f the life o f the
animal sacrificed) as being the equivalent o f the substitutive prepo­
sition in Greek, and they have translated: tb yap al/m ianov i n i rqs
pojct* i&knamuS “ fo r its b lood shall m ake expiation in place o f
the souL” Thus the translator makes a ch oice: the symbol o f b lood
is that o f a g ift; the faith fu l m an offers him self in the figure o f the
sacrificed anim al and attests his desire fo r union w ith G od . T h e
symbolism o f b lood , then, only enriches th e symbolism o f a present,
an offerin g; it adds to it the lively sense o f a living and vital con -
timrity between his offerin g and him self, between him self and his
God. As on e sees, in this interpretation the expiation is indeed
“made” by the m an, but what he ‘ knakes” is a g ift A n d this gift
does not have any penal nuance, at least insofar as the rites o f
sprinkling are considered b y themselves w ithout taking im m olation
into account; there is, in fact, n o idea o f a punishm ent undergone
in the presentation o f the blood poured o u t O nly the im m olation
opens die door to a posable idea o f penal substitution; in place o f
his death the faithful man considers w ith a contrite heart the death
of the victim that reprerents him.
If the suggestions o f the translation o f the Seventy, favorable to
a ChristoiDgical interpretation o f the Jew ish sacrifice, are rejected,
and if one sticks to : “ it is by the soul that the b lood makes expia­
tion,” which designate the vehicle o f expiation w ithout revealing
the secret of its operation, then d ie eznphasis is sdll'placed CBJgifdaz
but this tim e upon G od’ s gift o f the means o f expiation: " I have
given it to you upon the altar, in order th a t . . T his emphasis
is perhaps m ote im portant than the theology o f satisfactio viearia
indicated b y the Septuagint, fo r it suggests that the priest who
“ makes expiation” is the perform er o f a mystery, the sense o f which
is “ given” b y G od, through the symbolism o f blood and o f life, how­
ever the rite m ay operate. This g ift o f the means o f expiation is
closely related to pardon itself.46
Cerem onial expiation, then, is n o longer foreign to the central
theme o f “ return” and “ pardon.” T his theme is, in a way, objecti­
fied in a m im e: T h ere are n ot tw o w orlds: a w orld o f ceremony and
a w orld o f contrition; the latter is represented in the farm er as in
a gestural enigma. T h e ritual o f the “ day o f expiation” (L ev. 16)
shows this synthesis o f the tw o symbolisms very w ell: d ie confession
o f sms is an indispensable condition, but the expiation occupies die
central place w ith its m ultiple sprinklings; and finally, the rite of
the goat driven into the desert to carry aw ay the sins o f Israel
makes sensible to a ll eyes the com plete remission o f sins. Thus the
rite o f expulsion expresses m ore com pletely w hat has already been
signified in the rite o f renewal, w h ich externalises the reconciliation
through pardon.47 Finally, it is because d ie foreign vegetation of
cerem onial expiation grew like an excrescence on d ie tree o f “ re­
pentance” and “ pardon” that d ie symbolism o f expiation could,
in return, enrich that o f “ pardon” ; and so one sees G od invoked in4 8

48 E d. Jacob attaches the sacrificial ritual to the themes o f “ buying b a d f

and o f “ ransom,” and finds the com m on nucleus in the idea o f substitution.
H e subordinates the sym bolization o f the death o f d ie guilty one to the
com m unication o f divine fife to d ie sinner: “ thus the essence erf the sacrifice
is not the death o f the victim , bu t the offering o f his fife” (o p . e i t , p . 2 3 7 ).
In a neighboring sense, von R ad quotes Ohler, T heologie i t s edten Testa•
m erits: ‘ T n d ie sacrifice n o act o f punitive justice is perform ed , and the
altar can in n o w ay he com pared to a tribunal.” V an Rad adds: "E xpiation,
then, is n ot a punitive act, but a m ethod o f salvation,” op. cit., p. 270.
47 H ie M M mwIi indicates d ie form ula that d ie high priest pronounced on
this occasion: "A h ! Yahweh, thy people, the house o f Israel, has committed
before thee iniquities, transgressions, and sins; a h ! Yahweh, pardon die
iniquities, d ie transgressions, and d ie sins that thy people, the house of
Israel, has co mmitted before thee, as it is written in the Torah o f thy
servant Moses” (Y am a 6 :2 , cited in Supplem ent an D ictionnaire d e la
B ible, art. "E xpiation,” co l. 7 8 ).
the Psalms as the subject o f expiation (7 8 :3 8 ; 6 5 :3 ; 7 9 :9 ).48 T o
say that G od “ expiates” is to say that he “pardons.” T h e symbolism
of expiation, then, gives back to the symbolism o f pardon what the
latter had lent i t

Sven H eraer, op. eit., pp. 92 ff.

 III. Guilt

guilt is n o t syn on ym ou s w ith fault. A ll our reflections protest

against this identification, w hich destroys the tensions essential to
the consciousness o f fault.
T w o reasons determine our resistance to this reduction o f fault
to g u ilt In the first place, guilt, considered by itself, leads in several
directions: in the direction o f an ethico-juridical reflection on the
relation o f penalty to responsibility; in the direction o f an ethico-
religious reflection on a delicate and scrupulous conscience; and
finally, in the direction o f a psycho-theological reflection on the hell
o f an accused and condem ned conscience. Penal rationalization in
the Greek manner, internalization and refinement o f ethical aware­
ness in the Judaic m anner, consciousness o f the wretchedness o f
man under the regim e o f the Law and o f the works o f the Law in
the Paulinian manner— these are three divergent possibilities which
the notion o f guilt carries. N ow , it is not possible to understand
directly the intim ate connection am ong these three aspects o f guilt,
w hich are in constant opposition, tw o b y tw o: the rationality o f the
Greek against the religiosity o f the Jew and the Christian; the
intem ality o f “ piety” against the externality o f the d ty o r o f salva­
tion by grace; Paulinian antilegalism against the law o f the tribunal
and against M osaic law. A ll the rest o f this chapter w ill b e entirely
devoted to this splintering o f the idea o f guilt. But to be ahle to
perceive this internal dialectic o f guilt, one must set it in a vaster
dialectic, that erf the three moments o f fau lt: defilement, sin, guilt.
G uilt is understood through a double m ovem ent, starting from
the tw o other stages o f fau lt: a m ovem ent o f rupture and a m ove­
m ent o f resumption. A m ovem ent o f rupture that causes a new
ioo
stage to emerge—the guilty m an— and a m ovem ent o f resumption
by w hich this new experience is charged w ith the earlier symbolism
o f sin and even o f defilement, in order to express the paradox to­
ward w hich the idea o f fault points— nam ely, the concept o f a
man w h o is responsible and captive, o r rather a m an w ho is re­
sponsible fo r being captive— in short, the concept o f the servile will.

1. Bir th of a N e w Stage

L et us ranim W this double m ovem ent by w hich gu ilt emancipates

itself from defilem ent and sin, and inherits their prim ordial sym­
bolism .
It can b e said, in very general terms, that guilt designates the
subjective m om ent in fau lt as rin is its ontological m om en t Sin
designates the real situation o f m an before G od, w hatever conscious­
ness h e m ay have o f i t T h is situation must b e discovered in the
proper sense o f the w ord : the Prophet is the m an capable o f an­
nouncing to the K in g that his pow er is weak and vain. G uilt is
the awareness o f this real situation, and, if one m ay say so, the
“fo r itself’ o f this kind o f "in itself.”
This m om ent is at first a subordinate and enveloped one. I t can
already be dim ly m ade out in the them e o f defilem ent. W e have
seen that the dread w hich is characteristic o f defilem ent was an
anticipation and forestalling o f punishment. T h e chastisement thus
anticipated extends its shadow over the consciousness o f the present,
w hich feels the w eight o f this threat w eighing upon i t W hat is
essential in guilt is already contained in this consciousness o f being
"burdened,” burdened by a “ weight.” Guiltiness is never anything
else than the anticipated chastisement itself, internalized and al­
ready weighing upon consciousness; and as dread is from the be­
ginning the w ay o f internalization o f defilement itself, in spite o f
the radical externality o f the evil, guilt is a m om ent contem po­
raneous w ith defilem ent itself. But at this stage this m om ent re­
mains a subordinate on e: it is because m an is ritually unclean that
he is “ burdened” w ith fa u lt; he need n ot b e the author o f the evil
to feel him self burdened by its weight and the w eight o f its conse­
quences. T o be guilty is only to be ready to undergo the chastise-
m eat and to m ake oneself the subject o f the chastisem ent It is in
this sense, and this sense on ly, that guilt is already im plied in defile­
m en t N o doubt we can say that this guilt is already responsibility,
if we m ean that being responsible is being capable o f answering
for the consequences o f an a ct; but this consciousness o f responsi­
bility is only an appendage o f the consciousness o f b a n g charged
with the weight o f punishment in anticipation] it does not proceed
from a consciousness o f being the author of. . . . T h e sociology of
responsibility is very illum inating at this p oin t; man had the con­
sciousness o f responsibility before having the consciousness o f being
cause, agent, author. I t is his situation in relation to interdictions
that first makes him responsible.
T h at is w hy the consciousness o f guilt constitutes a veritable
revolution in the experience o f evil: that w hich is primary is no
longer the reality o f defilem ent, the objective violation o f the Inter­
dict, or the Vengeance let loose by that violation, but the evil use
o f liberty, felt as an internal dim inution o f the value o f the self.
T h is revolution is considerable: it reverses the relation between
punishment and g u ilt W hereas guilt had hitherto issued from the
punishment engendered by V engeance, it was now the diminution
o f the value o f existence that w ould b e the origin o f punishment
and w ould ca ll fo r it as healing and am endm ent Thus the guilt
begotten in the first place by the consciousness o f chastisement revo­
lutionizes that consciousness o f chastisement and w holly reverses
its m eaning. It is guilt w hich demands that the chastisement Itself
be converted from vengeful expiation to educative expiation— in
short, to amendment.
T his revolution introduced in to punishment by guilt is therefore
very evident if on e directly contrasts guilt an d im purity, leaping
over the stage o f sin. It is m ore d ifficu lt to locate the point of
change o f direction between tin and guilt.
T h e relation o f the third to the second stage in the consciousness
o f fault is in fa ct m uch m ore com plex. O n the on e hand, the con­
tinuity from the one to the other is not d ou b tfu l Nevertheless
something new appears w hich constitutes, if not an inversion o f
meaning in the feeling o f sin, at least a “ crisis” which it is impar-
taut to measure, although the novelty and the crisis issue from the
deepening o f the feeling o f sin. O n the one hand, the feeling o f sin
is a feeling o f gu ilt; guiltiness is the burden o f sin : it is the loss o f
the bond with the origin, insofar as that loss is fe lt In this sense
guilt is the achieved intem ality o f sin. T h u internalization is the
fru it o f the deepening o f the demand that is addressed to man.
T hat deepening, w e rem ember, is d ou b le: in becom ing ethical and
n o longer only ritual, the Interdiction ruses up a subjective pole
o f responsibility that can n o longer be only one w ho answers fo r
the sanction, one w h o is responsible in the elementary sense o f a
subject o f punishment, but a center o f decision, an author o f acts.
That is not a ll: the Interdiction n ot only passes from the ritual to
the ethical; it becom es unlimited as the dem and fo r perfection
w hich goes beyond any enumeration o f duties o r virtues. This call
to “ perfection” reveals, behind acts, the depths o f posable existence.
In fact, just as man is called to a unique perfection that surpasses
the m ultiplicity o f his obligations, he is revealed to him self as the
author not only o f his many acts, but o f the motives o f his acts and,
beyond the motives, o f the m ost radical possibilities w hich are sud­
denly reduced to the pure and am ple alternative: G od or N othing.
W e have previously evoked the “ Deuteranom ic choice” : “ I have
placed before you life and death; choose the good and you shall
live.” T his call to a radical choice raises up, over against itself, a
subjective pole, a respondent, n o longer in the sense o f a bearer
o f punishment, but in the sense o f an existent capable o f em bracing
h is w hole life and considering it as one undivided destiny, hanging
upon a sim ple alternative. Thus the prophetic call transformed
the Covenant from a am ple ju ridical contract between Yahweh
and his people into a personal accusation and adjuration. There is
henceforth an “ I,” because there is a “ thou” to w hom the Prophet
addresses him self in the nam e o f G od.
Finally, the confession o f tins com pletes this m ovem ent o f the
internalization o f a n in personal gu ilt: the “ thou” that is sum­
m oned becom es the “ I” that accuses itself. But at the same tim e
there appears the shift o f emphasis that makes the sense o f sin turn
tow ard the feeling o f gu ilt; in place o f emphasizing the “ before
G od,” the “ against thee, against thee alone,” the feeling o f guilt
emphasizes the “ it is I w ho. . . T h e penitential Psalms in He*
brew literature show w ell this duality o f emphasis:
F or I know m y sin,
and m y fau lt is always before m e.
Against thee, thee on ly, have I tinned;
I have don e that w hich is evil in thy sight.
Ps. 5 1 :9 -4
L et the “ I” be emphasized m ore than the “ before thee,” let the
“ before thee” be even forgotten, and the consciousness o f fault
becom es guilt and n o longer tin at a ll; it is “ conscience11 that now
becom es the measure o f evil in a com pletely solitary experience. It
is not by accident that in many languages the same w ord designates
m oral consciousness ( conscience m orale) , and psychological and
reflective consciousness; guilt expresses above all the prom otion o f
“ conscience” as supreme.
In the religious literature that w e are examining here, the com ­
plete substitution o f guilt fo r sin never appears; the confession o f
the psalmist, evoked above, still expresses the equilibrium o f tw o
tribunals and tw o measures: the absolute measure, represented by
the sight o f G od, w h o sees the sins there are, and the subjective
measure, represented by the tribunal o f the conscience, w hich ap­
praises any guilt that becom es apparent. But a process was begun,
at the end o f w hich the “ realism” o f sin, illustrated by the con­
fession o f forgotten or unrecognized tins, w ould be entirely replaced
by the “ phenomenalism” o f guilt, with its play o f illutians and
masks. This end is attained only at the price o f the liquidation o f
the religious sense o f tin. Then man is guilty as he feels him self
guilty; guilt in the pure state has becam e a m odality o f m an the
measure. It is this possibility o f a com plete cleavage between gm lt
and ion that is presented in the three m odalities that w e shall study:
in the individualization o f offenses in the penal sense, in the deli­
cate conscience o f the scrupulous m an, and in the hell o f condem ­
nation above all.
T h e birth o f a new “ measure” o f fault is a derisive event in the
history o f the notion o f fau lt; and tins event represents a double
advance, from w hich it is not possible to turn back.
 O n the one hand, gu ilt im plies w hat m ay b e called a judgm ent
o f pergonal im putation o f e v il; tins individualization o f guilt breaks
w ith the “ we” o f the confession o f sins. T h e Jewish prophets o f the
E xile a re witnesses to this change from com m unal sin to individual
guilt, and the change corresponds to a definite historical situation.
T h e preaching o f sin had represented a m ode o f prophetic sum­
m ons in w hich the w hole people was exhorted to rem em ber a col­
lective deliverance, that o f the Exodus, and to fear a collective
threat, that o f the D ay o f Yahweh. But n ow that the evil hour has
arrived, n ow that the national state is destroyed and the people
deported, the same preaching w hich had been able to appeal fo r
a collective reform has becom e a cause fo r despair; it has lost all
the force o f a summons and becom e nihilistic in its im p ort From
the m om ent when the preaching o f com munal sin n o longer signi­
fies that a choice is open, but that fate has dosed the door on an
entire people, it is the preaching o f individual sin, o f personal
guilt, that has the value o f hope. F o r if a n is individual, salvation
can be equally so. Even if the Exodus from Egypt could n ot be re­
peated in an exodus from Babylon, even if the Return was to be
indefinitely postponed, there w ould still b e h ope fo r each man.
I f, in fact, an entire people is punished w ithout respect o f per­
sons, then the generations are inseparably join ed in the fau lt and
in the sanction, and the children are punished fo r the fathers; then
the captive o f Babylon pays fo r a a n that h e has n ot com m itted.
I t is then that E zekid proclaim s: “ W hat m ean you , that you use
this proverb concerning the land o f Israel, saying, T h e fathers have
eaten sour grapes, and the children’ s teeth are set on edge? A s I
live, saith the L ord Yahw eh, you shall n ot have occasion anymore
to use this proverb in Israel. B ehold, all lives are m ine. . . . H e
that has sinned, it is he that shall die” (Ezek. 18:2—4 ). H enceforth
it is an individual that is sum m oned; “ perversion” and “ conversion”
are decisions that m ake each individual a “ just” man o r a “ wicked”
m an. T hat the emphasis is finally placed on m ercy is beyond d ou bt:
“ I f I say to the w icked, T h ou shalt die, and he turns from his tins
and practices righteousness and justice, i f he returns the pledge,
restores w hat h e has stolen, observes the laws that give life , and
ceases to d o evil, h e shall live, h e shall n ot die” (Ezek. 3 3 :1 4 -1 5 ).
Even m are strongly in Jeremiah, the proclam ation o f personal re­
sponsibility and retribution— in terms that anticipate those of
Ezekiel: “ In those days they shall say n o m ore, T h e fathers have
eaten sour grapes and th e children's teeth are set on edge, bat
everyone shall die for his own crim e. Every man that eats soar
grapes, his own teeth shall be set an edge” (3 1 :2 9 -3 0 )— is indis­
solubly linked with d ie announcem ent o f a new Covenant, in
w hich the Law w ill dw ell “in the depths o f their b o n g ” and will
be “ written in their hearts” ; then “ they shall all know m e, from
the least o f them t o the greatest, saith Yahweh, because I will
pardon their crim e and I w ill rem ember their sin n o mare” (31:
3 1 -3 4 ). th u s are put in question jointly the collective imputation
that visits the iniquity c l the fathers upon the children from
generation to generation and the old Terror, whose sway marks
both the regim e o f defilement and that o f tin. It is passible to
free oneself from the chain o f acts, as it is possible to break the
chain o f generations; a revocable tim e is substituted fo r a supra-
historical fate.
T h e similarity to the criticism o f hereditary defilement among
the Greeks o f the fifth century is obvious. There also the curse that
chains the generations together gives way to a new tim e and new
god s; the Erinyes becam e the Eumenides, a t the same tim e that
the age-old debt gives w ay to individual responsibility. This time
can b e a tim e o f radical condem nation o r a tim e fo r m ercy. It is,
then, a w hole new tem poral econom y that is instituted: the law o f
hereditary debt is broken; everyone pays fo r his ow n fau lts; every­
one can at every instant begin again, “ com e bade to the Eternal ”
W e shall see later how this discovery aggravated rather than re­
solved the crisis opened u p in the doctrine o f retribution. T hat every
m an dies fo r his own crim e is precisely w hat Job w ill dispute, and
a new idea o f tragedy w ill be bom from this discovery (cf. PL n ,
Chap. V ).
Thus the tension between the “ realism” o f sin and the “ phe­
nomenalism” o f guilt has as its first corollary the individualization
o f im putation. A new opposition arises in the consciousness of
fau lt: according to the schema o f sin, evil is a situation “ in which”
m ankind is caught as a tingle collective; according to the schema
of guilt, evil is an act that each individual “ begins.” This pulveriza­
tion o f fault into a m ultiplicity o f subjective guilts puts in question
the “ we” o f the confession o f tins and makes evident the loneliness
of the guilty conscience.

T he second conquest, contem porary w ith the individualization

af fault, is the idea that guilt has degrees. W hereas tin is a quali­
tative situation— it is o r it is not,— guilt designates an intensive
quantity, capable o f m ore and less. H ere is the law o f all o r nothing
in tin that St. Paul takes from the psalm ist: “ T here is n o on e w ho
is just, n o, n ot on e; there is n o one w h o understands, n o one w ho
series G od. T h ey are a ll gone ou t o f the way, they are together
becom e unprofitable ; there is n o one w h o does good , n o, n ot one”
(R om . 3 :1 0 i f .) . T h e guilty conscience, an the contrary, confesses
that its fau lt allows o f m are and less, that it has degrees o f serious­
ness. N ow , if guilt has degrees, it also has extremes, that are desig­
nated b y the tw o polar figures o f the “ wicked” and the “ ju s t”
And justice itself w ill be a relative justice, measured n o longer in
com parison w ith an unlim ited perfection beyond reach, but in
com parison w ith an optim al justice em bodied in the figure o f the
“ just man.” This figure o f the “ just man” — o f th e just m an am ong
us— perhaps always accom panied paradoxically the preaching o f
absolute justice. Thus the same chapter o f Genesis juxtaposes these
two declarations: on the one hand, “ Y abw eh saw that the wicked­
ness o f m an was great on the earth, and that his heart form ed only
evil rfggjgna all the day long” ( 6 :5 ) ; and on the other hand,
“ N oah was a just m an, upright am ong his contem poraries, and he
walked w ith G od” (6 :9 ) . T h at one belongs to the Yahw eh tradi­
tion and the oth er to the priestly tradition does n ot change the fact
that the final editor could juxtapose these tw o themes and respect
them in their divergence. T h at N oah w as “ the only just m an in this
generation” (7 :1 ) does n ot suppress the enigm a constituted by the
exception itself. M oreover, the exception is n ot unique; E noch also
“walked w ith G od” (G en. 5 :2 4 ). A nd Job also was “ a simple and
upright m a n , w h o feared G od and kept him self from evil” (Job
1 :1 ). T h e astonishing “ apology” o f Job, in Chapter 31, u the
description o f the relative and finite justice, the optim al justice,
which, unlike total perfection, can be approached and even satis­
fied, and w hich in turn determines the degrees o f relative injustice
an w hich the delicate and scrupulous conscience o f d ie “ pious”
m an w ill b e able to m editate.
W e shall speak later o f the greatness o f the ethics o f d ie just
and the pious (se ct 3 ) ; w e shall speak also o f its ffliuotm and its
failure (se ct 4 ). But it w ould b e im possible to g o back and annul
this m om ent o f conscience that opposes to th e equaBtarim experi­
ence o f sin the graduated experience o f gu ilt; it is all the mare
im possible because it is this profession o f degrees o f guilt that is
presupposed in other respects by every im putation not only moral,
but juridical and penal. W hile a man is entirely a n d radically a
sinner, he is m ore o r less gu ilty; and w ith a scale o f offenses a scale
o f penalties is posable. It is, then, not only the delicate conscience
o f the “ pious” and the anguished conscience confined in the heQ of
its ow n justice, it is also the conscience o f th e legislator and die
judge that is nourished by this profession o f degress o f guilt (sect
2 ).
T h e significance o f guilt, then, is the possibility o f the primacy
o f “ m an the measure” over the “ right o f G od” ; the division be­
tween individual fault and the sin o f the people, the opposition
between a graduated im putation and an all-inclusive accusation
anticipate this reversal. By all these traits reflection has led us to
the crossing o f the three roads along w hich this new experience
proceeds.2

2. G uilt and P enal I m putation

T h e first direction in w hich the consciousness o f gu ilt moves is,

then, that o f ou r ethico-juridical experience. T h e m etaphor o f the
tribunal, w e shall see; invades all registers o f the consciousness of
guilt. But before being a m etaphor o f the m oral consciousness, the
tribunal is a real institution o f the city, and this institution was the
channel by w hich the religious consciousness o f sin was reformed.
In what sense?
In this chapter, devoted like the preceding ones to the nascent
conceptualization o f fault through its m ost prim itive symbols, we
shall n ot address ourselves to the m odem form s o f penal law and
the problem s raised by the encounter o f law and crim inology; we
shall cam e to those questions later. W e shall n ot have recourse,
either, to R om an penal la w ; the order that it introduces in to its
concepts is already late in com parison to the themes o f im purity,
impiety, and injustice, w hich w e w ant to catch in their nascent
state. M u ch m ore revelatory o f the "beginnings” o f conscience is
the penal experience o f d ie Greeks;1 precisely because it never
attained the ord er and rigor o f that o f the Rom ans, it offers an
opportunity to observe penal conceptualization in its inchoate state.
M oreover, it is contem poraneous w ith the philosophical reflection—
of the Sophists, o f Plato, o f Aristotle— in w hich it iB both reflected
and m odified. Besides, its relations w ith tragedy keep it in prox­
imity not only with philosophy but w ith antiphilosqphy. Finally,
the elaboration o f th e Greek vocabulary o f guilt in connection
with the determination o f penalties is an immense cultural event:
the adventure o f KySpte, apdprr)pa, iSuela is the adventure o f our
own conscience, the conscience o f m en o f the W est; even the Bible
has influenced our culture through the Greek translation. N ow ,
the ch oice o f Greek equivalents fo r Biblical tin and fo r all the
ethico-religious concepts o f H ebrew origin is in itself a decision
about the meaning o f our sym bols; on this level w e are indivimbly
Greeks and Jews. Thus, the elaboration o f the concepts o f guilt
through the juridical and penal experience o f the Greeks is m are
than the sim ple history o f the penal institutions o f classical G reece,
and belongs to that history o f the ethico-religious consciousness, the
principal m otivations o f w hich w e are hare tracing.

T h e contribution o f the Greeks to this third stage in the con­

sciousness o f fau lt differs profoundly from the contribution o f the
Jews in virtue o f the role played in it by the direct application o f
reflection to the city, to its legislation, and to the organization o f
penal law . H ere it is n ot a Covenant, ethical m onotheism , a per-
1 Gemet, R echerches sur U d ioeloppem en t d e la panda juridique at
morale an G rice (Paris, 1917). Moulinier, L a p u r at Vtmpwr dans la panda
das Gracs d'H om ira & A tistota (Paris, 1952). Kurt Latte, “Schuld und
srmH^ in der grierLiurliim Religion,** A rch. f . ReUgionsanssenschaft 20
(1920-21).
sonalistic relation between G od and m an that raises the counter­
pole o f an accused subjectivity; it is the ethics o f a city o f men that
constitutes the focus o f a reasonable indictm ent. O f course, this
process still evolves an the fringes a f religions consciousness; die
d ty remains a “ holy” m agnitude; its charge o f sacredness in the
classical epoch remains such that injustice is Still synonym ous with
impiety.* inversely, im piety and even im purity were never spoken
o f in G reece w ithout reference to injustice. W hichever on e you
start w ith, the three factors o f purity, holiness, and justice con­
stantly encroach upon one another at the height o f the classical
epoch. It must be said that the passage from one to the other was
never marked, in d ie H ellenic consciousness, by crises com parable
to the crisis produced in Israel by prophetic preaching; the taste
o f the poets and, above all, o f the tragedians fa r archaic situations,
the literary and theatrical revival o f the old myths o f
and purification, make the interferences am ong the various notions
even m are inextricable. It must b e acknowledged that if w e had
only the testimony o f G reece, w e could never reach even a slightly
coherent idea o f the typological succession o f defilement, tin, and
g u ilt
Thus, the notion o f d&ucuv, often taken abstractly in the sense
o f com m itting an injustice and also o f bring unjust, marks die
em ergence o f a purely m oral notion o f evil outride the rinfamr
operation o f im purity. But injustice, like justice itself, thrusts its
roots dow n into the archaic consciousness o f the im pure and the
pure. It was Sun; w hich, in becom ing rationalized, established
the rationality o f tire ABttajfuu T h is rationality consisted essen­
tially in a division between Cosm os and City. T h e samp justice, the
same injustice, the same aqu ation w hich, in the fragm ent o f
Anaxim ander, were categories o f the W hole o f nature as the to­
tality o f bring “ according to the order o f tim e,” becam e crystal­
lized in to something solely human by settling dow n upon d ie civic
* T he expression ia tfiti*— to com m it an im piety— connected w ith the
expression ASimr— to com m it an injustice— attests that injustice is al­
ways im piety w ith regard to d ie sacredness o f d ie d ty . 'AJSucar -Hit irSka
is an offense with regard to the M n l Sous (G em et, op. ciL , Bart I , Chap.
1, on iS uatp).
and juridical. A nd this settling down consists essentially in the
activity by w hich the d ty is defined. Demosthenes, com m enting
an the distinction between “ voluntary” and “ involuntary” m urder,
w rites: “ I f a man kills another in a contest, the legislator deter­
mines (m the sense o f defines] that he has n ot com m itted an in­
justice” : av Tts ev 3.6Xovi inroKxdvQ two, toOtov &purev ovk aSixciv.
H eraclitus w ell described this divirion in the w hole produced by the
decision-m aldng action o f the city: “ F or G od all is g ood and beauti­
fu l and ju st; m en hold (mrqAa^wn) certain things fo r just, oth­
ers fo r unjust” (frag. 1 02 ). G em et emphasizes that this action o f
delim itation could n ot develop except in those parts o f the law
where the sacredness o f the d ty was less at stake. W hereas the pub­
lic offenses o f sacrilege (in the precise sense o f an attack an the pat­
rim ony o f the d ty or on its sanctuaries) and treason continue to
awaken a sort o f sacred horror, private offenses, w hich harm indi­
viduals and give them the. privilege o f prosecution, provide an
opportunity to form a m ore objective notion o f the w rong suffered
«nri penalized b y a defined and measured reparation.3 As one can
see, this action o f definition and measurement by the human tri­
bunal was exercised an the penalty itself, and it was by measuring
the penalty and in order to measure it that the d ty measured the
gu ilt itself. Thus the notion o f degree o f guilt, w hich am ong the
Jews is rather a conquest o f personal m editation in the midst o f
com munal confession, is correlative am ong the Greeks w ith an
evolution in punishm ent.
G em et, b y his critical study o f some G reek w ords, has m apped
out this conquest o f measure in punishment. KoAa£etv, w inch de­
notes repression by sodety and so springs from social anger,
cam e to denote, in classical G reece, corrective punishment, w ith its
double m eaning: one bearing on the nature o f th e punishment
(caAa£ta> denoting m oderate punishm ent, such as that adminis­
tered by the fath er o f a fam ily, from w hipping to rep rovin g),
the other o n the intention, amendment prevailing over vengeance.*

* “ I t is b y practice in judgm ent that social thought raises itself to the

objective notion o f offenses, and it was private offenses that im posed the
idea a n d suggested the form s o f judgm ent” (p . 9 4 ).
W hat Plato says about this in the Protagoras and the Gorgias is
well known.* But h was especially rt/uopla w hich, in designating
satisfaction fa r the victim rather than the anger o f society, was
destined to be the vehicle fo r the m ost im portant changes intro*
duced into the juridical conscience by the concept o f measure in
punishments (ov Sa ras nfuuptat impavratK slvai, says Demos*
thenes). M easure becom es so essential to punishment that the de­
linquent him self w ill be said to "g et his punishment” (rvyx^var
njuiptas). A s to the law that “ gives” the n/uapltu to the delinquent
and grants the award to the victim , it is the 8haf o f the city.
Thus him] ceases to denote the cosm ic order and becom es identi­
fied w ith the proceedings o f the tribunal.
In becom ing rationalized, punishment, in turn, caused a like
differentiation with regard to guilt. In view o f this regressive m ove­
ment from punishment to guilt, w e must persist in the assertion
that the first coherent distinction between “ voluntary” and “ in­
voluntary,” such as w e find in the legislation o f D raco, was not
a result o f introspection, n ot a psychological m odality o f “ know
thyself." It was a discrimination e priori, im posed upon ancient
ideas o f violence and presumption, to m ake possible the institu­
tional distinctions that foun d expression in the reorganization o f
tribunals: to the Areopagus, henceforth, w ent “ voluntary” mur­
ders, vengeance fear w hich was taken over by the city from the
fam ily; to the PaDadion, certain debatable "involuntary" crim es,
which m ight b e excused o r punished by exile; to the D elphinion,
hom icides that were clearly "involuntary," having occu rred in
games o r in war. T h e tribunal goes before, psychology follow s
after. A nd the psychology itself is rarely direct; it takes the round­
about w ay o f poetry— gnom ic, elegiac, tragic— w hich, in various
ways, evolved a yvm/ii), a m editation on oneself and a subtle
analysis o f acts. In particular, the im aginative treatment o f legen­
dary crim es, w hich tragedy took over from the epic, provided an
opportunity fo r reflection on the “ voluntary” and “ involuntary”
that took the path o f m editation on defilement and on blindness
caused b y the gods. Thus the aged O edipus considers the problem

4 Prof., 324a6; Gorg., 418a, 5058, 4 8 0 c4 ; and Laws, VI, 762c, 777e;
X , 8544, 86 7 c; X II, 9444, 9645c.
o f involuntary crim e from every point o f view , blam ing and ac­
quitting him self b y turns, sometimes o f incest and the crim e that
began his misfortunes, sometimes o f the w rath that m ade him lay
hands cm his own body.8 O f course, to this im aginative treatment
o f sacred crimes w e must add the m ore m odest w ork o f the
“ exegetes” o f D elphi, concerned to m ete out a just penance to the
devotees o f the god .
From these convergent reflections on penal law , on legendary
crimes, and cm the penances m eted out to initiates, there issued
the fundam ental concepts w hich the H ato o f the Law s and espe­
cially the author o f the N icom achean Ethics later brought to a
certain degree o f rigor: (a ) the intentional o r voluntary pure and
simple (acotimmd and its contrary, the involuntary product o f
com pulsion (fiia ) or ignorance (ayvota); ( b) preferential choice
Wpoaipctns), hearing an the means, and deliberation (/fovAsj,
/W Acucns), w hich makes the choice a deliberative, desire
(fiovkamiai dpc£ts}; (c ) the wish (jSovAijoxs), bearing on ends. Be­
fore this reform ing w ork o f reflection, the distinction, purely penal,
between the voluntary and the involuntary, rem ained im precise;
thus, the “voluntary” sometimes involved prem editation, some­
times am ple volition, w hile the “ involuntary” em braced absence
o f fault, negligence, im prudence, sometimes cases o f being carried
away, o r am ple accidents.
T h e elucidation o f various lim iting cases, such as faults in ­
curred through im prudence or negligence, in games or in w ar,
played a decisive rule in w hat m ight be called a subtle psychology
o f guilt. Responsibility w ithout prem editation constitutes, indeed,
a sort o f prelim inary zone to the voluntary w h ich is very favorable
to the distinctions o f jurisprudence; blow s delivered in the heat o f
8 T h e repetition o f the w ord dixwp (involuntary) in the Oedipus at
Colonus Is n ot fortuitous. A ntigone first speaks o f the “ unpurposed actions”
o f her old father (2 3 9 -4 0 ). T h e latter declares solem nly that he has
“ suffered” rather than “ done” his acts (2 5 6 -5 7 ); “ I have burdened m yself
w ith an alien m isfortune; yes, I am burdened w ith it in spite o f m yself
(4 6 n w ). L et the divinity be witness I nothing o f all that was purposed
(aM oIpenaff’ (522—2 3 ). T o Crean h e replies: “ T h y m outh reproaches m e
w ith murders, incests, evils that I have borne, unfortunate that I am ,
against m y w ill (Smm>)” (9 6 4 ). Involuntary (£ «»») was the m urder o f his
tether (9 7 7 ), involuntary his union w ith his m other (9 8 7 ).
discussion, wounds inflicted in a state o f intoxication, revenge for
an outrage in the case o f a flagrant act o f adultery— all such acts
a m an repents when he returns to reason, as Lysias remarks
(M oulinier, 1 9 0 ); so there is some fault and yet n o vpovoia, and
even a certain conform ity to the laws. It was m ore precisely
accidents in games and mistakes in war that provoked the most
rigorous reflection; and one can see why. In these tw o situations
the social band that underlies the holding o f games and the con­
duct o f w ar is a civic bond, w hich extends beyond and engulfs the
tw o fam ily groups o f the plaintiff and the defendant set a t variance
by the murder. In such a case society becom es aware o f its sym­
pathy and indulgence fo r the m urderer; in its turn this sympathy,
w hich itself extends beyond and engulfs the anger o f a wronged
fam ily, invents a juridical expression fo r itself by creating a suit­
able penal category.
In all these cases conceptual analysis comes secon d; the con­
ceptual distinctions are regulated by the degrees o f public indigna­
tion and reprobation, and the education o f judgm ent is effected
by tiie w ork o f legal proceedings and by the disputes o f lawyers.
Thus it is always by the roundabout way o f legislation, legal con­
tests, and the sentences o f judges that conceptual analysis advances.

But this analysis does not consist only in a work o f differentiation

carried on within the nebula o f gu ilt. I t leads to a recasting o f the
principal notions that bore the mark o f the religious conceptions
o f defilement, sacrilege, or offense to the gods.
T w o notions studied by G em et a n d M oulinier are very instructive
from this point o f view : iftapria, w hich, in the tragic conception
o f existence, expresses the fatal error, the going astray, o f the
great crim es, and ifipn, w hich, in the same virion o f the w orld,
denotes the presumption that propels the hero beyond the limits
o f his station and o f due measure.
In the first place, it is surprising to find apaprla, in a penal
context and consequently in an ethics o f responsible intention, with
the m uch weakened sense o f excusable fa u lt6 This filiation from
8 M oulinier also calls attention to the idea o f ipiprtipa: “ It seems
theological involuntariness, so to speak, to psychological involun­
tariness is m ost rem arkable; fo r the Apaprla that was the result
o f being blinded b y the gods was im printed, as if passively, upon
th e heart: “ I f anyone here has other prayers fo r the state,” cries
the leader o f the chorus in Agam em non, ’ le t him reap the fru it o f
the crim e o f his heart” {<ftpam». . . Apaprtari A g ., 5 0 2 ). “ Errors
o f m y foolish wisdom ” (lu> Swnftpovwv apapr^puira), replies
C reon to the chorus, w hich has ju st contrasted the m isfortune that
com es from another (aWorpiav Sxqv) to one’s ow n fau lt ( o&tos
apapr&v', A n tigon e, 1 2 5 9 -6 1 ). T h e history o f the w ord reveals
that it subsequently denoted the intentional m om ent in injustice,
and then, within the “ voluntary,” that degree w hich A ristotle
placed between an injustice that is clearly voluntary and an
accid en t that is dearly involuntary, as in the R hetoric, I,
1 2 -1 3 : “ Apapr/jpara are faults com m itted after forethought, but
without m alice; w hile ASue^puira im ply both forethought and m al­
ice, and &rt>xfiiuera im ply neither” (M oulinier, 1 8 8 ).
H ow shall w e explain this evolution, w h ich looks like an inver­
sion c£ m eaning? Perhaps w e should say that the tragic m yth itself
furnishes the schema o f irresponsibility, the principle o f exculpa­
tio n ; i f the h ero is blinded by the god, then h e is n ot guilty o f his
faults. O ne sees the contradiction and the hesitation about the
meaning o f apaprla in the tragedy o f O edipus at Qolonus, w hich
w e have already cited. T h ose facts o f w hich h e bears the weight
in spite o f him self (dxtuv) continue to b e called “ faults” (™ v vpiv
■ijpapnipJwv, 4 3 9 ), O edipus can even say: “ In m e personally you
w ould n o t find a fault [apaprias] to reproach m e w ith fo r hav­
ing thus com m itted these crim es against m yself and against m y
kin” ( to8* ds ipaariv tovs ipovt dpravov, 967—6 8 ). I t is pre­
cisely O edipus w ho is the symbol o f monstrous crim e and excus­
able fault, o f divine infatuation (in )) and hum an m isfortune
(avpupopd), as the chorus-leader says later (1 0 1 4 ).
This evolution o f apaprla in the direction o f excusable fault
d id n ot prevent a developm ent in a contrary direction, equally

to us difficult to understand, Just because it seems to m ix chance and guilt,

innocence and responsibility” (p . 1 8 8 ).
 inherent in the m iti»l indignation aroused by crim e. In the
A ntigone o f Sophocles w e cam e upon the contrast between the
“ misfortune that com es from another” (akAm-pum &np) and “ one’ s
own fault” (o M s d/iaprw, 1260). ^Apdp< n}fu^ then, cou ld just as
w ell lead to the notion o f m oral fault, in contrast to faults punished
by the tribunals. T h e ipuapn/fw. o f the Greek Bible, w hich denotes
the ethico-religious dimension o f fault, is an extension o f this m ean­
ing. It is fundam entally the same m eaning that was adum brated
in the A ntigone o f Sophocles.
This surcharge o f m eaning in dpdprqpa is found also in
which marks the lim it o f extenuation.7 W e referred above to Aris­
totle's effort to arrange “ injustice,” “ excusable fault,” and “ acci­
i
dent” in order. But it must not be forgotten that rvxq, before being
the lim it o f penal non-responsibility, and hence the inverse o f the
guilt o f voluntary and prem editated crim e, was the heir o f potpa;
in the tragic view it is not the opposite o f crim e, but crim e itself
as allotted destiny. There is misfortune (.tupfapd), luck in the farm
o f bad luck, in the greatest crimes. In Demosthenes one sees exiled
murderers, guilty o f prem editated crim es, called An^oSyrts (M ou -
linier, 1 89). Thus the same words betray the crossing o f several
conceptual “ series” — the series o f “ defilement” and the series o f
“ injustice,” the series o f “ misfortune” and the series o f the “ vol­
untary.”
T his reinterpretation o f the religious, poetic, and tragic vocabu­
lary in tiie juridical and penal perspective goes even further, since,
as G em et has shown, ifi/us was able to supply penal thought
w ith the individual principle o f transgression— something lik e a
deliberate w ill, distinct from bring led astray by dears and from
n■
Z T It is precisely as iitaprla that an accident during physical training
is treated in the second Tetralogy o f Antiphon. M oulinier, w ho summarizes
the discussion (o p . cit., pp. 1 8 8 -8 9 ), shows that the defense and the accu­
sation are in accord on the prin t that negligence o r im prudence determines
a iitaprla, but the defense says: that does not make a m urder, even
an involuntary one, but only a m isfortune (fop^ opd), exem pt h am fault
but n ot horn, defilement. A ccording to d ie accusation, there was fault and
m urder and defilem ent and need fo r purification, because o f culpable haste
and negligence (th e trainer had given d ie order to gather u p d ie javelins
when the accused threw h is).
t
being carried away by anger— an intelligent w ill to evil fo r the
sake o f evil.
It is perhaps astonishing that the same notion cou ld furnish both
the support far a tragic virion o f the w orld and the foundation fo r
juridical incrim ination; and it is perhaps even m ore astonishing
because, in the case o f apaprla, tragic blindness, transferred to
psychology, supplied a reason fo r excusing and exonerating. I f
vfipvs follow ed a different route, to the point o f furnishing the
very principle o f incrim ination, the basis fo r accusation, this is
because ifiptr was from the beginning m ore paradoxical than
apaprla. U nlike the “ error” inherent in going astray, Sfiptt is
active transgression, and one cannot read divine blindness into
human presumption w ithout doing violence to the con cep t
W hereas apaprla naturally becam e secularized as excusable fault,
the paradox o f $j3pt<s, in the process o f dissociation, liberated its
psychological com ponent, the spirit o f perdition interpreted non-
thealogically— in short, the evil root o f wicked prem editation, or
what Gernet calls “ the guilty w ill in its pure state, so to speak”
(3 9 4 ), or what one m ight venture to call, before K ant, radical
evil, the general m axim o f evil maxims. This psychological com ­
ponent is present from the beginning. A psychology o f pride ap­
pears in its nascent state in the H om eric tS/fyis, w hich com mits
outrage# and plunders; in the i/3pre o f H esiod, w hich arms oblique
judgm ents; in the 3/3/us o f Solan, w hich, in association w ith xopos,
is insolence (r&cra yap icopo* ifipcv), and w hich is attracted some­
times towards a desire fo r wealth re (.SfJpcv tIkto. vAoSroc), some­
times towards a derire fo r dom ination: “ Pride begets tyranny.”
This astonishing relationship between tragic -3/3/us and penal
$f}pis has perhaps an even m ore subterranean source. Punish-
m ent, even when m eted out by the city, needs to b e faced with
a mystery o f iniquity. T his mystery o f iniquity is the yis-h-vis o f
the indignation o f the ju d g e; it justifies the ju d ge and his ju dg­
m ent; the evil w ill o f the delinquent confirm s the goad conscience
o f the tribunal. Thus the sacredness o f the d ty reconstructs in the
crim inal, but beyond his acts, a w ill to evil fo r the sake o f evil
w hich is th e analogue o f the spirit o f perdition that, according to
tragedy, blows where it w ill; and in this w ill is crystallized the
danger that threatens the sacredness o f the city. Thus the city
tends to re-establish, fo r its ow n benefit, the “ jealousy” o f the gods
toward all overweening greatness; every crim inal is to the d ty what
“ presumption” is to the divine Justice celebrated by the poets.
It was by this roundabout way that the penal thought o f the
Greeks worked out concepts com parable to the Jewish concepts of
g u ilt T h e sacred character o f the d ty was what kept Greek penal
thought within the field where it could b e com pared to the notions
that Jewish piety worked out after the Exile.

3. Scrupulousness

T he second direction in w hich the consdousness o f guilt breaks

out is that o f the delicate and scrupulous consdence. Adhering to
our practice o f capturing each o f the m ost fundamental possibilities
o f experience in an especially d ea r exam ple, w e d o n ot hesitate
to seek in Pharisaism both the birthplace o f this m odality o f con­
sdousness and the summit o f its perfection.
T h e Pharisees constitute the crux o f that movem ent o f thought
which goes from Ezra (that is, from the return from the E xile)
to the com position o f the Talm ud (that is to say, to d ie first a x
centuries o f our o ra ). It was they w h o gave to Judaism the char­
acter w hich it still has today; and it is to them that Christianity
and Islam ow e their existence ( if on ly because Judaism offered
to S t Paul the most perfect expression o f that w hich he was to
reject most forcefu lly).
W e shall try to disengage whatever is paradigm atic in this
pedagogical adventure fo r our history o f types o f g u ilt T h e fact
that it is specifically Jewish ought n ot to stop us, on ce it was fo r
the benefit o f all “ nations” — that is to say, o f all mankind—that
the Pharisees thought o f their people “ as a kingdom o f priests and
a holy nation.” T h e universalism o f this experience must b e sought
far precisely in its particularism . W hat benefit, then, does Pharisa­
ism offer to all m en?
I t is posable to approach the core o f tins experience b y taking
as our point o f departure certain traits o f the Biblical religion with
w hich we are already fam iliar. W ithout in any w ay underestimat­
ing the novelty o f d ie Judaism o f the Second T em ple in com pari­
son with th e H ebrew thought o f the epoch o f the Prophets, from
Amos to Jeremiah, w e must grant w ithout hesitation that the
Judaism “ o f the scribes and Pharisees” has deep m ots in propheti-
rism itself and, through it, in the strictly M osaic aspects o f the
religious experience o f pre-exilic and exilic Israel.8 From the be­
ginning and, n o doubt, from M oses, whatever that legislator and
leader o f his people m ay have been, the unique adventure o f
Israel is tied to an ethics and, inversely, that ethics, virtually uni­
versal, is tied to an adventure that separates Israel from other
peoples. W e have already insisted on this double character. O n the
one hand, the monotheism o f Israel is an ethical m onotheism : d ie
giving o f the Law dominates the exodus from Egypt, the sojourn
in the wilderness, the settlement in C anaan; the Prophets give an
ethical meaning to the catastrophe that they see earning; all the
historical experience o f Israel is interpreted in ethical terms. But,
on the other hand, the monotheism o f Israel is a historical m on­
otheism : the giving o f the Law is not abstract and non-tem poral;
it is bound u p, in the H ebrew consciousness, w ith the representa­
tion o f an "even t," d ie exodus from Egypt, the “ going up” out o f
the “ house o f bondage.” Consequently, the ethics itself is historical
through and through; it is the ethics o f a chosen people. T h at is
why also the w hole o f the symbolism o f sin and repentance is
itself a “ historical” symbol that draws its “ types” from certain
significant events (captivity-deliverance) .
A s a result o f this bond between “ ethics” and “ history,” the
Law , fo r the Jew, could never be w holly rationalized and uni­
versalized, in a sort o f non-tem poral, m oral deism ; because it is
bound up w ith events, the Law is itself a sort o f event o f con­
science, a factum ; the sign c f the distinction o f Israel am ong the
peoples is that it has the Law , this Law . T h e Deuteranom ist pro­
claims w ith p ride: “ W hat great nation is there that has just laws
and ordinances like all this Law that I set before you this day?”

8 S. W . Baron, A Social and R eligious H istory o f the Jaws, 2d ed. (New

Y ork, 1952). T he first tw o volumes o f this monumental w ork in right vol­
umes are devoted to the period from d ie origins to the Talm ud.
(D eut. 4 :8 ) . This Law cannot be reduced to a form al structure
o f the universal conscience; it clings to the historical figure, the
cultural patron, interpreted by the theology o f history o f d ie
Biblical w riters; and so its structure is ineluctably contingent. Thus
the specific ethical character that Judaism w ill have is fine*
shadowed at the beginning. A s a great historian o f Judaism says,
from the initial historical m onotheism proceeds “ the distinction
between the 613 laws regulating the behavior o f the Jew and the
6 or 7 fundam ental duties enjoined upon all the sans a f N oah”
(S . W . Baron, A Social and Religious H istory o f th e Jews, VoJL
I , p. 1 2 ). T h e coherent and thoroughgoing heteronom y o f the
Pharisees is inscribed in the “ historical” character o f the m onothe­
ism that successive legislators placed under tire authority o f M oses
and that M oses him elf n o doubt founded.
T h e Prophets presuppose this ethical and historical monotheism.
T h o r challenges and their fulm inations are n ot directed against
it essentially, but against its being forgotten in times o f historical
success, in consequence o f social injustice as w ell as o f concessions
to the religious syncretism o f the surrounding w orld. T h e great
work o f “ casuistry,” w hich was to b e characteristic o f the scribes
o f the Exile and the Return, must have begun before the Exile.
In contrast to the conceptualization and the systematization o f
Rom an law, the Jewish m ind was already proceeding by w ay o f
“ a large collection o f typical cases hum w hich judges and students
could draw analogies” (S. W . Baron, ibid., p . 8 0 ). Thus, w hat is
called Jewish legalism, although it is rather a genius fo r jurispru­
dence, develops traits w hich were strongly adumbrated before the
Exile. Before the Exile, also, the abortive reform o f Jonah, to
which we ow e the D euteronom ic legislation, is the first coherent
anticipation o f the attempt o f the Pharisees to m ake a whole
people, corporately and individually, lead an actual and effectively
practical existence under the Law and by the Law . B ut Deuter­
onom y still hovers at a distance from the real, like a utopia o f
daily life. T he endeavor o f the Pharisees and th e ir scribes w ill be
precisely to inscribe in reality this life under the Law and by the
Law.
 It was during the E xile and, consequently, at the time o f the
final Uaze o f prophecy, w ith Ezekiel and Jeremiah, that Israel
conceived the p roject o f an effectively practical existence in obedi­
en ce; the E xile created a situation com parable to that o f the
Egyptian captivity and the sojourn in the desert, a situation that
m ight be called essentially M osaic. It was during the Exile that
Israel cam e to understand itself as a weak and despised people
according to the canons o f historical and political success, bid:
great and blessed b y the L a w ; the L aw w ould henceforth give to
the individual Jew and t o the Jewish people their definite profile.
I t was because the w ay was prepared in the old M osaic spirit*
th at Nehem iah cou ld return to Jerusalem w ith a troop o f exiles,
revive the ruins o f Israel, rebuild the Tem ple, and one day set
the scribe Ezra to read “ tire bode o f the Law o f M oses prescribed
by the Eternal to Israel” (N eh. 8 :1 ) . T h e question m ay b e de­
bated whether the book w hich was read “ from the m orning until
m idday,” and w hich even then learned men "explained” to the
people to “ make them understand” what had been read, was only
Leviticus or the w hole o f the Pentateuch (o r at least large sections
o f the Five Books o f M oses). W hat is certain is that Ezra opened
an historical epoch o f conscience “ as im portant as the rise o f
prophecy, and only less im portant than the w ork o f M oses.” 10
T his epoch is that w hich is properly called the religion o f the
T orah. (W e shall return later to this w ord and its Greek transla­
tion, H om os, L aw .) I t is n o longer the tim e o f inspired and im­
pulsive men preaching in the desert, but the tim e o f colleges o f
students and exegetes o f the L a w ; n o longer the tim e o f creation,
hut that o f interpretation; n or o f challenge, but o f the reconstruc­
tion and direction o f life. Neither is it the tim a o f the unlim ited
dem and, hut that o f m inute and detailed practice, according to

* A n im portant lin k between the Prophets and the Pharisees was, n o

doubt, the group o r order o f Hassidim, those “ pious ones,” those vigil-
keepeis, dose to the Levites and the Prophets, w ho taught penitence, ritual
as w ell as m oral, and p racticed the discipline o f nocturnal prayer. They
were already “ separated ones,” as the Pharisees' were to be ( “ Pharisee” =
separated). A . Nfiher, Essence du prophitism e, pp. 2 6 4 -7 6 , 29 4-9 5.
10 R . Travers H erford, T he Pharisees (N ew Y ork, 1 9 2 4 ), p . 18.
circumstances and cases.11 It was this w edge o f intransigence
driven into the Persian Empire, and then the Seleudd Empire,
and then the H om an, that guaranteed the survival o f the Jewish
people and the com plete manifestation o f the meaning o f its task.
But there was needed fo r this purpose a people that believed
itself set apart, cut o ff from the nations by the Law , and at the
same time internally united by the Law .1*
As to the Pharisees themselves, it w ould be a great mintaVp to
reduce their role to that o f a sect opposed to the sect o f the
Sadducees (as such they hardly appear before the end o f the
second century b .c .) and involved in the trial o f Jesus. They are
the crucial factor in the whole spiritual history that unfolds from
Ezra to the com pilers o f the Talm ud, and the educators o f the
Jewish people even to this day. T hat is why a phenom enological
study o f the scrupulous conscience cannot neglect their testimony.
T h e Pharisees are first o f all and essentially men o f the Torah.1*
And im m ediately a preconceived idea com es into our m inds: men
o f the T orah can m ean only men o f legalism, m oral slavery, hard­
ness o f heart, literalism. I f that judgm ent were true, the Pharisees
cou ld have n o part in an elucidation o f ty p ica l experiences, con­
cepts, and sym bols; they w ould belong only to m oral teratology. I f
w e rank their experience w ith the ethico-juridical conception o f
the Greeks and the ethico-theological conception o f S t Paul, it is
because w e see in them the purest representatives o f an irreducible
ty p e o f m oral experience, in whom every man can recognize one
o f the fundam ental possibilities o f his own humanity.
But to make contact with this type, we must traverse a forest o f
prejudices.
Legalism ? But first w e should have to understand the w ord

u “ Thus legalistic accusation took the place o f inspired denunciations”

(Baron, op. eit., I , p . 2 2 6 ).
11 Thronghonl his w ork, S. W . Baron, in a perhaps equivocal manner,
interprets this fundam ental option as a choice in favor o f the “ artificial and
contrary to nature” (I , p . 164).
“ G eoige F oot M oore, Judaism in the First Centuries of the Christian
Era (H arvard University Press, 1927-90, 3 v o ls .); on revelation as Torah,
see V oL I , pp. 235-80. See also J. Bonsirven, Le Judaisms Palestinian an
temps da Jisus-Christ (Paris, 1934, 2 v o ls.), V oL I , pp. 247—307, and M .
J. Lagrange, Le Judaisms avant Jisus-Christ (Paris, 1931).
tcrrah in the same w ay as the Pharisees themselves understood it.
T h e Seventy translated it b y vopoe; S t Paul also says vo/un",
and vo/toc gave lex and “ law” in all the m odem languages. But
w e com e after R om an law and the great ju ridical systematiza­
tions that issued from the Larin m ind, and fo r us law is abstract,
universal, and w ritten; w e represent the scrupulous conscience to
ourselves as follow in g w ith its finger a set o f rules built u p by the
systematic arrangement o f general precepts. T h e Torah o f the
Pharisees is certainly a book, the L aw o f M oses, the Pentateuch;
but w h at makes the Law law is that it is an instruction from the
Lard. T orah means teaching, instruction, and n ot law . T h e law
o f the T orah is both religious and eth ical: ethical because it de­
mands, com m ands; religious because it is a transparent deliverance
o f the w ill o f G od w ith regard to m en. T h e w hole problem fo r
the Pharisees was th is: H ow w ill G od b e truly served in this w orld?
I t is here that one encounters the classic accusation o f m oral
servility. T h at the m orality o f the Pharisees is a heteronom y is
beyond doubt; but it is a thoroughgoing heteronom y. In poring
the problem , H ow to d o the w ill o f G od ?, the Pharisees w ere con­
fronted w ith the failure o f the great Prophets, w ith their power­
lessness to change their people, w ith the fa ct o f the E xile, w hich,
according to the com m on opinion, was the chastisement o f Israel.
H ence, they wished to realize the ethics o f the Prophets in an
ethics o f detail. T h e task this tim e is to give practical realization
to the T orah in ah sectors o f existence, ritual and ethical, fam ily
and com m unal, penal and economic^ and in the smallest circum ­
stances. Pharisaism is this trill to follow heteronom y all the w ay to
th e end, to stake daily existence w ithout reserve on the “ statutes
o f G od.” Such thoroughgoingness transforms heteronom y into an
obedience accepted and w illed unconditionally; the abdication o f
freedom o f choice becom es the suprem e assertion o f the wilL
Psalms 19 and 119 are the m ost beautiful lyrical witnesses that
w e have o f this joyous abandonm ent o f the w ill to direction by
the L aw :
I re jo ice in follow in g thy precepts,
As if I possessed a ll treasures.
119:14
 I deligh t in thy com m andm ents,
I lov e them .
119:47
T h y w ord is a lam p unto m y feet
and a light on m y path.
119:105
T h e law o f Y ahw eh is perfect,
converting the soul;
the testim ony o f Yahweh is sure,
m aking w ise the sim ple.

T h e precepts o f Yahw eh are right,

rejoicin g the heart;
the com m andm ent o f Yahweh is pure,
enlightening the eyes.

T h e fear o f the L ord is d ea n ,

enduring forever;
the judgm ents o f Yahw eh are true
and righteous altogether,

m ore to b e desired than gold,

yea, than th e finest g o ld ;
his w ords are sweeter than honey
and the honeycom b.
1 9 :7 -1 0

T h is ten dern ess o f d e v o tio n is su rely n o t u n rela ted t o th e fe e lin g

fo r frie n d sh ip a n d m u tu a l, fra te rn a l a id th a t o n e tak es p lea su re
in re co g n izin g in th e P h arisees a n d th a t ju stifies o n e o f th e ir best
in terp reters in sp eak in g erf th e “ u rb a n ity ” o f th e P harisees.14 T h e

14 Louis Finkelstein, T he Pharisees; th e Sociological Background o f T heir

Faith (Philadelphia, 1940, 2 v o ls .): “ It was this paradoxical com bination
o f religious passion and intellectual objectivity w hich differentiated Pharisaic
tolerance from that affected by som e o f the Sadducees” ( I , p . 1 0 ). The
Pharisees, according to him , show the reaction o f the plebeians— mare
exactly, the urban plebeians-—against the patricians, represented at that
tim e by th e Sadducees ( “ The Sadducean influence radiated from the
Tem ple, the Pharisaic from the market place,” ibid., p . 8 1 ). This would
explain likewise their (elation to the Prophets, for the latter must have
belonged to the same social levels ( “ The main thesis emerging out o f tins
analysis is that d ie prophetic, Pharisaic and rabbinic traditions were the
products o f a persistent cultural battle, carried on in Palestine fo r fifteen
Pharisean m ovem ent represents one erf the most significant victories
o f lay understanding over the haughty and illiterate dogmatism
o f the priests and the great ones erf this w orld. This trait gives
diem a singular resemblance to many erf the “ wise men” erf G reece,
to the Pythagoreans, and also to som e erf the lesser Socratics,
Cynics and others.
These remarks m ake us ready to regard with some suspicion the
last and gravest accusation against the Pharisees, that o f killing the
spirit by the letter. W hat the Pharisees, o r certain Pharisees, were
is one thing; what they wished to be is another. N ow , w hat they
tried to set up is exactly d ie opposite o f a monum ent o f literalism ;
since the great thing, according to them , is to “ fulfill” the Law
and the Prophets, it is n ot possible to cling to the Scriptures— that
is to say, t o the written Torah— as a relic o f the past. It was pre­
cisely on this point that they broke w ith the Sadducees. Against
the Sadducees, they aim ed to raise the oral tradition to the rank
o f Torah— w hich they called unwritten Torah—-in order to make
use o f it as a divine teaching, actual and living, able to serve as
guide and interpreter w ith respect to the written text o f the
Pentateuch. T h is aim is the consequence o f the m ajor option o f
Pharisaism: if the T orah is a teaching addressed here and now
to the Jewish m an by G od him self, and n ot an abstract system o f

centuries, between the submerged, unlanded groups, and their oppressors,

the great landowners,” ibid., p . 2 ). T he same sort o f explanation can he
given far the co-operative spirit o f the Pharisees, their patience, their
leniency in penal m atters, and especially th eir passion for study ( “ This
devotion to intellectual pursuits is essentially urban . . . the dom inant
characteristic o f Pharisaism was study, that o f Sadducism was contem pt far
scholarship,” ibid., p . 9 7 ). Finkelstein attempts also— w ith less success, in
my opinion— to explain the content o f some o f the theses m aintained by
the Pharisees about Providence and free w ill, angelology and the resur­
rection o f the dead. M ore interesting is the application o f his thesis to the
understanding o f the Pharisees1 battle on tw o fronts: o n the one hand, tile
battle fo r the oral tradition, in w hich Finkelstein discovers a “ plebeian
interpretation o f the Torah” (I , p. 7 4 ), against the conservatism o f the
priests and patricians; on the other hand, the battle fo r a stricter observance
of tire rules o f L evitical purity by the whole people, w hich pu t them in
opposition to the “provincials,” the am ha-aretz, w ho becam e in their eyes
not only peasants, bu t pagans. Like all sociological explanations, Finkel-
stein’s accounts fo r the social impact o f the doctrine, bu t not fo r its origin,
as fo r as its meaning is concerned.
m orality, if religion consists in doing the w ill o f G od here and
now , then the T orah must be living and actu al N ow , life creates
situations, circumstances, cases, on which die written Torah is mute;
and so an interpretation is needed, faithful and creative at the same
tim e, that can be considered as the disclosure o f the Torah of
Moses, although not written. That, quite precisely, is where the
ethico-religious pedagogy o f the scribes and Pharisees takes its
stand: they “ study” and “ teach” d ie Torah. Starting w ith the
conviction that there is no sector o f life in w hich there is n o oc­
casion or obligation to do the w ill o f G od (m itzvah) , they ask
what is the right w ay in tins particular case, what is d ie unwritten
T orah fo r this particular case. T h e “ wise men” d o n ot invent it,
they find it; and the solution does n ot becom e an official derision—
halachah18— until after consultation am ong masters and ratification
by a m ajority. T hen the halachah is “ fixed,” although it can stiD
be amended or suppressed by another halachah. T h e w hole body o f
these halachoth constitutes the legislation that is binding upon die
com munity o f those w ho seek to live in accordance with the Torah.
Thus the Torah becam e inexhaustible, plastic and not static; the
T orah interpreted by means o f exegesis and casuistry was a living
source o f instruction far each and fo r alL A s soon as tw o prim s
were granted— that there is a halachah fo r every circumstance, and
that the oral ordinances that explicate the written T orah are the
unwritten Torah,— the interpretation o f the T orah becam e un­
lim ited. A ccording to the remark o f a later rabbi: “ W hatever an
acute disciple shall hereafter teach in the presence o f his Rabbi
has already been said to M oses on Sinai” (cited by Travers H er-
ford , op. cii., p . 8 5 ).

L et us attempt now to work out the “ type” exem plified by the

u B an orven defines halachah thus: “D ecision, rule having the force of
law, considered in itself w ithout any reference to Scripture . . . , the law
in its ju ridical part?’ (o p . c ii., p . 2 9 3 ). T h e author gives, on tins occasion,
a good exposition o f the exegetic and herm eneutic rales o f the scribes and
rabbis (ib id , pp. 2 9 5 -3 0 3 ). Travers H erford stresses the opposition between
the im perative character o f the halachah. as a “ specific declaration o f the
divine w ill applicable to a given case” (p . 7 3 ), and tile free and non-
constraining character o f the haggadah, w hich denotes everything which is
not o f the order o f precepts in the Torah.
experience o f Pharisaism (and, in general, o f Judaism ) and to
mate, m anifest d ie dimension proper to this type o f guilt.
W e have said that the core o f this type o f experience is scrupu­
lousness; and it is w ith scrupulousness also that w e shall fink the
particular fin d o f guilt that seems to us to attach itself to this type.
Scrupulousness can he characterized as a general regim e o f thor­
oughgoing and voluntary heteronom y. Judaism expresses this heter-
anom y by saying that the T orah is revelation and that the revela­
tion is T orah. T h e T orah is revelation: in the language o f Judaism,
M oses knew all the L aw that was com m unicated to him “ from
m outh to mouth” (N um . 1 2 :6 -8 ), “ face to face” (D eut. 3 4 :1 0 ),
so that hermeneutics can only b e the explication, by means o f an
ongoing lustary, o f an instruction that itself has n o history, o r at
least that has only one history, that o f the absolute event o f the
“ giving o f the Law” ; b u t that instruction took place in the past,
it is com plete and definitive; indeed, it can he called older than
the w orld, if it is true that it is identical w ith the “ W isdom ” cele­
brated in the books erf w isdom ; the oral law that explicates it,
whether it b e hallow ed custom , o r a produ ct o f B iblical exegesis,
o r the decrees o f casuistry, is itself placed at the service o f that
prim ordial wisdom . But if the T orah is revelation, reciprocally the
revelation is T ora h : the heart o f the G od-m an relation is an
instruction concerning w hat is to b e d on e; even if this instruction
is m ore than law , it is inscribed in a voluntaristic context: G od is
ethical and the band between m an and G od is a bond o f obedience
to instruction.
From these tw o reciprocal propositions—the T orah is revelation
and the revelation is T orah —are derived all the traits o f scrupu­
lousness and o f the consciousness o f guilt that is characteristic o f
scrupulousness. F or the scrupulous conscience the com m andm ent
is “ holy, right, and good” ; the com m andm ent is the past absolute
o f such a conscience, the com pleted revelation o f its m eaning, al­
though tins revelation in the past is accessible only b y means o f
custom , exegesis, and casuistry, intelligent and hum ble, w hich are
the living present o f scrupulousness. T h e fundam ental option o f the
scrupulous conscience is thus exactly ihe reverse o f that <rf a
hazarded existence, in the sense o f the “ glorious liberty o f the
children o f G od” according to S t Paul, or the “ love and d o what
you w ill” o f S t Augustine. But its greatness is that it is heterano-
mous right t o the end, that it is obedient to the divine teaching
in all things, in spite o f everything, and in every detail: in all
things—that is to say, without reservation o f any sector o f existence;
in spite o f everything— that is to say, without taking in to account
adverse situations, the interdiction o f a prince, the obstacles fire-
sented by foreign manners and customs, or, finally, persecution;
in every detail—that is to say, giving as m uch im portance to litde
things as to great ones. T he scrupulous conscience, because it is
heteronomous right to the end, is happy; it finds its happiness in
doing w ithout reserve that w hich is in its eyes the instruction of
G od here and n ow ; it is dependent, but not alienated; fo r it is not
“ outside itself,” but "w ithin,” since its heteronomy is consistent
and willed.
W hat, now , is the peculiar contribution o f scrupulousness to the
consciousness o f fault?
Everything attained by the scrupulous conscience lies within the
dimension o f “ transgression” ;16 and that, n o doubt, is d ie reason
fo r the subtle narrowing o f the scrupulous conscience. But before
speaking o f its narrowness, w e must recognize its depth ; fa r its
narrowness is the exact counterpart o f its depth.
Scrupulousness is the advanced point o f guilt, in the sense that
it carries to the extrem e the tw o traits that w e started to analyze
at the beginning o f this chapter: the personal im putation o f evil
and the polarity o f the just man and the wicked m an. Accusation
against the individual as the seat o f guilt is, as w e know , the fruit
o f the teaching, o f Jeremiah and Ezekiel; Pharisaism extends this
preaching o f the last great prophets. A t the same tim e, its con­
fession o f tins com es to express itself in the great penitential poetry
o f the Psalms, w hich becom e, in the setting o f the synagogue, the
liturgy o f the delicate conscience; and it is in thorn that scruple
finds its preferred language, its particular happiness. T ie qppoti-

16 M oore, Judaism, VaL I , pp. 4 4 3 -5 5 2 : M an, Sin, A tonem ent. In that

study one w ill find a ll the necessary analyses concerning deliberate viola­
tions, transgressions through ignorance o r inadvertence, and the correspond­
in g types o f expiation.
tion o f the just and the w icked is n ot an invention o f the Pharisees
either, hut the ultim ate outcom e o f the idea o f degrees in gu ilt; if
there is a m are and a less in “ transgression,” the just and the
wicked mark the extremes on this scale o f intensity o f values. But
the Pharisees further accentuated this sense o f m oral polarity to
the extent that they m ade observance o f the Law not only an ideal
lim it but a practical program fo r livin g; the im possible maximum
o f perfection is the background fo r the attainable optim um o f
justice; nothing is dem anded o f a m an that he cannot do.
T he language o f gu ilt bears the stamp o f this ethico-religious
experience in the idea o f m erit (za ch u th ), w hich, says Travers
H erford, is “ constantly used in the R abbinical literature, [although
it] does n ot occu r in the O ld Testament” (o p . eit., p . 1 2 5 ). T his
author has perceived clearly the coherence o f the idea o f m erit
with the w hole o f Pharisaism: the G od o f Judaism is n ot beyond
good and ev il; he is the very foundation o f the relation between
religion and m orality; to say that G od is just is to profess this
foundation; on the other hand, the distinction is n ot something to
be contem plated, but “ to b e realized by man” ; it is immediately
“ practical” and n ot speculative: “ Be h oly ; fo r I , Yahweh, your
G od, am holy” (L ev. 1 9 :2 ). Consequently there is an intrinsic
difference between a m an w ho does what is good and a m an w ho
does w hat is e v il; the one is pleating to G od , the other is n o t N ow ,
this character o f b a n g pleating to G od does n ot rem ain external
to a m an, defined by his practical relation to the holiness o f G od ;
it adds something to his personality, to his inm ost existence. This
something is “ m erit.” M erit is the im print o f the ju st a ct; it is, w e
m ight say, a m odification o f the good w ill; it is an increase in the
worth o f a m an, issuing h orn the w orth o f his acts. A second idea
is added, in the notion o f m erit, to the idea o f an increase in
personal w orth, nam ely, its connection w ith the idea o f “ rew ard.”
T h is old idea o f “ reward” is foun d everywhere in the O ld Testa­
ment, and the N ew Testam ent does n ot repudiate it (M a t. 6 :4 and
12; 1 0 :4 2 ). In the O ld Testam ent it oscillates between tem poral
success, intim ate enjoym ent o f the presence o f G od , here and now ,
and expectation o f an eschatological fulfillm en t N one o f these
dungs is peculiarly Fharisean. W hat is peculiar to Pharisaism, it
seems, is the connection o f the idea o f “ reward” w ith the idea o f
“ merit” : to have m erit is to m erit som ething; it is to m erit a
rew ard; conversely, the reward is the reward o f m erit In an ethical
vision o f the w orld like that o f the Pharisees, where to do the w ill
o f G od is greater than anything else, it is a blessing to have the
Law and, w ith it, opportunities fo r obedience (rm ttvoth) and the
possibility o f acquiring m erit This is another way o f saying that the
obedient man is “ happy,” that he has “ found life,” that he has
obtained the “ favor o f G od” (P rov. 8 :3 4 -3 5 ).
If, then, “ m erit” expresses the new conceptualization that
Pharisaism developed in carrying on the tw o themes o f personal
im putation and the polarity o f the just and the wicked, the explicit
contribution o f Pharisaism to the idea o f guilt can b e expected to
be something like the contrary o f m erit O bjectively sin is trans­
gression; subjectively guilt is the loss o f a degree o f w orth; it is
perdition itself. In the language o f “ reward” it can be said, w ith
one o f the “wise men” o f Judaism : “ T h e reward o f a m itzvah is
a m itzvah; and the reward o f a tin is a tin” (quoted by T . H er-
ford , op. eit., p. 1 28 ). W hat is lost is what is subtracted from exist­
ence, as m erit is an increase o f life. Proverbs had already said:
‘ T o r he w ho finds m e finds life ; h e w ill obtain the favor o f Yahweh.
But he w h o offends m e injures his ow n soul; w hoever hates m e
cherishes death” (8 :3 5 -3 6 ).
Pharisaism (and, in general, the spirit o f the scribes, d ie sages,
and the rabbis) is n ot turned toward speculation, and s o w e must
n ot look fo r any theoretical elaboration o f all these notions. Never­
theless, w hat underlies this ethical vision o f the w orld is the idea o f
a liberty entirely responsible and always at its ow n disposal This
notion is n ot w orked ou t as such, but it is im plicit in various
themes, o f a practical rather than a speculative character, w hich
are foun d in all the rabbinical literature. T h e first o f these is the
theme o f the tw o “ inclinations” (o r yetzer) : 1T man is subject to

M For the theory o f the tw o "inclinations” o r “ im aginations,'’ betides

the authors already cited (M oore, pp. 47 9-9 3, H erford, Bonsirven, Lagrange,
e tc .), see Norman Pow ell W illiams, li t a s o f the Fall and o f Original Sin
(N ew Y ork and Toronto, 1 9 2 7 ); Chap. H , entitled “ The Adam Story and
the Evil Imagination,” traces tile history o f this symbol from Genesis 6 :5
and 8 :2 1 , through Ecclesiasticu* 1 5 :1 1 -1 7 and 2 7 :5 -6 , down to the
the duality o f tw o tendencies, tw o impulses— a good inclination and
an evil inclination. T h e latter— yetzer ha-ra— is im planted by the
Creator in m an; it is one Of the things that G od has m ade and
o f w id th he has said that th ey w ere “ m y good .” T h e evil inclina­
tion, then, is n ot a radical evil, engendered by m an, from w hich
h e is radically powerless to free him self; it is rather a permanent
tem ptation that gives opportunity fo r the exercise o f freedom o f
choice, an obstacle to be transform ed in to a springboard. “ E vil
inclination” does n ot m ake sin something irreparable.
This interpretation is confirm ed b y th e Jewish literature con­
cerning “ repentance.” I t has been remarked that the O ld Testa­
m ent has n o abstract w ord fo r repentance, but the sym bol o f
“ return.” I t was Judaism that raised it to the rank erf a genuine
concept, m aking it the keystone o f Jewish piety.M N ow , “ repent­
ance” belongs to the same them atic universe as transgression and
m erit, and it is n o accident that it was precisely Judaism that laid
amphams on this con cep t F or "repentance” signifies that “ return”
to G od, freely chosen, is always open t o m an ; and the exam ple o f
great and im pious m en w h o have “ returned” to the Eternal attests
that it is always possible fo r a m an t o “ change his way.” T his
emphasis on repentance is in conform ity with the interpretation
o f “ evil inclination” as occasion o f a n and n ot as radical evil. T h e
ethical universe o f Pharisaism is already that o f Pelagius: no great
contrasts, as in Paul, Augustine, an d Luther, between radical evil*1 8

rabbinical literature. From the beginning this notion oscillates between the
voluntary and the involuntary, the responsible and the irresponsible, fault
and weakness, m an's share and G od’s share; it is im printed in the heart o f
every man, although it cannot be called hereditary; it is evil because it
Inclines to evil, but it can be used fo r good. N . P. W illiam s sees in it an,
alternative to the theme o f the fall o f A dam ; he judges that Jesus' words
about the evil heart o f m an are com patible w ith the theory o f the yetzer
harm and that it was St. Paul w ho gave precedence to the A dam ic theory.
18G . F. M oore, Judaism, V oL I , pp. 507 ff.t repentance is both “ turning
back” and “ being sorry” ; it is also making amends and having the firm
resolve to renew one’s obedience, and sometimes it is also suffering fo r the
sake o f atonem ent I t should be remarked, in this connection, that the
ritual atonem ent described by Leviticus never excused from repentance;
that is why Judaism could -survive the disappearance o f the Tem ple and
the discontinuance o f the sacrificial c u lt C f. G . F . M oore, ibid., V oL I ,
pp. 497-506.
and radical deliverance, but a slow and progressive process of
salvation, in w hich “ pardon” is not lacking to “ repentance,” grace
to the good w ill.
Such is the greatness o f scrupulousness, o f its sense o f guilt, and
o f its sense o f responsibility. A s to the lim itation o f the scrupulous
conscience, it is to b e sought fo r nowhere else than in that which
is the principle o f its greatness;, nam ely, the thoroughgoing am]
freely accepted heteronom y that defines it. A nd this limitation,
w hich was ignorant o f itself, was to give rise to a new peripeteia
o f the guilty conscience—that w hich S t Paul brought to light in
his tw o letters to the Rom ans and to the Galatians. In itself and
fo r itself, that lim itation is n ot yet guilt, but constitutes a part of
the training in holiness and consequently o f th e quest fa r innocence
that characterizes the “ type” o f the scrupulous conscience.
T o locate the point o f deflection, i f one may so call it, o f the
scrupulous conscience, we m ust start from that w h ich appeared
essential to the doctors o f Pharisaism, nam ely, the elaboration o f
an oral tradition that could keep the written T orah alive and that
could be taken in its turn fo r an aspect o f the eternal T orah which
had been taught to M oses. A ctually, by attaching itself to the
written Torah, the oral Torah not only profits by the sacred
character o f the latter, but projects upon it the procedure b y which
the tradition was constituted. N ow , in w hat does the work of
interpretation that the sages pursued during the centuries when
they were “ fixing” the halachah consist? Essentially in a judicatory
activity, in jurisprudential labors. It remains true that it was tins
judicatory activity, this long discipline o f the faculty o f judgment,
this cultivation o f m oral correctness or exactitude, which main­
tained the T orah as a living instruction and fashioned the Jewish
character practically and effectively. But, conversely, it appears
that the T orah, although it is teaching rather than law , became
dependent on the essentially definitive and legislative operation of
the sages; and it was tins operation w hich in fa ct becam e divinized
under the title o f unwritten T orah. Thus the unwritten Torah
guaranteed and placed to o high a value an a precise and limbed
type o f relation between man and the divine, namely, correctness
o f judgm ent, discernment, w hich is the soul o f casuistry. T h at this
discernment was exercised by the sages o f the Fhaiisean school w ith
die zeal o f obedience;, and fo r the sole purpose o f recognizing d ie
will o f G od in all circumstances, is now indubitable. Nevertheless,
it remains true that the sages divinized casuistic discernment and
thus placed h in the same rank as the undivided and unlim ited
call o f d ie Prophets to perfection and holiness.
It w ill b e objected that the halachah does n ot cover the w hole
interpretation o f the T orah, but only its im perative part, and that
the kaggadah covers all that w hich is n ot o f the order o f precepts;
it was there that the sages gave free rein to their m editations and
to then: Imagination, em ploying the freer form s o f story, parable,
and fantasy. O nly a Jew experienced in the double play o f halachah
and haggadah can say h ow they are fitted together in the m entality
at Judaism. It remains true, nevertheless, that the m ost fervent
rehabilitations o f the Pharisees d o n ot deny that the halachah is
binding and the haggadah free, that the first is m ore coherent and
the second m ore im provised, that the first is submitted to collegiate
judgm ent and the second is left to opinion and im agination; that
the Pharisees w ere'lay preachers and n ot theologians; that, m ore­
over, they m ade scarcely any innovation in speculative theology;
and, finally, that the Pharisees are m en o f a practical religion ; so
that, in the end, Pharisaism stakes its fate on the halachah,M
T hat is the p oin t: if the Pharisees have been the educators o f
the human race through the Jewish people, 'their pedagogy shows
dearly the greatness and the lim itation o f the scrupulous con­
science or, m ore exactly, o f religious scruple. Its fundam ental
limitation is that it confines the G od-m an relation to a relation o f
instruction— that is to say, in the last resort, a relation o f a w ill
that com m ands to a w ill that obeys. T his is the very essence o f a
“ practical” religion. N ow , does the w ill to com plete and exact
obedience, even when prom pted by the joyous acceptance o f a

“ “A n d though the H aggadah was its indispensable accom panim ent, yet
h was the H alachah w hich, so to speak, gave the w ord o f com m and. . . .
It was the peculiar genius o f Pharisaism that developed them both, and that
put Halachah first” (Travers H erford, op. cit., p. 18 5 ).
grateful heart, exhaust the dialogal situation expressed o f old by
tibe conjugal symbolism o f the Prophets? Is the bond between G od
and man solely or even essentially "practical” ?
Judaism itself has lived only by that w hich overflows and exceeds
religious praxis. M any authors celebrate the sweetness, yes, the
tenderness, reserved and circum spect, o f the best sages and the
best rabbis; they say how spontaneous in all o f them was the exer­
cise o f justice and friendliness. F or its part, the lyricism o f the
Psalms, w hich nourished the liturgy o f the synagogue long before
it fed the liturgy o f the Christian churches, expresses all the more
than “ practical” aspects o f the Hialnga.1 situation w hich is the
background fo r the teaching o f the Torah.
But if w e put in question the “ tradition o f the Ancients” (M ark
7 :1 -1 3 ), w hich impresses its juridical style on all the relations of
the human to the divine, how far back must we trace the origin of
this aberration? O nly to the oral tradition? But did not the written
law issue from a like process? Is it not evident that very early in
the history o f Israel the M osaic aspect o f the dialogal situation was
overvalued? T h e lim itation o f all scrupulous conscientiousness
seems to m e to be exem plified b y what I should like to call the
construction o f a M osaic fantasy: M oses is placed above all the
Prophets; it is granted that he knew all the law fo r all times and
fo r all m en, and that the Prophets only repeated it; all the succes­
sive legislations— the D ecalogue, Deuteronom y, Leviticus— are at­
tributed to h im ; lastly, the oral law itself is absorbed into the
M osaic revelation. Thus all the m odalities and all the stages o f the
religious experience are contracted into the figure o f th e legislator
and into the single event o f the giving o f the Law . This absorption
o f all the outbursts o f prophecy into the M osaic figure seems to m e
to be the key to the form ation o f any scrupulous conscience; in
every case you can find this m ovem ent o f contraction o f an actual
tradition into something like an absolute “ event,” by which this
conscience was supposedly given to itself in the past; this gift o f its
ethos plays fo r it the role o f a Torah, a divine instruction; tire
scrupulous conscience swears to be faithful, with understanding,
zeal, humility, and joy , to this divine instruction in which, to its
eyes, its absolute O rigin is summed up. Its wholehearted fidelity is
its greatness; the M osaic fantasy (o r whatever takes its p lace) is its
limitation. But this lim itation is n ot experienced as a fau lt; it is an
integral part o f that technique o f innocence, that cultivation o f
justice, the purpose o f w hich is precisely to reduce guilt.
W ith this schema o f ju rididzation, w hich I see represented in
Judaism by what I have called the M osaic fantasy, w e can connect
certain other trails that w ill enrich o u r description o f scrupulous­
ness. T h e first is the coincidence o f ritual and m orality in scrupu­
lousness.80
Scrupulousness could as w ell have been defined as a ritualization
o f the m oral life or a moralizatian o f ritual; but this trait cannot
b e grasped directly. W hy, in the scrupulous conscience, does one see
a certain esoteridsm that is characteristic o f ritual take over, step
by step, every obligation that must be perform ed thus and not
otherwise, w hile rites receive an accent o f obligation that confers
upon them the sense o f a duty? T h e historidst and progressivist
interpretation, according to w hich the Judaism o f the second
Tem ple fe ll back to a bygone stage o f the m oral consciousness, to
the archaism o f the pure and the im pure, is n ot sufficient; it ac­
counts at best fo r the origin o f the ritual content, but n ot fo r the
decisive fa c t that those archaic m odes o f behavior w ere resumed
after the ethicaj stage represented b y prophetidsm . I t seems to m e
that this resum ption, this resurgence o f a post-ethical ritualism, so
to speak, cannot b e understood unless w e take as our point o f de­
parture the p roject o f a consistent and voluntary heteronom y. T h e
esoteridsm o f the rite beam witness to conscience that conscience is
not the source o f the L aw , a p ce the Law is n ot transparent to
rnmgrimeg. In perform ing the rite, the conscience gives p roof o f its
w ill to obey the L aw n ot because it com m ands this rather than
that, but because it makes m anifest the w ill o f G od. Thus the
ritualization o f ethics is a corollary o f its heteronom y: the scrupu-10

10 M oore (o p . eit., V oL I I , p p . 3 ff., 79 ff.) gives a d ea r and com plete

exposition o f this m utual overlapping, in Judaism, o f m oral precepts and
religions “ observances” (circum cision, Sabbath, festivals, pu blic tests, pay­
m ent o f tidies, dietary laws, various purifications).
lous conscience desires to be exact in its accepted dependence, and
the rite is the instrument o f that exactness, which is the ethical
equivalent o f scientific exactness.
It seems to m e, then, that the concern fo r levitical purity can be
understood as an aspect o f the w ill to practical holiness that is at
the heart o f Judaism. Thereby the illum inating exam ple o f Judaism
reveals the w hole m ethod o f scrupulousness: every scrupulous con­
science tests its rigor by the touchstone erf its observances. Perhaps
an ethical life worthy o f that name is not even possible without some
cerem onial, public, dom estic, or private— in short, w ithout some
observance. A t the same tim e, the spirit o f exactness reveals the
dangers peculiar to the scrupulous* conscience: to the danger o f
jurididzation is added the danger erf ritualizatian, when i t begins
to forget the intention o f the com mandment in d ie letter o f the
com mandment. T h e scrupulous conscience is then threatened with
the abolition o f its own intention to obey in attention to the form
o f its obedience. This danger is the price it pays fo r its greatness;
the scrupulous conscience does n ot see it as a fault.
A third trait must be added to this double process o f jurididza-
tion and ritualizatian o f the scrupulous conscience: under the
regim e o f a thoroughgoing and w illing heteronomy, obligation has
an enumerative and cum ulative character opposed to the simplicity
and sobriety o f the com m and to love G od and m en. W hat strikes
the reader w ho penetrates into the rabbinical literature is the in­
cessant m ultiplication o f the collections o f interpretative decrees;
the collection o f halachoth gives the M ishnah, w hich, confronted
w ith the T orah and explicated in its to m , gives the Gemara, which,
joined to the M ishnah, constitutes the Babylonian and Palestinian
Talm ud. N ow this process represents the m ovem ent o f every con­
science fo r w hich commandments d o not cease t o m ultiply; the
scrupulous conscience is an increasingly articulated and subtle con­
science that forgets nothing and adds incessantly to its obligations;
it is a m anifold and sedimented conscience that finds salvation only
in m ovem ent; it accumulates behind itself an enormous past that
makes tradition; it is alive only at its point, at the forw ard end of
tradition, where it “ interprets,” in new circumstances, equivocations
or contradictions. This is not a conscience that begins o r begins
anew, but a conscience that continues and adds to. I f its w ork o f
m inute and often m inuscule innovation stops, the conscience is
caught in the trap o f its ow n tradition, w hich becom es its yoke.
A final trait o f the scrupulous conscience w ill com plete the por­
trait: the scrupulous m an is a “ separated'* m an. W e recall that
"Pharisee” m eans separated; his separation is the reflection, on
the level o f relations to others, o f the separation o f the pure and
the im pure, inherent in the ritualizatian o f the m oral life. O f
course rites bind together a com m unity to w hich they fam ish
symbols as rallying points and as signs o f mutual recogn ition ; but
this internal hand am ong observants does n ot prevent the class o f
observants from being separated from the class o f non-observants
as the pure is separated from the im pure. Thus the Jew am ong
the nations; thus the Pharisee him self am ong the “ provincials,”
the com m on people, the heathen, the am ha-aretz. T hat is w hy the
scrupulous man can safeguard his “ urbanity” only by a consum ing
zeal fo r proselytigm,*1 jn ardor to reduce the separation between
observance and non-observance and to make, o f bis ow n people at
least, “ a kingdom o f saints and a h oly nation.” But the frontier at
strict observance can only b e pushed b ack ; it reappears further on.
T h e scrupulous m an js then placed before the alternative o f fanati­
cism or encystment. Sometimes b e takes the first road (L ouis Finkel-
stein cites same astonishing im precations o f the Pharisees w ith
regard to the am ha-arete, I , 2 4 -3 7 ),“ but m ore often h e takes the
second. T hen he gives u p the attem pt to universalize the m axim o f
his ow n particularity an d becom es fo r others a stumbling block and

91 Louis Ffflkektein join s these tw o traits together: “ it was probably th e

first organization to adm it plebeians an d patricians an a n equal footin g ; and
it -was the first definitely propagandist” (pp. cit., p. 7 5 ).
“ Faithful to his sociological m ethod, the author explains that the laws
o f L evitical purity cou ld b e observed on ly in Jerusalem and its vicin ity:
“Consequently, the w hole nation, except those livin g in o r near Jerusalem,
was Levitically inquire” (p . 2 6 ). M oreover, they w ere suspected o f violating
the law o f tithes, d id n ot know the use o f w riting, e tc .: “ as late as the
M ishnah, com piled three and a h a lf centuries after the organization o f the
society, the term Pharisee was still used as the antonym o f am h a -a r e f
(p . 7 6 ). Is tins a key to the con flict between Jesus an d th e Pharisees?
Rnkelstein suggests that it was (p . 3 2 ), and so does Travers H erford : “ so
far as h e was outside th e Pharisaic circle, h e him self [Jesus] was an
Am -h»-aretz” (p . 2 0 6 ).
fo r hmmelf a solitary. T h is also the scrupulous man cannot regard
as his fau lt; it is the hitter fru it o f his obedience; it is his destiny.
Ritualization, sedim entation, separation o f the scrupulous con­
science— these traits d o n ot m ake the scrupulous man a m onster:
the lim itations o f scrupulousness are the counterpart o f its depth.
Scrupulousness is the advanced paint a f the experience o f fault, the
recapitulation, in the subtle and delicate conscience, o f defilement,
a n , and gu ilt; but it is at this advance-post that the w hole o f that
experience is an the p a in t a f capsizing.
T h e counterproof o f ou r analysis w ould b e furnished b y the
description o f the specific failin g o f the scrupulous conscience. That
failing is “ hypocrisy” ; hypocrisy is, so to speak, the grim ace o f
scrupulousness. Everyone is fam iliar w ith the accusation ascribed
to Jesus in the Synoptic Gospels, particularly Matthew’ s, the most
anti-Pharisean o f the three (C hap. 2 3 ): “ W oe unto you, scribes and
Pharisees, hypocrites!” *8 W e cannot understand the Pharisees if w e
start from this attack; but w e can arrive at it by starting from what
w e have described as the greatness o f Pharisaism; w e can arrive at
h by a sort o f schematic genesis o f “ hypocrisy,” starting from
“ scrupulousness” ; scrupulousness turns tow ard hypocrisy as soon as
the scrupulous conscience ceases to be in movem ent.
In fact, its heteronom y is justified only if it is accepted right to
the en d; its juriditization is justified only as long as casuistry con­
tinues to conquer new dom ains; its ritualization, only if its exacti­
tude is com plete; its sedimentation, only w hile interpretation re­
mains livin g; and its separation is rendered supportable only by
missionary zeaL T h e scrupulous conscience, precisely because it
looks to the past, because revelation is fo r it something already com ­
pleted, is condem ned to perpetual m ovem ent. L et it cease to prac­
tice, to make additions, to conquer new fields, and a ll the stigmas
o f hypocrisy begin to appear, one by on e: its heteronom y is only
a sham, the pretense o f speech w ithout the substance o f the deed:
‘T o r they say, and dp not” ; the law that is n o longer interpreted
ceases to provide the happiness o f study and becom es a yoke: “T hey
bind heavy burdens and lay them on men’s shoulders; but they

23 Similar accusations are found between the schools o f H illel and

Sharnimu (K nkelstem , op. eit., V oL I , p . 9 8 ).
themselves w ill not m ove them w ith one o f their fingers” ; the
authority o f the teacher eclipses the living relation to G od and m en ;
the m inutiae o f observance overshadow the great concerns o f life,
“ justice, m ercy, and faith” ; the purpose o f the rules, nam ely, one’s
neighbor, his freedom and his happiness, is sacrificed to exactness
o f observance; m erit, by w hich conscience gains w orth, becom es
an advantage, a possession, on w hich conscience presumes; and,
finally, the outride loses contact w ith the inride and zeal in praxis
hides the death o f the heart, “ full o f dead men’s bones, and o f all
uncleanness.” Then the consistent and w illingly accepted heteron­
om y becom es alienation.
T h e dilemma, then, is evident: Shall w e say that tins schematic
genesis o f "hypocrisy” reveals nothing essential about the structure
o f “ scrupulousness,” that th e picture o f th e false Pharisee leaves
intact that o f the true, the authentic Pharisee? O r shall w e say that
the spiritual regim e o f the law does n ot know its ow n abysses until
they are revealed by means o f the specific failin g o f scrupulousness,
and that the distinction between the false and the true Pharisee is
o f little im portance in the view o f a radical critique o f the law and
o f “ the justice that is obtained by the law” ? In the first case, our
view point is that o f H illel; in the second, that o f St. Paul.

4. T h e I m p a ss e of G u ilt

It was necessary to raise the glory o f the Pharisee to such heights,

in order to m ake m anifest the inversion o f “ for” and “ against”
that was effected in the consciousness o f fau lt b y the sort o f experi­
ence exem plified in S t Paul and repeated by Augustine and Luther.
L et us present, w ithout transition, this accusation o f the accusa­
tion. A fterw ard w e shall have to reread the w hole o f the preceding
analysis in the light o f this ultim ate peripeteia, w h ich can be
Bummed u p under the Pauline title o f the “ curse o f the law” (G al.
3 :1 3 ).
T h e Pauline itinerary, as it is reported in Galatians 3 and 4 , and
especially in Rom ans 7 :1 -1 3 , can be stylized in the follow in g
manner.84 T h e starting-point is the experience o f the powerlessness
84 R . Bultmann, T heologie i t s N . T ., V6L I (TObingen, 19 4 8 ), Part I I :
o f man to satisfy all the demands o f the law. T he observance of
the law is nothing if it is not w hole and com plete; but we are
never done: perfection is infinite and the commandments are un­
lim ited in number. M an, then, w ill never b e justified by the law;
he w ould be if the observance could be total: “A s m any as are of
the works o f the law are under a curse. F or it is w ritten: Cursed is
everyone that continueth not in all things w hich are written in the
book o f the law to d o them” (GaL 3 :1 0 ).
It is here that the hell o f guilt begins. N ot only is the road that
leads to justice an endless one, but the law itself increases the dis­
tance. T he great discovery o f Paul is that the law itself is a source
o f tin : it “w as added because o f transgressions’*; far from “ giving
life,” it can only “ give knowledge o f sin.” Indeed, it even begets sin.
H ow ? St. Paul, long before Nietzsche— w ho nevertheless thought
he was blasting the first “ theologian,” — dismounted the spring of
that infernal machine. H e com pares Law and Sin, as tw o imagined
entities, and reveals their deadly circularity; entering the vicious
circle by way of the law, he w rites: “ T h e law entered in, that sin
might abound. . . .” (R om . 5 :2 0 ); the com mandment, when it
cam e, “ gave life to sin” and so “ slew me” ( 7 :9 ) . But tins first
reading is the reverse o f the other, the true o n e ; it is tin that,
“ taking occasion,” makes use o f the law to bestir itself and work
concupiscence in m e; it is sin that, “ utilizing the law, seduced me
and by its means slew me” (7 :8 , 1 1 ). Thus the law is that which
exhibits sin, that w hich makes a n m anifest: “ It was a n which, in
order that it m ight appear sin, m ade use o f a good thing to procure
death fo r m e, in order that a n m ight exert all its sinful power
through the commandment” (7 :1 3 ).
By means o f this circle that sin form s with itself and with the
law , Paul poses, in all its breadth and radicalness, the problem of
the com mandment (6 toXij) , o f the law ( i a s such. H u s dia­
lectic, in fact, carries the law beyond the opposition between
ethical behavior and ritual-cultual behavior, beyond the opposition
between Jewish law and the law o f the Gentiles, w hich is written

"H ie Theology o f S t Paul.” H ad Barth, Oar RSmarbrief (Berne, IS IS ).

Lagrange, Saint Paul, Spitrg aux Romains, 3d ed. (Baris, 1922). B ra t La
Thiologit da saint Paul (Paris, 1943).
in their hearts, and finally beyond the opposition between the good
will o f the Jew and the “ wisdom” or “ knowledge” o f the Greek.
The problem o f the com m andm ent arises beyond all these dichoto­
mies, and it is this: how is it posable that the law , although good
in itself and recognized as good by “ the inw ard man” in his “ under­
standing,” w hich “ rejoices in it,” how is it posable that this law,
meant to gain life, is converted into a “ minister o f condem nation,”
a “ minister o f death” ? It is w hile he is working out the answer to
this ro o t question that S t Paul brings to light a dimension o f sin,
a new quality o f evil, w hich is not the “ transgression” o f a definite
commandment, n or even transgression at all, but the w ill to save
oneself b y satisfying th e law— what Paul calls “ justice o f the law ”
or “justice that com es by the law.” Thus tin itself is carried beyond
the opposition between concupiscence and zeal fo r the law. Paul
calls this w ill to self-justification “ boasting in the law.” By that he
does n ot mean ordinary boasting, but the pretention o f living in
reliance on that w hich o f right is meant to give life, but w hich in
fact is condem ned to lead to death. By this pretension, m orality and
immorality are henceforth included in the same existential category,
which is called “ flesh” (w e shall return to this w ord further o n ),
“ desires o f the flesh,” “ care,” “ fear,” “ sorrows o f this w orld” ; all
of these words denote the opposite o f liberty, slavery, bondage to
the “ weak and beggarly elements.”
Finally, by this double generalization o f the law and the flesh a
new an d radical sense o f death itself is revealed. St. Paul is the heir
o f the H ebrew thesis according to w inch tin is punished b y death;
but through this penal and consequently extrinsic interpretation o f
death, he discerns a ministry o f death exactly proportionate to that
o f the law . D eath is the result o f the law fo r a bring w ho, aim ing
at life, misses it ; it is the “ fruit,” the “ harvest?’ o f d ie regim e o f
existence that w e have called tin, boasting, justification by the law ,
flesh: “ to live according to the flesh” is death, just as “ to m ortify
the deeds o f the body” is “ life” (R om . 8 :1 3 ). Thus the w hole o f
CTintenra, when it is placed under the law, becom es altogether “ the
body o f this death” ( 7 :2 4 ): ‘ T o r when w e were dead in the flesh,
the tinful passions that m ake use o f the law did w ork in our mem­
bers so that w e m ight bring forth fruit unto death” (7 :5 ) . Death,
thm , is n o longer added to sin in a juridical sense; it is secreted by
it in accordance with an organic law o f existence.
W hat d o w e know o f this death? In part, it is a death that does
not know itself;30 it is the living death o f those w ho believe them­
selves living. But in part, also, it is a death that is suffered: “ W hen
the com m andm ent cam e, sin revived and I died” (R om . 7 :9 -1 0 ).
W hat shall w e say? W ithout doubt it is legitim ate to com pare this
death that is suffered with the experience o f divirion and conflict
described in the pericqpe o f the Epistle to the Rom ans (7 :1 4 —1 9 ),
which follow s the dialectic o f rin and the law reported above.
Death, then, is the actualized dualism o f the Spirit and the flesh.
This dualism is far from being a prim ordial ontological struc­
ture;33 it is rather a regim e o f existence issuing from the w ill to
live under the law and to be justified by the law . T his w ill is
sufficiently enlightened to recognize the truth and the goodness
o f the law, but too weak to fu lfill it: “ T o w ill the good is present
with m e, but not to accom plish it; fo r the good w hich I w ill, I do
n ot; but the evil w hich I w ill not, that I do” (R om . 7 :1 8 -1 9 ). At
the same tim e, by contrast, that w hich I d o n ot wish to d o and yet
do, stands before m e as an alienated part o f m yself. St. Paul ex­
presses w ell, by the very hesitation o f his language, this cleavage
in the personal pronoun. There is the I that acknowledges itself:
“ but I am a being o f flesh, sold into the pow er o f sin” ( 7 :1 4 ) ; but,
acknowledging itself, it disowns itself: “ it is n o longer I w h o per­
form the action” ( 7 :2 0 ); disowning itself, it establishes itself
w ithin: “ I delight in the law o f G od after the inward man”
( 7 :2 2 ); but honesty requires m e to take both the I o f reason and
the I o f flesh fo r myself : “ It is, then, I myself w ho by reason serve
a law o f G od and by the flesh a law o f rin” (7 :2 5 ). This cleavage
in myself is the key to the Pauline concept o f flesh- F ar from
being a prim ordially accursed part o f myself—the bodily part,
sexuality fo r example,— the flesh is m yself alienated from itself,

25 Perhaps it should be said that physical death itself is the “ fruit” o f

sin— not, o f course, merely as a biological event, but in the human charac­
ter o f dying, as an event in communal existence, and as the anguish of
solitude. W e shall cam e bade to this in connection with the Adam ic myth.
33 O f. Part I I , Chap. V , on the confrontation o f the Adam ic m yth and
the myth o f exile.
opposed to itself and projected outw ard: “ N ow if I d o that which
I w ill not, it is n o m ore I that d o it, but sin that dwelleth in m e”
(7 :2 0 ). T his powerlessness o f m yself, thus reflected in “ the pow er
o f sin that is in m y members,” is the flesh, whose desires are con­
trary to those o f the spirit. T h at is why w e cou ld n ot begin w ith
the flenb, as the root o f evil, but had to arrive at it, as the flow er
o f evil.
Such, in brief, is the Pauline itinerary. W ith this experience w e
have arrived a t the farthest lim it o f the w hole cycle o f guilt. O f
this Sm iting experience on e can only say tw o things: on the one
hand, it makes mtelHgihle all that precedes it insofar as it itself
goes beyond the w hole history o f gu ilt; an the other hand, it can­
n ot b e understood itself except insofar as on e gets beyond i t
L et us consider, onp after the other, these tw o aspects o f tire
question.
T h e “ curse o f the law” reveals the m eaning o f the w hole prim
developm ent o f the consciousness o f fa u lt T o understand tins point,
let us. g o back n ot only to the Pharisees, but to the care o f the
nation o f g u ilt G uilt, w e have said, is the com pleted internalize-
tian o f rin. W ith guilt, "conscience” is b o m ; a responsible agent
appears, to fa ce the prophetic call and its dem and fo r holiness. But
w ith the factor o f "conscience” ™ n the measure likewise com es
into brin g; the realism o f sin, measured by the eye o f G od, is
absorbed into the phenomenalism o f the guilty conscience, w hich is
the measure' o f itself. I f tins analysis is brought to the light o f the
Pauline experience o f justification by the works o f the law, it
appears that the prom otion o f guilt—-with its acute sense o f indi­
vidual responsibility, its taste fo r degrees and nuances in imputa­
tion, its m oral tact—is at the same tim e the advent o f self-righteous­
ness and the curse attached thereto. Simultaneously, the experience
o f scrupulousness itself undergoes a radical re-interpretation: that
in it w hich had n ot been frit as fault, becom es fa u lt; the attem pt
to reduce sin by observance becom es rin. T hat is the real meaning
o f the curse o f the law.
T he curse is tw ofold : it affects the structure o f the accusation
and that o f the accused conscience.
T h e change in the accusation, when w e pass from rin to guilt,
is itself m anifold. In the first place, it consists in the atom ization
o f the law in a m ultitude o f commandments. This phenom enon is
very am biguous; fo r it was already present in the dialectics o f the
prophetic accusation w hich, by turns, summons man to a total and
indivisible perfection and itemizes his wickedness according to
the many dimensions o f his existence fo r him self and fo r others,
and according to the many spheres in w hich he acts—-worship,
politics, marriage, trade, hospitality, etc. But under Ihe regim e of
sin, the tension between radical demand and differentiated pre­
scription is preserved, and the principal emphasis falls on the
radical dem and. W ith the consciousness o f guilt, th e equilibrium
is destroyed, to the advantage o f the differentiated prescription;
an indefinite enumeration is substituted fo r the radicalness o f the
infinite demand,’ a n d from this m ultiplication o f commandments
there com es an indictm ent that is itself indefinite. W e m ight call
this indefinite enumeration and indictm ent, w hich m ake the law
“ accursed,” an “ evil infinite.”
A t ih e same tim e as the law becom es indefinitely atom ized, it
becom es com pletely “ jurididzed.” W e said above what was es­
sential mid n ot m erely accidental in the juridical symbolism o f
gu ilt; it is not by chance that the notions o f law , judgm ent, tri­
bunal, verdict, sanction, em brace both the public dom ain o f penal
justice and the private dom ain o f m oral conscience. But the same
process that w e considered above as an advance belongs also to
the progress o f the “ curse o f the law.” In becom ing “ jurididzed,”
the dialogal relation o f the Covenant, w hich culminates in ihe
conjugal m etaphor dear to H osea, undergoes a profound change.
It is enough that the sense o f sin as being before G od be abolished
for guilt to work its h avoc; at the lim it, it is an accusation without
an accuser, a tribunal without a judge, and a verdict w ithout an
author. T o b e accursed w ithout being cursed by anybody is the
highest degree o f accursedness, as K afka shows. By the semblance
o f intention that remains in a radically anonymous condem nation,
the verdict is hardened into fate. There is n o longer any place far
that astonishing reversal that the Jews called *‘G od’ s repentance,”
or fo r the conversion o f the Erinyes into Eumenides, celebrated in
Greek tragedy; G od’s repentance is the counterpart o f our own
advance from discovering G od as wrath to encountering him as
m ercy. T o becam e oneself the tribunal o f oneself is to be alienated.
W e shall have to say later how this alienation, upon w hich we
have been attem pting to throw light through the notion o f justifi­
cation by works, can also be understood after the fashion o f H egel,
M arx, Nietzsche, Freud, Sartre; but the Pauline stratum underlies
all these stratifications o f our ethical history. I t m ay b e that the
introduction o f all these other interpretations o f ethical alienation
is itself the counterpart o f forgetting its most radical m eaning, just
as guilt, w ith its rational indictm ent, is at once an advance and a
forgetting in relation to tin understood as a crisis in the Covenant.
B ut the curse o f the accused conscience is the replica o f the
curse o f the accusation, and so w e can regard the passage from sin
to gu ilt from this second point o f view also. F or the confession o f
sin as affecting the person as a w hole there is substituted a detailed
and indefinite exam ination o f the purity o f intentions; scrupulous­
ness, reinterpreted by the Pauline experience o f the curse o f the
law, appears in a new ligh t; it too becom es the expression o f an
“ evil infinite” that answers, from the ride o f conscience, to the
“ evil infinite” o f the indefinite enumeration o f commandments. A t
the lim it, distrust, suspicion, and finally contem pt fo r oneself and
abjectness are substituted fa r the hum ble confession o f the sinner.
T h e tw o curses give im petus to each other unceasingly. T h e
zealous penitent gives him self the infinite task o f satisfying all the
prescriptions o f the law ; the failure o f this undertaking gives
impetus to the feeling o f gu ilt; the integral observance by which
the conscience seeks to exculpate itself increases the indictm ent;
and as the atom ization o f the law tends to shift m oral vigilance and
direct it towards isolated and sometimes m inute prescriptions, con­
science consumes its energy in single com bats w ith each o f thmn.
I t is n ot surprising, then, that these tactics fo r avoiding fau lt
enlist in their service the ritualized m odes o f behavior inherited
from the cultual stratum governed by the notion o f defilem ent
Ritualism, the significance o f w hich as obedience w e saw above,
reveals its ow n guilt, fo r the precise interdictions o f the ritual-
cultual type propose a satisfaction that is finite and verifiable, and
so conscience throws itself into a technique o f durian in ofd er to
counter the failure to win exculpation. But this enlistment o f the
interdictions o f “ purity” under the banner o f ethics, such as we
saw, for exam ple, in Israel at the lim e o f the second Tem ple, re­
sults in an extra load o f prescriptions,* the ritualizatian o f conduct,
undertaken fo r the purpose o f providing a less costly substitute fo r
the indefinite ethical demand, only adds a new code to the other.
Thus a com plicated and disparate miscellany o f ethical and ritual
prescriptions is put together, in w hich the scruples o f the cult are
m oralized through contact w ith a subtle ethics, but ethics is diluted
in the letter o f the m inute prescriptions o f the ritual. Thus cultnal
scrupulousness m ultiplies the law and guilt at the same time.
W hile it is indefinite, the guilty conscience is also a conscience
that is shut in. M any myths have expressed this paradoxical co­
incidence o f reiteration w ith absence o f any result; the futile ac­
tivity o f Sisyphus and the Dan aides is w ell known, and Plato
already interpreted it as a symbol o f condem nation that is both
eternal and without any result St. Paul also speaks o f an existence
“ shut up under the guard o f the law.” T h e guilty conscience is
shut in first o f all because it is an isolated conscience th at breaks
the com m union o f sinners. It “ separates” itself in the very act by
w hich it takes upon itself, and upon itself alone, the w hole weight
o f eviL T he guilty conscience is shut in even m ore secretly by an
obscure acquiescence in its evil, b y w hich it makes itself its own
torm entor. It is in this sense that the guilty conscience is a slave
and not only consciousness o f enslavement; it is the conscience
without “ promise.” It is here that what Kierkegaard called the
sin o f despair presents itself; n ot despair concerning the things o f
this w orld, w hich is only regret fo r lost things turned toward the
future, but despair o f being saved. Such is the sin o f sins: n o longer
transgression, but a despairing and desperate w ill to shut oneself
up in the circle o f interdiction and desire. It is in this sense that it
is a desire fo r death.27 T hat this desire fo r death coincides w ith

27 This hell o f guilt, engendered by the law and its curse, finds its supreme
symbol in the Satanic figure itself. W e know that the D evil was understood
not only as the Tem pter bu t as the A ccuser o f man at the last judgm ent
(w hile Christ becomes the Advocate, the P araclete). Thus the dem on
stands not only behind transgression, bu t behind the law itself, inasmuch as
it is a law o f death.
the good w ill is something that conscience could n ot discover by
follow ing the forw ard m ovem ent from defilem ent to sin and from
sin to guilt, but only by looking back from "justification b y faith”
to the curse o f the law . W e shall see later how the psychology o f
self-accusation, narcissism, and masochism explains these subtle
procedures, n ot w ithout having itself lost the key to them.
W e are now to discover that the curse o f the law, the condition
o f the divided m an, and M b inarch tow ard death cou ld n ot be
described accept in terms o f a com pleted situation. In the language
o f S t Paul, the final experience o f Bin is recounted in the past:
“ O nce you were dead in your tins, b u t now . . . T h is is m ost
astonishing. D eath, w hich in the ordinary experience o f human
beings is pre-em inently the always future event, the im m inence o f
the end, is here death in the p a st T his extreme symbol o f a death
that one has got beyond cou ld b e w on only in the context o f a new
set o f problem s that itself gravitates around another sym bol, as
enigm atic as it is fundam ental— the symbol o f “ justification.”
T h e philosopher m ust recognize from the outset h ow shocking
this symbol is fo r a m ind educated by the Greeks. F ar from its
denoting the ethical quality o f a person, tire supremely disposable
thing am ong those things at Ms disposal, in short, fa r from its b a n g
the case that justice is the architectonic, virtue o f a m an, as in
Book I V o f Plato's R epublic, “ justice” according to St. Paul is
something that com es to a man— from the future to the present,
from the outward to the inw ard, from the transcendent to the
im m anent A true exegesis com pels us to start from w hat is m ost
foreign to the knowledge, w ill, and pow er o f a m an, and to over­
take the human only by darting from the m ore than human. T o be
“ just” is to b e justified by an O ther; m ore precisely, it is to be
“ declared” just, to b e “ counted as” ju st T his forensic sense, as has
been said, is bound u p w ith all the symbolism ranrmming the
eschatological judgm ent; justice, in fact, is the verdict o f acquittal,
having the effect o f a decision o f a public court (hence the forensic
expression). It is only when the transcendent forensic, eschato­
logical dimension o f “ justification” has been recognized that the
im m anent subjective, and present im part o f justification can be
understood. F or S t Paul, in fa c t the eschatological event is pres­
ent, already there, in such a way that justice, although it is extrinsic
to a m m as far as its origin is concerned, has becom e something
♦bat dwells within him , as far as its operation is concerned; die
"future” justice is already imparted to d ie m an w h o believes; and
so the man w ho is "declared” just is “ m ade” just, really and vitally.
Thus there is n o ground fo r opposing the forensic and eschato­
logical sense o f justice to its immanent and pretent sense: fo r Paul
the first is d ie cause o f the second, but the second is d ie fu ll mani­
festation o f the first; the paradox is that the acm e o f outwardness
is the acm e o f inwardness; o f that inwardness th at Paul calls new
creature, or liberty. Liberty, considered from the point o f view o f
last things, is not the pow er o f hesitating and choosing between
contraries, n or is it effort, good w ill, responsibility. F or S t Paul,
as fo r H egel, it is being at hom e w ith oneself, in the w hole, in the
recapitulation o f C hrist
Such is the symbol in the light o f w hich the final experience of
fault is perceived as som ething in the past that one has got beyond.
I t is because “ justification” is the present w hich dominates the
backward look on tin, that the supreme sin consists, in the last
resort, in the vain attempt to justify oneself. There is d ie key to die
break w ith Judaism : m an is justified “ without d ie w orks o f the
law” : “ But now without the law the justice o f G od is m ade mani­
fe st . . . For we account a m an to be justified b y faith, without
the practice o f the law” (R om . 3 :2 1 —2 8 ). Justification by faith,
then, is what makes m a n i f e s t the failure o f justification by the law,
and the failure o f the justice o f works is what reveals the unity of
the entire domain o f sin. O nly a retrospective view discloses the
profound identity o f ethics and cultual-ritual behavior, o f morality
and im m orality, o f obedience or good w ill and knowledge or wis­
dom .
It is, then, impossible to reflect philosophically on fault while
om itting the fact, embarrassing fo r reflection, that the ultimate
meaning o f fault could be manifested only by means o f the great
contrasts set u p by the first passionate thinker o f Christianity:
justification by the practice o f the law and justification by faith;
boasting and believing; works and grace. W hatever weakens those
contrasts dissipates their meaning.
 Sin, thus described in the past tense and related to the experience
that goes beyond it, now gets its final m eaning o f ambiguous
threshold. In itself and fo r itself, it is the impasse and the hell o f
guilt; it is a curse. But seen from the paint o f view o f “justifica­
tion,” the curse o f the law constitutes the supreme pedagogy. But
this m eaning can be recognized only after the event.
S t Paul’ s language is fam iliar: “ B efore faith cam e, w e w ere kept
under the law, shut u p unto the faith w hich should afterwards be
revealed. W herefore the law was our schoolmaster to bring us unto
Christ, that w e m ight b e justified by faith. But after that faith is
com e, we are n o longer under a schoolmaster” (GaL 3 :2 3 -2 4 ). It
would be a serious misunderstanding o f the Pauline paradox if we
interpreted this schooling as a tranquil growth from childhood to
adulthood; the childhood that is here in question is enslavement
under the law : “ N ow I say that the heir, as long as he is a child,
differeth nothing from a servant, though he be lord o f all” (4 :1 ) ,
and the schoolmaster is the law o f death. Consequently, the pas­
sage from one regim e to the other must not b e thought o f in terms
o f developm ent; rather, there is a sort o f inversion through excess:
“T h e law entered, that the offense m ight abound; but where tin
abounded, grace did m uch m ore abound” (R om . 5 :2 0 ). In a text
that is even m ore striking, because it emphasizes the divine origin
o f this schooling fo r liberty, St. Paul declares: “ G od hath shut
up all men in disobedience, that he m ight have m ercy upon all”
(R om . 1 1 :3 2 ). This pedagogy o f excess and increase, w hich draws
the superabundance o f grace from the abundance o f tin,28 is not
at the disposal o f anyone; n o one can m ake a technique out o f it
and pretend that he sins abundantly in order that grace m ay super-
abound. A fter the event, the delivered conscience recognizes in the
ethical stage, experienced as slavery, the tortuous road to its libera­
tion ; but it is n ot permissible to turn the paradox, w hich can be
read only from the top downward, into some sort o f technique
that w ould make the cultivation o f sin a means o f obtaining grace.

28 W e shall return to this poin t w hen w e speak o f the A dam ic symbol.

The advance from th e first to the second Adam w ill express tins “ super­
abundance” on the p lane o f the rich symbolism o f the A nthropos. C f. Part
n , Chap, m , $ 4.
Such Satanism w ould only b e d ie most sophistical form of the
ethical enterprise; fo r m an w ould still be giving glory to himself,
as when he boasted in the ritual and the law.
T h e last w ord, then, o f a reflection an guilt, must be this: the
prom otion o f guilt marks the entry o f man into the circle o f con*
dem nation; the meaning o f that condem nation appears only after
tiie event to the “ justified” conscience; it is granted to that con­
science to understand its past condem nation as a sort o f pedagogy;
but, to the conscience still kept under the guard o f the law , its real
m eaning is unknown.
 Conclusion: Recapitulation

o f the Symbolism o f Evil in

the Concept o f the Servile W ill

at t h e en d o f this survey, it is p osa b le to say b oth w h at h orizon

the w h ole ch ain o f sym bols th a t w e h ave run th rou gh is orien ted
tow ard an d h ow th e m ost a rch a ic a re retained and reaffirm ed by
the m ost advan ced o f these sym bols.
T h e con cept tow ard w hich the w hole series o f the prim ary
symbols o f evil tends m ay be called the servile will. But that con­
cept is n ot directly accessible; if one tries to give it an ob ject, the
object destroys itself, fo r it short-circuits the idea o f w ill, w hich
can only signify free ch oice, and so free w ill, always intact and
young, always available— and the idea o f servitude, that is to say,
the unavailability o f freedom to itself. T h e con cept o f th e servile
w ill, then, cannot b e represented as the con cept o f fallibility,
w hich w e considered at the beginning o f this w ork; fo r w e should
have to b e able to think ad free w ill and servitude as coinciding in
the same existent. T h at is why the concept o f the servile w ill must
remain an indirect con cept, w hich gets all its m eaning from the
symbolism that w e have run through and w h ich tries to raise that
symbolism to the level o f speculation. H ence, this concept, w hich
will occupy our attention in the third volum e o f the present w ork,
can h e view ed only as the Idea, the intentional telos o f the w hole
symbolism o f evil. M oreover, we shall not be able to get closer to
it except through the m ediation o f the second-order symbols sup­
plied by the myths o f evil.
For the present, we can at least say that the concept o f the
servile w ill, to w hich the most differentiated, the m ost subtle, the
most internalized experience o f guilt draws near, was already
aimed at by the most archaic experience o f all, that o f defilem ent
T he final symbol indicates its lim iting concept only by talcing up
into itself all the wealth o f the prior symbols. Thus there is a
circular relation am ong all the symbols: the last bring ou t die
meaning o f the preceding ones, but the. first lend to theJast all
their pow er o f symbolization.
It- is possible to show this by going through the whole series of
symbols in the opposite direction. It is remarkable, indeed, that
guilt turns to its own account the symbolic language in which the
experiences o f defilement and sin took shape.
Guilt cannot, in fact, express itself except in the indirect lan­
guage o f “ captivity” and “ infection,” inherited from the tw o prior
stages. Thus both symbols are transposed “inward” to express a
freedom that enslaves itself, affects itself, and infects itself by its
own choice. Conversely, the sym bolic and non-literal character of
the captivity o f sin and the infection o f defilem ent becom es quite
clear when these symbols are used to denote a dimension o f free­
dom itself; then and only then d o w e know that they are symbols,
when they reveal a situation that is centered in d ie relation o f one­
self to oneself. W hy this recourse to the prior symbolism? Because
the paradox o f a captive free w ill— the paradox o f a servile w iti—
is insupportable fo r thought. That freedom must be delivered and
that this deliverance is deliverance from self-enslavement cannot
b e said directly; yet it is the central them e o f “ salvation ”
T h e symbol o f captivity, borrow ed, as w e know, from the theology
o f history, first designated a com munal situation, that o f a people
m ade prisoner by its tins. T h is com m unal situation is still attached
to the historical event that is re-enacted in the liturgy, as the un­
happy fate from w hich the Exodus delivered them. In becoming
a symbol o f the guilty individual, the notion o f captivity is detached
from d ie mem ory o f the historical event and gets the quality o f a
pure sym bol; it designates an event in freedom .
This symbolism is central in the Jewish experience; but if it
can b e understood, that is. because it belongs, at least as a lateral
growth, to all cultures. T h e experience o r the belief that furnishes
the literal m eaning m ay b e m anifold and varied, but the aim o f
the symbol remains the same. Thus the representation o f demons
as the origin o f the state o f being bound, am ong the Babylonians,
furnishes the initial schema, o f possession; but this w holly corporeal
possession can, in its turn, furnish the baric im age through which
die enslavement o f free w ill is denoted. T h e same im age o f posses­
sion can b e follow ed through various degrees o f symbolization. A t
the lowest degree, possession is represented as a physical hold on
the body and its m em bers: "M ay the evil that is in m y body, in m y
muscles a n d m y tendons, depart today,” im plores the Babylonian
suppliant; "deliver m e from the spell that is upon m e . . . fo r an
evil spell and an im pure disease and transgression and iniquity and
sin are in m y body, and a wicked spectre is attached to m e.” Y ou
may say as m uch as you w ill that this supplication still bears the
mark o f the confusion o f sickness and sin, and o f both w ith physical
possession b y a real dem onic pow er. But the process o f symboliza­
tion has undoubtedly already begun; the Babylonian suppliant
"confesses” and “ repents” ; he knows obscurely that his bonds are
in same w ay his own w ork; if not, w hy should he cry: "U n d o the
many sins that I have com m itted since m y youth. I w ill fear the
god; I w ill n ot com m it offenses” ? W hy should the suppliant beg
to be released from what he has com m itted if he did not know
obscurely, if he did n ot know without knowing, if he did not know
enigmatically and symbolically, that he has put upon him self the
bonds from w hich he begs to be released?
W hat assures us that the symbolism o f the servile w ill, although
still submerged in the letter o f dem onic representations, is already
at work in the confession o f the Babylonian suppliant is that the
same symbolism o f a m an w ith his lim bs bound appears again in
writers w h o em ployed tins symbol w ith a d ear awareness that it
was a symbol. Thus St. Paul knows that man is “inexcusable,”
although sin is said to “ reign” in his members, “ in his mortal
body” (R om . 6 :1 2 ), and the body itself is called "b od y o f sm”
(R om . 6 :6 ) and the w hole man a “servant o f sin.” I f St. Paul
were not speaking symbolically o f the body o f a n -as a figure far
the servile w ill, bow cou ld he cry : “ A s you have yielded your
members servants to undeanness and to iniquity, unto iniquity;
even so now yield your members servants to justice, unto sanctifi­
cation” (R om . 6 :1 9 ) ? T h e sym bol o f the enslaved body is die
symbol o f a sinful being w ho is at the same tim e act and state;
that is to say, a sinful being in whom tha very act o f self-enslave-
ment suppresses itself as “ act” and refopses into a “ state.” The
body*is the symbol o f this obliterated freedom , o f a building from
w hich the builder has withdrawn. In the language o f S t Raul, the
act is the “ yielding” o f the body to servitude (as you have yielded
your members as servants), the state is the reign (let not a n there­
fore reign in you r m ortal b od ies). A “ yielding” o f myself that is
at the same tim e a “ reign” over myself— there is the enigma of
the servile w ill, o f the w ill that makes itself a slave.
Finally, Plato him self, in spite o f the O rph ic myth o f the soul
exiled in a body that is its tom b, in spite o f the temptation to
harden the symbol o f bodily captivity into a gnosis o f the body as
evil, in spite even o f the guarantees that he gives to that gnosis for
the future, knows perfectly w ell that the bodily captivity must not
be taken literally, but as a sign o f the servile w ill; d ie “ prison”
o f the body is in the end only “ the work o f desire,” and “ he who
co-operates most in putting an the chains is perhaps the chained
m an him self” (Phaedo, 82d -e ). Thus, the captivity o f the body
and even the captivity o f the soul in the body are the symbol of
the evil that the soul inflicts on itself, the symbol o f d ie affection of
freedom by itself; the “ loosing” o f the soul assures us retrospec­
tively that its “ braids” were the bonds o f desire, active-passive
fascination, autocaptivity; “ to be lost” means the same thing.
T h e expression that we have just used— the affection o f freedom
by itself— helps us to understand how the most internalized guih
can recapitulate all the symbolism prior to it, including the symbol­
ism o f defilem ent; it turns it to its own account through the
symbolism o f captivity. I w ould even venture to say that defile­
ment becom es a pure symbol when it n o longer suggests a real
stain at all, but only signifies the servile w ill T h e sym bolic sense
of defilement is com plete only at the end o f all its repeated ap­
pearances.
I see in d ie pure symbol o f defilem ent three intentions w hich
constitute the triple “ schematism” o f the servile w ill:
1. T h e first schema o f the servile w ill, according to the symbol
at defilement, is the schem a c f “ positiveness*’ : evil is n ot nothing;
it is n ot a simple lack, a -am ple absence o f order; it is the pow er erf
darkness; it is p o ste d ; in this sense it is something to be “ taken
away” : “ I am the Lam b o f G od w ho takes away the tins o f the
world,” says the interior M aster. H ence, every reduction o f evil
to a am ple lack o f being remains outside the symbolism o f defile­
ment, w hich is com plete only when defilement has becom e guilt.
2. T h e second schema o f the servile w ill is that erf “ externality” ;
however internal guilt m ay be, it is only reflected in the symbol
<rf its own externality. Evil comes to a m an as the “ outside” o f
freedom , as the other than itself in w hich freedom is taken captive.
“Every man is tem pted by his own lust, which draws and entices
him” (Jas. 1 :1 4 ). This is the schema o f seduction; it signifies that
evil, although it is something that is brought about, is already
there, enticing. This externality is so essential to hum an evil that
man, K ant says, cannot be absolutely w icked, cannot be the Evil
O n e ; his wickedness is always secondary; he is w icked through
seduction. Evil is ‘ both something brought about n ow and some­
thing that is always already there; to begin is to continue. I t is this
bring seduced that is symbolized in the externality o f unclean con­
ta ct It is essential that evil be in some way undergone; this is the
deposit o f truth, am ong other m o rs, in any identification o f human
evil as a pathos, a “ passipn.” Consequently, to extirpate the symbol
o f defilem ent, it w ould be necessary to elim inate from the human
experience o f evil this schema o f externality. T h e m agical con­
ceptions erf contagion and contam ination may b e demythized as
m uch as necessary; but they w ill be survived by the ever more
subtle m odalities o f the seductive “ outside,” w hich still belong to
die servile w ill at its furtherm ost point o f intem ality.
3. T h e third schema o f the servile w ill is the schema o f “ in­
fection” itself. A t first glance, this idea is the most difficult to save;
it seems forever bound up with the m agic o f con ta ct A nd yet it
is the ultim ate symbol o f the servile w ill, o f the bad choice that
binds itself. This schema o f infection is in the first place a conse­
quence o f the preceding on e; it signifies that seduction from the
outside is ultimately an affection o f the self by the self, an auto­
infection, by w hich the act o f binding oneself is transformed into
the state o f being bound. It is evident that the symbol o f enslave­
ment is a necessary step for this taking up o f the symbol o f defile­
m ent into the experience o f the servile w ill; it is by thinking o f
the yielding o f myself to slavery and the reign over myself o f the
pow er o f evil as identical that I discover the profound significance
o f a tarnishing o f freedom . But perhaps the schema o f infection
already signifies m ore than this binding o f the self by the self. T o
infect is not to destroy, to tarnish is not to ruin. T h e symbol here
points tow ard the relation o f radical evil to the very being o f man,
to the prim ordial destination o f m an; it suggests that evil, however
positive, how ever seductive, how ever affective and infective it may
be, cannot make a m an something other than a m an; infection
cannot be a defection, in the sense that the dispositions and func­
tions that make the humanity o f man m ight be unmade, undone,
to the point where a reality other than the human reality w ould
be produced. W e are still not in a position to understand this
ultimate intention o f the symbol o f defilem ent; it cannot be
brought to light and elaborated except by means o f the second-
order symbols, especially the myth o f the faH T hen w e shall
understand that evil is not symmetrical w ith the good, wickedness
is not something that replaces the goodness o f a m an; it is the
staining, the darkening, the disfiguring o f an innocence, a light,
and a beauty that remain. H ow ever radical evil m ay be, it cannot
be as primordial as goodness. T h e symbol o f defilem ent already
says this about the servile w ill, and it says it through the symbol
o f captivity; fo r when a country falls intact into the hands o f the
enemy, it continues to work, to produce, to create, to exist, but
for the enem y; it is responsible, but its w ork is alienated. T his
superimposition o f servitude on self-determ ination, w hich an oc­
cupied country may experience, suggests the similar idea o f an
existential superimposition o f radical evil on prim ordial g ood ; and
it is this superimpomtion that is already indicated in the schema
o f infection, in w hich w e propose to recognize the ultim ate inten­
tion o f the symbol o f defilem ent But this intention becom es ap­
parent only when the m agical w orld that supported the symbol o f
defilement has been done away with, and when the experience o f
tin has itself been internalized in the experience o f the servile w ill.
T hen defilement, having becom e the language o f the servile w ill,
discloses its ultim ate intention. But it still does not disclose all the
im plications o f the schema o f infection. It does this only through
all the sym bolic levels that w e have still to exam ine: m ythical
symbols and speculative symbols.
 P art Two

The "M yths” o f the Beginning

and o f the End
II
f

*
 Introduction: T h e Sym bolic

Function o f Myths

1. F rom th e P rim ary Sym bols to M yth s

c p t o t h e p r e s e n t w e have been trying to “ re-enact” in imagina­

tion and sympathetically the experien ce o f fault. H ave w e really

reached, under the nam e o f experience, an im m ediate datum ? N ot
at all. W hat is experienced as defilem ent, as sin, as guilt, requires
the m ediation o f a specific language, the language o f symbols.
W ithout the h e lp -of that language, the experience w ould rem ain
mute, obscure, and shut u p in its im plicit contradictions (thus de­
filement is expressed as something that infects from without, and
sin as a ruptured relation and as a pow er, e tc .). These elementary
symbols, in th eir turn, have been reached only at the p rice o f ah
abstraction'that has uprooted them from the rich w orld o f myths.
Iri~ogde f 't o attem pt a purely semantic exegesis o f the expressions
dial best reveal the experience o f fault (stain and defilem ent, de-
vTation7~revdCtransgreasion, straying, e tc .), w e'h a v eh a d to bracket
the second^degree symbols w hich are the m edium fo r the prim ary
symbols, w hich axe themBelves the m edium fo r the living experience
of defilement, o f a n , and o f guilt.
This new level o f expression embarrasses th e m odem m an. In
one sense, he alone can recognize the m yth as m yth, because he
alone has reached the point where history and m yth becam e
separate. T h is “ crisis,” this decision, after w hich m yth and history
ari"cfissociated, m ay signify the loss o f the m ythical dim ension:
 because m ythical time can no longer be co-ordinated with the time
o f events that are "historical” in the sense required by historical
m ethod and historical criticism , because mythical qpace can no
longer be co-ordinated with d ie places o f our geography, we are
tem pted tcTgive ourselves up to a radical demythfaation o f a lljja r
P thinking. But another possibility offers itself to us: precisely be­
cau se we are living and thinking after the separation o f myth and
history, the demythization o f our history can becom e the other
side o f an understanding o f myth as myth, and the conquest, for
the first tim e in d ie history o f culture, o f d ie mythical dimension.
T h a t"is why w e never speak here o f demythization, but strictly
o f dem ythologization, it being w ell understood that what is lost
is the pseudo-knowledge, the false logos of the myth, such as we
find expressed, fo r exam ple, in the etiological function o f myths.
But when w e lose the myth as immediate logos, we rediscover Jt
as myth. O nly at the price and by d ie roundabout way o f nhilo-
sophical exegesis and,,understanding,^can.the m yth create a new
I £*n/>*i**a o f the logos.
*— This conquest o f myth as myth is only one aspect o f the recog­
nition o f symbols and their pow er to reveal. T o understand die
myth as m yth is to understand what the m yth, w ith its time, its
space, its events, its personages, its dram a, adds to d ie revelatory
function o f the prim ary symbols worked out above.
W ithout pretending to give here a general theory o f symbols and
myths, and lim iting ourselves voluntarily and systematically to that
group o f m ythical symbols which concern human evfl, w e can aet
forth in the follow ing terms our w orking hypothesis which is to
,-fjk ^ b e em ployed in the w hole course o f our analysis and verified in
the perform ance:
' 1. T h e first function o f the myths o f evil is to embrace mankind
as a w hole in one ideal history. By means o f a tim e that represents
c o h e r e a l l times, “ man” is manifested as a concrete universal; Adam
oniVer&itty signifies man. “ In” A dam , says Saint Paul, w e have all sinned.
Thus experience escapes its singularity; it is transmuted in its own
“ archetype.” Through the figure o f the hero, th e ancestor, the
Titan, the first m an, the dem igod, experience is put an the track
o f existential structures: one can now say m an, existence, human
being, because in the m yth the human type is recapitulated,
summed up.
2. T h e universality o f m an, m anifested through the myths, gets
its concrete character from d ie m ovem ent w hich is introduced
into human experience by narration; in recounting the Beginning
and the E nd o f fault, the m yth confers upon this experience an
orientation, a character, a tension. Experience is n o longer reduced
to a present experience; this present was only an instantaneous
cross-section in an evolution stretching from an origin to a fulfill­
ment, from a “ Generis” to an “ Apocalypse;” Thanks to d ie myth,
experience is traversed by the essential history o f the perdition and
the salvation o f man.
3. Still m ore fundam entally, the myth tries to get at the enigm a
of human existence, nam ely, the discordance between the fu n d s- frpkrain»
mental reality— state o f innocence, status o f a creature, essential
being— and the actual m odality o f m an, as defiled, sinful, guilty.
The myth accounts fo r this transition by means o f a narration.
But it is a narration precisely because there is n o deduction, n o
logical transition, between the fundam ental reality o f man and
his present existence, between his ontological status as a being
created good and destined fo r happiness and his existential o r
historical status, experienced under the sign o f alienation. Thus the
myth has an ontological hearing: it points to the relation— that is
to say, both the leap and the passage, the cut and the suture—
between the essential being o f m an a n d his historical existpnnv
In all these ways, the myth makes the experience o f fau lt the
center o f a w hole, the center o f a w orld : the w orld o f fa u lt
It can already be guessed h ow fa r w e are f rom a purely alle -
gorical interpretation o f the m yth. A n allegory can always be
transUSe3~into a text that can be understood by itself; m ice this
better text has been m ade out, the allegory falls away like a use­
less garm ent; what the allegory showed, w hile concealing it, can be
said h i a direct discourse that replaces the allegory. B y its triplet; /
function o f concrete universality, tem poral orientation, and fin ally!
qntoiogic a l e xpioratian, the myth has a w ay o f revealing tilings
that is n o t reducible to any translation from a languag e in cipher
tcTa’ clear language. A s Schelling has shown in his Philosophy o f
M ythology, the myth is autonom ous and im m ediate; it means
what it says.1
It is essential, therefore, fo r a critical understanding o f the
myth to respect its irFeducibility to the allegory.

2. M y th and G n o sis : T h e Sym bolic F unction

of th e N arration

For a critical understanding o f the myth it is first necessary that

the myth be entirely divorced from the “ etiological” function with
which it appears to be identified. This distinction is fundamental
for a philosophical handling o f the m yth; fo r the principal objec­
tion that philosophy addresses to myth is that the m ythical explana­
tion is incom patible w ith the rationality discovered n r invented
by the Fre-Socratics; from that time on, it represents the simu­
lacrum o f rationality.
T h e distinction between rationality and its im itation is, in fact,
as decisive as that between history and myth. Indeed, it STthe
foundation o f the latter; fo r history is history only because its
search for “ causes” leans upon the EpistemS o f the geometers and
the physicists, even when it is distinguished from i t I f, then, die
myth is to survive this double distinction o f history and myth as
w ell as o f explanation and m yth, the myth must n ot be either
history, happening in a definite tim e and place, o r explanation.
M y w orking hypothesis is that criticism erf the pseudo-rational
is fatal not to myth, but to gnosis. It is in gnosis that the simu­
lacrum o f reason attains realization. Gnosis is what seizes _njxm
and develops the etiological elem ent in~ myths. T h e ^gnosis..aLevd
in particular takes its stand on the ground o f reason; as the word
itself makes clear, gnosis tries to b e “ knowledge.” Between gnosis

1 As the third book o f this w ork w ill show, the refusal to reduce the myth
to an allegory that can be translated in to an intelligible language does not
exclude all “ interpretation” o f myths. W e shall propose a type o f “ interpre­
tation” that is n ot a “ translation” ; let us say, to be brief, that the very
process o f discovery o f the field o f experience opened u p by the m yth can
constitute an existential verification com parable to the transcendental de­
duction o f the categories o f the understanding. C f. the final chaper o f the
second book : “ The Symbol Gives Rise to Thought.”
 'Ijt-
■ /*.-!»!>: i '
introduction: the symbolic function of myths 165
and reason a choice must be m ade. But perhaps there is a way
o f recovering the m yth as myth, before it slipped into gnosis, in
the nakedness and poverty o f a symbol that is n ot an explanation
but an opening up and a disclosure. O ur whole effort w ill be
directed toward dissociating myth and gnosis.
W e are encouraged in this attem pt by the great exam ple o f
Plato. J*lato inserts myths into his philosophy; he., adopts them as
myths, in their natural state, so to speak, w ithout trying to dis­
guise them as explanations; they are there in his discourse, fu ll o f
' enigm as; fEey are there as myths, w ithout any possibility o f con­
fusing them with*Knowledge.
i t is true that the m yth is in itself an invitation to gnosis.
Furthermore, d ie problem o f evil seems to be the principal occa­
sion o f this passage from m yth to gnosis. W e already know what
a pow erful incitem ent to questioning springs from suffering and
sin: “ H ow long, O L ord?” “ H ave I sinned against som e divinity?”
“ Was m y act pure?” O ne m ight say that the problem o f evil
offers at the same tim e the most considerable challenge to think
and the most deceptive invitation to talk nonsense, as if evil were
an always prem ature problem where the ends o f reason always
exceed its means. Lang before nature m ade reason rave and threw
it into the transcendental illusion, the contradiction felt between
the destination o f m an, projected in the im age o f prim ordial inno­
cence and final perfection, and the actual situation o f man,
acknowledged and confessed, gave rise to a gigantic "W h y?” at the
center o f the experience o f existing. H ence, the greatest explanatory
ravings, w hich com pose the considerable literature o f gnosis, came
in to being in connection w ith that “ question.”
W hat, then, was the m yth p rior to its “ etiological” pretentions?
W hat is m yth if it is not gnosis? O nce m ore w e are brought back
to the function o f the symbol. T h e symbol, w e have said, opens
up and discloses a dimension o f experience that, w ithout it, w ould
remain closed and hidden. W e must show, then, in what sense th eI) u'
myth is a second-degree function o f the prim ary sym bols that w e |
Gave been exploring u p to the present
F or that purpose w e must rediscover this function o f opening
up and disclosing— w hich w e here set in opposition to the explana-
 tory function o f gnosis— right dow n to the m ost specific traits that
" '' ’ ' '* ' symbols. N ow , it is the
nananon m at auua a new stage at meaning to that o f the primary
symbols.
• i t — . . _____ <s________ ______ ^ ___ ___________l . ___ ________i___ ___________j _____ ____________ : ___i
H ow can d ie narration mean in a sym bolic and non-etidogical
m ode?

W e shall have recourse here to the interpretation o f the mythical

consdousness proposed by the phenom enology o f religion (V an der
Leeuw, Leenhardt, E liad e). A t first glance, that interpretation
seems to dissolve the myth-narration in an undivided consdousness
that fim iBih b y in triKnpr ftnriiiij malrinjf myths, *htm in relating
itself affectively and practically to d ie w hale o f things. W hat is
essential fo r us here is to understand w hy that consdousness,
structured low er than any narration, any fable o r legend, never­
theless breaks ou t into language under d ie farm o f narration. If
the phenomenologists o f religion have been m ore concerned to go
back from the narration to the pre-narrative root o f the m ytivw e
shall fallow the oppomte .course from the pre-narrative consdous.
ness to the m ythical narration. It is In this transition that die
w hole enigma o f the sym bolic function o f myths is centered.
There are tw o characteristics o f the myth fo r w hich w e must
accou n t: that it is an expression in language and that in it the
symbol takes the form o f narration.
C a*y;
L et us transport ourselves behind the m yth. A ccording to the
d& n 1
eiv e lo p e o f a form o f life, felt and lived before being form ulated;
this form o f life expresses itself first in an inclusive erf be*
havior relative to the w hole o f things; it is in the rite n d m than
in the narration that this behavior is expressed m « t completely,
and the language o f the m yth is only the verbal segm ent *rf this
total action.2 Still m ore fundam entally, ritual action and mythical
2 " I t is necessary to accustom oneself,” says “ to dissociating die
notion o f myth from th e notions o f speech «n J fpM », m aid er to relate it to
the notions o f sacred action and significant gesture. T h e m ythical mHinlw
Bot only everything that is told about certain events that happened and
certain personages w ho lived m tOo tem pore, bu t also everything that is
language, taken together, point beyond themselves to a m odel, an
archetype, w hich they im itate or repeat; im itation in gestures and
verbal repetition are only the broken expressions o f a living partici­
pation in an original A ct w hich is the com m on exem plar o f the
rite and o f the m yth.
There is n o doubt that the phenom enology o f religion has p ro­
foundly affected the problem o f myths by thus going back to a
mythical structure w hich w ould be the m atrix o f all the images
and all the particular narrations peculiar to this or that m ythology,
and relating to this diffuse m ythical structure the fundam ental
categories o f the m yth: participation, relation to the Sacred, etc.
It is tins m ythical structure itself that leads to the diversity o f
myths. What^ in fa ct, is the ultim ate significance o f this myth ical
structure? i t indicates, w e are told, the intim ate a ccord o f the m an
af~cnlraisdnmyth w itiTthe w b o le o f b rin g ; it signifies an indivisible
plenitude, itf’ w hich the supernatural, the natural, and the psycho­
logical are n ot yet tom a p a rt But how does the myth signify this
plenitude? The~ essential fa ct is that this intuition o f ’ a Eosmic
whbie,~~from w hich m an is n ot separated, and this undivided
platitude, anterior to the division in to supernaturairh atural, and
hnman, axe n o t given , b u t am ply aim ed at. It is only in intention
that due m yth restores som e w holeness; it is b e c a ^ fie'h im sd f has
lost that wholeness .that man «w»nartB andJmttaitwi it J n , m y th
and rite. T h e prim itive m an is already a m an o f division. H ence l
the m yth can on ly b e an intentional restoration o r reinstatement J
an d m this sense already sym bolical.
"This- fistance between experience and intention has been recog­
nized b y all the authors w h o have attributed to the m yth a bio­
logical role o f protection against anxiety. I f myth-making is an
antidote to distress, that is because the man o f myths is already
an unhappy consciousness;8 fo r him , unity, conciliation, and recan-

reisted directly o r indirectly to such events and to the prim ordial person­
ages** (T n ritf d’H istoire d es R eligions, p . 3 5 5 ).
* O ne cannot h old at the same tim e, as G . G nsdorf d oes in M yth* *t
M Hapkysiqu* (Saris, 1 9 5 3 ), th at the m yth has a biological, protective role
(pp. 12, 21 ) m id that it is “ die spontaneous form o f brin g in the w orld.”
AH d ie excessive overestimations o f the m ythical consciousness cam e horn

60%hri j ? jt'trV '-** tpt

 ciliation are things to be spoken o f and acted out, precisely
they are not ^ w ^ ^ M yth -m akin g is prim ordial, contemporaneous
with the m ythical structure, since participation is signified rather
than experienced.
N ow , in manifesting the purely sym bolic character at the rela­
tion o f man to the lost totality, the myth iB condem ned fm m the^
beginning to division into m ultiple cycles. There does n ot east, in
t T , liHm A fa c t any act o f signifying that'uT equal^to^S’ axn. As the study
*v' ^ ^ ""H o f the primary symbols o f fault has already suggested, it is always
with something that plays the role o f analogon as starting point
that the symbol symbolizes; the m u ltip licity o f the symbols is the
im m ediate consequence o f their subservience to a stock o f analoga,
w hich altogether , are n ecessa rily lim ited in ex ten sion an d mrii-
vidually are equally lim ited in comprehension.
L6vi-Strauss has insisted strongly an the initial discrepancy
between the lim itation o f experience and the totality signified by
the m yth: “ T h e Universe,” he writes,4 “ signified long before man
began to know what it signified . . . ; it signified from the be­
ginning the totality o f what humanity m ight expect to know abort
it” ; “m an has at his disposal from the beginning an integrality
in the significans, about w hich he is greatly perplexed as to bow
to allocate it to a signification, given as such w ithout, however,
being known.’* This totality, thus signified but so little experienced,
becomes available only when it is condensed In sacred bon gs and
objects which becom e the privileged signs o f the significant whole.
H ence the prim ordial diversification o f symbols. In fact, there does
not exist anywhere in the w orld a civilization in w inch this surplus
o f signification is aim ed at apart from any m ythical form or defi­
nite ritu a l T he Sacred takes contingent form s precisely because it
is “ floating” ; and so it cannot be divined except through the

this forgetfulness o f the distance between experienced conciliation and

aixned-at reconciliation. I f it is true that “ the prim itive man is still the man
of conciliation and reconciliation, the man o f plenitude,” and that he
preserves the mark o f “ that concordance o f reality and value that primitive
mankind found without difficulty in the myth,” one can n o longer under-
stand why the m ythical consciousness gives itself..n p -tn .file . .tals^to^the
image, and, in general, to significant speech.,
4 Q uoted by G . Gusdorf, op. tit., p. 45.
 ■~VLr" Lm " j u v e ‘> v ta lk * . -T
<5 n

INTRODUCTION: THE SYMBOLIC! FUNCTION OF MYTHS 169

indefinite diversity of m ythologies and rituals. T h e chaotic and

arbitrary aspect o f the -world rtf mythu in thim tbe exact counter­
part o f the discrepancy between d ie purely sym bolic plenitude and
tee finiteness o f the experience that furnishes m an with “ ana­
logues” o f that w hich is signified. N arrations and rites, then, are
needed to consecrate the contour o f the signs o f the sacred: holy
places and sacred objects, epochs and feasts, are other aspects o f
the contingency tea t w e find in the narration. I f the plenitude
were experienced, it w ould b e everywhere in space and tim e; but
because it is only aim ed at sym bolically, it requires special signs
and a discourse on the signs; their heterogeneity bears witness to
tee significant w hole by its contingent outcroppings, H ence, the
myth has the function o f guarding the finite m ntnnrg o f fo e signs
which, in teen~^finnprSCT to the p lenitude teat man aims at
rattier fGan experiences, ~Tj5at is why, although the prim itive
civilizations have in com m on almost the same m ythical structure,
this undifferentiated structure exists nowhere w ithout a diversity
of myths; the polarity o f the one m ythical structure and tee many
myths is a consequence o f the sym bolic character iff the totality
and tee plenitude that myths and rites reproduce. Because it .is tytffe *r‘ 1
jji* «
symbolized and n ot lived, tee sacred is broken up into a m ulti-
p boty o f myths.”
But w hy does the m yth, when it is broken u p. take the form o f
narration?" W hat w e have to understand n ow is w hy the original
m odel, in w inch the m yth and the rite lead us to participate, itself
affects the character o f a dram a. I t is. in fact, because whirh^ ^ ^
is ultimately signified b y every m yth is itself in the foam o f
d ra m a ih a t the narrations in w inch tee_m yfhical mnsrirmiinasB
fragmented are themselves w oven o f happenings and personages; 1
because its paradigm is dram atic, the m yth itself is a tissue o f {
events and is foun d nowhere except in thie plastic form o f narra- j
tjim, But w hy does the narration-m yth refer sym bolically"to a
drama?
It is because the m ythical consciousness not only does n ot ex­
perience tiie plenitude, but does n ot even indicate it except at tee
beginning or the end o f a fundam ental H istory. T h e plenitude , ,
that the m yth points to sym bolically is established, lost, and r e -* .’' ^ ^
 ■ -^4 T W i '1
v ’ • * »* » • -**** t*
,, 0 . . t . A . A

i7 ° THE SYMBOLISM OF EVIL

. established dangerously, painfully. Thus it is n ot given, not only

] because it is agnrE edand n ot experienced, but because it is sieni-
\ fied through a com bat. T h e myth, as w ell as the rite, receives from .
I this prim ordial dram a the m ode o f discourse peculiar to narration.
T he plastic character o f the myth, w ith its images and events,
results, then, both from the necessity o f providing contingent signs
fo r a purely sym bolic Sacred and from d ie dram atic character of
the prim ordial tim e. Thus the tim e o f the myth is diversified from
the beginning by the prim ordial drama.
T h e myths concerning the origin and the end o f evil that we
are now going to study constitute only a limited sector o f myths
and furnish only a partial verification o f the working hypothesis
set forth in this introduction. A t least they give us direct access
to the prim ordially dram atic structure o f the w orld o f myths. We
recall the three fundam ental characteristics ascribed above to the
myths o f evil: the concrete universality conferred upon human
experience by means o f archetypal personages, the tension o f an
ideal history oriented from a Beginning toward an End, and finally
the transition from an essential nature to an alienated history;
these three functions o f the myths o f evil are three aspects o f one
and the same dram atic structure. H ence, the narrative form is
YkxsrtiOjjuC neither secondary n or accidental, but prim itive awawrial The
Mjvf f
***■.<&*£■ m yth perform s its symbolic function by the specific means o f nar­
o ration because what it wants to express is already a drama. It is
this prim ordial dram a that opens u p and discloses the bidden
meaning o f human experience; and so the m ytiT ih atlicou n tB it
assumes the irreplaceable function o f narration. ~~

T h e tw o characteristics o f myths that w e have just emphasized

are fundam ental fo r our investigation o f the w orld o f fa u lt
In the first place, the surplus o f signification, the “ floating
significant” constituted by the Sacred, attests that the experience
o f fault, as we have described it in Part I, is from its origin m
relation or in tension w ith a totality o f meaning, with an all-
inclusive meaning o f the universe. T h e relation, or the tension,
is an integral part o f the experience; or, rather, the experience
subsists only in connection w ith symbols that place fault in a to-
tality w hich is n ot perceived, not experienced, but signified, aimed
at, conjured u p. T h e language o f the confession o f sins, then, is
only a fragm ent o f a vaster language that indicates m ythically the
origin and the end o f fault, and the totality in w hich it arose. I f
we detach the fiving experience from the symbol, w e take away
from the experience that w hich com pletes its m eaning. N ow , it is
the m yth as narration that puts the present experience o f fault
into relation w ith the totality o f meaning.
O n the other hand, this total meaning, w hich is the background
o f fault, is linked to the prim ordial drama by the m ythical con­
sciousness. T h e fundam ental symbols that im pregnate the experi­
ence o f fau lt are the symbols o f the distress, d ie struggle, and
the victory which, once upon a tim e, m arked the foundation o f
the w orld. T otality o f meaning and cosm ic drama are the tw o keys
that w ill help us unlock the myths o f the Beginning and the End.

3. T oward a " T ypology ” of t h e M y t h s of th e

B eginning and th e E nd of E vil

But if the m ythical consciousness in prim itive civilizations re­

mains very m uch like itself, and if, on the other hand, m ythologies
are unlimited in num ber, h ow shall w e m ake ou r w ay between the
O ne and the M any? H ow shall w e escape getting lost, either in a
vague phenom enology o f the m ythical consciousness w hich finds
“ mana” and repetition and participation everywhere, or in an
indefinitely diversified com parative m ythology? W e shall try to
follow the counsel o f Plato in the PhUebus, w hen he tells us ji o t
to im itate the "enstics,M w h o m ake “ on e to o jju ick ly and m any to o
quickly,” b u t always to seek'an interm ediate num ber that “ m ulti­
plicity realizes in the interval between the Infinite and the O ne” ;
regsfitl“ forThB se interm ediate numbers, said Plato, “ is w hat dis­
tinguishes the dialectic m ethod in ou r discussions from the eristic
method.”
This “ num bered m ultiplicity,” interm ediate between an undif­
ferentiated m ythical consciousness and th e to o m uch differentiated
m ythologies, must b e sought by means o f a “ typology.” T h e “ types”
which w e propose are at the same tim e a priori, perm itting us to
 go to the encounter with experience with a key fo r deciphering It
in our hands and to orient ourselves in the labyrinth o f the mythol­
ogies o f evil, and a posteriori, always subject to correction and
amendment through contact with experience. I should like to
think, as C l. L6vi-Strauss does in T ristes, Tro4naues.*Jfiazl the
images w hich the myth-making imagination and the institutional
activity o f man can produce are not infinite in num ber, and that
it is possible to work out, at least as a w orking hypothesis, a sort
o f m orphology o f the principal images.
W e shall consider here fou r m ythical “ types” o f representation
ling the origin and the end o f evil.
Sun-seif 1. [A ccording to the first, w hich w e call the drama o f creation,
A kK A D ieorigin o f evil is coextensive w ith rim origin o f things^ it is the
hh»'C ’r "ch a os" with which th e creative act o f th e god struggles. The
Hast# i
counterpart o f this view o f things is that salvation^ ts identical with
creation itselfT the act that founds the worTcTis at the same time
theTiberating act. W e shall verify this in the' structure o f the 'cult
that corresponds*to this “ type” o f the origin and end o f evil; the
cult can only be a ritual re-enactm ent o f the com bats at the origin
o f the w orld. T h e identity o f evil and “ chaos,” qncj th e identity
o f salvation w ith “ creation,” have seemed to us to constitute the
tw o fundam ental traits o f this first type. T h e other traits w ill be
corollaries o f these dom inant traits.
T 2 .\l t has seemed to us that there is a change o f type with the
idea o f a “ fall” o f man that arises as an irrational eygofcjB _a_
creation "already com pleted; and consequently w e shall try to show
that the dramas o f creation ex clude the ideg._of j i ‘ fa ll” erf m an.
A ny indication o f a doctrine o f the “ fall” — if there b e any—
within the dramas o f creation is held in check by the w hole o f the
interpretation and heralds the transition to another “ type” ; and,
inversely, the idea o f a “ fejl” o f man becom es fully developed
only in a cosm ology from w hich any creation-dram a has been
eiiminated. T he counterpart o f a schema based on the notion of
a “ fall” is that ^salvation , is a new peripeteia in re la tia n to the
prim ordial creation; salvation unrolls a new and open history on
the bans o f a creation already com pleted and, in that sen?e,
 Thus the cleavage effected, w ith the second type, between tty
irrational event o f the fa ll and the ancient drama o f creation pro­
vokes a parallel cleavage between the them e o f salvation, w hich
Becomes eminently^Kiirtoncal, and^the them e o f creation, w hich
recedes td ~ lE r“ p ^ ^ c ^ ,^ f '_Mcom Q logicaIn background fo r ' d ie
tem porar'Brama j i l a vS i m the foreground o f the w orld. Salvation,
understood as the «nm o f the initiatiyes o ft h e d m n ity 'a n d ''o f the
believer tending tow ard the diraination o f evil, aims henceforth at
a specific en d distinct from the end o f creation. T h at specific end’ ’
arourrcf"which gravitate the “ eschatological” representations, can
no longer b e identified w ith the end o f creation, and w e arrive
at a strange tendon between tw o representations: that o f a creation
brought to a d ose w ith the “ rest on the seventh day,” and that o f
a work o f salvation still pending, until the “ Last D ay.” T h e sepa­
ration o f the problem atics o f evil from the problem atics o f cre­
ation is carried out along the w hole line, beginning w ith the idea
c f a fa ll that supervened upon a perfect creation. It is, then, th e ^ * * 4- ^
event o f the fall that carries the w hole w eight o f tins m ythology,
like the point o f an inverted pyram id.
3. Between the myth o f chaos, belonging to the creation-dram a,
and the myth o f the fa ll, we shall insert an interm ediate type that
may be called “ tragic,” because it attains its fu ll m anifestation's]!
at once in Greek tragedy. Behind, the tragic vision o f man w e
shall look fo r an im plicit, and perhaps unavowable, th eology: the
tragic theology o f the god w ho tempts, blinds, leads astray. H ere
the fault appears to be indistinguishable from the very existence o f
the' tragicThera; h e does n ot com m it the fault, he is guilty. W hat,
then r'can - salvation b eT 'N oT th e “ remission o f tins,” fo r there is
no pardon fo r an inevitable fa u lt Nevertheless, there is a tragic
salvation, w hich consists in a sort o f aesthetic deliverance issuing
from "the tragic spectacle itself, internalized in the depths o f exist­
ence and converted in to pity with, respect oneself, Salvation of
this sort makes freedom coincide w ith understood necessity.
' “Between the chaos o f the dram a o f creation, the inevitable fault
o f the tragic hero, and the fall o f the primeval m an there are
com plex relations o f exclusion and inclusion, w hich w e shall try
to understand and to recapture in ourselves; but even the relation
o f exclusion occurs within a com m on space, thanks to w hich these
three myths have a com m on fate.
4. Altogether m arginal to this triad o f myths, there is a solitary
m yth "that has played a considerable p a itflh ou r Western culture,
because it presided, if not over the birth, at least over the growth
o f Greek philosophy. T his m yth, w hich w e shall call “ the myth
o f th e exiled soul,” differs from all the others in that it divides
man into ro u T in d bocfy and concentrates on the destiny cf~tbe
soul,~wKich it depicts as com ing from elsewhere and straying here
below ] w hile the cosm ogonic, o r theogonic, background o f the
other myths receives little emphasis. O ne test o f ou r typology—
and that n ot the least— w ill be to understand why the m yth o f the
exiled soul and the myth o f the fault o f a prim eval m an could
sometimes m erge and blend their influences in an indistinct myth
o f the fall, although these tw o myths are profoundly heterogene­
ous, and the secret affinities o f the Biblical m yth o f the fa ll carry
it toward the m yth o f chaos and the tragic m yth rather than
toward the myth o f the exiled soul.
Thus our “ typology” ought n ot to be confined to an attempt at
classification; w e must g o beyond the statics o f classification to a
dynamics that has as its task the discovery o f the latent life o f the
myths and the play o f their secret affinities. I t is this dynamics
that must prepare the way fo r a philosophic recapture o f the myth.
 I. T h e Drama o f Creation
and the "Ritual” Vision
o f the W orld

1. F bimordial C h aos

th e £pirsti" type ” of m y t hconcerning the origin and the end o f

evil js illustrated in a striking m anner by the Sum ero-Akkadian
theogon ic myths, w hich have com e dow n to us in a version dating,
perhaps, from the beginning o f the second millennium before our
era. These myths recount the final victory o f order over chaos.
T h e H om eric and particularly the H e so d ic theogonies belong to
the same type, but less strik in glyso; and besides they d id not
determine the w hole vision o f the w orld as com pletely as the
Babylonian ep ic did.
T o illustrate this “ type” and to discover the m otivation that
determ ined it, w e w ill present w ithout preliminaries the great
dram a o f creation called Enuma elish (after the first tw o words
o f the poem , “ W hen on high. . . .” ).* T h e first noteworthy trait
exhibited by this creation-m yth is that, before recounting the
i p . D horm e, Choi* d e textes religieux assyro-babyloniens (Paris, 19 07 },
pp. 3 -8 1 . R . Labat, L e P oim e babylonien do la criation (Ptuis, 19 3 5 ).
H ridel, T h e Babylonian Genesis and O ld Testam ent Parallels (C h icago,
1942; 2 d ecL, 19 51 ). T h e reference edition here w ill b e the one in James
B. Pritchard, e d , A ncien t N ear Eastern T exts R elating to th e O ld Testa­
m ent (Princeton, 1950; 2d ed., 19 55 ), p p . £ 0 -7 2 (reproduced partially in
his A nthology o f T exts and Pictures, 1958, p p . 31—99, and com pletely in
Isaac M endelsohn, etL, T he R eligions o f th e A ncien t N ear B ast: Sasnero-
Akkadian R eligious T exts and U garitic E pics, N ew Y ork , 1955, p p . 1 7 -4 7 ).
genesis o f the w orld, it recounts the genesis o f the divine; the
birth o f the present w orld order and the appearance o f man, such
as he exists now , are the last act o f a drama that concerns the
generation o f the gods. This com ing-to-be o f the divine has a con­
siderable significance on the level o f “ types” ;** this myth, which

Theodore H . Gaster has translated this story and told it anew in The
Oldest Stories in the W orld (Boston, 19 32 ), pp. 52-70.
* Various authors (S . N . Kram er, Sumerian M ythology, Philadelphia,
1944; Thorkild Jacobsen, in T he Intellectual A dventure o f A ncien t Mast,
by H . and H . A . Frankfort, J. A . W ilson, and Thorkild Jacobsen, Chicago,
1947) have reconstructed the background o f the Akkadian m yth that we
are studying here. It appears from this investigation that the question o f
the origin o f order was a relatively late question, and that it was order
itself that was first celebrated. That order has been represented as a cosmic
State, or a Cosmos-State, in w hich the fundamental forces o f the universe
have a determinate rank: at the top, authority, majesty, reign (A nu, the
S k y ); then force, ambiguous m ight (E nlil, Lard o f the Storm ), w ho brings
devastation and aid by turns (it is he, as we shall see, w ho vanquishes the
monstrous pow er o f Tiam at in the Akkadian poem o f crea tion ); then the
passive fertility o f M other Earth; then active and ingenious creativity
(Enki, lord o f the earth, the sweet waters o f wells, springs, and rivers). H o
doubt this vision o f order must b e kept in m ind when one reads the later
myths o f w hich M arduk is the hero, where order is challenge d ; bu t the later
theogonic and cosm ogonic myth is contained in germ in the oldest myths.
In the first place, the vision o f the cosm ic hierarchy contains a dram a from
the beginning, even if only by the conjunction o f these m ultiple forces,
which change their respective places. Second, there was always a place for
myths o f origin, even if only w ith respect to secondary divinities; m atings,
conflicts, divine decrees pu t the hierarchy o f the cosmos in flux. But above
all, m ajesty, deposited in the pow er o f the supreme god , passes from ope
god to another by delegation o f the assem bly o f the godB^and tfahg m ove-
m ent is introduced in to the system. T hat madams w hy the successive
apogees o f the M -t-p"irrrm nn r tjr r .tstsaqthr »
series o f divinities w ithin the flexible framework o f the divine hierarchy.
T h e enthronement of*M arduk, w ho is at the center o f the’ m ytlfth at w e take
here as an exam ple o f the first type, belongs in this evolution o f kingship
within the M esopotam ian pantheon. Thus there is continuity, and not
contradiction, between a vision in w hich order is prim ordial, and another,
w hich we are going to examine, in w hich order is w on by strife on high.
fid . D horm e, in L es R eligions de Babylonia at tFAssyria (Baris, 1945),
also proposes a description o f the “ gods o f the world” (p p . 2 0 -5 2 ) which
is m odeled on tire fou r divirions o f visible and invisible space— sky, earth,
waters, underworld— and puts d ie study o f the cosm ogonic and heroic myths
a t the end o f Ids work (p p . 2 9 9 -3 3 0 ). O n the contrary, in L a littirature
babylonieune at assyrieune (Baris, 19 3 7 ), the study o f th e “ cosm ogonic
literature” (and o f Bnvsna elish, p p . 27—34 ) com es at th e beginning, before
appears m ost naive in its execution, m ost indebted to the m odels
provided by fictile production and sexual production, and so most
dependent cm the narrative farm , anticipates typologically the
most subtle antogeneses o f m odem philosophy, especially those
o f German idealism . T hat is why w e m ust n ot allojv ourselves to
be turned away from the typological interpretation b y the most
legitimate sociological explanations, even i f it is true that Babylonia
emphasized its~political supremacy by m aking M arduk, hitherto
a m inor divinity, the hero o f the cosm ic struggle. That explanation
does n ot exhaust the m eaning o f the poem ; there remains the task
o f understanding the epic schema itself, through w hich the political
supremacy was expressed, and the vision o f the w orld that was
worked out by means o f that schema. In short, it is the “ epic”
m ode o f ontogenesis that requires interpretation— a m ode o f
thought according to w hich order com es at the mid and n ot at
tfieTbeginning. T hat cosm ology com pletes theogony, that w hat there
is to say about the w orld is the result o f the genesis o f the divine
—4fus is tiie intention that must be recaptured and understood
“ in” and “ beyond” the images o f the myth.
This first trait leads to a second: if the divine cam e in to b o n g ,
then chaos is anterior to order a id the principle o f evil is prim or­
dial, coextensive w ith the generation o f the divine. O rder cam e to
pass in the divine itself, and it cam e to pass b y the victory o f the
latest over the earliest forces o f divinity. T h e anterior disorder is
represented in ou r poem b y various figures and episodes, and first
o f all b y Tiam at, the prim ordial m other— “m other o f them all”
(I , 4 )— w h o w ith Apsu, the prim ordial father, represents the
initial com m ingling o f the vastness o f the m arine w aters w ith the
fresh waters. But tins liquid chaos has a surcharge o f m eaning,
in w hich the m yth o f the origin o f evil takes shape. F ar Tiam at
is m ore than the viab le immensity o f the waters; she has file pow er
to produce. M oreover, she is capable o f plotting against the other
gods. A ccordin g to the story, the younger gods disturbed the
prim eval peace o f the old cou ple:

the “ m ythological,” “ epic,” “ ly ric" literature, etc. In G . Contenau, La

Civilisation iPAssiir e t d e Babylone (Paris, 19 37 ), the poin t o f view is
more archeological and sociological (o n Enuma eltsh, see pp. 77 f f .) .
 Y ea, they troubled the m ood o f T iam at
B y their hilarity in the A b od e o f H eaven.
I , 2 3 -2 4 *

Thereupon Apsu wished to destroy them, and M um m u, his son

and vizier, proposed a plan.
W hen Apsu heard this, his face grew radiant
Because o f d ie evil h e planned against the gods, his sans.
1 ,51-32
But the old god was killed before this plan could b e carried o u t
A nd when M arduk had been created ( “ A god was engendered,
most able and wisest o f gods," I , 8 0 ), Tiam at, inflam ed w ith rage,
gave birth to monsters—viper, dragon, sphinx, great lion , m ad dog,
scorpion-m an (I , 1 40 -1 41 ). Then,
W hen T iam at h ad thus len t im port to h er handiw ork,
She prepared fo r battle against the gods, her offspring.
T o avenge A psu, T iam at w rought evil.
I I , 1 -3

This savage recital evokes a terrible possibility: that the O rigin

o f things is so far an the other side o f good and evil that it en­
genders at the same time the late principle o f order—M arduk—
and the belated representatives o f the monstrous, and that it must
be destroyed, surmounted, as a blind origin. T his prom otion of
the divine at the expense o f the prim ordial brutality is found again
in Greek m ythology; tragedy and philosophy w ill have to struggle
w ith this possibility in diverse ways.
W hat is signified by this possibility, this terrible possibility?
N egatively, that man is n o t the origin o t e y il; m atfTm ds evil and
continues i t T he, question w ifl fre to Imnmr whether d ie Confession
o f m an as sinner w ill have the pow er to take u p d ie origin o f gvfl
com pletely into the evil w ill o f w inch ne accuses~~himself and, of
w hich he recognizes himself as author. Positively;~thatevil is a s.d d
as the oldest o f brings; that evil is th e p ast o f b rin g ; that it is that
w hich was overcom e by the establishment o f t £ fw o iid ; that God
is the future o f being. T h e question w flT be to know whether the

* This and the follow ing quotations are from the. English translation of
Enuma elish by E. A Speiser, in Pritchard, op. cit., pp. 60 ff.— T r.
 ' l-h P ii'ie t J > r & c u & £ 4 o iu S U i 2 -c ‘ x ^ l

CREATION AND THE “ RITUAL” VISION OF THE WORLD 179

confession " f G od as H oly w ill k w the pow er tn exclude thenrigin

o f evil com pletely from the sphere o f the divine.
T h e tw o questions com plem ent each oth er; only the confession
o f Ififf Holiness o f G od arid tha rnrifamnn rtf m an an sinner >*duld~~
pretend to exorcise this possibility radically. W e shall see h ow far
they "succeedf*for3 besides the possibility that m an is n ot capable
o f gping all the w ay to the end in this tw ofold confession, there
is the possibility that d ie confession cannot retain its peculiar sig­
nificance, apart from any legalistic and m oralistic reduction, except
by preserving som ething o f the terrible ep ic o f being.*
But w e have n ot yet com e to the end o f this investigation o f
prim ordial evil, fo r it is still by disorder that disorder is overcom e;
it is by violence that the youngest o f the gods establishes order.
Thus the principle o f evil is tw ice designated: as the chaos anterior
to order, and as the struggle by w hich chaos is overcom e. T h at is
what makes the theogany “ epic” : it is b y W ar and M urder that the
original Enemy is finally vanquished.
I n the Babylonian poem , the first m urder, that o f A psu mas­
sacred in his sleep, serves as prologue to the decisive com bat in
which Tiam at is vanquished by M arduk. T hat com bat, fo r w hich
the way is solemnly prepared by the enthronem ent o f M arduk in
the assembly o f the gods, is really the center o f the poem ;* it
makes th e creation o f the w orld follow upon the salvation o f tGT
gods, m enaced b y the original disorder from w hich they cam e
forth :
. . . Tiamat, she who bore us, detests us.
She has set up the [Assembly] and is furious with rage.
H I, 15-16

The gods need to be confirm ed in existence— saved— b y the victory

oT the L ord.

* A H eidcl {op. ctt., p . 127) insists strongly on the subordinate character

of the story o f creation in relation to the story o f M arduk and his enthrone­
m ent M arduk, in contrast-w ith the crude violence o f T k m a t, is the origin
of a habitable w orld, o f a cosmos measured by the stars and the calendar,
as in the Tim aeus, and finally the author o f the establishment o f mankind.
In th e same v d n is Bd. D honne, L es R eligions d e Babylonie e t d’Assyrie
(Paris, 19 4 5 ), p .3 0 8 .
♦H eidel, op. cit., pp. 102-114.
 Each time that the poem was recited, with great solemnity, cm
the fourth day o f the N ew Year’ s Festival, it was this perilous
advent o f order that was re-enacted, this com ing into existence
o f the very b o n g erf the gods that was celebrated. W ith all the
gods w ho proclaim M arduk their L ord, the faithful cry ou t:

“ Go and cut ofi the life of Tiamat.

May the winds bear her blood to places undisclosed.”
IV , 31-32

Then the lord raised up the flood-storm, his mighty weapon.

He mounted the storm-chariot irresistible [and] terrifying.
IV , 49-50®

It is by the violence o f the evil winds that he drives in to her body

that M arduk vanquishes T iam at.
Then the Cosmos is b o m : Tiam at is cut in tw o, and from her
divided corpse the distinct parts o f the Cosmos are form ed (TV,
end, and V ) . Thus the creative act, w hich distinguishes, separates,

• , that puts an end to the life o f the oldest gods, inseparable from a
<f» 'uet'Ss
' deid de inherent in the divine. A nd man himself8 STliiarn from a
new crim e: the ch ief o f the rebel gods is declared guOtyphropght
to trial, and shun; from his b lood Ea, an the counsel o f M arduk,
creates m an; m an has now the task o f serving i»nH nourishing the
great gods in place o f the vanquished gods. Thus man is m ade from
the Mood o f an assassinated g o d , that is to say from the life o f a
god, but from his life ravished % a m urder:

8 C f. below , Chap. V , § 3. A lso, read M arduk's invectives against Thunat:

"A gainst Anahar, king o f the gods, thou seekest ev il; [Against] the gods,
m y fathers, thou hast confirm ed thy wickedness” (IV , 8 3 -8 4 ); see the
rhythmical and rhymed translation o f this passage by T . H . Gaster ( op. ext.,
pp. 6 2 -6 3 ).
• "B lood I will mass and cause bones to be.
I w ill establish a savage, Vnan* « l« u he h it name.
V erily , savage-jnan I w ilT create. ~ ' '
H e shalTbe charged w ith the service o f the gods
T hat they m ight be at easel”
V I, 5-9
 O u t o f h is b lo o d they fashioned m ankind.
H e [Ea] im posed th e service and le t free th e gods.
V I, 33-34*

This role o f violence at the origin o f the divine itself, and sub­
sequently at the origin o f the w orld and o f m an, appears still m ore
striking if one remarks the filiation between E nlil, Sumerian god o f
the storm as w ell as o f help, and M arduk. The_creative act that
separates the mass o f the upper waters from the m assTofthe low er
waters, in the manner o f a pow erful w ind inflating an orderly
space, a solid sky and a habitable earth, between the liquid re­
serves,— this act is also the devastating act o f the Storm , w hich
finds expression m another w ay in great historical catastrophes.
T h e barbarians w h o destroyed U r are the Stm m , and the Storm is
Enlil

E n lil called th e storm .

T h e people m ourn . . .

H e sum m oned ev il w inds.

T h e p eop le m ourn . . .

T h e storm ordered b y E n lil in hate, th e storm

W h ich wears aw ay th e country,
C overed U r like a d o th , enveloped it lik e a linen sheet.7
8

It is also by the violence o f the winds that he drives into her

body, ready to devour it, that M arduk overcom es the m ight o f
T iamat— perhaps as the w ind drives back the threatening m ight
o f d ie waters.
T h e Sumerians had noticed the ambiguity o f this great divinity.
By turns Enlil spreads terror ( “ W h a th a s b e planned against m e
in h is holy mind.'’ A net he Spread: that is the net o f an enemy” )
and trust ( “ W ise instructor o f the people. . . . Counselor o f gods
an earth, ju d id ou s prince” ) . In another Sumerian m yth, the myth

7 Gaster (o p . eit., p . 69 ) compares this story w ith the O rphic one, in

which is b om from the ashes o f the Titans, struck dow n by lightning.
W e shall speak o f it later.
8 T r. by M rs. H . A . Frankfort, quoted by Tborldld Jacobsen, lo t. eit.,
pp. 141-42.
 o f Enlil and N inhil, we see Enlil com m itting rape. Even if rape
has not, in Babylonian m orality, the significance o f a wrong done
to a woman, it gives evidence o f the contradictory nature o f
Enlil.
Shall w e say that the pow er o f chaos represented by Tiam at, by
the strife am ong the gods, by the succession o f deiddes, even by
the victory o f M arduk, was not identified with evil in the Baby­
lonian consciousness, and that w e d o n ot have the right to em ploy
these myths o f origin in the fram ework o f a generis o f evil?
O f course, the Babylonians did not form the idea o f guttty gods,
and even less did the Sumerians. Nevertheless, they nam ed “ evil”
in nam ing the gods, their tricks, their plots, their acts o f violence:

When Apsu heard this [his vizier’s advice to kill his

sons], his face grew radiant
Because of the evil he planned against the gods, his sons.
Enum a elish, 1 ,51 -52

T o avenge Apsu, Tiamat wrought this evil.

11,3

“ But pour out the life o f the god w h o seized evil” (IV , 1 8 ), say
the gods when they grant kingship to M arduk, their avenger.
T he intentions and actions w hich the mythographers ascribe to
the gods are the same as those w hich man recognizes as evil for
him self and w hich the penitent repents. In the course o f the
struggle that opposes M arduk to Tiam at, M arduk appears as brute
force, as little ethical as the wrath o f Tiam at. M arduk personifies
the identity o f creation and destruction; when he is enthroned by
the gods, before the decisive com bat w ith Tiam at, all cry ou t:

“Lord, truly thy decree is first among the gods.

Say but to wreck or create: it shall be.”
r v , 21-22

It w ill be seen what human violence is thus justified by the prim or­
dial violence. Creation is a victory over an Enemy older than the ,
creator; that Enemy, immanent in the divine, w ill be represented
in history by all the enemies whom the king in his turn, as servant
r o f the god, w ill have as his mission to destroy. Thus V iolence is
inscribed in the origin o f things, in the principle that establishes
while it destroys.

I f our interpretation o f the “ type” that presides over the Baby­

lonian m yth o f creation is exact, the counterproof should be
furnished by an examination o f the so-called myths o f the fall in
Sumerian and Akkadian m ythology. T h e “ type” o f prim ordial
violence excludes, in fact, to e “ type” o f toe fa ll— that is to say,
in the precise m eaning o f to e term , a degradation in order w hich
is distinct from the institution o f order and w hich, in m ythical
terms, is “ posterior” to creation.
N ow , it was believed a t first that one cou ld recognize in Baby-
loman**Iiterature the first expression o f that wfaich was to becom e
the BibhcaTnarrative o f Paradise and the fall.9 T h e old Sumerian
myth, retranslated, reinterpreted, broken u p into several fragm ents,
and now attached to the “ cycle o f Enid and Ninhursag,” does, in
fact, depict a land o f bliss, “ pure,” “ dean ,” and “ bright,” in w hich
there are apparently n o death, n o sickness, n o life-and-death strug­
gles am ong the animals. T h e w ater-god begets a series o f divinities
bom o f his spouse, “the m other o f the land,” then o f his daughter,
then o f his granddaughter, until his spouse, taking his seed at the
m om ent when he is em bracing his great-granddaughter, causes
eight plants to sprout from it. But before the goddess has nam ed
them, Enki plucks and eats them. T h e goddess curses him in these
w ords: “ U ntil h e is dead I shall n ot look upon him w ith the ‘eye
o f life’ ” (vs. 2 1 9 ). T his curse makes the god weak and ilL Finally
the fa x reconciles the tw o, and the goddess cures the eight ills o f
Enin by creating an appropriate deity fo r each sick organ. I f it is
true that the images o f the Biblical Paradise are already form ed in
this poem , w hich has w rongly received the title o f “ A Paradise

B S. Tarngdon, Sumerian E pic o f Paradise, th e F lood , and th e Pali o f

M an ( University M useum , University o f Pennsylvania, Publications o f th e
Babylonian S ection, X , Pt. I , 1915; French translation b y Gh. V irolleaud,
Paris, 19 19 ). See th e review b y P . D honne, R iv u e Biblique (1 9 2 1 ), pp.
309—1 2 ; K ram er, Sumerian M ythology, pp. 54—5 9 ; Contenau, L e D ilu ge
babylom en, new ed. (1 9 5 1 ), p p . 5 0 -5 4 . There is a new translation by S.
N . K ram er, giving a quite different interpretation o f this difficult Sumerian
text, in Pritchard, op. cit., pp. 3 7 -4 1 , and M endelsohn, op. cit., p p . 3 -1 1 .
M yth” on the strength erf its first thirty verses, it is impossible to
recognize the schema «rf the fall in the episode erf Enid eating the
eight plants. It is to know their “ heart?’ and to name them in
accordance w ith their true natures that he assimilates them : “ O f
the plants, [Enki] decreed their fate, knew their ‘heart* ” (vs.
2 1 7 ). A n d the consequence is n ot the entrance o f evil into die
w orld, but the banishment into darkness o f the m ight o f d ie waters.
W e are still dealing, therefore, w ith a fragm ent o f theogony, gravi­
tating around cosm ic fosses, earth and "water^tmet n ot with an
event relative to th e appearance o f human evil.10
As to the F lood, Babylonian as w ell as Sumerian, it cannot be
said that the narrations w hich have com e dow n to us11 put the
accent on a fault coirim itted by m en, fo r w hich the cosm ic catas­
trophe is the punishment. Indeed, it is here that w e see most
clearly how like images can belong to different types. W here the
Biblical myth appears to be closest to a Babylonian source—
whether that source be one o f the accounts with w hich w e are
acquainted or a still m ore prim itive tradition,1*— the images that
it seems to derive from its Babylonian source receive a distinctive
mark from the general intention o f the type o f the fa ll; the flood is
the d ose o f a long series o f stories (A b ri and Cain , the tower of
Bi5el~ etc,)- designed to illustrate the grow ing wickedness o f men.
There is nothing o f thtTsort in our Babylonian sources: the same
stock o f images lends support to a radically different vision erf

10 A ccording to Kram er, what is involved is an explanation concerning

the origins o f vegetation. G . Contenau sees, in the central theme, a “ sacred
m arriage,” an old fertility rite, w h id i insures life an this earth.
11P. D honne, Choix i t textes religicux assyro-babyloniens (Paris, 1907),
pp. 100-20. R . Cam pbell Thom pson, T h e E p ic a f GUgamesh (O xford,
1938). G . Contenau, L e D ilu ge babytonien, Ishtar aux enfers, L a T our de
Babel (Paris, 1941; new ed ., 1 9 5 2 ), texts on p p . 9 0 -1 2 1 ; the author’s
archeological interest is evident in his care to distinguish the different strata
o f the story. C f. the critical edition in Pritchard, op. cit., p p . 4 2 -5 2 , for the
Sumerian m yth, tr. by A . S. Kram er, and p p . 72—99, fo r the Akkadian myth
inserted in the Gilgamesh epic, tr. b y E. A . Speiser (reproduced in the
A nthology cited above, pp. 65 -7 5 , and in M endelsohn, op. d L , p p . 100-
1 0 9 ). A . H eidel, T he Gilgamesh E pic and O ld Testam ent Parallels (C hi­
cago, 1945), has T ablet X I (p p . 8 0 -9 3 ) and the Atrahasis ep ic (pp. 106-
1 6 ).
1BG . Contenau, op. cit., pp. 110-12.
things; the flood plunges once m ore into theogony and its prim or­
dial violence.
T h e Babylonian account o f the flood 1* is inserted in to the
Gflgamesh ep ic (w e w ill com e~bedt later to them eaning^bf~the
Babylonian Odyssey, and w e shall then understand better how this
epic con test fits the stray o f the flood that was belatedly included
in it ). T h e m otive o f the flood remains obscure: “ their heart led
the great gods to produce the flood” (X I , 14; Speiser’ s translation,
in P ritchard). D ivine caprice? So it seems. N ow , at the height o f
the catastrophe, the gods are panic-stricken:

T h e gods w ere frightened b y d ie deluge,

A n d, shrinking back , they ascended to th e heaven o f Anu.
T h e gods cow ered lik e dogs
G rouched against th e outer w a ll
Ishtar cried outH ke a w om an in travail,
T h e sw eet-voiced mistress o f the [gods] m oans alou d :
“ T h e olden days are alas turned to clay,
Because I bespoke evil in the Assem bly o f th e gods.
H ow cou ld I bespeak evil in the Assem bly o f th e gods,
O rdering battle fo r the destruction o f m y people,
W hen it is I m yself w ho give birth to m y p eop le!
L ike th e spawn o f th e fishes they fill th e sea!”
X I , 113-123

T h e flood is attributed expressly to E nlil, in w hom w e have

already recognized prim ordial V iolen ce;','th e -flo o d is the Storm
«w hhh, instead o f separating the waters as in the creative act,
reduces all firings to p rim itive chaos, as H m a fury erf imrreatinn.
T he Babylonian N oah. U n-napishti. or U tnapishtim (that is to say,
“ day o f life” ) , the Akkadian hero w h o succeeds the Sumerian

u T h e Sumerian version, rite oldest w e possess, is too m utilated to allow

a sure interpretation. In particular, it presents a lacuna at the m om ent when
die gads make the decision to destroy mankind. N intu, goddess o f birth,
is heard w eeping, and Enki, god o f wisdom and friend o f m an, contrives
to save Ins p ro tfg f Zm sndm , the Sumerian N oah. I t is true that Zm rodra
is presented as a pious and god-fearing k in g; but there is xtf
that he is saved fo r any other reason than the same fill
which produces th e flood . A fter the flood h e receives “ life 1
“ eternal breath” ; h e is transported to D ilm un, “ the plaq
roes.” H ie end is destroyed.
Zinsuddu or Zinsudra (that is to say, “ prolonged day o f life” 14) ,
when he has been saved from the waters, offers a sacrifice that is
pleasing to the gods: “ T he gods smelled the savor, the gods smelled
the sweet savor, the gods crow ded like flies about the sacrificer”
(X I , 1 5 9 -6 1 ). But Ishtar wants to exdu de E n lil: ‘ T o r he {En£Tj,
unreasoning, brought on the deluge and m y people consigned to
destruction” (1 6 8 -6 9 ). A nd Enlil is furious because a m ortal has
escaped: 'H a s same living soul escaped? N o m an was to survive
the destruction!” (1 7 3 -7 4 ). Ea reprimands him severely: “ H ow
couldst thou, unreasoning, bring on the deluge? O n the sinner
impose his tin, on the transgressor im pose his transgression! (Y et)
be lenient, lest he he cut o ff, be patient, lest he he dislod ged ]!”
(1 7 9 -8 3 ). O f course, an allusion to the sins o f human brings can
be seen here; but the flood is precisely n ot connected with human
faults, since it proceeds from an excess o f wrath on the part o f
a god w ho, instead o f sending the flood , could have warned men
by calamities commensurate with their faults. A nd E nlil repents;,
blesses Un-napishti (U tnapishtim ), and confers im m ortality an
him . T h e flood is n ot a demonstration that death is the wages o f
o n , and Un-napishti (U tnapishtim ) is n ot “ saved by grace.”
I t is true that the poem Atrahasu is m ore expficfc~am reraing
the m otive o f the flo o d :

The land became wide, the peopfle became nnjmerous,

The land bellowed like wild oxen.
The god [Enlil] was disturbed by their uproar.
[Enlil] heard their clamor
(And) said to the great gods:
“Oppressive has become the clamor of mankind.
By their uproar they'prevent sleep."
A, 2-8 Spasm's translation, in Pritchard, op. cit.

It is evident that an ethical m otive .has not yet succeeded in break*

ing through, even though men are held responsibKTEt is not the
holiness o f G od that is offended'! - . ■
fin a lly , the episode o f the flood is still caught in the divine
chaos; instead o f the one, holy G od o f Generis, confronted with

14 G . Contenau, p. 71.
hnman disorder, there is a confrontation o f gods w ho blam e one
another, trem ble like dogs, and crow d about the sacrifice o f the old
Sage like flies. T h e them e o f human fault, w hich the ep ic o f
Atrahaas approaches and w hich th e Akkadian ep ic is on the point
o f evoking tow ard the end, in the reproaches o f E a, is, so to speak,
masked, im peded, b y the dom inant structure o f the m yth. I t must
be admitted that the same folk loric foundation supports tw o dif­
ferent theologies.11' '
^ T hat the intention o f the m yth is n ot to illustrate the wickedness
o f m en is confirm ed further by its insertion in the fam ous E pic of
GSgamesh.** T h e quest o f Gilgamesh has nothing to d o w ith sin,
but only w ith death, cbm pletely stripped o f any ethical significance,
and wifla'tHe’tiesire fo r im m ortality.
GSgamesh is th e ep ic o f th e "hum an, aU too*human” ; it . is the
quest fo r immortaiity^thatTrggals m ortality as fate.17 E viLis death.

u H eidel, op. eit., places d ie difference o f m otive between the Babylonian

flood and the B iblical flood am ong the m ultiple differences fla t betray an
opposition in the intentions 3 h e contrasts the caprice o f the Babylonian gods
with the holiness o f the B iblical G od and the "regret” o f the first w ith the
“ repentance” o f th e second. G . Contenau, less sensible o f the typological
difference, w rites; "A ll the dvflizations fla t have preserved flu memory
of the flood see in it a punishment from flu gods for a fau lt com m it ted by
men. This was certainly the case fo r flu Babylonian flo o d ; bu t w e still
lack the exposition o f the- fa u lt; w e see th e gods displeased w ith mankind,
but we d o n ot know the reason. Tw enty years a g o, however, it was thought
that the explanation h ad been found” (op. ciL , p . 5 0 ).
la p . D honne, Choix de textes retigieux assyro-babyloniens, p p . 182-325.
G. Contenau, L’&popee d* Gilgamesh, pobne babylotiien (Paris, 19 39 ). A .
H eidel, The Gilgamesh Epic and Old Testament Parallels (C h icago, 19 45 ).
O ur text k th e translation in Pritchard, op. eit.: Sumerian fragments, p p .
4 2 -5 2 ; Akkadian version, p p . 7 2 -9 9 , reproduced in th e same editor’ s
Anthology (except T ablet X I I ) , pp. 4 0 -7 5 , and in L M endelsohn, op. cit.,
pp. 47—115. T . H . Gaster tells the adventures anew in The Oldest Stories
m the W orld, p p . 2 1 -5 1 . fid . D horm e comments an them in La literature
babylonienne et assyrienne (Paris, 19 37 ), p p . 51 -7 3 .
i r T he O rphic m yth o f the tw ofold descent o f man— divine and Titanic—
does not seem to be paralleled by the description o f Gilgamesh given by the
scorpion-m an w ho guards the gates to the abode o f the Babylonian N oah:
“ H e w ho has com e to us— his body is the flesh o f the gods” ; to wb* **>e
wife o f the m onster replies: ‘T w o-thirds o f him is god, one-third
is human” (I X , n , 14 and 1 6 ). Apart from the iron ic tone, this
plains the heroic character o f. the undertaking, bu t does n ot gut
J. B ottfro, La religion babylonienne (Paris, 19 52 ),
Its tenors axe represented, before the grievous experience o f the
death o f his friend, death in the second person, by the monster
Huwawa, placed by the god in the m idst o f the cedar forest “ as a
terror to mortals” ; the tw o friends must destroy him to exorcize
their weakness: “ L et us, m e and thee, slay him , that all evil from
d ie land w e may banish!” ( I l l , iii, 6 -7 ). “ Huwawa— his roaring
is the flood-storm , his m outh is fire, his breath is death!” (H I, iii,
1 8 -2 0 ). A nd already Gilgamesh has a foreboding o f the secret
which he w ill have to take as the reason fo r his m ortal life :

“ W h o, m y friend, is superior to death?

Only the gods live forever under the sun.
A s fo r m ankind, num bered are their days;
W hatever they achieve is bu t th e w ind!”
in , iv, 5-8
H ere the epic becom es indistinguishable from an elegy cm m ortal
time.
It is true that Gilgamesh and his com panion kill the giant o f the
forest and also the “ Bull o f H eaven” sent against them fo r having
insulted the gods. But these murders d o n ot im ply any gu ilt; they,
too, must be interpreted within the perspective o f the. fo r
eternity;. they signify that th e B e sm o f man is to share in the im ­
mortality e f the god s; and it is d ie jealousy o f the gods that makes
this desire fo r im mortality the transgression o f a lim it, represented
by the destruction o f the giant and o f the Bull o f H eaven.
T h e gods say to one another:

“ Because the B ull o f H eaven they have slain, and H uwawa

T h ey have slain, therefore” — said Anu— “ the one o f them
W ho stripped the m ountains o f the cedar
[M ust d ie !]"
V II, 6 -8

It is then that Gilgamesh has the first and only experience o f

death that is given to a man to have, that o f the death o f a friend:

“ H ear m e, O elders [and give ear] unto m e!

clearly seen the difference between the O rphic myth and the Babylonian
myth o f men created w ith the blood o f a god.
 It is fo r F.nkidu, m y [friend], that I w eep,
M oaning bitterly like a w ailing w om an [etc.]. . . .”
V I I I , ii, 1 ff.

A nd again:

“ W hen I d ie, shall I n ot b e like Enkidu?

W oe has entered m y belly.
Fearing death, I roam over the steppe.”
DC, i, 3 -5 18

It is within the fram ework o f this passionate and vain quest,

radically foreign to the problem atics o f fault, that the voyage to
the land o f Utnapishtim , the Akkadian N oah, is situated:

“ A bout death aqd life [I w ish to ask him ].”

DC, iii, 5

But even before the m eeting he is warned by various terrible

signs:

“ N ever was there, G ilgam esh, [a m ortal w ho cou ld

achieve that].”
DC, iii, 8

says the scorpion-m an. A nd Shamash:

“ G ilgam esh, w hither rovest thou?

T h e life th ou pursuest th ou shalt not find.”
X ,i ,7 - 8

A nd Siduri, the alew ife, “ w ho dwells by the deep sea,” repeats

the litany:

“ T h e life thou pursuest thou shalt not find.

W hen the gods created m ankind,
D eath fo r m ankind they set aside,
l i f e in their ow n hands retaining.”
X , iii, 2 -5
18 Nowhere is the epic closer to tragedy. Enlil has decreed the death o f
the friend, and d ie god Shamash cries ou t: “ Was it n o t at m y com m and/
That they slew the Bull o f H eaven and H uw aw a?/Should now in nocen t/
Enkidu die?” (V H , 1 2 -1 5 ). Nevertheless, d ie tragic them e is n ot complete;
there lacks the blinding o f m an by the g o d ; here the interplay o f innocence
and fault is still incidental to the theogonic rnnttSrf
 T h e advice she gives him is that o f Ecclesiastes: m ain merry,
feast and dan ce:
“ Let thy spouse delight in thy bosom!
F or this is th e task o f [mankind]!**
X , iii, 13-14
Utnapishtim gives evidence only o f an exceptional and incom­
m unicable immortality, w hich makes the quest o f (Slgamesh all the
m ore distressing and absurd.19 T h e sorrow ful h ero is separated
fro m the blessed h ero by the abyss o f deep- { X I , 200 if. ) ; and this
deep is also the harbinger o f death (2 3 3 -3 4 ). F or Gilgaxnesh there
is only one w ay: Return, return to finitude, to the city o f Uruk, to
toil and care.
Failing im m ortality, he w ill at least ca n y back from the blessed
land the plan t nam ed “ M an Becomes Y ou ng in O ld Age” (X I,
2 8 2 ). Even that is denied him by a supreme irony o f fa te; while he
is bathing, a serpent steals the plant o f youth from him before he
cou ld taste it him self. This plant evidently has nothing in common
w ith the forbidden fru it;” it is a symbol belonging to~ the "same
cycle "as 'the murders o f H uw awa and the Bull o f H eaven, as well
as the encounter w ith the im m ortal saint; it is the final symbol rf
D eception, not o f F a u lt In Genesis, too, m an is frustrated o f the
fruit o f the tree o f life, but that is because o f the other tree, the
tree o f the knowledge o f good and evil, w hich belongs to mother
“ type” than the Babylonian cycle. In the ep ic o f GHgamesh, dm
checkmate is a fate without ethical significance and foreign to any
idea o f a fa ll; death, in w hich the checkmate o f m an culminates,
represents the original difference between men and gods.
It seems to me, then, that the absence o f a genuine myth of the
faffTn^the^Sumero^Bahylonian cuItureTs- theTtinrnteipart o f the
vision o f The w orld set forthTn* their myths o f creation. W here evil
is prim ordial and primordiaQy involved in the very com ing-to-be
o f the gods, the problem that might bereaoIv«idlby~a"m ythrafjhe
19 H eidel, op. cit., pp. 1 0 -1 3 : because the im mortality o f d ie Babylonian
N oah is unattainable, only the epicureanism recom m ended b y dm alewife,
or the strenuous m ode o f life to w hich the hero returns, axe left.
90 In spite o f E. D honne, op. cit, p. 6 9 : “ As in Eden, it is die serpent
that robs m an o f th e g ift o f im m ortal life. . . . O nly the serpent has
profited by the tribulations o f the hero.**
fall Is already resolved T h at is why there is n o place fo r a m yth
of the tall alongside a creation-m yth o f this sort; da-problem ., oh evil
i r resolved^fn irri*the^begmning and^even. a s w e have seen, before
th e beginning; before the creation o f m an, before d ie creation o f
th e w o rid /e v e n before tb s birth of^the god w ho order.

2. T h e R itu al R e- enactm ent or t h e C reation

and t h e F igure of t h e K ing

If evil is coextensive with the origin o f things, as prim eval chaos

and theogonic strife, then the elim ination o f evil and o f the w icked
must belong to the creative a ct as such. In thiB “ type” there is n o
problem o f salvation distinct from the problem o f creation; there
is no history o f salvation distinct foam the dram a o f creation.
Consequently, every historical dram a, every historical conflict,
must be attached by a bond o f re-enactm ent o f the cultual-ritual
type to the drama o f creation. L et us try to understand this re­
enactment o f the foundation o f the w orld and its im plications step
by step in all the spheres o f human existence, from worship to
politics. I t is there, in fact, that w e shall And the type o f -map
corresponding to this vision o f theogonic strife ancTfbat w e shaff
A c o n c t l « e q t t n le t t » fa r rther U p * o f
myth.
It h asb een said to o quickly that the cultual-ritual re-enactm ent
excludes tim e and history. I t only exdudes a historicity o f a coin
tingeat"typepbom iS u p , as w e shall g§& w ith the interpretation o f
evil as “ entering in to the w orld” b y means o f a contingent a c t
The “ cultual-ritual” virion o f human existence develops a specific
sort o f history attached to the cult— and hence to the re-enactm ent
of the drama o f creation— by means o f the K in g. Because royalty
stands between gods and m en, it provides the figure that ties history
to the cult, as the cult is itself tied to the theogonic drama. R elying
an contem porary works devoted to the “ religious character o f
Assyro-Babylonian kingship,” *1 w e shall try to show the conform ity

” Ren 6 Labat, L » caractirt religieux d t la royauti assyro-babylonttnne

(Paris, 1 9 3 9 ); H enri Frankfort, Kingship and the Gods (C h icago, 1 9 4 8 );
Bngnefl, Studies in Divine Kingship in the Ancient Near East (U ppsala,
 that exists between this type of history and the type a£ evil that
w e shall study here.

T h e first entrance o f the dram a o f creation in to the History of

m en is th e cu lt and th e ensemble o f ritual practices that surround
all hum an activities.41 H ow the cult is already a lan d o f action—
n ot only a fictive re-enactm ent, b u t a renewal of the drama by
active participation. M ankind, says the creation-mythj” was cre-
iK’U'W'^i ated fo r the service o f the gods, fo r w hich the gods founded Baby-
lon^its tem ple, and its cu lt; and this service, when it is addressed
^ • to the god w ho established order, evoking this attribute explicitly,
calls fo r the real re-enactm ent o f the drama o f creation. The magni-
.vfH ^ldw itude o f the N ew Year’s festival at Babylon is w ell known.1* A
w hole people, in the presence o f the gods assembled in effigy, re­
enacts the original battle in w hich the w orld order was won and
relives the fundam ental emotions o f the poem — the cosm ic anguish,
the exaltation o f battle, the jubilation in triumph. By the celebra­
tion o f the festival, the people place their whole existence under
the Bign o f the drama o f creation. T h e connection w ith the poem is
recalled by the recitation o f it on the fourth day. T h e mimed
dramatization o f the poem in the rite o f the festival is further
am plified by the identification o f M arduk w ith T ainmuz, the dying
and reviving god. Like the^jopular god, the national god is lost,
held prisoner in the “ mountain” ; the people, thrown into confu­
sion, weep fo r him as fear a suffering and dying g o d ; it is at once
tiie death o f a god and the return o f the creation to chaos. The
people “ descend” to the im prisoned g o d ; then the god revives with
the aid o f the ritu al; M arduk is liberated and released; his en­
thronement is re-enacted and the people participate in his deliver­
ance by the great procession that marks the approach o f the cul­
m inating point o f the festival. T h e procession symbolizes Marduk’s*2

1 9 4 3 ); Thorkild Jacobsen, “ M esopotamia,” in The Intellectual Adventure

of Ancient Man (C hicago, 1946).
22 O n the cult, cf. £ d . D horm e, L et religions de Babylonia et tPAssyne,
pp. 220-57.
22 Enuma elish, V I, 49 -7 0 .
14 Frankfort, op. a t.; Labat, op. eit., p p . 1 6 7 -7 6 ; EngneU, op. dL, p. 33.
gon g forth, to th e encounter w ith the hostile forces; the banquet
at the gods celebrates th e victory over ch aos; and, finally, the
sacred m arriage revives a ll th e M e-giving forces in nature and m an.
by tins fusion vritbi th e vegetation liturgy th e e p ic m yth becom es
tbaxged w ith a h th e sym bolism suggested t o man. b y th e ■periodic
decay and renew al o f natural Me,** w h ile th e agrarian rite is in­
serted in to a cosm ic ep ic th at can b e extended n o t only in the
direction o f nature, b u t in d ie direction o f d ie history and political
destiny c f mankind.
Its influence cm human M e is exhibited n ot only by the role o f
expiations, prayers o f appeasement, and sacrifices throughout the
festival, but b y the tw o cerem onies o f “ determ ination o f destiny,”
the first after tbe^liberaban at M arduk, to express' the ia ct that
men are the slaves o f the gods, the second at d ie end o f the ritual,
so that the renewal o f society m ay coin cide w ith the rejuvenation
of nature. Thus the cosm ic order is also the judgm ent o f m ankind.
But it is especially by the role o f the king in the festival that the
transition from cosm ic dram a to history is effected. T h e king is
both the grand penitent, in wham the service o f the gods is epito­
mized, and the personification o f the bound and delivered god. O n
the fifth day o f the festival, the king is stripped o f his emblems
and struck by the priest; he makes a declaration o f inn ocen ce; the
priest speaks words o f appeasement to him , reclothes him in his
insignia, strikes him again to draw from him tears that probably
signify the g o o d w ill o f the g o d ; the king, thus reinstalled, can
play the role o f officiant in the great cerem ony o f renew al This
scene o f hum iliation is a kind o f deposition w hich associates the
precariousness o f his kingship w ith the captivity o f the dying god
and bases the renewal o f his sovereignty an the victory o f the de­
livered god.
a Engnell shows that the fusion o f the supreme god w ith the god o f
fertility can easily take place in either direction, w ithout the necessity o f
supposing & transposition horn the agrarian th an e to th e theme o f sov­
ereignty through rile king ns interm ediary; on th e contrary , it is rile figure
of the king that is the beneficiary o f this m utual encroachm ent upon each
other o f the tw o “ divine” epithets (o p . f i t , p p . 1 8 -2 3 ). Sim ilarly Frank­
fort: “ T h e recital o f the gods’ victory over chaos at the beginning o f time
cast a spell o f accom plishm ent over the hazardous and all-im portant renewal
of natural life in the present” (o p . a t., p . 3 1 4 ).
 T his participation o f the long in d ie festival is the epitom e o f all
the ties that hind the human to d ie divine, ttiw political to the
cosm ic, history to the cult. W e can truly say that the long is Vfan
A n Assyrian proverb says; “ M an is the shadow o f the god and
[other] men are the shadow o f M a n ; M an is the lung, w ho is Hke
the m irror o f the god."**
Thus, Babylonian thought effects the passage from d ie cosmic
dram a to~die~Sistory o f m en through a th e d o g y a f sovereigntyan d
th rou gtfthe fig u re o f the K ing. N ow w e shall observe th eeffect this
had an the conception o f violence and its role in history.
T his theology o f sovereignty has deep roots in theogony. T he god,
in fact, is K in g ; he is the master and ow ner o f the lan d ; the whole
Cosm os is conceived as a State.” Thus the turn from the cosmic
to the political is effected within the divine sphere itself; a pact
with d ie earth, with men and history, is written in this attribute o f
Sovereignty.
But the sovereignty o f th e god over the city, the country, and
the “ fou r regions o f the w orld ," that is to say, the entire universe,28

*• Labat, op. cit„ p . 222. The Jong “ occupied a privileged place between
gods and m en ; h e was, in a way, the bond that unites d ie w od d o f mortals
with the sublime sphere o f the gods" (ibid. ) . “ H e is ehn«wi b y the gods,
not to be a god him self but to b e the M an par «atceUeucd* (p . 3 6 2 ). We
are referred to th e celebrated analyses in Frazer’s Golden Bough, V L This
theme is taken up vigorously by F.ngnell, w ho goes so fa r as to identify the
king w ith the g o d ; he sees this identity o f the king and the g o d o f vegeta­
tion ratified by the sym bol o f the tree, o r the plant o f fife , w hich connects
heaven and earth; like the tree, the lon g is a giver o f life (op. a it, pp.
2 3 -3 0 ).
27 Thorkild Jacobsen, “ M esopotam ia,” in T h e Intellectual Adventure of
A ncient Man. T h e author (w ho, like Frankfort, insists an tile contrast with
Egypt and finks tins contrast w ith a difference o f attitude towards nature)
shows that the cosm ic order is represented as an integration o f gigantic and
frightening pow ers, and so as a Copnos-State. Arm represents the essence
o f authority in his terrible greatness, “ the very centre and source o f aO
majesty” ; the devastating violence o f M l is co-ordinated w ith it as
catastrophe w ith sovereignty, or, says the author, quoting M ax W eber, as
violence w ith the essence o f th e State. T h e manifestations o f fertility and
creation, in the figures o f M other Earth and W ater, are also in eluded in
this com plex o f w ills and elevated to die dignity o f powers In the Cosmos-
State.
“ O n the evolution o f the conception o f kingship boat the Sumerians
to the Babylonians and the Assyrians, cf. Labat, op. cit., introduction.
is fully m anifested only in the person o f the long w ho, w ithout be­
ing personally a god , h olds his sovereignty by divine favor. T h e
king is the place w here the prim ordial kingship descends from
heaven to earth ; kingship is com m unicated to him b y the ch oice
of the gods w h o look w ith kindness upon him , by calling upon a
favorable nam e, b y the determ ination o f a propitious destiny— in
short, by investiture and adoption rather than b y actual filiation.
The ritual o f enthronem ent is on ly the m anifestation o f tins pre­
destination.
flan an ech o o f th e cre^eti^bcam a b e fou n d in this theology o f
power? Y es, in the essentially precarious conception o f Babylonian
kingship, an w hich Frankfort and T h T jacobsen insist so m uch, in
contrast with. tErTEgyptian canception.” “N ow , the*M esopotam ian
and Egyptiairthealqgies a f pow er b oth conform to their respective
views a f creation ; in contrast w ith the “ serene splendor o f the
Egyptian creator tiring from the prim eval ocean o s the first m orn­
ing to shape the w orld h e was to rule,” 80 there is the lon g conflict,
of w hich d ie Babylonian creation is only the final episode; M arduk
hgrtmu-B king only a t the height o f the crisis in ord er to save the
assembly o f the god s; thus tile divine m onarchy itself is the product
of confusion and anxiety. T h e kingship o f the terrestrial m onarch
reflects this painful parturition; after his enthronem ent, “ the task
which h e now faced was hazardous in the extreme.” 81 H e has to
interpret the w ill o f the gods unceasingly, through signs and om ens;
he represents the people before the gods, offering to them an epit­
ome o f human piety encased in a very com plicated daily ritual;
he is legiriator and ju dge in the nam e o f the gods. H e is responsible
far the w hole life a f the country: h e is m an p a r excellen ce, and
the unique being in w hom all the life-giving forces o f the land are
concentrated ;** being responsible fa r the relations between heaven
and earth, he w ill aim b e the victim o f any discord and w ill have
to hum ble birrvu»1f unceasingly fa r it, “ as i f the cause o f the evil
from w hich the universe suffers w ere in him and had to be extir-

“ Frankfort, op. cit., passim ; Thorkild Jacobsen, op. cit., p p . 185-200.

*° Frankfort, op. cit.s p . 232.
a Ibid., p . 247.
** Labat, op. eit., p . 277.
pated from his body by confession and various rites of elimina­
tion” ;38 that is why the royal priest, the royal worshiper, becomes
the royal penitent94 Thus placed in the perspective o f die creadon-
m yth, against the background o f the pain o f being, the kingship,
in w hich the humanity o f m an is epitom ized, appears as wretched
as it is great— dom inated, finally, by the anguish arising from the
instability o f order. T h e revocable investiture o f the king intro-
duces a factor o f unforeseeability in to history; the gods have
changed and can change their earthly se rv a n tT h e y h a v e lm ly to
transfer the kingship to another .city o r another state, to raise up
the scourge o f a tyrant or a foreign avenger, jnst-as among'them-
selves they grant supremacy n ow to one, nowTto another.
C an the verification o f the m yth b y the m ode o f life be pushed
further? T h e structure o f the myth permits us to anticipate what
m ay be called a theology o f the H oly W ar. If the K ing represents
the god w h o overcom es chaos, the Enemy should represent the
forces o f evil in our history and his insolence should represent a
resurgence o f the ancient chaos.
A t first right, the facts d o n ot seem to confirm this expectation:
“ In general, the Babylonian king is not a warrior. H e more will­
ingly occupies him self with pious works and the labors o f peace.
H e builds temples and palaces. . . .” ** It is the Assyrian avffiza-
tum that develops this vindictive aspect o f the theology o f powa\
“ It was above all as a leader in war, avenger o f the divine right,
that the sovereign o f Assur realized his pow er to the fulL” “ Even
if the Babylonian sovereign is not chiefly a leader in war, neverthe­
less the fate on w hich the gods have deliberated requires him “to
m ake justice prevail, to protect the weak, and to hold the wicked
in check.” 3 *37 Hammurabi, in the exordium o f his fam ous Code,
declares that he has been nam ed by Anu and M arduk “ to cause
justice to prevail in the land, to destroy the wicked and d ie evil,

33 Ib id ., p . 279.
M Should one g o so far as to say, with Engpell, that the psalm literature
(hymns and psalms o f repentance and lam entation) gravitates around the
king, that tee psalms are prim arily royal psalms (op. cit., pp. 4 5 -5 1 ) ?
ss Labat, op. eit., p. 14.
3 3 /b id ., p. 2 2 .
37 Ibid ., p . 51.
that die strong m ight n ot oppress the weak. . . .” * Thus the king
cannot be judge, laborer, penitent, without w ielding the sword
against the w icked in his kingdom and outride it ; violence is in­
cluded in the fa te that has m ade him the M an par excellen ce.
Among the Insignia. conferred upon him at the tim e o f his enthrone­
ment, the king receives the sacred arms o f the divine conqueror and
the divine avenger; “ the invincible bow” o f the king o f Assyria,
“tee terrible b ow o f Ishtar, L ady o f Combats,” is, then, n ot w ithout
precedents.” From this to regarding the enemy him self as repre­
senting the prim ordial chaos, there is only a step. T hat step was
taken with greater alacrity by the Assyrians89 than by the Babylo­
nians.40 T h e enem y must b e punished because he does n ot obey the
word o f Assur, because h e is im pious and sacrilegious (and so he
will first have his tongue cut o u t); his death w ill b e evidence o f
the power o f the god , while his pardon, if he is pardoned, w ill be
a sign o f the fear inspired by the god.
So I see the ultim ate outcom e o f this type o f m yth in^a theology
of war founded on the identification o f the Enemy w ith the powers
teat the god has vanquished and continues to vanquish in the
drama o f creation. Through the m ediation o f the king, the dram a
of creation becom es significant fo r the w hole history o f m ankind,
and particularly fo r all o f that aspect o f hum an life w hich is
characterized by ctim bat In other w ords, them ythological type o f
rfr*mn. o f cr»»n.tinn is marked by the K ing-E nem y relation,
• Tr. by T . J. M eek, in Pritchard, A ncien t N ear Eastern T exts, p.
164— Ta.
38 The reliefs in the British M useum , in w hich the position o f the royal
archer duplicates exactly the position o f tee divine bowm an, whose figure
dominates his, are w ell known. Thus the historical violence o f the king
imitates the prim ordial violence o f the god.
80 In th e chapter entitled "G uerre Sainte,” Labat (o p . tit., p p . 2 5 3 -7 4 )
takes his examples principally from the Assyrian period.
• E. D honne (o p . tit,, p . 145) recalls the enum eration o f the arms o f
Marduk in Enuma elish, IV . Thoridld Jacobsen (op . t it .), w ho insists on
the anteriority o f B n l'l, god o f the storm and o f counsel, to M arduk, sees
in tee function o f Bnlfl the source o f historical violen ce; he rites numerous
contemporary texts concerning tee city-state in w hich E nlil is invoked as
the executor o f punitive jn stice; it is the pasting o f sovereignty from one
city to another which manifests the arbitrament o f violence in this epoch ;
then te e god o f the city weeps over it, as N ingal grieves fo r the “ day o f
storm” teat sees tee destruction o f her city, U r.
w hich becom es the political relation par excellen ce. This phenom­
enological filiation is fundam ental, fo r it introduces us through the
myth to the problem o f political evil, w hich w ill hold an im portant
place in our later research. Even if, as it seems, this theology o f war
was not developed explicitly and systematically b y the Assyro-
Babylonians, it can be said inversely that any coherent theology of
the holy w ar is founded on the first m ythological “ type” o f EviL
A ccording to that theology, the Enemy is a W icked O ne, war is
his punishment, and there are wicked ones because first there is
evil and then order. In the final analysis, evil is n ot an accident
that upsets a previous ord er; it belongs constitutionally to tie
foundation o f order. Indeed, it is doubly original: first, in the rale
o f the Enemy, whom the forces o f chaos have never ceased to in*
carnate, although they were crushed at the beginning of the world;
second, in the figure o f the K ing, sent to "destroy the wicked and
the evil” by the same ambiguous pow er o f devastation and of pru­
dence that once upon a time established order.3

3. A “ R ecessive ” F orm op th e D ram a op C reation :

T h e H ebrew K ino

W e have supported our analysis o f the first type o f myth by the

exam ple o f the Babylonian creation-dram a. In that myth not only
is the “ type” dom inant, but it succeeded in anim ating the whole
o f a culture, since it furnished it w ith an understanding of its
political existence.
N ow w e shall verify our typological m ethod with the help of
tw o mythical schemata, one H ebrew and one H ellenic, in which
the exem plification o f the “ type” is less pure and m om complex.
In the first case the creation-dram a is pushed back by another
“ type” and subsists only in a recessive form . In the second, the
conception o f the w orld and o f evil hesitates between several type
and begins to veer tow ard the m ythical farm s that w e shall study
further an. W e have here tw o m odalities o f what m ight be called
the phenom enological “ transition” between types: the superimpoa-
tion o f a dom inant form on a recessive form , and indeterminafion
among several form s.
 Are we right in speaking o f a recessive form in connection with
certain themes o f the H ebrew Bible that are still enlisted, it seems,
imifa-r the phenom enological type o f the creation-dram a? Certain
e g getes, chiefly Scandinavian,*1 have grate m uch further and have
shown the strict dependence o f the M essianic them e and even o f
the theme o f tiie prim ordial man an the “ ideology a f the king,”
the meaning a f w hich in the dram a o f creation w e have seen. L et
ns begin by follow ing them . Perhaps the typological m ethod w ill
k in g to light a discontinuity in m eaning where the historical and
exegetic m ethod jg m ore sensitive to the w eight o f influences and
to the continuity o f im ages and literary expression. H istorical con­
tinuity and phenom enological o r typological discontinuity are not
mutually exclusive, if they are brought into play from different
prints o f view and at different levels.
The “ritual-cultual” schema o f the dram a o f creation, repeated
in the com bats o f the king against his enemies, is certainly the key
to a certain num ber o f the Psalms, w hich insinuate at the same
trnnf that the evil in history, represented by the enemies o f Yahw eh
and d ie K in g, also has its roots in a prim ordial enm ity overcam e
by Yahweh when h e foun ded th e w orld and established the firma­
ment, above w hich his throne is securely set.
Thus tiie cultual fram e o f the celebration o f the enthronement o f
Yahweh is still related to the drama o f creation: the Psalms o f
God's reign (Ps. 47, 93, 95, 100) develop the acclam ation “ G od is
King!” ; and as his kingdom embraces the peoples o f history as w ell
as the physical universe, the schema o f reign, subjugation, contests
against enem ies, characteristic o f a theology o f history, willingly
avails itself o f the im agery o f the creation-dram a. La Psalm 8, the
firmam ent appears as the strong place that Yahw eh opposes to the
aggressor in order to destroy enemies and rebels. T h e formless
might o f the waters, as weH as certain m onstrous figures— R ahab,
the Dragon— associated w ith the figure o f the prim eval sea, con ­
tinue to represent the prim ordial adversary opposed to the un­
shakable firm am ent: ‘Y ah w eh an high is m ightier than the noise
of many waters, yea, than the m ighty waves o f the sea” (Ps. 9 3 :4 );
“Thou rulest the raging o f the sea: when the waves thereof arise,
® M ow inckel, Engnell, W Idengren, Pedersen.
thou stillest them. T h ou hast broken Rahab in pieces, as one that is
slain; thou has scattered thine enemies with thy strong arm” {Ps.
8 9 :9 -1 0 ). T h e overflowing o f great waters can becom e a symbol of
anguish— "in the floods o f great waters they shall not come nigh
unto thee [the pardoned sinner]” (Ps. 3 2 :6 )— and o f deads— “flu
waves o f death enveloped m e” (Ps. 1 8 :5 ). This "spiritual” theme
preserves the m ark o f d ie mysterious prim ordial Peril.
Still m ore im portant fo r ou r purpose than the epic theme o f the
R eign o f Yahweh is the theme o f the oriental king who wages war
in the nam e o f G od against the com m on enemies o f G od, o f his
anointed, and o f Ins chosen people. It is here, as we have sees,
that the evil o f history is linked w ith cosm ic evil, the Enemy repre­
senting the outcropping, in history, o f the prim ordial Peril. The
cosm ic dram a becom es a M essianic dram a: “ W hy d o the heathen
rage, and d ie people imagine a vain thing? T h e kings o f the earth
rise up, and the rulers take counsel together, against the Lard, and
against his anointed. . . But Yahweh, in his m a th , speaks to
them : “ I myself have set my king upon Z ion , m y holy moun­
tain. . . .” A nd to his king he says: “ T h ou shalt break diem with
a sceptre o f iron ; thou shalt dash than' in pieces like a p otto’s
vessel” (Ps. 2 ). T o D avid, “ his servant,” Y ahw eh says again in
Psalm 89: “ T he enemy shall n ot deceive him , n or the son o f wick­
edness afflict him . A n d I w ill beat down his foes before his face,
and plague them that hate him. . . H ave w e n ot here a recol­
lection o f the “ cultual-ritual” com bat o f the god-king? Is sot the
historical enem y the prim ordial enemy o f G od and the king? Is
n ot the lung him self chosen “ from d ie beginning,” at the time
when chaos was overcom e?
Thus placed in the sequence o f the dram a o f creation, the theme
o f the enem y stands out strongly: “ I w ill make thine enemies thy
footstool . . . rule thou in the m idst o f thine enemies . . . [die
Messiah] w ill break kings in the day o f his wrath,” says Psahn 110.
A t the same tim e it is easy to see how the ritual com bat, which
re-enacts the drama o f creation, can be extended in three different
directions. In the first place, the paradigm o f the K ing may move
tow ard that o f the primeval m an, w h o likewise “ reigns” over the
earth, because he also is the “ image” o f G od. Again, h is Psahn 8
that says o f the son o f A dam : "T h ou hast m ade him little less than
a god, crow ning him w ith glory and splendor; thou madest him to
have dom inion over the works o f thy hands, putting all things under
his fe e t . . T h e line from the original K ing to the prim ordial
man seems w ell established.
In the gBcagd? place, the paradigm o f the Kingd o m be “ histori-
CTsed” — and, in the same measure, “ d em j^ ologized ” — in virtue o f
the same com bats that put to the test his kingship, established
from the beginning. W e have seen above that the K ing does n ot
only “re-enact” the drama o f creation, he evolves a genuine "his­
tory” ; from the ritual com bat one passes insensibly to the historical
com bat R oyal laments— fo r exam ple. Psalm 8 9 :3 9 -5 2 , w hich cele­
brates in the m inor m ode the sufferings o f the king— favored this
historicizatian m ore than anything else, w hile the hymn o f enthrone­
ment leads m ore naturally to the prim ordial establishment o f the
kingship. W hile it revives the prim ordial anguish o f the tim e when
chaos had n ot yet been overcom e, the royal lam ent plunges into
the thick o f genuine historical perils. It is D avid, fleeing before
his son Absalom , w ho cries; "Y ahw eh, how are they increased
that trouble m e! M any are they that rise u p against m e. M any
there be w hich say o f m y soul, There is n o salvation fo r him in
his G od” (Ps. 3 :1 - 2 ) . "H ow long, Yahw eh, w ilt thou forget m e?
Unto the end?” (Ps. 1 3 :1 ). A t the lim it, the them e m ay b e "d e -
mythologized” and “m oralized” to such a degree that it loses all
connection, w ith any precise history; the faith fu l o f Judaism and
Christianity cou ld legitim ately interpret “ the adversary,” "th e op­
pressor in the sense o f adversity— that is to say, m isfortune— or
of diabolical tem ptation— that is to say, tem ptation by the Evil
One. But the “ dem ythologization” o f the Enemy and his “ historid-
zatkm” in the guise o f Egypt, o r the Philistines, o r the Assyrians,
were a necessary stage on the road to this “ m oral” and once again
“mythical” transposition o f the Adversary. M oreover, the Chris­
tians gave a “ Ghristological” interp retation to the lam ent o f the
innocent one persecuted, closer to the “ suffering servant,” accord­
ing to Second Isaiah, than to the king threatened b y an historical
enemy: “ M y G od, m y G od, why hast thou forsaken m e?” (Ps.
2 2:1 ). In this cry, the epitom e o f all distress, in this lam entation o f
the universal G ood Friday, m ay w e not recognize die .echo o f the
cultual dram a at its m ost intense m om ent, when the prmuirdial
Peril seems cm the point o f gaining the victory?
But the historical derivation o f the themes can b e follow ed in
a (Junj) direction: that o f the “ eschatological” K ingdom . In the
cultual schema salvation has been w on, the K j^~Xni~caoquered,
creation has been com pleted; history, w ith its perils, is not truly
n ew ; it “ re-enacts” the mom ent o f tension o f the cultual drama.J
N ow let history becom e real, and the final victory is n o longer an
already attained mom ent o f the drama, but a m om ent waited for
at “ the end o f tim e.” W e see how the dram a, in being demytholo-
gized, becom es historidzed, and, in becom ing historicized,
a sort o f “ eschatological” carrying forw ard o f its denouement
Thus the creation-dram a was to break out nbt only in the direction
o f prim ordial M an ox historical contingency, but in the direction
o f the m uch m ore recent figure o f the “ Son o f M an,” whose crwnmg
from heaven is awaited by D aniel and E n och ; horn the Messianic
K ing within history to the transcendent, heavenly “ Son o f Man”
the line o f descent is continuous. M oreover, w e can find an im­
portant stage in this “ eschatological” transposition: the Child, the
Prince o f Peace, foretold by Isaiah ( 9 :6 ) , is already a figure of die
E n d; he w ill restore the peace o f Paradise; the w olf m il dwell with
the lam b, the baby w ill {day on the hole o f the cobra. T h e Man
o f the end-tim e and prim eval M an ultimately coin cide; is tins not
because both are derived from the figure o f the K ing, established
from everlasting to everlasting?
It is evident that the paradigm o f the K ing and the Enemy can
be drawn out in various directions. But it must be noticed that the
result is bound up with a certain m ethod, m ore attentive to sur­
vivals than to new directions; once you have decided to the
new by the old , the event by its historical “ sources,” you w ill find
everywhere, even in its most rem ote derivatives, the initial nucleus
that you have decided to take as the baas o f “ explanation.”
A m ethod m ore attentive to typological differences*8 w ill start
from a different observation: these resemblances with the theme
** Aage Bentzen, M essias, M atts redimvus, M nuchtnsohn (Z firich , 1948).
of the K ing in the drama o f creation can n o longer be anything but
survivals, because the cornerstone o f the “ ritual o f the K ing” has
been broken; fundam entally there is n o longer a dram a o f creation
because there is n o longer a theogony, n o longer any vanquished
gals; the im ages o f the old system can n o longer survive except as
cut flowersTTt is the series o f “ images” that is continuous; the
series o f “significations” is n o longer so. A different system o f
“significations” is at work with the same representations.
In the new system48 creation is good_from the first; it proceeds
bam a W ard and n ot from a D ram a; it is com plete. E vil, then,
can n o longer b e identical w ith a p rior and resurgent chaos; a
different m yth w ill be needed to account fo r its ^appearance, its
“entrance into the w orld.” H istory too, then, is an original di-
mensian and n o t a . “ re-enactment” o f the drama o f creation. It is
History, n ot Creation, that isja Dram a. ^Thus E vil and H istory are
contem poraneous; neither E vil n or H istory can any longer be
referred to some prim ordial disorder; Evil becom es scandalous at
the same tim e as it becom es historical But, if neither Evil nor
History “ re-enacts” a prim ordial disorder, neither can Salvation
any longer he identified w ith the foundation o f the w orld ; it can
no longer b e an aspect o i the dram a o f creation re-enacted in the
cult; it becom es itself an original historical dimension like evil.
Such, in our opinion, is the discontinuity at the level o f “ types”
of m yth; this new “ type” organizes itself around new “ significa­
tions” concerning creation, evil, history, salvation. But as a “ type”
does not becom e explicit all at once, it is perfectly understandable
that It should at first avail itself o f the “ images” deposited by the

48 See the chapter on the A dam ic myth. A . H eidel has seen this dis­
continuity very clearly {op . eit., p . 1 2 6 ): the essential poin t in the
Babylonian theme is the victory o f Mardulc over the savage earlier gods,
and the cosm ogony is a part o f the theogony; in the Bible, the essential
paint is the creation o f the w orld, and cosm ogony is divorced from the-
ogony. T h e first verse o f Generis expresses this typological difference;
Heidel- gives an exegesis o f it {o p . cit^ p p . 128—4 0 ). T h e creation o f m an
also ceases to belong to theogony; autonom y and responsibility are aim ed
at, rather than service to the gods {ibid ., p p . 1 1 8 -2 2 ). Finally, the author
has seen clearly that the fa ll o f man is substituted fo r the guilt o f the gods
{ibid., pp. 1 2 2 -2 6 ).
vanquished myth in the culture o f the p eople; aided by this sort
o f inertia o f images, the new myth works a slow transmutation in
them until it carries them to the level o f the new “m yth."
W e can, therefore; relate to this subterranean work o f the new
myth certain o f the developments described above as the damped
waves o f the old myth. W e shall review them in the reverse order.
1. W e w ill not dw ell here o n the transition h orn the Messiah
immanent in history to the transcendent and heavenly San o f Man.
T h e series o f figures stretching from the K ing to the Son o f Man,
and then to the L ord o f the Gospels, does n ot simply perpetuate
the initial figure, but constantly adds new dim ensions: that o f the
sacrificed Prophet— M oses “ redivivus” — above all, that o f the “ Serv­
ant o f Yahweh.” N ow , the novelty o f those figures is inseparable
from the novelty o f history, the novelty o f evil, and the novelty
o f salvation, with respect to any dram a o f creation.
2. T h e em ancipation o f history from the “ cultual-ritual” drama
is the second aspect o f that obscure mutation w hich affects all die
images inherited from the ideology o f the K in g. A purely historical
com bat takes the place o f the theogonic com bat. T h e Exodus— that
is to say, the departure from Egypt—the key event o f the whole
Biblical theology o f history, has acquired a consistency o f its own,
a new signification w ith regard to the prim ordial creation; it is
an event without any reference in principle to any dram a o f crea­
tion. T h e Exodus, as we have seen, itself becam e a source of
“ symbolization” fo r the w hole H ebrew experience o f deliverance
from tins, which were themselves com pared to the servitude in
E gypt; it is History, and no longer the drama o f creation, that
becom es the active center o f symbolism. A t the same tim e, the
Enemy ceases to represent prim eval chaos; he undergoes a sort of
reduction to the purely historical, as a function o f the action of
Yahweh. Egypt in relation to the Exodus, the Philistines in relation
to the settlement in Canaan are now simply com ponents o f die
history o f Israel. Thus, one sees the image o f the sea-monster itself
turn from die cosm ic to the historical when it enters in to the field
o f attraction o f the new Volkerkam pfm ythus.4*

44 It can be added that the dow nfall o f the ideology o f kingship was
accelerated by the discrediting o f m onarchy, w hich, to o , was considered as
 3. But if the Enemy loses his cosm ic position to becom e historical,
nothing but historical, the prim ordial M an must him self becom e
human, nothing but human, and human, purely human evil must
find a new m yth capable o f taking over the wickedness o f the Enemy
and, even m ore than that o f the Enemy, the wickedness o f man
in every man.
T h e ideology o f the king m ay, indeed, continue to nourish the
theme o f the kingship o f man, or that o f man as the son o f G od,
image o f G od, little low er than a G o d ; but the wickedness o f m an,
however kingly, discovered in th e course o f several centuries o f
prophetic accusation, remains w ithout roots in the creation, now
that the creation is w ithout dram a. A new m yth, purely anthropo­
logical, w ill b e needed to take the place o f the old cosm ic myth.
The figure o f the U rm ensch w ill then have to b e detached from
the figure o f the K in g ; his fau lt w ill have to constitute a radical
novelty in the good creation. I t is tins need w hich w ill b e fulfilled
by the A dam ic myth.
N ow one m ay legitim ately ask whether this m ythical substitution
can b e carried through right to the end, and whether m an can
bear the burden o f evil in the w orld all b y him self. T h e Serpent,
whose “ guile" precedes the fall, is perhaps the last evidence o f the
drama o f creation. But even so it remains true that it is n ot in
man, in the figure o f Adam , long o f creation, that the dram a o f
creation is prolonged, but in the O ther than M an, in that Other
who w ill later be called Satan, the Adversary. W e w ill speak o f
him when the tim e com es. Fear the m om ent, let us leave in suspense
this “ rem ythologization” o f human ev il; it cannot very w ell be
understood until after the “ dem ythologization” o f cosm ic evil—

a rained and condem ned historical m agnitude. A t the same rime, the
oriental king appears as rite figure o f false greatness, as the caricature and
no longer the im age o f G od. R ead, fo r exam ple, the prophecy o f Ezekiel
against the king o f Tyre (2 8 :1 f f . } : “ Because you are swollen w ith pride,
you have said: 1 am a god, I am seated on the throne o f G od, in the
midst a t the sea.’ Although you are a man and not a god, you set your
heart as the heart o f G od.” T he figure o f the king, then, had to diminish
in order that those at the .Prophet, o f a new M oses connected w ith a second
Exodus, o f the servant o f Yahweh, and finally o f the Son o f M an m ight
increase.
that is to say, the movem ent o f thought that liberated three com ­
ponents w hich the cosm ic dram a cannot take upon itself: die
"eschatological” com ponent at salvation, the “ historical” com po­
nent o f the human dram a, and die “ anthropological” component
o f human evil.

4. A “ M u t a n t ” F o rm
o f t h e D ra m a o f C r e a t io n :
T h e H elle n ic T ita n

Greek theogony, H om eric and H esiodic, belongs essentially to

the creation-dram a “ type,” so magnificently illustrated by the
Babylonian poem . T hat is why w e shall not spend m uch tim e on
it here, and why w e shall seek in it n ot so m uch new testimony con­
cerning this “ type” o f m yth o f origin, but rather the signs o f a
phenom enological transition towards other m ythical “ types.” The
theme o f the T itan, w hich can turn in the direction o f the tragic
myth, or o f the O rphic myth, o r even o f the Biblical myth o f the
fall, w ill interest us just because o f its indetennmateness.
W e w ill n ot stop to consider d ie theogonic theme in the IUtuL
H om er has little taste fo r such stories, and so the episodes that
concern the radical origin o f evil have a toned-dow n and, so to
speak, m uted air. Okeanos and Tethys are, n o doubt, the equiva­
lents o f Apsu and Tiam atj their procreative faculty is inexhaus­
tible; even after the inauguration o f the reign o f Zeus, these repre­
sentatives o f the formless subsist, in the words o f Kerenyi,4* as a
“ current, a barrier, and a frontier between us and the beyond.”
But the episode corresponding to the m urder o f Tiam at in the
Babylonian poem is reduced to the “ quarrel” between Tethys and
Okeanos, “ father o f all brings” (Iliad , X IV , 246: os mp yieanc
wavrtmn TenHCTot), a quarrel that stops procreation.48 H ere there
com es to light a profound view according to w hich order is a limit
imposed on the pow er o f procreation and a sort o f repose, o r rest;
all the philosophical dialectics o f the “ unlimited” and the “ limited ”

48 Kerenyi, La m ythologie des G reet, p. 19.

46 ‘T o r a long time now they have stayed apart from each other, from
bed and love, on ce wrath (x4Xo») has invaded their souls (Jiyt#)” (Iliad,
X IV , 2 0 6 -2 0 7 ).
is anticipated here. A t the same tim e, this lim itation o f formless
power hardly appears to b e connected w ith the eruption o f a young
violence that was to overcam e disorder.
It was H esiod w h o brought into the foreground the bloody thane
which concerns us here. In that peasant fresco concerning origins,
the union o f Ouranos and Gaia— Sky and Earth— takes the place
of the m arine couple. L et us leave aside H esiod’s effort to carry
the origin back beyond w hat he nevertheless calls the beginning
(ip X 0 , nam ely, “ those to w hom Earth and the vast Sky had
given birth” (T h eogon y, 4 5 ). T h e anteriority o f the Abyss (x<“ >s)
and its offspring— Erebos, N ight, Aither, L igh t o f D ay, etc.— antici­
pate a stage that goes beyond the theogonic m yth in the direction
of powers and principles that break away from the story-form and
consequently from the m yth itself. But the same m yth that points in
die direction o f physics and dialectics immerses itself in the horror
of prim ordial Crimes. T h e ‘ 'terrible” sons, bam o f Earth and Sky
— Sky “ hated them from the beginning” ; he denies them access to
the fight and conceals them in the caves o f the earth; “ and while
Sky took pleasure in that evil ( kok$ ) deed, the enorm ous Earth
choked and groaned in her depths” (1 5 8 -5 9 ). In to the hands o f
her sans she puts the sickle o f vengeance: “ Children, m y offspring
and a raving father’ s, if you w ill follow m y advice, w e «h*ll punish
the crim inal offense ( m u njv. . . Xnfiipf) o f a father, though he be
your father, since he first con caved fou l deeds” (1 6 3 -6 5 ). T h e
abject episode o f the m utilation o f Ouranos by the hand o f K ronos
“ o f the crafty thoughts” is w ell known. Sim ilar m onstrous episodes
occur again in the reign o f K ronos, w h o devours his children. T h e
victory o f Zeus him self, like that o f M arduk, is the fru it o f trickery
and violence. Thus order borrows from prim ordial violence the
impulsion b y w hich it gains the victory. A n d the earlier disorder
survives its defeat in a thousand figures o f distress and terror:
“ odious D eath,” the Parcae, the K eres, “ im placable avengers w ho
pursue all faults against the godB or m en, goddesses whose dreadful
anger never ceases before they have inflicted an the guilty, w hoever
he m ay be, a cruel blow ,” — and Nemesis, “ scourge o f m ortal m en,”
— and “ violent-hearted Strife.” “ A n d odious Strife bare grievous
Pain— Forgetfulness, H unger, tearful W oes— Conflicts, Combats,
M urders, Slaughters— Quarrels, lying W ords, Disputes— Anarchy
and Disaster, which go together— and finally Oaths, the worst of
scourges fo r any m ortal here below w h o has deliberately committed
perjury’1 (2 2 6 -3 2 ).
W hat shall w e say o f all these “ irresistible” monsters, “ which
resemble neither m ortal men n or the im m ortal gods,” D og with
fifty heads, Nem ean L ion, Lem ean H ydra, Chim era that spits out
an “ invincible fire” ? Everywhere there rise up the formless, the
terrible, the irresistible.47
It is here that the figures o f the Titans present themselves to us.
They are very interesting fo r a typological investigation. O n th e one
hand, they axe rooted in the cosm ogonic m yth; they are representa­
tives o f the old , vanquished gods: “ B ut their father, the vast Sky,
railing them to account, gave to the sons h e had engendered the
nam e o f TitanB; by stretching ( tito Ivovtos) their hands to o high,
they had, he said, com m itted in their folly a horrible offense
and the future w ould take vengeance (rltnv) fo r h” (207, 210).
In this sense the theogonic stories just cited w ere also stories
o f Titans, o f archaic and savage forces w hich obeyed n o law. But
the image o f the Titans moves in the direction o f other mythical
“ types” as soon as it is associated w ith the origin o f m an: the
T itans are n o longer witnesses only o f the ancient era, o f primordial
disorder, but o f a subversion posterior to the establishment o f order.
It is to be noted that in H esiod the episode o f “ crafty-minded”
K ronos begins w ith the disputes between the gods and m en about
the distribution o f sacrificed victim s (535 f f .) . A nd it is because
Zeus has withdrawn from human beings the fire o f the lightning
that Prometheus steals, in the hollow o f a fennel stalk, “ the bright
gleam o f the untiring fire.” Thus H esiod’s stories concerning the
struggle o f the Titans against the Olym pians have this ambiguous
character o f continuing the creation-dram a and o f presaging what
one m ight call the post-divine drama—in a w ord, anthropogony,
whether it be o f the tragic type, the O rphic type, o r the Adamic
type.

47 This work had already been printed before I became, acquainted with
the remarkable essay o f Ctemence Ram noux on L a N utt t t Us Enfants dt
la N uit d e la tradition grecqu* (Baris, 1959; especially pp. 62—1 0 9 ).
 Hesiod’s Prometheus is almost an Urmensch, a “prim ordial m an.”
This m ovem ent tow ard m ore anthropogenic myths takes various
routes. In the first place, it is favored b y the anthropom orphism
in the creation-dram a itself] w ith the purely physical violence o f
the old gods there is already associated what m ay be called the
“ psychological” violence o f guile, or trickery. In the second place,
as the ouranian aspect o f divinity becom es m ore dearly defined, all
die chthonic violence w hich has been expelled from the sphere of
the divine is le ft in suspense, like an unused w aste-product o f the
divine; and it is this less than divine that is gathered u p in the
image o f the Titans. Finally, the figure o f the (S an t— a very large,
very strong, and very savage m an— furnishes a plastic representa­
tion o f this inferior kind o f divinity and contributes to its attraction
toward a sort o f prim ordial m an.
'Nevertheless, th e Prom ethean m yth, a t least in H esiod, is n ot
com pletely em antipated from its theogonic m atrix; it continues to
share in d ie defeat o f the T itanic and chthonian elements belong-
ing to d ie origin o f things and to the genesis o f the divine itself.
Prometheus does n ot invent e v il; he continues it ; his guile is a
sequel to the guile displayed in the theogonic com bats.
It was Aeschylus w h o transform ed Prometheus in to a “ tragic”
figure. 'While he keeps the theogonic setting, he really makes
Prometheus the vis-k-vis o f Zeus, w ho him self becom es the hidden
god, or the kok&« 8alfuav; and so Prometheus becom es the “ H ero”
pursued by the w rath o f the god. O n the other hand, in ac­
centuating his philanthropic character, Aeschylus makes him , if
not a Tnrni, at least the dem igod w ho gives man his humanity.
Thus Prometheus becom es a sort o f m odel o f m an, as the German
Sturm und D rang rightly saw. In Aeschylus him self this transfor­
mation is n ot yet com plete, fo r at the end o f the trilogy, now lost,
Prometheus is again exalted as a god and given back, so to speak,
to theogony. But the direction in w hich the theme o f the Titan
evolved is n ot doubtful.
Perhaps it is am ong the O rphics that the myth o f the T itan gets
its closest association with an anthropogony. T h e O rphic myth,
we shall see, is in general a myth o f m an, a myth o f “ soul” and
“ body” ; “ the crim e o f the Titans,” w h o dismembered and devoured
the young god Dionysos, becom es the origin o f m an; from their
ashen Zeus raised up the present race o f m en, w ho thus have a
tw ofold inheritance from god and T ita n ; the myth o f the Titan
is henceforth an etiological myth, designed to account far the
present condition o f m an; it is detached com pletely from the
theogonic background to becom e the first link in an anthropogany
Plato’s words in the Laws about the “ T itanic nature” o f man are
perhaps the best testimony fo r this shift in the theme o f d ie Titan
from theogony towards anthropogany.
Finally, it w ould appear that a theme akin to that o f d ie Titans
served the Hebrews fo r a w hile as a myth, o f the fall, at least in an
obscure tradition, a trace o f w hich is found in the Bible in die
sixth chapter o f Generis (vss. 1 -4 ). T h e Giants—Nephilim ,— to
whom the Y ah wist account alludes, appear to be derived from
oriental Titans b om o f the union between m ortals and heavenly
beings; but the origin o f d ie legend is less interesting than the use
which the Yahwist makes o f it. It is to be n oted that the Yahwist
incorporated this popular legend into his description o f the growing
corruption in human history, w hich was to provide a m otive for
the Flood. H ere, then, the th an e af the Titans is brought into the
story o f the fall.
Thus the myth o f the insolent race o f d ie Titans is incorporated
by turns in the tragic type, the O rphic type, and the Biblical type.
It is a sort o f evasive myth that hesitates between several types of
anthropogany, while rem aining a captive o f its prim itive theogonic
m atrix. It represents an uncertain attempt to situate d ie origin of
evil in a region o f bring intermediate between the divine and the
human. T hat is w hy it remains unusual, d ose both to chaos and to
the U rm ensch. I t signifies, perhaps, an attem pt to tie the antiquity
o f human evil, w hich is always already there, to those aspects of
brute reality w hich testify o f themselves to a resistance to aider
and beauty— masses o f shapeless rocks, the Caucasus battered by
storms, to w hich Aeschylus’ Prometheus is nailed.
 II. T h e W icked G od and the
"T ragic” Vision o f Existence

THE SECOND TYPE 0 7 MYTHS o f beginning and end gets its nam e
from, its m ost fam ous “ exam ple” : Greek tragedy.
H ow is tins “ example” related to the “ essence o f the tragic” ?
O ne w ould like to think that the task o f the philosopher is to
approach G reek tragedy w ith a category o f the tragic already in
mmd, or a t least w ith a w orking definition broad enough to in­
clude all tragic w orks: Greek, Christian, Elizabethan, m odem . It
would seem that tins m ethod, proceeding from essence to exam ple,
is the only one capable o f avoiding th e questionable procedure o f
advancing, by w ay o f induction, from the particular case to the
general structure.
Nevertheless, one must start w ith Greek tragedy. F or several
reasons. In the first place, because the Greek exam ple is n ot one
example am ong others; Greek tragedy is n ot at all an exam ple in
the inductive sense, but the sudden and com plete m anifestation
of die essence o f the tragic; to understand the tragic is to relive
in oneself the Greek experience o f the tragic, n ot as a particular
case o f tragedy, but as the origin o f tragedy— that is to say, both
its beginning and its authentic emergence. It is far from bring the
case that this approach to the tragic through Greek tragedy con­
demns us to a doubtful process o f induction and am plification;
rather, it is by grasping the essence in its Greek phenom enon that
we can understand all other tragedy as analogous to Greek tragedy.
an
For, as M ax Schder him self says,1 although he proposes to go
from the essence to the exam ple, the problem here is not t o prove
but to “ make see,” to show ; Greek tragedy is the most advantageous
place fo r getting “ the perception o f the phenomenon itself/’8
Betides, the Greek example, in showing us the tragic itself, has
the advantage o f revealing to us, without any attenuation, its non*
nection w ith theology,3 I f there is a tragic vision o f man in Aeschy­
lus, that is because it is the other face o f a tragic vision o f the
divine; it is in Greek tragedy that the theme o f the m an “ blinded”
and led to h is destruction by the gods is carried all at once to the
uttermost lim it o f its virulence, so that thereafter the analogues of
Greek tragedy are perhaps only m uted expressions o f the same
insupportable revelation.
Finally, the Greek exam ple is especially fitted to persuade us
that the tragic vision o f the w orld is tied to a spectacle and not to a
speculation. T h is third trait is n ot w ithout relation to the preceding
on e; fo r, if the secret o f tragic anthropology is theological, that
theology o f m aking blind is perhaps unavowable, unacceptable for
thought. T h e plastic and dram atic expression o f the tragic would
not, then, be a redothing, m uch less an incidental disguise, o f a
conception o f man that cou ld have been expressed otherwise in
plain language.
It is o f the essence o f the tragic that it must be exhibited in a
tragic hero, a tragic action, a tragic denouem ent Perhaps the
tragic cannot tolerate transcription into a theory w hich— let us say
it im m ediatdy— could only be the scandalous theology o f predesti­
nation to evil. Perhaps the tragic theology must b e rejected as soon
as it is thought Perhaps also it is capable o f surviving, as spectacle,
all the destructions that follow upon its transcription into the plain
language o f speculation. This connection w ith a spectacle, then,
w ould be the specific means by w hich the sym bolic pow er that
retides in every tragic myth could be protected. A t the same time,
the connection with a spectade, with the theatre, w ould have the
1 M ax Scheler, L e Ph/nomhu du tragique, tr. into French by M . Dupuy
(Paris, 1952).
‘ Ibid., p. 110.
* This chapter owes m uch to the reading o f Gerhard N ebel, Weltangit
und C otttrzom ; tine D rafting der griechischm Tragodi* (Stuttgart, 1951).
value o f a warning and o f an invitation. T h e philosopher w ould
be put o n guard by the invincible tragic spectacle against the illu­
sion that h e has done w ith the tragic vision o f the w orld when he
has unmasked— w ith the Plato o f the second book o f the R epublic,
far example— the scandalous theology im plicit in tragedy. A t the
same tim e, he w ould be invited to try to discover a hermeneutics o f
the tragic symbol that w ould take in to account the invincibility o f
the spectacle in the face o f any reductive criticism based on the
transposition from “ theatre” to “ theory.”

1. T he P re - T bag io T hem es

T h e tragic theology is inseparable from the tragic spectacle. Its

themes, taken one by one, com e from further back than tragedy;
but tragedy introduces the final trait, the derisive trait, from w hich
the plastic farm o f the dram a and the spectacle itself are b om .
W e shall call pre-tragic those themes w hich are anterior to the
drama and the spectacle.4 T h e first and principal pre-tragic theme
is not specifically G reek; it appears in all cultures, every tim e that
die initiative in fau lt is traced back in to the divine and that this
divine initiative works through the weakness o f m an and appears as
divine possession. U nder this quite undifferentiated form , it is in­
distinguishable from the preceding theme, since in both o f them
the principle o f evil is as prim ordial as the principle o f g o o d ; and
so in the figure o f the Babylonian god Enlil, whose am biguous
might was the source both o f devastation and o f good counsel, we
could see the beginning o f the first and o f the second type. But a
typological differentiation occurs in the direction o f a m yth o f
chaos, enveloped in a dram a o f creation, when the principle o f evil
is polariy opposed to the divine as its original Enem y; w hile the
ambiguous figure tends tow ard the tragic when such a polarization
does n ot occu r and when the same divine pow er appears both as

‘ K n rt Latte, "S chuld raid Sunde in der griechischen R eligion,” Arch. f.

ReL 20 (1 9 2 0 -2 1 ), p p . 254—298. W illiam C . G reene, M oira: B ale, Good
and S oil in Greek Thought (H arvard U niv. Press, 19 44 ). E- R . D odds,
The Greeks and the Irrational (TJniv. o f C alifornia Press, 19 5 1 ). H .
Frankel, Dichtung und Philosophic das frihen Griechentums (A m . PhiL
Asa, X H l, 1951).
a source o f good counsel and as a pow er to lead man astray. H u s
the non-distinction between the divine and the diabolical is the
im plicit them e o f the tragic theology and anthropology. Perhaps, as
w e shall see, it was this nan-distinctian that could n ot be thought
through right to the end and that caused the downfall o f tragedy
and its vehem ent condem nation by philosophy in the second book
o f the R epublic. But if the feeling that good and evil are identical
in G od resists thought, it is projected in dram atic works that give
rise to indirect, but nevertheless troubling, reflection.
It is astonishing to find this theology o f blindness avowed by
H om er, w ho is so far from exem plifying what has aptly been called
the “ guilt-pattern,” w hich imposed itself after him and which
dom inated th e literature o f continental G reece. Few Greek writers
were as little concerned as he about purification and expiation;
and yet it is in him , in the Iliad, that one finds expressed w ith sur­
prising force and constancy this theme a t infatuating hlmduewt, of
some god laying violent hold on a human a c t5 This darkening
this leading astray, this seizure, is n ot a punishment fo r some fault;
it is the fault itself, the origin o f the fa u lt
T h e fault itself is part o f a com plex o f misfortunes, to which
death and birth contribute a note o f contingency and ineluctability
that contaminates human action, so to speak, w ith their fatality.
M an is essentially m ortal, and his m ortality is his lo t; the pale and
unsubstantial reality o f the w orld o f th e dead heightens m cae than
it weakens the character o f m ortality as an insurm ountable ob­
stacle; the gods, as powers brought to a focus in distinct and pre­
cise shapes, can d o nothing about i t T his note o f hnpnfamm is
reflected back from death upon birth, w hich is th e first day o f reck­
oning, tiie first fateful event; birth is represented an the m odel af
death, and all o f one’s destiny appears fated, beginning from its
end. Thus the fatality o f death and o f birth haunts all ou r acts,
w hich are thereby rendered im potent and irresponsible. T h e psy­
chological “ lability” o f the H om eric hero has often been emphasized
• E. R. D odds, op. cit., Chap. I, “ Agamemnon’s Apology” ; Iliad, TtTX
86 ff. A n im portant study o f the psychology and theology o f being led
astray is Nilsson’s “G etter und Psychologic bei Ham er,” Arch. f. RtL
22 (1 9 2 4 ), p p . S63 ff.; summarized in his History af Greek Religion, pp.
122 ff.
— the feebleness o f th e p sych ological synthesis o f h is acts, w h ich
makes them seem lik e h appenings w ith ou t a person al su bject an d
consequently th e p rey o f superior pow ers.* I t is b y a passive verb—
ootr&u— th a t th e M in din g is expressed; th e b lin d in g itself— *A n ;
— is its oth er ride, p ositive a n d a ctive, its p ro jection in to a w orld
o f transcendent pow ers.
It rem ains a n op en question w hether it is a very im pulsive psy­
ch ological tem peram ent th at fa v o rs th e b e lie f in th e “ p sych ological
intervention” o f th e divin e, o r w hether it is th e cu ltu ral con cep tion
determ ined b y m yth th a t begets this representation o f th e self and
brings m an in to con form ity w ith its ow n im age.
W h at con cern s u s here is precisely this self-representation o f m an
by m eans o f m yths.
In th e H om eric w orld , th e origin o f such blindness is related
indeterm inately to Z eu s, to M olpa,7 to Erinys. A ll these m yth ical
<*gpraannn«- resem ble each oth er in designating a reserve o f n o n -
personalized p ow er. W h en th e divin e, w ith H am er, fin ally gets
divided in to plastic figures lik e hum an beings, blindness is related
to the surplus o f p ow er n o t distributed am on g th e m ost distinctly
anthropom orphized gods.
MoTpa den otes th e m ost im personal aspect o f that p o w e r; it is
the “ p o rtion ," th e “ share,” th e “ lot” im parted to a m an beyon d
bis ch o ice ; it is th e n o n -d u n ce o f ch o ice, th e necessity th at sur­
charges a n d over-determ ines h is acts. T h e expression Salfuav says th e
same th in g. A lth ou gh it d evelop ed in th e op p osite direction
from fuSpa, tow ard personalization a n d n o t tow ard th e anonym ity
o f fate an d abstract legality, it nevertheless represents th e d ivin e as
6 Bruno Snell, D ie E ntdeckung des G eistes (English translation, T he
D iscovery o f th e M ind, H arvard U niv. Press, 19 5 3 ), Chap. I , studies the
representation o f m an through the H omeric vocabulary, and shows the
yhurnre o f a term to designate the unity o f the body, as the w ord oB/ut
did later. H e shows also that the case is the same fo r the psychological
vocabulary: th e <fmxi leaves a m an at death, bu t its role in the living
body is n ot perceived; 9vp&s generates em otional movements and vias
produces thoughts; the unity o f the soul is as unknown to H om er as the
unity o f the bod y and the opposition o f bod y and souL These remarks are
impo rtant fa r oa r typology. C f. below , Chap. IV .
t Hnmiff represents the M oirai w ith the attributes o f spinners; thus they
are d ie dispensers o f d ie inevitable, mighty goddesses, hard to bear, d e ­
structive (G reene, op. eit., p p . 1 0 -2 8 ).
d o s e to undifferentiated p o w e r; an d so it provides an a p t designa­
tion fo r th e sudden, irration al, in vin cible apparition o f the divine
in the em otion al an d volition a l life o f m an .
T h u s th e th eology o f fa u lt tends t o sustain a reserve o f divinity
th a t resists th e tendency, triu m ph an t everyw here else, t o individual­
ize an d visualize d ivin e pow ers.
T h e attribution to Z eu s o f th e origin o f evil d oes n o t contradict
these rem arks. I f Z eu s has relatively determ inate functions, more
o r less co-ord in a ted w ith those o f th e oth er divinities, nevertheless,
as suprem e g od , h e represents a greater extension o f th e divine and
less division o f p o w er; h e is n o t a partisan g o d like the others,
although th e particu lar w ills o f th e g od s are n o t w ell subordinated
to his g overn m en t It is this Z eu s w h o takes u p on him self the
burden o f fa u lt; A t6 is his dau gh ter: 0e&s Sia iravra rtXcvr^r vptafia
Aids tiuyanjp "An), y Travros darat, ovkofUvt) (Ilia d , X I X , 9 0 -9 2 ).
A t the en d o f this fusion o f divine B linding w ith th e figure a f the
suprem e divin ity, the tragic figu re o f Z eu s in th e Prom etheus Un­
bound o f A eschylus w ill tak e sh ap e; th e tra g ic poets, to o , w ill say
6ml, 6 6ms n s. W h ile th e m yth o f ch aos tends to dissociate
a m ore recen t k in d o f divin ity, eth ical in ch aracter, from an alder
an d m ore bru tal k in d , th e tra g ic m yth tends to concentrate good
a n d evil at th e sum m it o f th e divine.8 T h e transition to the tragic

8 H esiod tends tow ard the “ nan-tragic” type, when he makes die malefi­
cent forces issue from the oldest race o f the gods; M oros and Thanatns an
children o f N ight ( T h t o g 2 1 1 }, bu t so are M em os (blam e), Qizys (da-
tress), the Hesperides w ho guard the golden apples beyond Okeanos, and
Nemesis— but so are A pate and Philotes, Gem s and Eris (K erenyi, La
mythologia das Graes, French translation, Paris, 1952, p p . 3 5 -3 6 ). Ib is
m ythological ensemble that K erenyi gathers together under the tide of
pre-Olym pian divinities is a fantastic assemblage o f terrifying figures who
gear dow n the w orld horn its original violence, ham w hich d ie just reign
o f Zeus w ill rescue it. It is interesting to see these figures waver between
tw o types, the creation-dram a "type” toward w hich they are drawn by
theogony, and the w icked-god “ type” toward w hich they are drawn by die
epic. Cl&nence Ram noux, in La Nutt at las Enfants da la Ntcit, shows d o t
these figures o f fright also waver between tw o “ levels,*’ that o f archaic
images (o r infantile images, such as the ogre hither and the castrated
father) and that o f the incipient physical concepts. T h e story o f the mutila­
tion o f K ronos still belongs to naive m ytho-poetic creation ; tile cosmogonic
in the strict sense is lin k ed w ith the progressive personalization o f
that am biguous sort o f divin ity w h ich , w h ile rem aining polpa,
involuntary a n d h yper-divin e, irration al an d in elu ctable fatality,
takes d ie quam -psychological fo rm o f m alevolen ce. I t m ay b e said
that divin e m a levolen ce has tw o p oles, an im personal on e in pmpa
and a personal on e in th e w ill o f Zeus.
T h e decisive m om en t in this personalization o f divin e hostility
is represented b y th e co n ce p t o f d ivin e <p66vosl th e “ jealou s”
gods can n ot en d u re an y greatness beside th eirs; m an , then, feels
himself thrust b a ck in to his hum anity. H ere is th e birth o f the
“ tragic,” contem poraneous w ith th e fam ou s G reek n otion o f m eas­
ure, or m od era tion ; th a t seem ingly tran qu il and h app y m odesty
preached b y w ise m en , that acceptan ce o f finiteness, is haunted b y
die fear c i an im m oderation th at d ivin e “ jealou sy” ca n n ot tolerate.
It is divin e jealou sy th at denounces im m oderation , an d it is fe a r o f
im m oderation th a t instigates th e eth ical riposte o f “ m odesty.”
O f course, th e w ise m en tried t o m oralize divin e ^0ovo« b y re­
ducing it t o a punishm ent fo r hybris and prop osin g a n on -tra g ic
genesis fa r hybris: success begets a desire fo r m ore an d m ore—
vAeom^a,— greed begets com p la cen ce, a n d com p la cen ce begets
arrogance. T h u s ev il does n o t com e fro m <f>66vos', it is hybris
that is first B u t in dem ythologizm g hybris, th e m oralist m akes it
ready far a n ew tra g ic in terpretation ; fo r is there n o m ystery in
die giddiness th a t lays h o ld o n com p la cen ce, m akes it clearly ex­
cessive, an d sets it an th e p erilou s ro a d o f th e endless desire fo r
m ore? T h e rp&rw kokov o f hum an hybris>• as T h eogn is says, w h o
appears to ca m e d o s e to th e B iblical con cep tion o f th e fa ll, w ill
becam e tragic again , as soon as hum an hybris is n o t on ly th e initia­
tive that p rovok es th e jealou sy o f th e god s, b u t th e in itiative th at
is caused b y th a t jealou sy th rou gh th e interm ediary o f blindness.8
*

fragment (115-38, 211-32) is already dose to speculation an bring (op.

a t , pp. 62-108).
8 E. R_ Dodds, op. cit., puts Simonides, Theognis, and Solon at the
sources of tins tragic sense o f <p86vot. The moralization o f <t>86vat pro­
ceeds at the same tune as that o f 6/Spis; the surplus of good produces
the complacency that engenders pride, which unleashes the jealousy o f the
gods. We shall see what the tragedians made o f this pain—pride and jealousy.
 2. T h e C ru x of t h e T ragic

Thus w e have all d ie elements o f d ie tragic: “ blindness” seat by

the gods, “ daim on,” “ lot” on the one hand, “ jealousy” ami “im­
m oderation” on the other.
It was the tragedies o f Aeschylus that tied these themes together
in a sheaf and added the quid proprium that makes tragedy tragic.
W hat is this germ that causes the tragic to crystallise?
T h e tragic properly so called does not appear until the those
o f predestination to evil— to call it by its name— comes up against
the theme o f heroic greatness; fate must first feel the resistance
o f freedom , rebound (so to speak) from the hardness c f die hero,
and finally crush him , before the pre-em inently tragic emotion—
tpofim— can be bom . (W e shall speak later o f the other emo­
tion, tragic com passion, in the setting o f tragic purification.)
Tragedy was the result o f m agnifying to the breaking point a two­
fo ld set o f problem s: those concerning the “ wicked god” and thus
concerning the “ hero” ; the Zeus o f Prom etheus Bound and
Prometheus him self are the tw o poles o f the tragic theology and
anthropology. W ith the figure o f Zeus the m ovem ent Ending to
incorporate the diffused satanism o f the Saipueee into the su­
prem e figure o f the “ divine” is brought to com pletion; and with
him , consequently, the problem atics o f the “ wicked god,” die
undivided unity o f the divine and the Satanic, reaches its highwt
pitch. A ll the lines o f the tragic theology converge upon tins figure
o f the w icked Zeus, w hich is already adumbrated in T h e Persians.
It is w ell known that that tragedy celebrates n ot the victory o f die
Greeks at Salamis, but the defeat o f the Persians. N ow , how m old
an Athenian rise above his victory and, through tragic compassion,
share in the catastrophe o f his enem y? Because his enemy, in the
person o f X erxes, appeared to him n ot only as a w icked man justly
punished— that w ould only have m ade a patriotic drama— but a
an exam ple o f a man crushed by the gods; X erxes manifests die
mystery o f iniquity: “ W hat began all our m isfortune, rmttrrs^
was an avenging genius {ihdarmpX an evil god (xcucfa Saipar),
appearing from I know n ot where (voticv) .” “ A h ! hostile fate
(orvyvc Zalpov),” the old queen Atossa could cry out, “ how
hast than deceived (c^ewnw) the Persians in their h op e!” A nd
the leader o f the chorus: “ A h ! cruel divinity (&u/tov), w ith what
weight hast thou fallen upon all the Persian race!” (N ote the
various renderings o f 8alpa>v, based an the French translation
d M . M azon : god, fate, divinity. T h e Greek language itself
strings from one to another am ong Zalpov, Beit, Beoi, rvxq, and
'Ary. N o douht such an evasive theology cannot be worked out
with precision, since, in order to express prim ordial incoherence,
speech must becam e out o f jo in t and obscured, as Plotinus says o f
die thought o f non-being, o f the “ lying essence.” ) “ W ith what
weight hast thou fa lle n . . : here, then, is man as the victim
of a transcendent aggression. T h e fa ll is n ot the fa ll o f m an ; rather,
it is bein g that,, so to speak, falls an him . T h e figurative uses o f
net, snare, b ird o f prey that swoops dow n upon the smaller bird,
belong to the same cycle o f fault-m isfortune. “ H ere are w e, stricken
—with w hat eternal ills!” Evil as ictus. . . . T h at is why X erxes
is not cmly the accused but the victim . T hat, too, is w hy ethical
denunciation and -reform is n ot the business o f tragedy, as it was
to be the business o f com edy; the exegesis o f m oral evil is so m uch
a part o f its theological exegesis that the h ero is shielded from
moral condem nation and offered as an ob ject o f pity to the chorus
and the spectator.
Thus anguish— the ^o/fov o f tragedy— Is linked from the be­
ginning w ith d ie wrath o f th e gods, according to the excellent
tide o f Gerhard N ebel’s bock .1®
The jaucos Zalpov o f T h e Persians is the key to the Zeus o f
the Prom etheus. But d ie lim ited and discrete intuition o f T h e
Persons here takes on gigantic proportions, bringing together tw o
dements w hich belong to the first “ type” o f etiology o f evil, the
drama o f creation, and w hich the tragic poet foun d in the Greek
theogonies. T h e first is the them e o f the genealogies o f the gods
(Ouranos, K ronos, Z eu s). This them e was taken over from epic
poetry, h o t tragedy converted it into a tragic view o f the divin e;
the gods, horn o f conflict and destined to suffering, have a sort
of finftndft w hich is consonant w ith their im m ortality; there is a
10 G . N ebel, op. cit., pp. 11-48.
history o f the divine; the divine com es to be through anger and
suffering. T h e second element is constituted by the polarity of the
O lym pic and the Titanic. T h e Olym pian wins his way against a
chaotic and indeed chthonic background, a sym bolic virion o f which
Aeschylus found in the fires and the rumblings o f Etna— “hundred­
headed Typhan.u T he sphere o f the sacred, then, admits the
polarity o f night and day, the passion o f the night and the lawful­
ness o f the day, to speak w ith K . Jaspers. T h e mm* iaipm of
T h e Persians gets enriched by these tw o harm onics: suffering in
history and the Titanic abyss. W ithout doubt it is the same theology,
non-them atized, that secretly animates the drama o f the O restem
and the ethical terror w hich inhabits it; that chain o f cruelty, which
from crim e begets crim e and which finds its im age in the Erinyes,
emerges from a sort o f fundam ental badness in the nature of thing*
T h e Erinys pursues the guilty because, i f I m ay -venture to say so,
she is the guiltiness o f being.
It is to this guiltiness o f being that Aeschylus has given a plastic
form in the Zeus o f the Prom etheus.
Facing Zeus stands Prometheus.
W e have, in fact, thrown light only an one «d«» o f the drama
o f Prometheus: the problem atics o f the wicked god and, if we are
w illing to use the expression, the guiltiness o f being. B ut the guilti­
ness o f bring; in its turn, is only one ride o f a paradox o f guiltiness,
whose other ride is the “ im m oderation” o r “ excess” o f the “ hero,”
treated as authentic greatness and n ot as unwarranted «-*a1tatjnn
T h e Greek tragedians cam e close to a paradox w hich resembles
the Pauline paradox o f grace and freedom , hid: at the «nru» time
is in opposition to it. T here is an Aeschylean paradrnr o f the
wicked god and human guilt. L et us approach the other ride of
the paradox.
W ithout the dialectics o f fate and freedom there w ould he no
tragedy. Tragedy requires, on the one hand, transcendence and,
m ore precisely, hostile transcendence— .“ pitiless god, thy hand alone
has guided all,” says Racine’s Athalia,— and, on the other hand,
the upsurge o f a freedom that delays the fulfillm ent o f fete,
it to hesitate and to appear contingent at the height o f the crisis,
in order finally to make it break out in a “ denouement,” where its
fetal character is ultim ately revealed. W ithout the delaying action
of the freedom o f the hero, fate w ould be com parable to a dis­
charge o f lightning, accordin g to Solon's figure o f speech;11 the
freedom o f the h ero introduces in to the heart o f the inevitable
a germ o f uncertainty, a tem porary delay, thanks to w hich there is
a “ drama” — that is to say, a n action the outcom e o f w hich, w hile
it is taking place, is uncertain. Thus delayed b y the hero, fate,
implacable in itself, deploys itself in a venture that seems con­
tingent to u s ; thus is born the tragic action w ith its peculiar
cruelty that A ntonin A rtaud knew so w ell; the unstable m ixture
of certainty and surprise is turned to terror by the drop o f tran­
scendent perfidy that tragic theology lets fall on it. T h e tragic em o­
tion o f terror reflects, in the soul o f the spectator, the cruel play o f
the wicked god and the h ero; the spectator re-enacts through his
feelings the paradox o f the "tragic” : all is past, he knows the
stray, it is over and done with, it has taken p la ce; and yet he waits
for die certainty o f the past absolute to supervene upon chance
events and the uncertainty o f the future as if it were something
new: now the h ero is broken.
In tem poral language, the past absolute o f fate— as one sees in
die tragedy o f O edipus, which is w holly a tragedy o f retrospection,
of the recognition o f self in an alien past— the past absolute o f
fate reveals itself w ith the uncertainty o f the future: the servant
arrives, the baleful news is heard, and all that w hich has been true
in itself becom es true fo r Oedipus, in the pain o f identification.
Suppress rather ride o f the tragic, fate or human action, and the
emntinn o f terror vanishes. N either w ould pity be tragic if it did
not spring from that fear in the face o f destiny w hich joins free­
dom with transcendence. Pity proceeds from that fear as a suffer­
ing in the fa ce o f destiny; it encounters in m an that enormous
opacity o f suffering w hich m an opposes to the divine a ct; it bears
witness that man must have been originally constituted as a counter­
pole o f the m isfortune that descends on him . T h e suffering, or
rather the a ct o f suffering, is revealed as that lim inal action w hich
is already setting itself up in opposition to fate. It is as a response,

11 W einer Jaeger, V a lin a , V oL I , p p . 307-43 (on the drama o f Aeschy­

lu s), emphasizes strongly the connection between Aeschylus and Solon.
a counterthrust, a defiance, that suffering begins to be tragic and
not only lyric.
T h e tragedy o f T h e Persians already showed the conjunction of
the theology o f the m align genius w ith the anthropology of im­
m oderation, or excess; X erxes is at once the victim o f an error ai
divine origin and the transgressor o f a prohibition (which is also
called fiaf/udv, Persians, 825) inscribed in geography, which des­
tines various peoples fo r various places.
Thus, taken alone, hybris is not tragic; and so one finds it
before Aeschylus, w ithout the tragic accent, in Solan. In the
thought o f the m oralist, hybris is denounced so that, it may be
avoided and because it is avoidable; that is w hy it is not tragic. In
sketching the genesis o f misfortune from good fortune. Solon was
perform ing an essentially profane and didactic task: good for­
tune begets a desire fo r m ore (vXeore&a), this begets immodera­
tion (iflp ts ), and this begets misfortune. This malignancy o f good
fortune, which is turned into m isfortune by greed and pride, does
not becam e tragic until it is brought into conjunction with the
mystery o f iniquity o f the wicked god. In return, the immoderation
introduces a human movem ent, a contrast, a tension into the heart
o f the mystery. “ M an's share” must at least begin to be discerned
if the ethical m om ent in evil is to appear; there must be at lo st
an indication o f a dawn o f responsibility, o f avoidable fault, and
guilt must begin to be distinguished from finiteness. But this e x ­
tinction tends to be m uted, annulled by predestination; die indis­
tinctness o f divine and human guilt is an incipient and annulled
distinction.
H enceforth, then, die wrath o f the gods is faced by die wrath
o f man.
T h e figure o f Prometheus com pletes and crowns die series of
heroic figures on wham transcendent misfortune is poured. "Within
the Prom etheus Bound he stands at the summit o f a hierarchy of
free men. A t the bottom — low er than freedom , low er than the
tragic— are the figures o f Bia and Kratos, am ple executors o f fate;
then O cean and the im portunate friends, speaking the language
o f the friends o f Job and o f explanatory theodicy: “ K now your­
self, adapt yourself to the facts, and learn new ways” ; then To, die
young woman transformed into a cow , the victim o f divine lew d-
nras, who presents the passive and suffering ride o f the tragic. I o is
die image o f m an suffering under the w icked g o d ; but I o is n ot
yet com pletely tragic, because she only suffers; she is tragic only
in conjunction w ith Prom etheus; only Prometheus confers the
tragic dimension upon the passion o f Io , m ute and crushed obla­
tion; action is join ed to pure suffering— the supreme action o f
a will that says N o.
We must im agine the pow er o f the scene and its violent con­
trasts.13 H e, the Titan, riveted to a rock above the em pty orchestra;
die in a frenzy, leaping into the great, level space, stung by the
gadfiy, he nailed, d ie w andering; he virile and lucid, she a wom an
broken and alienated; h e active in his passion, she pure passion,
a simple witness t o the divine hybris.
And Prometheus him self is a figure w ith a tw ofold significance.
On die one hand, he heightens by his innocence— that innocence
winch is com plete in Io — the guiltiness o f bring. Prometheus is
the benefactor o f m ankind; he is the hum anity o f m an ; he suffers
henuise he has loved the human race to o m uch. Even if his auton­
omy is also his fault, it expresses first his generosity; fo r the fire
that he has given to men is the fire o f the hearth, the fire o f the
household cu lt that w ould b e relighted each year from the fire o f
die community cults the fire o f the arts and crafts, and finally the
fine o f reason, o f culture, and o f the h eart In that fire is summed
op what it is to he a m an, breaking w ith the im m obility-of nature
and the dreary repetition o f animal life and extending his em pire
over things, beasts, a n d human relations. I t is to be noted, in this
mmprtinnj that the m yth attained its m aturity at the m om ent
when Aeschylus, taking it over from H esiod, elevated the figure o f
Prometheus above the roguery o f “ coarse rustic mischievousness” 13

w W Hamowitz-M oellendorf, Aischylos Interpretationen, p p . 114—62, on

Prometheus. M an rim Croiset, Eschyle; Etudes sur tinvention dramatique
lines soa thi&tre (F ads, 1928) is also very useful for understanding the
bond between the tragic and spectacle.
“ Lotus S fch on , L e mythe de Prom itU e (F an s, 1 9 5 1 ). This book is
vary valuable fa r placing the m yth in the tradition o f the cult o f fire and
the renewal o f fire, fo r putting the them e o f Prometheus’ fau lt in to the
M M*** o f the theomachies, and, finally, fo r discerning the double equivoca-
to the tragic grandeur o f a suffering savior. It is Prometheus the
lover o f mankind w h o is tragic, far his love is the «nnp of his
m isfortune and theirs.
But, on the other hand, there is n ot only the innocent passion
o f man, prey to a m align genius; there is also the wrath erf man,
rising u p against the wrath o f god. True, Prometheus is powerless;
crucified on his rock, he does nothing; but he has file power of the
w ord and the hardness o f a w ill that withholds consent. There is
n o doubt that in the eyes o f the pious Aeschylus the freedom trf
Prometheus is an im pure freedom and, as it were^ the lowest degree
o f freedom . Neither Prometheus n or Zeus, according to him, «
absolutely free. T h e freedom o f Prometheus is a freedom o f defiance
and n ot o f participation. Aeschylus has expressed fins maleficence
o f Prometheus’ freedom in the them e o f the “ secret” Prometheus
has a form idable weapon against Zeus: he knows what union of
the king o f the gods w ith a m ortal w ould result in fire birth erf
the son w ho w ould dethrone h im ; he possesses the secret of the fall
o f Zeus, the secret o f the Tw ilight o f fixe G ods; he has the means
fo r annihilating bring. A destructive freedom like fins is not, for
Aeschylus, the last w ord o f freedom ; it is only its first word. And
so the final defiance o f Prometheus, as w e know , provokes a thun­
derous reply; Prometheus tumbles with his rock into fixe gaping
abyss. F or Aeschylus, this disaster is part o f a hard schooling, winch
the choruses o f fixe Agam em non summarized in the viOa pnAa.
T h e end o f the trilogy, unfortunately lost, described, we know, thE
fiixal reconciliation: when Zeus acceded to true justice, Prometheus,
unbound, gave his consent to the luminous, Olym pian ride of tte
divinity.
There is, then, guilt on the part o f Prometheus, gu ilt which is
overshadowed by that o f Zeus in consequence o f the torment to
w hich he is subjected by Mm and w hich in turn overshadows that
o f Zeus in consequence o f fixe secret w ith w hich he threatens him.
It seems to m e that it was this guilt that Aeschylus wished to e%-

tion in Prometheus, guilty benefactor, and Zeus, god o f wrath on the way
toward a religion o f justice and wisdom.
pres by the T itan ic nature o f Prometheus.14 Freedom has its roots
in the chaotic depths o f bein g; it is a m om ent in the Titanom achy.
Prometheus calls unceasingly upon G aia, symbol and epitom e o f
the chthonic pow ers; from the beginning he summons ether, winds,
springs, earth, and sun to bear witness; his defiance is in keeping
with the gigantic character o f mountains and waves. In his free­
dom, elementary wrath loom s up. A n d that elementary wrath,
winch is expressed in his defiance, does n ot d iffer fundam entally
firm the dark pow er w hich animates Clytemnestra, in wham the
dreadful powers o f a maternal bosom , o f the earth, and erf the
dead are united. N either does it differ essentially from the ethical
terra represented by the Erinyes, w hich shuts m an up in the cycle
of vengeance. A ll that is chaos, and so is freedom in its first ap­
pearance.
Thus Prometheus bound bears witness n ot so m uch to the para­
dox as to the deep-seated com plicity o f the wrath o f G od and the
wrath o f m an, o f the w icked god and T ita n ic freedom . Both taste
the bitterness o f the “ grapes o f wrath.”
h seems to m e, then, that this hybris o f innocence, if I m ay call
it so, this violence that makes Prometheus a guilty victim , throws
light retrospectively on the original them e o f the m yth, the them e
of tiie theft o f fire. T h e drama, it is true, begins afterw ard; it falls
within the period o f punishment (ju st as the incest and the m urder
are anterior to the tragedy o f O edipus, w hich is a tragedy erf dis­
covery and recognition, a tragedy o f tru th ). T h e tragedy o f Pro­
metheus begins w ith the unjust suffering. Nevertheless, by a retro­
grade m otion, it makes contact w ith the original germ o f the
drama: the theft was a benefaction, but the benefaction was a
theft. Prometheus was initially a guilty inn ocen t

Is the tragic theology thinkable? T h e tragic dram a does n ot work

it out reflectively; it exhibits it by means erf the characters in a
spectacle, in the vestments o f poetry, and through the specific
gnratinm o f terror and pity. Nevertheless, the wisdom -literature,
half-way between dram atic perform ance and reflective wisdom , did
14 G . N ebel, op. eit., pp. 49 -88 .
succeed in stating the tragic theology sententiously: “ When the
wrath o f the daemons attacks a m an,” says Lycurgus, "h begins by
taking away his understanding and inclining him to the worse judg­
m ent, so that h e is not aware o f his own errors.” 1* T he tragic
choruses chant similar maxims.1* Perhaps, this is the only theology
that cannot b e avow ed or, at any rate, defended. Plato’s indigna­
tion at the tragic theme, when it is worked ou t and stated dearly,
m ight make us think so. L et us hear him .
“ G od, since he is good, is n ot the cause o f everything, as is
com m only said; he is the cause o f only a part o f the things that
happen to men and has n o responsibility fa r the greater part of
them, fo r the bad far outweighs the good in our lives.” And so “ we
w ill n ot allow the young to hear the words o f Aeschylus: *God
implants crim e in men when he wishes to ruin their house com-
pletety* ” (R ep . 379c-380a) ”
I f, then, the religious consdousness hesitates to formulate the
tragic theology, that is because elsewhere it professes “ die inno­
cence o f G od,” to speak in Platonic language, Or his “ holmes,”
in Biblical language. E xplidt form ulation o f the tragic theology
w ould mean self-destruction fo r the religious consciousness.
15 In L cocratem , 92, cited by E . R . D odds, op . c it., p. 89. H e n already
is the quern dens ou lt p crd crc, p rin t dem entat.
M Lyrical expressions o f this tragic theology are num erous: Pctrianz,
354, 472, 808, 8 2 1 ; Agam em non, 160 ff., 44 86 , 1563 f f .; etc. Nowhere was
it expressed m ore openly than in the chorus o f-th e A ntigone with which
D odds ends his study o f “ guilt-culture” : “ H appy are they, whose life has not
tasted the fruits o f evil. W hen the gods shake a house, misfortune pursues
the m ultitude o f its descendants without respite. . . . Forever, as in die
past, this law w ill prevail: in d ie fife o f mortals, excessive prosperity never
comes w ithout m isfortune ( M i drat). Inconstant hope is a good for
m any m en; but fo r many, also, it is only a deception practiced by their
credulous d en ies; destruction creeps upon a man w ho knows nothing of
it until he burns his feet in the flame. W ith wisdom was d ie well-known
saying first uttered by som eone: the evil seems to he a. goad to him whoa
mind the divinity is leading to destruction (fr y ppbas Oc&t Siyet npie 4 m »);
only fo r a little tim e is he sheltered from destruction (t a is S m f
(A n tigon e, 5 8 2 -6 2 5 ).
17 E . B_ D odds remarks (o p . c it., p . 57) that Plato omits to quote the
end o f this fragm ent (1 6 2 ) o f the N iobe concerning tjtp u , which sup­
poses some contribution by a man to his own fate G*k Spaeveroprir: flat
“ arrogance” is ou rs).
 3. D eliverance from th e T ragic or D eliverance
w it h in t h e T ragic?

In the creation-dram a, evil was, so to speak, the reverse, the

other, o f the act o f creation. Salvation, then, was creation itself,
as the establishment o f the present w orld-order; it was re-enacted
in die battles o f the king and in every conflict where the eye o f
faith could make out, behind the face o f the enemy, the ancient
Adversary vanquished at the beginning by the deeds o f the gods.
What can the end o f evil be like in the tragic v ia on?
It seems to m e that the tragic vision, when it remains true to its
“type,” excludes any other deliverance than “ sympathy,” than
tragic “ pity” — that is to say, an im potent em otion o f participation
m die misfortunes o f the hero, a sort o f weeping with him and
purifying the tears by the beauty o f sang.
It is true th at Aeschylean tragedy seems to propose a different
outcome, as w e see in the trilogy o f Orestes: the Eum enides gives
a new answer to the question raised in the last verse o f the
C hoepkori; “ W here, then, w ill the wrath o f At6 stop, where w ill
it finally stop and be stilled?” ; and the last part o f the trilogy
answers: T error has an end, the chain o f vengeance can be broken,
God is just, G od is m erciful; his Justice is expressed in the purifica­
tion by A pollo, w hich brings divine Vengeance to an end, and his
benevolence is m anifested in the severe but measured law o f the
city, w hich takes upon itself retribution fo r crim inal faults. Like­
wise, a Prom etheus De&oered terminated the trilogy o f the Titan.
This piece is lost, but w e know enough about its action to say that
thme— the long space o f thirty thousand years w hich separated this
drama from the preceding one— had “ worn out the wrath” o f the
celestial tyrant and the suffering Titan. “ W orn out the wrath” — it
is the same expression that Sophocles uses in Oedipus at Colonus
in speaking o f the effect o f the m editation that leads from bitter
grief to calm acquiescence; the passage o f time in the Greek
tragedies suggests the thought o f a redem ption by tim e, w hich
wears ou t the daw s and teeth o f the wrath o f gods and men. I t is
within this com m on cosm ic space o f tim e that Zeus the tyrant
becom es Zeus the father o f Justice.
Thus the com ing-to-be o f the divine appears as the analogue ■
■
o f the "repentance” o f G od in the H ebrew Bible. Is it not a sat
o f repentance o f being that the Eumenides and the Prometheus
D elivered portend?
There is n o doubt that, fo r Aeschylus at least, tragedy is both a
representation o f the tragic and an impulse toward the end o f the
tragic.
That is true, but only up to a co ta in paint. It is striking thntt
even in Aeschylus, w ho went furthest in this direction (and die
trilogic structure o f his tragedy well expresses the movement of
tragedy toward the end o f the tra g ic), that end o f the tragic is not
a real deliverance fo r the h ero; at the end o f the Eumenides
Orestes is volatilized, so to speak, in the great debate that m b*
place over his head am ong Athena, A pollo, and the Erinyes. That
end o f the tragic was glim psed by the p oet only a t the price of the
destruction o f d ie tragic theology itself: it was n o t true, in the end,
that Zeus was wicked. N ow , how is this destruction o f tragic
theology posable? By a transition to the other etiological "type,”
by a transitinn to the drama o f creation; holiness wins out over
the prim ordial badness, as M arduk vanquished Tiam at. It is dm
theogonic schema that subtends the conversion o f Zeus in die
trilogy o f Prom etheus and the conversion o f Erinyes to Earnmiries
in the Oresteia. Thus it is the "ep ic” that saves "tragedy” by de­
livering it from the “ tragic” ; the “wicked god” is reabsorbed in die
suffering o f the divine, which must attain its Olym pian pale at the
expense o f its T itanic pole.
But in Sophocles there is n o longer an end o f the tragic, and in
this sense Sophocles is m ore purely tragic than Aeschylus.18 The
hostile god makes him self felt less by pressure than by his
abandoning m an to his own resources. This doubly tragic view
bars the way to the solutions sketched by Aeschylus, Thus the
tragedy o f Antigone, w hich is a tragedy o f inanhiHe mntmdirtinn

18 N ebel, op , fit ., p p . 169—23 1: “ A ntigone «m t d ie savage w orld of the

dead,” “ K ing O edipus and the god o f wrath” ; W erner Jaeger, P tdd m , L
343-63.
 begins precisely a t th e p o in t w h ere A eschylus, in th e E um enides,
saw a w ay o u t o f th e tra g ic; th e city is n o lon ger th e p la ce o f
reconciliation;' it is th e closed city w h ich drives A n tigon e in to
an d th e in voca tion o f law s in com p a tib le w ith th e h istoric
existence o f th e city.
There is on e excep tion , it is true, b u t on e that confirm s ou r
interpretation in directly. S oph ocles to o , in O edipus at Colonus,
bailed th e en d o f th e tra g ic;19 th e o ld O edipu s, a fter a lo n g m edita­
tion an h is m isfortunes, is le d b y S op h ocles to th e threshold o f a
nan-tragic d e a th ; h e is rem oved fro m th e tigh t o f th e p rofa n e, after
having been a ccom p a n ied b y Theseus, th e roy a l sacrificer, t o the
boundaries o f th e sacred territory o f th e city. W ein stock justly
com pared th is sacred dram a t o a “ legen d o f th e saints” ; b u t the
| death o f the aged O edipu s, th e gloriou s death o f a h e ro grow n
I wiser, is a suspension o f th e hum an con d ition rather than its cure.
In truth, salvation, in th e tra g ic vision , is n o t outside th e tra g ic
but w ithin i t T h is is th e m eaning o f th e tragic tjtpwecv, o f that
“ suffering f o r th e «*)«* o f understanding” w h ich is celebrated by
die chorus in Aeschylus’ Agam em non: "Z eu s, w hatever b e his true
nam> if that namf* please him , u p o n h im I ca ll. I h ave p on d ered
all; 1 recogn ize on ly Z eu s as h e w h o ca n relieve m e o f th e bu rden
o f my sterile anguish. . . . H e has op en ed u p to m en th e w ays o f
prudence, g iv in g them th e la w o f suffering fo r th e sake o f under­
standing. W h en in sleep, in th e tigh t o f th e h eart, p a in fu l rem orse
descends, w isdom enters in to them in spate o f them selves. A n d that,
I th in k , is th e b en evolen t v iolen ce o f th e god s, seated at th e bar
o f heaven” (A g ., 160 f f . ) . "S u fferin g fo r th e sake o f understanding”
— that is tra g ic w isdom , th at is “ tragic k now ledge,” to speak lik e
K arl Jaspers.80
I d o n o t b eliev e th at G reek religion in its highest expressions,
beyond th e cults, ever offered a genuine en d fa r th e tra g ic; it
always p roceed s b y substituting som e oth er religiou s schem a an d
not b y resolvin g th e internal tensions th a t issue fro m th e tra g ic
schem a itself. W h eth er it becom es a religion o f “ divin e possession”
— that is to say, penetration o f th e d ivin e in to th e hum an,— o r a

u Nebel, o p . a t., pp, 233-53: “ Blessed death in the O edipus a t C olon u s"
30 Karl Jaspers, Fen d er W ahrheit, pp. 915-60. C l below, Chap. V ,
religion o f “ divine ecstasy” — that is to say, escape horn the human
in to d ie divine,— religion in its A pollonian o r Dionysiac form is
n ot a resolution o f the tragic. T h e authority o f the D elphic arade
does indeed reassure, guide, and in this sense p acify; A pollo was
the great pacifier insofar as he was, through the intermediary of
the oracle, the great counselor, the guarantor o f the legislative
activity o f the great founders o f law s; but A pollo is also the peat
master o f ritual purifications, w hich means that his counsel, al­
though it gives some security to the human w ord, does not heal the
“ tragic” soul, since recourse to the old purifications is necessary
after all. A pollo, the counselor, could not forgive tins but only
wash away the stains o f defilement, because the tragic vision of
the w orld excludes forgiveness o f tins.*1
Dionysos seeks even less to make the wounded soul whole again;
he provides an outlet fo r the anguish due to faults by drawing the
soul out o f itself and out o f its solitude. Thus his ecstasy relieves
man o f the w eight o f his responsibility by changing him in to some­
one else. Dionysos does n ot confirm m an in the truth o f his finite­
ness; he offers him an exaltation, a sort o f sacred frrnrindnrarinn,
by w hich he escapes from him self rather than becom ing reconciled
with him self.18

* O n this role o f A pollo in expiation, see Nilsson, A H istory o f G reet

R eligion (O xford, 19 25 ), Chap. V I : A pollo remains d ie master o f sacred
expiation in the case o f blood-guilt, even when the state has already taken
upon itself the office o f m eting out punishment. Nilsson, while emphasisiiQ
the role o f the Apollonian cult in favor o f m oral purity and rectitude of
intention, confirm s the inability o f Apollonlsm to g o beyond external ritual­
ism and reach the level o f the requirements o f Justice: “ H e was the anther-
ity w ho restored and maintained peace w ith the gods. H is tnnlc was not to
arouse consciences, as the prophets did, but to calm th a n " (pp. 1-99-200);
hence its cautious reformism, its m oderate actions w ith resp ect to Dfamysi-
anism ; bu t it created n o new values.
“ Nilsson, ib id ., pp. 205-206. W e shall return to this poin t in Chap. IV.
Everything that one says about Greek religion must always he tempered by
the follow ing consideration: there was never one Greek theology, hut as
overlapping n ot only o f cults properly so called, bu t also o f diverse refighnu
syntheses attem pted by reformers, poets, and religious propagandists, — »
o f which ever succeeded in bringing the others in to a single system. Them
is the authority o f D elphi and there is the “ telestic madness” o f Dionysos;
the latter invades the dom ain o f the farm er; but A pollo restrains Dionysos
and embraces him by legislating fo r his cult and m oderating Ids ecstasy.
 There remains the tragic spectacle itself, to purify w hoever yields
himself to the sublimity o f the poetic w ord. I t is neither counsel
m die A pollonian sense, n or an alteration o f personality in the
Dkmysiac sense, except, perhaps, in a very rem ote sense— fo r ex­
ample, in the sense that the spectacle fosters “ fllusion.” Through
the spectacle the ordinary m an enters in to the “ chorus” w hich
weeps and rings w ith the h ero; the place o f tragic reconciliation is
die “ chorus” and its lyricism. B y entering in to the tragic “ chorus”
ourselves, w e pass from the D ionyriac illusion to the specific ecstasy
of tragic wisdom . T hen d ie m yth is am ong u s; it is w e w h o are
frightened and lam ent, because w e have put ourselves into the
o n e . O n e must becom e a m em ber o f the chorus in order to yield
himself to the feelings w hich are specifically those o f the tragic
reconciliation. T h e ordinary m an knows only fear and the sort o f
bashful sympathy that the spectacle o f m isfortune calls fo rth ; in
hemming a m em ber o f the chorus, he enters a sphere o f feelings
that may b e called sym bolic and m ythic, in consideration o f the
type o f utterance to w hich they are proportionate. These feelings,
as we have known since Aristotle, are, first, tragic 0o£os, the
specific sort o f fe a r w hich com es over us when w e are suddenly
faced w ith the conjunction o f freedom and em pirical ru in ; and
dial tragic IXeoc, that m erciful gaze w hich n o longer accuses
or condemns but shows pity. T error and Pity are both m odalities
of suffering, b u t o f a suffering that m ay be called suffering in the
face o f destiny, since it needs the retardation and the acceleration
of a hostile fate and the agency o f a heretic freedom . That is why
those feelings com e to birth only in the aura o f a tragic m yth. But
they are also a m odality o f understanding: the hero becom es a
seer; when h e loses his sight, Oedipus attains to the virion o f
Tiresias. B ut he does n ot know that w hich he understands in any
objective and systematic w ay. H esiod said long a go: iraOiiv Bi re
vipnot iyvw— suffering makes wise the sim ple {W orks, 2 1 8 ).
Such is the deliverance w hich is not outride the tragic, but within
it: an aesthetic transposition o f fear and pity by virtue o f a tragic
myth tnm ed in to poetry and by the grace o f an ecstasy b o m o f a
 III. T h e "Adam ic” Myth and
the "Eschatological” Vision

t h e “ a d a m ic ” m y t h is the anthropological m yth par excellence;

Adam means M an. But not every m yth o f “ the prim ordial man”
is an “A dam ic” m yth. Each o f the other types o f m yth includes
some reference to m an: thus the figure o f the K in g, in the theo-
gon ic m yth, gives substance to a certain sort o f history and t o a
certain sort o f political reality; but d ie origin o f evil is not at*
tributed to m an in any peculiar sense in that m yth. Likewise, die
figure o f the T itan, w hich fluctuates am ong the various types of
m yth, is very d ose to changing into the figure o f the primordial
m an; but d ie O rphic "anthropogony,” w hich annexed th e myth of
the Titans to itself— at a late date, n o doubt,— does n ot co nstitute
an anthropogenic myth o f evil: d ie being o f m an is itself d ie result
o f a dram a anterior to m an; the evil is that there are human be­
ings; the genesis o f evil coincides w ith anthropiogony. M any other
representations o f the prim ordial m an w ill be foun d at d ie gnostic
level o f speculation; but those speculations d iffer fundamentally
from the A dam ic theme because in them the genesis o f the present
condition o f man is regularly considered as identical w ith the evil
process displayed in the “ eons” anterior to d ie present mnrW+inn
o f man.
 O nly tiie “ Adam ic” m yth is strictly anthropological. This means
that it has three characteristics. In the first place, the etiological
myth relates the origin o f evil to an ancestor o f the human race as
it is now whose condition is hom ogeneous w ith ours. A ll the specu­
lations on the supernatural perfection o f A dam before the fall are
adventitious contrivances w hich profoundly alter the original
naive, brute m eaning; they tend to m ake A dam superior and hence
a stranger to ou r condition, and a t the same tim e they reduce the
Adam ic m yth to a generis o f m an from a prim ordial superhumanity.
There Is n o doubt that the very w ord “ fall,” w hich is foreign to
die Biblical vocabulary, is contem poraneous w ith the elevation o f
the “Adam ic” condition above th e present h u m an con dition ; only
what has first been elevated falls. T h e symbol o f the fall, then, is
not tim authentic symbol o f the “ Adam ic” m yth; m oreover, it is
found in Plato, in gnosis, in Plotinus. T h at is why w e have not
called this chapter “ T h e M yth o f the Fall,” b u t “ T h e A dam ic
Myth.” W hen w e have traced the roots o f the symbolism o f the
Adam ic m yth back to the m are fundam ental symbolism o f sin, w e
shall see that the A dam ic m yth is a m yth o f “ deviation,” o r “ going
astray,” rather than a myth o f the ‘'fall.”
Second characteristic: the etiological m yth o f A dam is the m ost
extreme attem pt to separate the origin o f evil from the origin o f
the g o o d ; its intention is to set up a radical origin o f evil distinct
from the m ore prim ordial origin o f the goodness o f things. W hat­
ever the strictly philosophical difficulties o f this attempt m ay be, the
distinction between radical and prim ordial is essential to the anthro­
pological character o f the A dam ic m yth; it is that w hich makes
man a beginning o f evil in the bosom o f a creation w hich has al­
ready had its absolute beginning in the creative act o f G od. A t the
time when the A dam ic m yth was com posed, the concept o f freedom
had not yet been elaborated as a support fo r this, so to speak,
second beginning, although the D euteronom ic idea o f a radical
choice im posed by the prophetic summons portends the evolution
of the A dam ic m yth tow ard a speculation o f a higher degree, in
which freedom w ill b e n ot only a sort o f beginning, but the pow er
of the creature to defect— that is to say, in the strict sense, the
power o f the human creature to undo (dS fm re), and to unmake
him self (se defaire) , after he has b eat m ade (J o t) and made per­
fect (par-fait) . O n 'die level o f the myth, to w hich we confine oar-
selves here, this pow er o f defection w hich belongs to freedom is
still only im plicit in d ie structure o f the story; it is represented by
a happening that loom s up, one does n ot know where from, and
that distinguishes a before from an after. In d ie term inology o f the
fall, about w hich w e have expressed reservations above, there is a
supralapsarian state o f innocence and an infralapsarian state of
peccability. (L e t us note, in passing; that fallibility and peccability
are not identical. “ Fallibility,” in the sense given to it in Book 1,
denotes the human structure capable o f departing from the right
way out o f m alignancy, w hile “ peccability” describes the condition
o f mankind when they are already inclined to e v il T h at is why we
speak o f peccability here in the sense o f a habitus o f the species;
we shall discuss it at length in Book I I I .) T he passage from inno­
cence to sin as the status o f a man destined fo r good and mdmed
to evil is narrated by d ie A dam ic m yth as something that happened.
But because the origin o f evil is narrated as a story about something
that happened, and because that story is connected with a legen­
dary character, A dam , w e are n ot yet in d ie presence o f speculation,
but only at an etiological myth. N o doubt d ie myth is ready to be
taken over by speculation, but it is still immersed in mythical space
and tim e; and so it must be understood as a m yth, half-way be­
tween the prim ordial symbols and the speculative symbols created
b y gnosis, o r against gnosis.
Finally— third characteristic— the A dam ic m yth subordinates to
the central figure o f the prim ordial m an some other figures winch
tend to decentralize the story, but without suppressing the primacy
o f the A dam ic figure. I t is noteworthy, in fact, that d ie Adamic
myth does n ot succeed in concentrating and absorbing the origin
o f evil in the figure o f a prim ordial m an alon e; it speaks also of
the adversary, the Serpent, w h o w ill becom e the devil, and o f an­
other personage, E ve, w ho represents the vis-h-vis o f that Otter,
Serpent or D evil. Thus the A dam ic myth raises up one or more
counterpoles to the central figure o f the prim ordial M an, and from
those counterpoles it gets an enigm atic depth by w hich it com­
municates subterraneously with the other myths o f evil and main*
pnssihle what w e shall call further on a system o f the myths o f
eriL But, how ever far it m ay b e posable to g o in the direction
af this m ultiplication o f the centers o f proliferation o f evil, the
central intention o f th e m yth is to order all the oth er figures in
relation to the figure o f Adam , and to understand them in con­
junction w ith him and as peripheral figures in the story w hich has
Adam as its principal protagonist.

1. T h e P enitential M otivation of th e “A damic” M y t h

What does it mean to “ understand” the A dam ic m yth?

In the first place, it means accepting the fa ct that it is a myth.
We shall say further on h ow Jewish thought cou ld w ork out tills
chronicle o f a first human p a ir; but it must be w ell understood
from th e outset that, fo r the m odem m an w h o has learned the
distinction between m yth and history, this chronicle o f the first
man and the first p a ir can n o longer be co-ordinated w ith the tim e
of history and' the space o f geography as these have been irrevers­
ibly constituted by critical awareness. It must be w ell understood
that the question, 'Where and when d id A dam eat the forbidden
fruit?, n o longer has meaning far u s; every effort to save the letter
o f the story as a true history is vain and hopeless. W hat w e know,
as men o f science, about the beginnings o f mankind leaves n o place
for such a prim ordial even t1 1 am convinced that the fu ll accept-
1 A d ea r attitude is preferable to th e attitude o f authors like A M .
Dnbarle (op . d t., p p . 4 5 -6 0 ) w ho tty to evade the choice between history
and myth and to fin d in this story "a history o f a special type, w hich
employs traditional im agery as a means o f expression w hile profoundly
tmimfurming its im port” (p . 4 9 ). I t is true that Israel, whose religion is
founded an an historical event, the exodus from Egypt, could n o t appeal to
some non-tem poral “ archetype” fo r an explanation o f evil, bu t only to
events supposed to b e th e source o f the present; bu t to say that Israel
rediscovered past events by faith is inevitably to com e back to th e idea
that Adam was a real person and that the fa ll was an event that really took
place. W e must keep the ictea o f even t as a symbol o f the break between
two ontological regim es and abandon the id ea o f past fa ct. In partic ular, w e
must recognize d ie m ythical character a t the figure o f the ancestor o f the
human m ce, supposed to he fo r all mankind what the eponymous ancestor
is for M oab, Edotn, e ta It is in this schematizatian that there arises the
idea o f a sin supposed to b e first and in h erited , as w ell as the false ration­
alizations to w hich i t gave rise.
ance o f the non-historical character o f the myth—-nop-historical if
w e take history in the sense it has far the critical method— is the
other side o f a great discovery: the discovery o f the sym bolic
function o f the myth. But then w e should not say, “ T he shay of
the fa ll’ is o n ly a myth” — that is to say, something less than his­
tory— but, “ T he story o f the fa ll has the greatness o f myth” — that
is to say, has m ore m eaning than a true history. But what meaning?
W e have suggested repeatedly that the meaning resides in the
pow er o f the myth to evoke speculation on the power o f defection
that freedom has. H ence, that m eaning is to be sought in the rela­
tion o f the pre-philosophical to the philosophical, according to the

A n echo o f the discussions that shook Catholic exegesis at the huglnning

o f the century can be found in Y . Laurent, “L e caractfee hm nriqne de
G enise, 2 -3 , dans Texdgfee frangaise au toum ant du X IX * a id e ,* in
A nalecta L ovaniensia B iblica e t O rientalia, 1447, p p . 3 7 -6 9 ; justice k
rendered to die works o f F . Lenorm ant (1 8 8 0 -6 4 ); and the eclectic m u m f
o f Father M . J. Lagrange, in his fam ous article in the R evue btbUqae
(1 8 9 7 ), “ L'innocence et Ie p fch f,” Is w ell characterized. W hen we reread
that notable article today, w e are struck at the same tim e by its boldness
in d eta il an d its tim idity as a w hole. Father Lagrange rejects both literalism
and d ie interpretation w hich h e calls allegorical, m id regard* the story at
the fa ll as “ a true history told in a popular o r sym bolic way” (p . 3 3 8 ): “It
has always been understood ha the Church that this very true history was
n ot a history lik e others, bu t a history clothed ha figures—metaphors,
symbols— a t popular language” (p . 3 6 1 ),; hence d ie attempt to separate the
“ substantial elements” and the “ sym bolic forms” (p . 3 6 1 ). lik e Origan and
Cajetan, he extends d ie rale o f symbolism very fur. But it is hard to see
how the story as a whole could have a bearing on real history when all the
circumstances, taken one by one, are interpreted sym bolically (pp. 343-
5 8 ). Perhaps Father Lagrange has too narrow a n idea o f d ie symbol, which
he seems not to distinguish from allegory; thus, faced w ith tiw alternative,
allegory o r history, h e chooses history, w hile distinguishing the form and
the content o f the story. Nevertheless, it is true that Father Lagrange did
see, lon g before w e w ere acquainted w ith the whole Babylonian background
o f the creation-stories, that what is significant is not what is corroborated
by historical parallels, but w hat is w ithout parallel. Thus he brake decisively
with the sort o f apologetic exegesis w hich relied on such parallels to prove
a so-called oral tradition descending from Adam to our first written sources.
M oreover, Father Lagrange perceived that the genius o f the sacred writer
very oftwi In wi»<> symbols w Iw b
literal belief in the popular im agination. T hat insight goes very far, but it
is n ot carried out to its ultim ate consequences. Still, Father Lagrange does
w rite: “ Sym bolic language does not have the jmrae laws as fam iliar language
and should not be interpreted by the same m ethod” (p . 3 5 4 ).
nBorim w hich has been and w ill be ou r guiding star throughout this
bods.; “ T h e symbol gives rise to thought.” But tins heuristic, ex­
ploratory power o f the m yth turned in the direction o f the specula­
tion that follow s it cannot be disengaged from the etiological func­
tion o f the m yth vmlww w e first treat the m yth as a rehandling o f
die fundam ental symbols elaborated in the living experience o f
A ilm e n t, tin , an d guilt. T h e m yth anticipates speculation only
it is already an interpretation, a herm eneutics o f d ie pri­
mordial symbols in w hich the p rior consciousness o f sin gave itself
form. T hat it gives rise, in its turn, to thought is a consequence o f
the fact that it itself interprets other symbols. It is thus that we
shall seek to understand it in this- chapter, reserving fo r a later
investigation th e second-degree rehandling o f it in the m ore intel-
Wtualraed symbols o f “ original sin.” S o w e shall distinguish three
levels: first th at o f the prim orial symbols o f sin, then that o f the
Adamic myth, and finally the speculative cipher o f original sin ; and
we shall understand the second as first-degree hermeneutics, the
third as second-degree hermeneutics.
This way o f understanding is supported b y the historical experi­
ence o f the Jewish people. S o fa r is the A dam ic m yth from bring
tite point o f departure fa r their experience a f tin and guilt that it
presupposes that experience and marks its maturity. T h at is why
it was posable to understand the experience and to interpret its
fundamental symbols— deviation, revolt, going astray, perdition,
captivity— without recourse to that myth. O ur problem w ill he to
understand what the “ Adam ic” m yth adds to those first symbols.
In every w ay the addition is belated and, in certain respects, n on -
essential, as the history o f H ebrew literature superabundantly
proves. A dam is n ot an im portant figure in the O ld Testam ent: the
Prophets ignore h im ; various texts d o, indeed, nam e A dam (subject
of a verb in the plural) and the sans a f Adam , but w ithout allusion
to the story o f the fa ll; Abraham , the father o f believers, and N oah,
the father o f mankind as recreated after the flood , are m ore im ­
portant figures; and even fo r the editor o f the account in Genesis
h is n ot certain that Adam bears the entire responsibility fo r the
evil in the w orld ;2 b e is perhaps only the first exam ple o f evil. In
2Ben Sirach, author of Ecderiasticus, and Wisdom allude to the account
 any case the story o f Adam should not be separated from die
ensemble o f the first eleven chapters w hich, through the legends of
A bel and Cain, o f Babel, o f N oah, the supreme threat— the Flood,
— and the supreme promise— the regeneration beyond the waters,
— lead to the election o f Abraham , father o f believers.
In the N ew Testament Jesus him self never refers to the Adamic
story; he takes the existence o f evil fo r a fact, as the «famtinn which
is presupposed by the call to repentance: “ I f you do not repent,
you shall all alike perish.” In the Synoptic Gospels, equal emphasis
is laid on the evil “ heart” (M ark 7 :2 1 -2 2 ; M a tt 7 :1 1 ; 12:33-34)
and on “ the Adversary” : to the disciples asking w ho sowed die
tares am ong the good seed, Jesus answers: "A n Enemy has done
this.” T he L ord’s Prayer emphasizes tem ptation and the oppressive
pow er o f the Evil O n e: “ Lead us n ot into tem ptation, bat deliver
us from the Evil O ne.” l a sickness, as in tem ptation, man is at*
tacked by “ the unclean spirit.” T h e Passion itself is muter the in*
fluence o f the Evil O n e: “ Simon, Simon, behold, Satan has desired
to have you, that he m ay sift you as wheat” (Luke 2 2 :3 1 ). Was
not Christ him self delivered u p to the assaults o f the Demon?
There is nothing, then, in all this, w hich points toward an
“ A dam ic” interpretation o f the beginning o f eviL It was S t Paul
w ho roused the A dam ic theme from its lethargy; by means o f the
contrast between the “ old man” and the “ new man,” he set up
the figure o f Adam as the inverse o f that o f Christ, called the
second Adam ( I C or. 1 5 :2 1 -2 2 , 4 5 -4 9 ; R om . 5 :1 2 -2 1 ). A t the
same tim e, the figure o f Adam was n ot only raised higher in com­
parison with all the other figures o f the first eleven chapters of
Generis, but was personalized on the m odel o f the figure o f Christ,
to w hich it serves as contrast From this, tw o conclusions must be
draw n: that it was Christology that consolidated Adam ology, and
that the demythologization o f the Adam ic figure, as an individual­
ized personage from whom all mankind w ould be descended
physically, does not im ply any conclusion concerning the figure of
Christ, w hich was not constructed with reference to the figure of

in Generis (S ir. 2 5 :2 4 ; W isd. 2 :2 3 -2 4 ; 10 :1—2 ) , but d o n ot relate the £s0

o f man o r all the evils o f the human condition to a first sin.
Adam but w hich, on the contrary, gave individuality to the latter
by retroaction.
Henre, it is false that the “ A dam ic” m yth is the keystone o f the
Judeo-Cbristian edifice; it is only a flying buttress, articulated upon
the ogival crossing o f the Jewish penitential sp irit W ith even m ore
reason, nrigjnal sin, being a rationalization o f the second degree,
is only a false colum n. T h e harm that has been dene to souls,
during the centuries o f Christianity, first by the literal interpretation
of the story o f A dam , and then by the confusion o f this myth,
treated as history, w ith later speculations, principally Augustinian,
about original tin , w ifi never b e adequately told. In asking the
faithful to confess belief in this xnythico-speculative mass and to
accept it as a self-sufficient explanation, the theologians have un­
duly required a sacrificium intellectus where what was needed was
to awaken believers to a sym bolic superintelligence o f their actual
condition.
N ot that the myth is a vain repetition o f the penitential experi­
ence o f the Jew s; w e have insisted to o m uch on the triple function
of the m yth—as universalization o f experience, as establishment o f
a tenrinp between a beginning and an end, and as investigation o f
the relations between the prim ordial and the historical— to scorn
the contribution o f the m yth. But this contribution cannot be
understood except by starting fio m the im pulsion that the myth
receives from the experience w hich precedes it and from the
symbols in w h ich that experience took shape.
T h e living experience o f the Jewish confession doubly prepares
the way fa r the emergence o f the m yth: negatively and positively.
O n the one hand, it entails the dissolution o f the theological
presuppositions o f tw o other myths, the theogonic and the tragic;
nowhere ha» criticism o f the fundam ental representations on
which the myths o f chaos and o f the w icked god are bu ilt been
pushed as fa r as in Israel. H ebrew m onotheism and, m ore particu­
larly, the ethical character o f that monotheism underm ined theog-
any and the tragic god , w h o is still theogonic, and m ade them
impossible. C onflicts and crim es; trickery anti adultery are expelled
from th e sphere o f the divine: anim al-headed gods, dem igods,
titans, giants; and heroes are ruthlessly excluded from the field o f
religious consciousness. Creation is n o longer conflict but “w on f’ :
G od says, and it is so. T h e “ jealousy” o f Yahweh is n o longer that
o f the tragic god offended by heroic greatness; it is the “ jealousy”
o f holiness w ith regard to “ id o l/9; it is the m onotheistic “ jealousy”
w hich reveals the vanity, the nothingness o f false gods.9 Isaiah’s
vision in the Tem ple (Is. 6 ) bears witness both to the new dis­
covery o f d ie H oly G od and to the waning o f the theogonic and
tragic god. T he purely anthropological conception c f the origin
o f evil is the counterpart o f this general “ demythblpgizatian” of
theogany: because “ Yahweh reigns by his W ord,” because “God is
H oly,” evil m ust enter in to d ie w orld by a sort o f catastrophe in
the created, a catastrophe that the new m yth w ill endeavor ta
gather up into one event and one story in w hich original badnes
is dissociated from prim ordial goodness. T h is m otivation is not
without analogy to that o f P lato in Book H o f the R epublic: be­
cause G od is the G ood, he is innocent. But whereas Plato con­
cludes: G od , then, is not the cause o f everything, n or even o f the
greater part o f existing things, the Jewish thinker continues: God
is the cause o f everything that is g ood and man is the of
everything that is vain.
N ow , a t the same tim e as the ethical monotheism o f the Jews
was destroying d ie baas o f all the other myths, it was working
out the positive m otifs o f a strictly “ anthropological” myth o f the
origin o f evil.
The “ A dam ic” myth is the fruit o f the prophetic
directed against m an; the same theology that makes G od innocent
accuses m an. N ow that accusation, m ore and m ore integrated and
assimilated into d ie consciousness o f the Jew, developed into a
spirit o f repentance, the depth o f w hich we have seen in our study
o f sin and g u ilt T he Jew repents n ot only fo r his actions, but for
* Nevertheless, one m ight discover in d ie B ible certain traces o f a “ tragic”
conceptual o f life and certain recessive fauns o f d ie “ jealousy” o f die tragic
g o d ; the destruction o f Babel, the condem nation o f Cain, and even the
expulsion o f Adam and Eve from the garden o f Eden contain, perhaps, an
elem ent o f clerical resentment against the h eroic greatness o f d ie ««"> of
action. But we shall attach m ore im portance to the m ore secret affitntiw af
the Adam ic myth with the tw o other m yths; we shall n ot seek diem in
resentment against greatness, but in d ie role o f the Serpent and in die
structure o f the drama o f the fall.
die root o f Ms actions. I d o not venture to say ‘T or his being” —
first, because he never form ed that ontological concept, and, sec­
ond, because the purpose o f the m yth o f the fall is to dissociate the
historical starting poin t o f evil from the starting point, w hich we
modems ca n call ontological, o f creation. A t least his repentance
penetrates to the “ heart” o f m an, to his purpose— that is to say,
to the m onadic source o f his m any actions. Furtherm ore, at the
am » How as his piety discovers the personal dim ension o f sin, it
also discovers its com m unal dim ension; the evil “ heart” o f each
m also tiie evil “ heart” o f att; a specific zos, nam ely, “ w e sinners,”
unffipg all mankind in an undivided guilt. T hus the s p rit o f repent­
ance discovered something beyond our acts, an evil root that is
both individual and collective, such as a choice that each w ould
make far all and all fo r each.
It was because the confession o f sins involved this virtual uni­
versalization that the A dam ic m yth was possible: the m yth, in
naming A dam , m an, makes explicit the concrete universality o f
human e v il; the spirit o f repentance gives to itself, in the A dam ic
myth, the symbol o f that universality.
Thus w e fin d again what w e have called the universalizing fun c­
tion o f m yth. B ut a t the same tim e w e find the other tw o functions,
likewise evoked by the experience o f repentance. W e know that the
theology o f history, around w hich th e fundam ental representations
of guilt an d salvation in th e O ld Testam ent revolve, alternates
between extrem e threats and extrem e prom ises: “ W oe unto them
that desire the D ay o f Y ahw eh! W hat d o you look fa r from the
Day o f Y ahw eh? It w ill b e darkness and n ot light” (A m os 5 :1 8 ).
And then: “ Behold, the days com e, Baith Yahw eh, when I w ill
make a new covenant w ith the house o f Israel, and w ith the house
of Judah. . . . I w ill put m y law in their inward parts, and w rite
it in their hearts; and I w ill b e their G od, and they shall b e my
people” (Jer. 3 1 :3 1 -3 4 ). T h is dialectic o f judgm ent and m ercy is
read into co ntemporary history, in to the actual history o f the Exile
and the Return, by the Jewish P rophet; and in interpreting his­
tory he -makaa it significant at the same tim e that he really bends
it to his purposes. T h e same dialectic o f judgm ent and m ercy, be­
ginning from an interpretation o f the actual history o f the prophetic
epoch, is projected into a m ythical representation o f the “ begin­
ning” and the “ end.” A lready the exodus from Egypt, remterpr&ed
in d ie light o f the prophetic experience, had fam ished, as we fare
seen, the fundam ental symbolism o f captivity and deliverance; in
its turn the calling o f Abraham , tom from the country o f his birth
and set upon d ie paths o f his vocation, is understood an the model
o f the Prophet's obedience to an irresistible inner ca ll; and finally,
the prologue to history in the garden o f Eden contains in epitome
all that the dram atic destiny o f Israel had revealed about the mean­
ing o f human existence: call, disobedience, m ole; Adam and Eve
are driven from Paradise as Israel is banished from Cjmsam. But,
just as “ a rem nant w ill return,” so the m yth o f the flood, intaa-
tionally w elded to the myth o f Paradise lost, sym bolically shows
the new creation emerging from the disaster o f the waters and
m ade pure b y the judgm ent w hich both condem ns and pardons.
N oah is still A dam , is still M an, by turns exiled and saved from
the waters— that is to say, recreated.
T h e proto-historical myth thus served not only to generalize die
experience o f Israel, applying it to all m ankind, at all timw and
in all places, but also to extend to all mankind the great twmwm
between condem nation and m ercy that the teaching o f the Prophets
had revealed in the particular destiny o f Israel.4
Finally, there is the last function o f the m yth as it was m otivated
in the faith o f IsraeJ: the myth prepares the way fo r speculation
by exploring the point o f rupture between the ontological and the
historical. T h e confession o f sins drew nearer t o fa n paint of
rapture as it gained in depth, and it discovered it b y means o f a
paradox. It is the holiness o f G od that reveals the abyss o f sin in
m an; but, on the other hand, if the root o f sin is in the “ nature,”
in the “ being” o f m an, then the sin revealed by the holiness of

4 1 subscribe whole-heartedly to the view o f C . H . D od d , T ie B ible Today

(Cam bridge U niv. Press, 1 9 4 6 ): “ Thus the stories w ith w hich the Bible
begins m ay be regarded as adaptations o f prim itive myths by writers who
used them as symbols o f truths learned in history. Nom inally they refer to
pre-bistory. In fa ct, they apply d ie principles o f divine action revealed in
the history o f a particular people to m ankind a t all tim es and in all places.
They universalize the idea o f the W ord o f G od, w hich is both judgement
and renewal” (p . 11 5 ).
God returns upon H im and accuses the Creator o f having m ade
man eviL I f I repent o f m y being, I accuse G od in the same
mnmgit in w hich h e accuses m e, and the spirit o f repentance ex­
plodes under the pressure o f that paradox. Thus, the m yth appears
at a point o f high tension in the penitential experience; its fu n c­
tion is to posit a “ beginning” o f evil distinct from the “ beginning”
of creation, to posit an event b y w hich sin entered in to the w orld
and, by sin, death. T h e m yth o f the fa ll is thus the m yth o f the first
appearance o f evil in a creation already com pleted and good . By
thus dividing the O rigin in to an origin o f the goodness o f the
created and an o rig in o f the wickedness in history, the m yth tends
to satisfy th e tw ofold confession o f the Jewish believer, w h o
acknowledges, on the one hand, the absolute perfection o f G od and,
an the other hand, the radical wickedness o f m an. T his tw ofold
confegion is the very essence o f h is repentance.

2. T h e Structure of t h e M y t h : T h e “ I n stan t ” of th e F all

Let us try n ow to understand the structure o f the m yth by

beginning w ith its intention, suggested by the prim ary experience
of sin. T h e A dam ic m yth, as narrated fay the “ Yahw ist" editor o f
Genesis H I, obeys a tw ofold rhythm. O n the one hand, it tends
to concentrate all the evil o f history in a angle m an, in a angle
act— in short, in a unique event. That is h ow S t Paid understood
it: “ As by one man o n entered in to the w orld. . . . ” By this
extreme contraction o f the origin o f evil in to one point the Biblical
account (anphaniaea the irrationality o f that cleavage, that deflec­
tion, that leap, w hich tradition, n ot w ithout am biguity, has called
die falL
On the other hand, the myth spreads out the event in a “ drama,”
which takes tim e, introduces a succession o f incidents, and brings
several characters into the action. In bring extended in tim e and
scattered am ong several roles, the dram a gets a turbid ambiguity
which contrasts w ith the frank rupture o f the evil event. L et us
try to com prehend this dialectical play between the “ event” o f the
fail and the “ space o f time” o f the tem ptation.
“ One” m an, “ one” act— that is the first schema o f the myth,
w hich w e have called die schema o f the “ event.”
“ O ne” m an; the chronicler called the “Yahwist” in Biblical
criticism foun d d ie idea fo r him in a myth w inch was n o doubt very
prim itive and w hich m ay even have had a very different meaning
— the m yth o f a first m an or, rather, o f a first pair driven ou t of
a w onderful garden because they had disobeyed a taboo. T h e myth
is very did, but its significance is n ew ; and that significance comes
to it from a retrograde m otion in the understanding o f history that
starts from contem porary history as a nucleus. It w ould seem that
the m yth w as seized upon in the course o f m editation on the origins
o f the chosen people and annexed to that m editation through die
intermediary o f a folklore in w hich the different ethnic groups are
represented by a angle fam ily, b y a single ancestor. T h e tim e of
the patriarchs, before Abraham , points in its turn to a still older
tim e, in w hich all the eponymous ancestors o f all the peoples spring
from a single pair w ho w ould be to the w hole o f mankind what
each patriarch is to the w hole o f his people—nam ely, the founding
ancestor o f a great fam ily n ow broken up into many peoples with
many languages. T hat chronicle o f the first man furnishes the
symbol o f the concrete universal, the m odel o f m an exiled from
the kingdom , the paradigm o f the beginning o f evil. In Adam
w e are one and a ll; the mythical figure o f the first man provides a
focal point at the beginning o f history for man’ s unity-in-m ulti-
plicity.
T h e first m an, in his turn, is summed up in one a ct: he took the
fruit and ate o f it. A bout that event there is nothing to say; one
can only tell it ; it happens and henceforth evil has arrived. About
the instant, as a caesura, one can only say what it ends and what it
begins. O n the one hand, it brings to an end a tim e o f innocence;
on the other, it begins a time o f m alediction.
This reference o f the instant o f the fall to an innocent past, to
a paradise w hich is spoken o f only as lost, is secured by the inser­
tion o f the story o f the fall into a story o f creation.® In virtue o f
®I take fo r granted the results o f the textual criticism w hich, since
Gunkel ( G enesis u bersetzt 1m i erklart, GSttingen, 1900; 5th ed ., 1922)
and Budde (D ie biblische U rgesch ich te, Giessen, 1883; D ie bibliseh e
P aradiesgeschichte, in B eih. Z eitsch . A ltt. W its., 19 3 2 ), distinguishes two
sources underlying the present story o f the foil and thus accounts fo r tin
that prelim inary m yth the first a n appears as the loss o f a prior
m ode o f being, as the loss o f innocence. T h e creation-story with
w hich ou r story o f the fa ll is integrated is n ot the adm irnhy story
with w hich ou r B ible opens, and w hich is articulated around the
follow ing verses: “ G od said, L et there h e ligh t: and there was
light” ; “ L et us m ake m an in ou r im age, after ou r likeness” ; “ G od
saw everything that he had m ade, and, behold, it was very good.”
This story is the fru it o f a long m aturation. Yahw eh had to becom e
the master o f universal history before he cou ld b e recognized as
d ie master o f the earth and the heavens w ithout any risk o f his
b an g confounded w ith a natural fo rce ; but before he could he
acclaimed as the master o f history, Jewish thought had to integrate
the terrible ordeal o f the national destruction and exile. T h e older
story that w e read in the second chapter o f Generis antedates that
catastrophe and the greater depth in religion that resulted from it;
and so it is o f a m ore rudim entary m ake (w e need only com pare
the creative act o f 2 :7 w ith that o f 1 :2 6 f f .) .
Nevertheless, this m yth is n ot negligible; fo r, if w e m ay believe
M . H um bert, whose interpretation I adopt here, it entailed a view
o f m an that was suppressed by the Yahwist editor, but n ot so
com pletely that w e cannot discover som e traces o f it in certain
manifest ’“ doublets” o f Chapter 3. I t seems that the story o f creation

doublets and inconsistencies o f our story concerning the status o f A dam

before the fa ll, the place o f the fa ll, the role o f the tw o trees, the nature
a t th e curses, the role d f the various protagonists. There axe discussion* o f
the problem in P au l H um bert, S trid es stir le r ich du Paradis e t d e la chu te
dans la G en ise (N eucM tel, 1 9 4 0 ); Zhnm erii, I M ase I —X I , d ie U rge­
sch ich te (Z firich , 1 9 4 3 ); and J. Coppens, “ L a connaissance du bum et du
m at et le p6ch6 du paradis,” in A n alecta L ovaniensia BibBca et O nentaha,
1948, A pp. I , pp. 47—72. T h e distinction o f tw o traditions, tw o sources, or
tw o different docum ents should serve to im prove our understanding a t the
story as it has cam e down to us in its final com pilation; the question of
sources should prepare the way fo r the question o f meaning. That is why
I try to incorporate in the meaning o f the story itself the tension that
comes from the concurrence o f the tw o sources according to P. H um bert;
Zhpm erli is a very good m ethodological guide on this point (op. eh , p .
1 4 5 ). F or th e theological significance o f th e story o f the fa ll, I have used
E ichrodt, T h eologie d es a lten T estam ents, ITT, 5 23, *S6nde und V erge-
bung” ; Edm ond Jacob, Las TJiim as essentials d’ uue th iolog ie d e Pancien
T estam ent (N eu ch itel & Paris, 1 8 5 5 ), p p . 2 2 6 -3 9 ; G . von B ad, T h eologie
d es alien T estam ents, 1 (M unich, 1 9 5 7 ), p p . 157 ff., 261 ff.
 placed man, at his first appearance, not in the center o f a “ garden"
in the midst o f a steppe (E d en ), but on the soil (th e Adaxna) from
w hich m an (A dam ) was drawn. H e cultivated that seal industri­
ously and intelligently. Furtherm ore, the n o n o f the first story
must have been an adult, sexually awakened; fo r he cries out in
exultation, in the presence o f his new com panion: “ T his & now
bone o f m y bones, and flesh o f m y flesh : she shall be called
W om an (isck a ), because she was taken out o f man (itch ).”
T he Yah wist w ould seem to have suppressed all the traits o f dis­
cernment or intelligence connected w ith the state o f innnrme^
and to have assigned all o f man’ s cultural aptitudes to his falls)
state. T h e creation-m an becom es, fo r him , a sort o f child-man,
innocent in every sense o f the w ord, w ho had only to stretch oat
his hands to gather the fruits o f the w onderful garden, and w ho was
awakened sexually only after the fa ll and in shame. Intelligence,
w ork, and sexuality, then, w ould be the flowers o f evil.
This discrepancy at the heart o f our story is o f great interest
Far from leading us to consider the suppressed m yth as a residue
and a survival, it invites us to interrogate the tension between the
cultural and sexual im plications o f creation and the implications
o f the fall. T he fact that there are tw o interpretations o f civiliza­
tion and o f sexuality is by itself fu ll o f m eaning; every dimension
o f m an— language, work, institutions, sexuality— is stamped with
the tw ofold mark o f being destined fo r the good and mefineri
toward evil. This duality is spread ou t by the myth in mythical
tim e, just as Plato, in the myth o f the Politieus, supposes a suc­
cession o f tw o periods o f the Cosm os, d ie m ovem ent forw ard and
the m ovem ent backward, w hich w e experience in the inextricable
m £lange o f the tem poral intentio and distentio.
T h e am biguity in m an, created good and becom e evil, pervades
all d ie registers o f human life. T h e pow er o f nam ing all beings,
w hich is the royal prerogative o f a bring created scarcely fafm nr
to G od, is so profoundly altered that w e now know it only under
the regim e o f division o f idiom s and separation o f cultures. Like­
wise, if w e com pare the sober description o f innocence w ith die
m ore explicit enumeration o f m aledictions, w e see the opposition
o f tile tw o ontological regimes invading the other aspects o f die
human condition. T h e nakedness o f the innocent pair and the
«h«mt» that follow s fau lt express the human m utation o f all com -
mnnication, m arked henceforth b y dissimulation.8 W ork ceases to
be joyous and becom es toilsom e, placing m an in an attitude o f
hostility tow ard nature. T h e pain o f child-bearing darkens the jo y
of procreation. T h e conflict between the w om an's seed and the
serpent?s symbolizes the m ilitant and suffering condition o f free­
dom, henceforth a prey to the guile o f desires (com pare w ith
Geneas 4 :7 ) . Even death is altered: the curse is n ot that m an shall
die (“ fo r dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return” ) , but that
he shall fa ce death w ith the anguished awareness o f its im m inence;
the curse is the hum an m odality o f dying.
Thus the w hole condition o f m an appears to be subjected to the
rule o f hardship; it is the hardship o f being a m an w inch, in the
striking brevity o f the m yth, makes m anifest bis fallen state. Thus
an anthropology o f am biguity issues from the m yth; henceforth
the greatness and the guilt o f m an are inextricably m ingled, so that
it is im passible to say: here is the prim ordial m an, there is the
evfl result o f his contingent history.
This am biguity, this tw ofold reference o f human "nature” to
its original destination and to radical evil, stands out in high relief
in the case o f the divine interdiction. T h e Yahwist?s account pro­
m ts the interdiction— “ But o f the fru it o f the tree o f the knowl­
edge o f good and evil thou shalt n ot eat” — as if it were a structure
of innocence. That seems surprising at first Is n ot a life subject
to prohibitions, to the Law that represses the passions and thus
excites them , precisely the life o f the sinful m an? S t Paul gave
striking expression to the experience o f being cursed by the Law in
tiie sort o f spiritual autobiography w hich w e find in Rom ans
7 :7 -1 4 , and w hich w e have com m ented on above.8
What shall we say then? Is the law sin? God forbid. Nay, I had not
known tin, but by the law: for I had not known lust except the law
• A . M . D ubazle, L i p ic h i original dans V H eritore (Paris, 1 9 5 8 ): "Thus
rfn ilA ij snms u p a ll the ^atimutatiAni that make social Ufa possible, and
not only the precautions taken to avoid sexual excitations” (p . 6 4 ); “ The
language o f d ie story, so discreet indicates an am biguity and a constraint
invading all the relationships o f human life” (p . 6 5 ).
7C f. above, Part I , Chap. I l l , $ 4, on "th e curse o f th e law.”
had said, Thou shalt not covet. But sin, taking occasion by die command­
ment, wrought in me all manner of concupiscence. For without the law
sin was dead.
For I was alive without the law once: but when the commandment
came, sin revived, and I died. And the commandment, which was or­
dained to life, I found to be unto death. For sin, taking occasion by the
commandment, deceived me, and by it slew me.
Wherefore the law is holy, and the commandment holy, and just, and
good. Was then that which is good made death unto me? God forbid.
But sin, that it might appear sin, working death in me by that which
is good; that sin by the commandment might become exceeding smftd.
For we know that the law is spiritual: but I am carnal, sold under sm.

Such is the dialectic o f sin and the law , w hich Luther and
Nietzsche also knew w ell. H ow , then, can an interdiction belong
to the order o f innocence? N o doubt w e must lindeinfaind that, in
m aking m an free, G od gives him a finite freedom . T h e finitMM-w
o f that freedom consists in the fa ct that it is a freedom primordiaDy
oriented not, o f course, by what w e call “ values,” w hich am
already m uch elaborated cultural products, but by a hierarchical
principle o f preference am ong values. This ethical structure d
freedom constitutes the authority o f values in general. Perhaps that
is why the Yahwist, w ho elsewhere relates the crim e o f Cain and
w ho therefore knows the gravity o f m urder, retained the naive
m otif o f the forbidden fruit, w hich may have had a different mean­
ing in the older legend. In the new and peculiarly H ebraic myth,
the forbidden fruit stands for prohibition in general; compared to
m urder, eating forbidden fruit is a peccadillo.8 H ence the man-

8 J. Cqppens has tried to restate d ie problem o f the ‘ know ledge o f good

and evil” ; b e rejects d ie idea o f om niscience o r divine knowledge as well ai
the idea o f a purely human judgm ent. T he im portant thing; according to
him , is the sudden irruption o f evil into know ledge; m ore precisely, ia
addition to the good in a "com bined, interm ixed, additive, cumulative
knowledge” (op. c it., p. 1 6 ). It is not a discrim inating or exhaustive knowl­
edge, but a “ cumulative knowledge o f good and evil” (ib id ., p . 17 ). To
this first thesis h e adds a second: that guilty knowledge is related to sexu­
ality. Far from bring a peccadillo, a childish fault as ter as its ob ject is
concerned and a m ortal sin only because o f the relation to H im w ho forbids,
the fault o f Adam has a particular content Is not Eve punished in her life
as woman and m other? Is not man punished in his life o f desire? But above
all the triangle form ed by Eve, the serpent, and the tree suggests a fault
gtrousness o f the act as such is less im portant than the alteration o f
tiie relation o f trust between m an and G od. In this sense it may be
said that, in taking u p the m yth o f the tree and its fruit in this new
theological context, the Yahw ist demystifies the old theme o f the
magic potion , the m a g ic'fru it; he demystifies it by calling the fruit
“the fru it o f the tree o f the knowledge o f g o o d and eviL” These

of this k in d : the serpent is the sym bol o f the gods o f vegetation; without
being the representative o f sex as such, he represents the tem ptation o f the
divinities that sacralize sex. Goppens is even m ore precise: the fault must
have to do w ith the only commandment reported in Genesis before the foil,
the command to procreate. Thus the serpent w ould represent the tempta­
tion to place sexual life under the influence o f the lirantious pagan colts
and so to surrender it to dissoluteness (op. cit., pp. 13 -2 8 , 7 3 -9 1 , and, in
the same collection, Analecta Lovaniensia Biblica at Orientalia, I I , 8, pp.
396-408). I t m ust b e said that M . G oppens rests his interpretation an a
vast and solid inquiry concerning the significance o f the serpent as associated
with the divinities o f vegetation (shut., p p . 91—117 and 4 0 9 -4 2 ). But, in
my opinion, he passes too quickly over the question whether it is really the
existence o f sexual transgression that the sacred author teaches. W hen he
encounters tins question, w hich ought to dom inate the discussion, h e answers
m the negative: "D oes the sacred author teach the existence o f the sexual
transgression o f w hich w e have spoken? I think n o t T h e developm ent o f
that theme is m uted. I t was m uch clearer, I think, in the source known to
the author. T he hagiographer dropped the them e; but there remain same
traces o f it w hich must be m ade out as in a palimpsest. O r one m ay suppose
that h e did n ot abandon it entirely fo r his ow n part, but that he abstained
from m eiilrating i t H e m ay have contented him self w ith insinuating it,
wthay because he preferred not to rend the veil or because he deliberately
madw it thicker11 (ibid., p . 2 6 ). These remarks make m e think that the
mama! interpretation is a recessive interpretation o f the sin o f Adam . I f it
hairaga to the m ost archaic level, the editor has suppressed it n ot in order
to conceal the m eaning, hut in order to say something m uch m ore im portant
It seems to m e that the intention o f the text is to reduce the content o f the
fault to the extent o f m aking it a peccadillo, in order to emphasize the fact
that rnaT> has broken the filial dependence that united him to his Father.
That is why, finally, the question o f the tree is not im portant, as Zimm erli
has clearly seen (p p . 165-66, 2 3 5 -3 8 ). T h e decisive argument, in m y opin­
ion, is the place td this story, at the head o f the series form ed by Generis
1-T1. T he rin td Adam is the first, in the sense that it is at the root o f ail the
others: Adam breaks w ith G od, as Gain separates him self from his brother
and tiie m en o f Babel are confounded. W e shall take up this problem again
in Book I I I , when w e examine the psychoanalytic interpretation o f guilt;
it w ill then be possible to discover the positive value o f the sexual interpre­
tation and to assign Coppens* interpretation to its right place, which is not
that o f intentional instruction.
tw o words, “ g o o d " and “ evil,” ' place d ie hidden meaning far
beyond any m agic, at the very foundation o f the discrimination
between being good and being evil; what is forbidden is not this
or that, but a state o f autonom y w hich w ould m ake man the
creator o f the distinction between good and eviL
There is m ore to be said. F or an innocent freedom , this limita­
tion w ould n ot be felt as an interdiction; but w e n o longer know
what that prim ordial authority, contem poraneous with the birth of
finite freedom , is; in particular, w e n o longer know w hat a Gnat that
does n ot repress, but orients and guards freedom , could be Eke;
w e n o longer have access to that creative lim it W e are acrpiaimeri
only w ith the lim it that constrains; authority becom es interdiction
under the regim e o f fallen freedom . T hat is w hy the naive author
o f the Biblical story projects into the state o f innocence the sort
o f interdiction that w e experience “ after” the fa ll; the G od who
says Yes— “L et there he ligh t: and there was light” — now says
N o— “ As fo r the tree o f the knowledge o f good and evQ, thou shah
not eat o f i t ” T h e fall is at the same tim e a fall o f m an and a fall
o f the “ law” ; as S t Paul says, again, “ T h e com mandment that
was to give m e life has led m e to sin.” Thus the fa ll is a caesura
cutting across everything that makes ra m hum an; everything—
sexuality and death, work and civilization, culture and ethics—
depends on both a prim ordial nature, lost b u t yet still lying there
underneath, and an evil w hich, although radical, is nonetheless
contingent
I f n ow we ask the meaning o f that in n n n m y w hich the myth
projects as a "before,” w e can answer: to say that it is lost is stiH
to say something about it ; it is to posit it in order at least to cancel
i t Innocence here plays the role o f the Kantian thing-in-itseif: it
is thought o f to the extent o f being posited, but it is n o t known;
that is enough to give it the negative role o f a lim it in relation
to the pretensions o f the phenom enon to b e coextensive w ith bring.
T o posit the w orld as that into which a n entered, o r innocence as
* M . H um bert translates: “ Tartu* du nm m U r* W m et maL” H e thinks
that it is a question o f judgm ent in its JnQ extent: ^Knowledge both
theoretical and practical, experimen tal; knowledge in general, making one
experienced, capable, and prudent in aD fields. A n exclusively m oral sense
is excluded” (op. c i t p. 9 0 ).
that from w hich sin strayed, or again, in figurative language, Para­
dise as d ie place from w hich m an was driven, is to attest that sin
is not our original reality, does n ot constitute ou r first ontological
status; sin does n ot define w hat it is to be a m an ; beyond his
becom ing a sinner there is bis b o n g created. T h at is the radical
intuition w hich the future editor o f the second creation-story
(G en. 1} w ill sanction by the w ard o f th e L ord G o d : “ L et us make
man in o u r im age, after our likeness.” T h e im ago D ei— there w e
have both our being-created and our inn ocen ce; fo r the “ goodness”
of the creation is n o other than its status as “ creature.” AH creation
is good, and the goodness that belongs tom a n is his being the im age
o f G od . Seen retrospectively, from the point o f view o f o n , as a
“prior” state in m ythical language, the likeness appears as an
absence o f guilt, as innocence; but his goodness is altogether posi­
tive; it is o n that is the nothingness o f vanity.
Thereby the possibility arises o f interpreting the tw o states o f
innocence and o n n o longer as successive, but as superim posed;
on does not succeed innocence, but, in the h u ia n t, loses it. In the
Instant 1 am created, in the Instant I fa ll. In the Instant I am
created.: m y pristine goodness is m y status as a created b rin g ; but
I do n o t cease to b e a created bein g unless I cease to b e ; therefore
I d o n ot cease to b e good. T hen the “ event” o f sin terminates
innocence in the Instant; it is, in the Instant, the discon tinuity,
the breach between m y having been created and m y becom ing eviL
T he m yth puts in succession that w hich is contem poraneous and
cannot n ot b e contem poraneous; it makes an “ earlier” state o f in­
nocence term inate in an instant that begins the “ later” state o f a c-
cursedness. B ut that is h ow it attains its depth ; in telling o f the fall
as an event, springing u p from an unknown source;, it furnishes
anthropology w ith a key con cept: the contingency o f that radical
evil w hich th e penitent is always on the p rin t c f calling Ids ev il
nature. Thereby the m yth proclaim s th e purely “ historical” char­
acter o f th at radical evil; it prevents it from brin g regarded as
prim ordial evil. Sin m ay he “ rider” than mm, but innocence is
still “ rider.” T h e “ anteriority” o f innocence to the “ oldest” sin
is, as it w ere, the tem poral cipher o f a profound anthropological
fa c t B y the m yth anthropology is invited, in the first place, to
gather all the sins o f the w orld into a sort o f transhistorical unity,
symbolized by the first m an; then to put the stam p o f contingency
on that radical ev il; and finally to preserve, superimposed an one
another, the goodness o f created m an and the wickedness o f his­
torical m an, while “ separating” the one from the other by the
“ event” which the myth tells o f as the first sin o f the first man.
That is what Rousseau genially understood: m an is “ naturally
good,” but w e know him u n der the regim e o f civilization— that is
to say, o f history— only as “ depraved.” A bove all, that is what
K ant understood w ith adm irable rigor in the Essay on Radical
EoU: m an is “ destined” fo r the good and “ inclined” to evil; in this
parados o f “ destination” and “ inclination” d ie w hole meaning of
the symbol o f the fa ll is concentrated.

3. T h e “ L apse of T im e ” of th e D ram a of T emptation

But the same myth that focuses the “ event” o f the fall in one
m an, one act, one instant, also spreads it out am ong several char­
acters— Adam , Eve, the serpent—and several episodes— the seduc­
tion o f the woman and the fa ll o f the man. H ence, a second read­
ing offers itself, in w hich the “ passage” from innocence to fru it gets
the sense o f an insensible transition and n o longer that o f a sudden
occurrence. T h e m yth is both th e m yth o f the caesura and the
myth o f transition, the m yth o f the act and that o f motivation,
the myth o f an evil ch oice and that o f tem ptation, the myth of the
Instant and that o f a lapse o f time. U nder this second aspect the
myth tries to fill up the interval between innocence and the fall
by a sort o f dizziness from w hich the evil act emerges as if by
fascination. But in articulating the event o f the fall upon the dura­
tion o f the dizziness, the Yahwist gives his story a second pole—
the serpent; the serpent is a figure o f the transition. Furthermore,
the m ediation o f the serpent is itself linked with another figure—
that o f the wom an, Eve, l if e . Thus the myth multiplies intermedi­
aries, countering the irrationality o f the Instant.
L et us not ask first who the serpent is. L et us see what he does.
T h e drama begins between the serpent and the woman. The
serpent raises a question and that question insinuates a doubt:
"H as G od truly said N ow the question 1b an interrogation
concerning the In terd ict; it is a question that seizes upon the inter­
diction and transforms it into an occasion fo r fallin g; or rather, if
our analysis o f the creative lim it is exact, the question makes the
l i m i t suddenly appear as an interdiction. Dizziness begins w ith

alienation from the com m andm ent, w hich suddenly becom es my

"O ther,” whereas it had been m y “ O rient.” Floating at a distance
from me, the com m andm ent becom es insupportable; the creative
l i m i t becom es hostile negativity and, as such, problem atic: Has

God truly said . . . ? A t the same tim e as the m eaning o f the

ethical lim it becom es hazy, the meaning o f finiteness is obscured.
A “ desire” has sprung u p, the desire fo r infinity; but that infinity
is not the infinity o f reason and happiness, as w e have interpreted
it at the beginning o f this w ork; it is the infinity o f desire itself;
it is the desire o f desire, taking possession o f know ing, o f willing,
of doing, and o f b ein g: "Y ou r eyes shall b e opened, and ye shall
be as gods, know ing good and evil.” It is in relation to this “ desire”
that finiteness is insupportable, the finiteness w hich consists am ply
in being created bring. T h e soul o f th e serpent's question is the
“ evil infinite,” w hich simultaneously perverts the m eaning a t the
limit by w hich freedom was oriented an d the m eaning o f the
finiteness o f the freedom thus cuiented b y the lim it.
This likeness to god s b y means o f transgression is something very
p rofou n d ;1!' when the lim it ceases to be creative and G od seems to
19 W hat is tile m eaning o f Genesis 3 :2 2 : “ Behold, the man has becam e
as on e o f us, to know good and ev il! A nd n ow let him n ot pu t forth his
hand, and take also o f the tree o f life, and eat, and live forever” ? D oes
G od hold hhnself fo r vanquished? D oes he speak ironically? Several an tiion
have retreated before the consequences o f those tw o hypotheses and pre­
ferred o th e r to ascribe the verse to a distinct docum ent (Zim m erli) o r to
propose another translation (J . C qppen s): “ Behold, the m an, and whoever
is bam o f him , w ill have to endure good and evil.” W hy n ot take seriously
this affirm ation that, in acquiring discernment, man effectively realized his
likeness to G od,, w hich rem ained dorm ant, as it were, h i his innocence?
Now m an has becom e conscious o f it, bu t in an alienated m ode, in tire
mode o f contest and strife. Everything w e shall say later, with St. Paul,
about the "h ow m uch m ore” o f grace— w hich "superabounds” where sin
has "abounded” — inclines us to say th at sin represents a certain advance in
self-consriousness. Thus there begins an irreversible adventure, a crisis in
the becom ing o f m an, w hich w ill not reach its dinouem ent until the final
process o f justification.
 bar the way against man by his prohibitions, man seeks his freedom
in the rnilimitedness o f the Principle o f existence and form s the
wish to posit him self in being as a creator o f him self b y himself.
M oreover, the serpent has n ot spoken altogether falsely; the era
opened up to freedom by fault is a certain experience o f infinity
that hides from us the finite situation o f the creature, the ethical
finiteness o f m an. H enceforth the evil infinite o f human desire—
always something else, always something m ore— which animates the
m ovem ent o f civilizations, the appetite fo r pleasure, fa r possessions,
fo r pow er, fo r knowledge— seem s to constitute the reality o f man.
T h e restlessness that makes us discontented w ith the present seems
to be ou r true nature, or rather the absence o f nature that makes
us free. In a way, the prom ise o f the serpent marks the birth o f a
human history drawn by its idols towards the infinite; all phenom­
enology develops in this enchanted precinct o f vanity, under the
category o f the Pseudo. T hat is w hy n o phenom enology, n o science
o f appearances, ca n take the place o f a critique o f the ifinaian af
appearance. T h e m yth is the sym bolic form o f that critique.
A nd now , w hy is the wom an chosen fa r d ie confrontation at
interdict and desire? In the Biblical account she represents the
point o f weakness and giving way in the presence o f the seducer;
the serpent tempts the m an through the wom an.
N o doubt it must be granted that the story gives evidence o f a
very masculine resentment, w hich serves t o justify the state at
dependence in w hich all, or almost all, societies have kept women.
M oreover, that resentment is quite in the style o f the “ divine
jealousy” in w hich w e have recognized a sort o f residual tragic
m yth; there is undoubtedly same trace o f the god’s jealousy of
human greatness in the clerical hatred o f curiosity, o f boldness, of
the spirit o f invention and freedom , w hich animates those pessi­
m istic pages, if it is true that they tend, contrary to the m yth of
creation, to eliminate the ambiguity o f civilization and to place it
unequivocally under the sign o f guilt.
But beyond the legitim ate criticism that a Nietzschean spirit
m ight level against the resentment o f the Y ah wist, the story paints
to an “ eternal fem inine” w hich is m ore than sex and w hich might
be called the m ediation o f th e weakness■, the frailty o f m an. T he
flesh is "weak,” says the GospeL T h e essence o f that frailty is to be
found in the type o f finiteness belonging to m an. EGb finiteness is
an unstable finiteness belonging to m an. H is finiteness is an un­
stable finiteness, ready to veer towards the “ evil infinite” ; insofar as
it is an ethical finiteness, it is easily seduced by perversion o f the
fenit that constitutes i t T h e cause o f m an’s fa ll is n ot the human
libido, but the structure o f a finite freedom . It is in this sense that
evil was possible through freedom . H ere the wom an represents the
pant a f least resistance o f finite freedom to the appeal o f the
Pssudoj o f the evQ infinite.
Eve, then, does n ot stand fo r w om an in the sense o f “ second
sex.” Every wom an and every m an are A dam ; every m an and every
woman are Eve.; every wom an sins “in” A dam , every m an is
seduced “in ” E ve.
“Frailty, thy nam e is w om an!” says the tragedy o f H am let.
W hat w e have just said about ethical finiteness as the occasion
for man’s fa ll an d abou t the breaking out o f this finiteness into
an infinite desire and a hostile law leads 11s to the decisive question:
W hat does the serpent signify?
T h e serpent does n ot seem to have posed any problem fo r the
author o f the story: h e is there and b e is already cunning— “ the
most cunning o f the beasts o f the fields” — before Adam ’ s fau lt;
the Yahwist does n ot speculate further on his nature o r the origin
of his cunning; w e are still fa r from the Satan o f the Berman and
Greek period. In particular, the idea o f a test im posed upon m an,
such as w e read o f in the book o f Job, has q o t yet been form ed.
Betides, such a test w ould appeal to a pow er o f discernm ent w hich
the innocent m an does n ot have, and it w ould also suppose that
G od him self takes the initiative in questioning man’ s childlike de­
pendence on him . Nevertheless, the Y ahw ist appears to have kept
the serpent intentionally; the only m onster w h o survived from the
theogonic myths, the chthonic anim al, has n ot been dem ytholo-
gized.11 T h e Yahwist only says— and it is a capital point—th at he
also is a creature.

11 O n th e serpent as sym bol o f chthoniaa divinities and divinities o f

vegetation, J. Coppens, o p . cit., p p . 9 2 -1 1 7 ; W . F . A lbrigh t, “ T he Goddess
o f l i f e and W isdom,” A m . Joum . Sem . Lang. l e t ., 1920-21, pp. 2 5 8 -9 4 ;
 It is this lim it introduced in to the dem ythologization o f demons
by Jewish thought that creates a problem . W hy was die origin of
evil not restricted to A dam ? W hy was an extraneous figure re­
tained and introduced?
W e can give a first answer— which remains only a partial answer
— to that question: in die figure o f the serpent, the Yahwist may
have been dramatizing an im portant aspect o f the experience of
temptation— the experience o f quasi-externality. Tem ptation would
be a sort o f seduction from w ith ou t; it w ould develop into com­
pliance w ith the apparition that lays siege to the “ heart” ; and,
finally, to sin w ould be to yield. T h e serpent, then, would be a
part o f ourselves w hich we do not recognize; he w ould be the
seduction o f ourselves by ourselves; projected in to the seductive
object. T his interpretation is so m uch the less irrelevant as it has
already been invoked by the apostle James; “ Let n o m an say when
he is tem pted, I am tem pted o f G o d : fo r G od cannot be tempted
with evil, neither tempteth he any m an. But every m an is tempted,
when he is drawn away o f his ow n lust, and enticed” (1 :1 3 -1 4 ).
Likewise, S t Paul identified the quasi-externality o f desire with
the “ flesh,” w ith the law o f sin that is in m y members. T h e serpent,
then, represents this passive aspect o f tem ptation, hovering an die
border between the outer and the inner; the D ecalogue call* it
“ covetousness” (T en th C om m andm ent). W e m ight even say, follow ­
ing S t James’s line o f thought, that this pseudo-outer becomes an
alien reality on ly through bad faith ; arguing from the fa ct that our
freedom is beset by desire, w e seek to exculpate ourselves and
make ourselves appear innocent by accusing an O ther. Thus we
allege the irresistibility o f ou r passions in ord er to justify ourselves.
T h at is w hat the w om an does when she is asked b y G od, after
the fatal d eed: “ W hy have you done tins?” She answers: “ The
serpent beguiled m e.” Bad faith, then, seizes upon the quasi-
extem ality o f desire in order to m ake it an alibi fo r freedom . The
artfulness o f the excuse is that it puts tem ptation, w hich had been
hovering on the border between the inside and the outside, com ­
pletely outride. Carrying out this interpretation to the end, we
Strack-Billeibeck, Kom m entar turn N . T . ou t Talmud and Midrasch
(1 9 2 2 ), VoL I, p . 138 sub C .
might say that th e serpent represents the psychological projection
of desire.12 H e is the im age o f the “ fruit” — plus the bad faith o f
the excuse; O u r own desire projects itself into the desirable object,
reveals itself through the o b je ct; and so, when he binds him self—
and that is the evil thing— a m an accuses the ob ject in order to
exculpate him self. I t is this subtle procedure that the serpent
dramatizes, as the ghost in H am let dramatizes th e obscure call o f
vengeance and the reproachfulness o f the father-im age assailing
Hamlet’s indecisiveness. T h e Phaedo says the same thing: “ A nd
the extraordinary thing about the prison [the prison m ade by the
bodily passions], as philosophy has seen, is that it is the w ork o f
desire and that he w ho co-operates the m ost in loading the prisoner
with chains is perhaps the prisoner him self’ (8 2 a ).
This reduction o f the serpent to a part o f ourselves does not,
perhaps, exhaust the symbol o f the serpent. T h e serpent is n ot only
die projection o f man’ s seduction by him self, n ot only our animal
nature goaded by interdictions, m addened by the vertigo o f infinity,
corrupted by the preference each man gives to him self and to that
in w hich he differs from others, and beguiling his properly human
nature. T h e serpent is also “ outside” in a m ore radical fashion and
in various ways.
In the first place, the serpent represents the follow in g situation:
in the historical experience o f m an, every individual finds evil
already th ere; nobody begins it absolutely. I f A dam is not the first
man, in the naively tem poral sense o f the w ord, but the typical
m m , h e can symbolize both the experience o f the “ beginning” o f
humanity w ith each individual and the experience o f the “ succes-
u I «h«iH say later w hat is to b e thought o f the psychoanalytic interpre­
tations o f th e m yth o f G enesis; b a t it is already d ea r that th e dialectic o f
lust overflows the adventure o f the libido on every side. T h e struggle of
the Prophets against injustice and insblence, S t Paul's struggle against the
pretensions o f the “ ju st," warn us that the symbolism o f the serpent opens
up and uncovers an immense field fo r “ lust,” o f w hich sexuality is only one
lector. But w e are n ot yet prepared to situate sexnality exactly in relation
to and justification*
O n psychoanalytic interpretations o f the serpent, cf. Ludw ig Levy,
"Sexnale Symbolik in der Paradiesgeschichte,” in Im ago, 1917—19, pp.
1 5 -3 0 ; B - P . Fortune, “ T h e Sym bolic o f th e Serpent,” in In tern. Joum .
o f Psychoanalysis, 1926, pp. 2 3 7 -4 3 ; Abraham Cronbach, T he Psycho-
analytic Study o f Judaism.
sion” o f men. Evil is part o f the interham an relation ship, Eke
language, tools, institutions; it is transm itted; it is tradition, and
not only something that happens. There is thus an anteriority of
evil to itself, as if evil were that w hich always precedes itself, that
w hich each man finds and continues w hile beginning it, but begin­
ning it in his turn. T hat is why, in the Garden o f Eden, the serpan
is already there; he is the other tide o f that w hich begins.
Let us go further: behind the projection o f our hut, beyond the
tradition o f evil already there, there is perhaps an even more
radical externality o f evil, a cosm ic structure o f evil— not, doubtless,
the lawfulness o f the w orld as such, but its relation o f indifference
to the ethical demands o f w hich man is both author and servant
From the spectacle o f things, horn the course o f history, hum die
cruelty o f nature and m en, there com es a feeling o f universal ab­
surdity w hich invites m an to doubt his destination; Gabriel Maxed
speaks o f the “ invitation to betray” w hich seems inherent in the
structure o f our universe when w e confront it w ith the fundamental
intention o f man’s being and w ith his detire far truth and happi­
ness. There is thus a tide o f our w orld that confronts us as dam
and that is symbolized by the chthonic animal. Far a human exist­
ent, this aspect o f chaos is a structure o f the universe; Aeschylus
recognized it in the volcan o Etna, in the thousand-headed Typhon,
in the horror that adheres to gods and m en, feeding the essential
tragedy o f the human condition. Prometheus and Oedipus an the
one hand, Job on the other, recognized the cosm ic dimensions of
brute chaos. W e shall return in the follow ing chapter to this prox­
im ity o f the theme o f the serpent to tragedy.
Thus the serpent symbolizes something o f m an and something
o f the w orld, a tide o f the m icrocosm and a tide a£ the macrocosm,
the chaos in m e, am ong us, and outside. But it is always chaos f a
m e, a human existent destined fo r goodness and happiness.
T his triple “ sketch o f a serpent” explains w hy the chthonic ani­
m al resisted the dem ythologization o f theogony; h e represents tie
aspect o f evil that could n ot be absorbed into the responsible free­
dom o f m an, w hich is perhaps also the aspect that Greek tragedy
tried to purify by spectacle, song, and choral invocation. The Jem
themselves, although they were well armed against demonology by
 their intransigent monotheism, were constrained b y truth, as Aris­
totle would say, to concede something, to concede as m uch as they
| amid without destroying the m onotheistic bams o f their faith, to
i the great dualisms w hich they were to discover after the E xile. T h e
, thane o f the serpent represents the first landm ark along the road
of the Satanic theme w hich, in the Persian epoch, perm itted the
, inchnrion o f a near-dualism in the faith o f Israel. O f course, Satan
will never b e another g o d ; the Jews w ill always rem em ber that the
ffirpent is a part o f the creation; but at least the symbol o f Satan
allowed them to balance the m ovem ent tow ard the concentration
of evil in m an by a second m ovem ent w hich attributed its origin to
a prehuman, dem onic reality.
If we follow the intention o f the serpent them e all the w ay to
the end, it m ust b e said that m an is n ot the absolute evil one, but
tie evil on e o f second rank, the evil one through seduction; he is
not the- E vil O n e, the W icked O n e, substantially, so to speak, but
evfi, wicked, adjectivally; he makes him self wicked by a sort o f
aamter-partiripation, counter-im itation, by consenting to a source
rf evil that the naive author o f the Biblical tale depicts as animal
canning. T o sin is to yield.
From hero on, speculation becom es very risky— at least religious
speculation; fo r it must venture upon ground inaccessible to the
sort c f verification proper to it, nam ely, verification through the
qarit o f repentance. Beyond w hat the believer can repent o f, specu­
lation has nothing to lean on. Placed in the perspective o f the
confession o f sins and the symbolism that illum inates it, the theme
cf the E vil O ne is never anything m ore than a lim iting figure,
winch denotes the evil that I continue when I , too, begin it and
introduce it in to the w orld ; the always-already-there o f evil is the
other aspect o f the evil fa r w hich, nevertheless, I am responsible.
The situation o f a victim , w hich the iconography o f temptations
developed to satiety in the baroque art o f Hieronym us Bosch, is
die reverse o f the position o f a tinner, o f w hich m an accuses him -
self under the guidance o f the prophet. T h e sobriety o f the penitent
conscience excludes the possibility o f ever cutting o ff speculation
about Satan from the anthropology o f evfl. M an knows evil only
as that w hich he inaugurates; that is w hy a first step in “ Satan-
ology,” on the confines o f the experience o f being tempted, is al­
ways necessary. But it is impossible to take the second step beyond
the borders between Satanology and anthropology; outside the
quasi-external structure o f tem ptation, w hich is still a structure of
man’s a n , I d o n ot know what Satan is, w h o Satan is, or even
whether he is Som eone. F or if he were som eone, it w ould be neces­
sary to intercede fo r him , w hich maltpn n o sense.
That is why the B iblical m yth, in spite o f Eve and the serpent,
remains “ A dam ic” — that is to say, anthropological.

4. J ustification and E schatological Sym bols

W e have penetrated into the forest o f meanings created by the

A dam ic sym bol T he mom ent has came to restore to that symbol
its m otion : it is a symbol o f the beginning and it was adopted by
the Biblical writer whom we call the Yahwist w ith a lively aware­
ness that it is a retrosp ective symbol closely bound up with a whole
historical experience turned toward the future. W e are not con­
cerned here to reconstruct the w hole theology o f history underlying
that experience, but to find a solution to a precise problem , which
is this: A re there, in that experience and that theology o f history,
symbols o f the End w hich are hom ogeneous with the symbolism of
the Beginning developed by the Adam ic m yth? H ence the problem
w e are proposing here is a problem o f agreement o f symbol with
sym bol; what is at stake is the coherence o f the “ type” fo r which
the A dam ic symbol is the ultimate retrospective symbol. In other
words, w e are trying to discover that w hich corresponds, in the
Biblical type, to the “ cultual-ritual” re-enactm ent (and to the figure
o f the K ing w hich is subordinate to it) in the cosm ic-dram a “ type,”
or that w hich corresponds to the spectacle, the em otion, and die
wisdom o f tragedy, or, again, that which corresponds to the odyssey
o f the soul in the O rphic myth. W e shall attem pt to answer this
question within the limits o f an investigation erf symbols.
A t the same tim e as w e com plete the meaning o f the Adamic
symbolism by replacing it in the tem poral w hole from which we
have abstracted it, we are going to find again, at the second degree,
the symbolism o f “ pardon” which w e began to sketch in Part I.
It w ill be remembered that the notion o f “ pardon” evolved a history
parallel to the history that leads from defilement to sin and to
guilt. W e have m arked the route o f that ideal history o f pardon
by the themes o f purification, m ercy ( hesed) , and justification.
Now, th at history rested an a primary- sym bolism : to w a d i o r to
take away, to unbind, to liberate, to buy back, e tc.; but although
we were able to perceive the wealth o f the sym bol o f the “ exodus”
from Egypt w ith n o other resources than a theological reinterpre­
tation o f the historical past o f Israel, the symbol o f justification
could n ot b e w orked out com pletely fo r want o f an elucidation o f
the system o f images concerning the end o f tim e. H ence it is to
the symbolism o f justification that w e are going to relate the
eschatological symbolism. Through this Becond symbolism the living
experience o f pardon w ill continue to u n fold ; in pasting through
die m etaphysical im agination, the experience w ill b e enriched b y a
meaning that cou ld n ot be expressed in the direct language o f
religious experience. It is on this long road o f the hermeneutics o f
symbols that the experience com es to the light o f speech.
T h e dom inant symbols o f eschatology are the symbols o f the
“San o f M an” and the “ second Adam” (w e w ill n ot yet raise the
question o f their u n ity ); extraordinarily striking symbols, since
they answer, term fo r term, to the A dam ic symbol and perm it us
to discover at a tingle stroke the mutual agreement between the
symbols o f the fa ll that happened at the Beginning and the symbols
of the salvation that w ill com e at the E qd o f tim e.
But it is difficult to put oneself all at once in the presence o f
this symbolism, to w hich it can be justly objected that it is n ot at
the level o f the A dam ic symbol, since it acquired literary existence
only in late and esoteric Judaism (book o f D aniel, TV Ezra, Ethi­
opian book o f E n och ), in the Gospels, and in the Pauline epistles.
We must place ourselves, then, at the level o f the A dam ic myth,
begin w ith the response to that myth in the same cultural m ilieu,
and then try to follow d ie progressive enrichm ent o f the figures or
images that answer from the beginning to that o f A dam , in order
to overtake the symbols erf the Son o f M an and the Second Adam .
 O f course, it is n ot the literary history o f those figures or images
t that interests us but, through that history, their phenomenological
i filiation.
T h e tension, towards the future is discerned by the Yahwist editor
(w ho knows nothing o f a “ second Adam ” ) in an event which also
.p «

belongs to the Urgeschichte and in a sense brings it to a dose, at

the same tim e that it opens the H ailsgeschickte.1* T h a t event is die
calling o f A braham :
y w jy F .i ..

Y ahw eh said unto A bram , G et thee ou t o f th y country, and from thy

kindred, and from th y father’s house, unto a land that I w ill shew thee.
A n d I w ill m ake o f thee a great nation, and I w ill bless thee, and make
thy nam e great; and thou shalt b e a blessing.
I w ill bless them that bless thee,
i|i.

I w ill curse them that curse thee.

T hrough thee shall be blessed
a ll the nations o f the earth.
G en. 1 2 :1 -3

T h e figure o f Abraham may be said to be the first answer to the

figure o f Adam ,14 and indeed it is m uch elaborated upon in its
theological significance: “ Abraham believed in Yahweh, who
counted it to him as justice” (G en. 1 5 :6 ).
Thus, in his past, when h e thinks bade an it, the Israelite finds
a sign o f h op e; even before any eschatology he represents dm history
o f his “ fathers” to him self as a history directed b y a “ promise” and
m oving toward a “ fulfillm ent,” N o doubt that hope is dependent
on Land and B lood : Y ou shall possess a land, the Promised Land,
18 Gerhard von R ad, T heologie des atom Testam ents, I , p . 164.
14 T h e figure o f N oah already has a similar significance as an anncipatiaa
o f the perfect m a n : the “ N oachic” covenant anticipates what b most urn-
ven al in the promise to Abraham ; it is, indeed, a covenant with everything
living, w hich announces the great reconciliation hailed by the Prophets,
even before the later eschatologies. As to the flood itself, it signifies not
only the wrath o f G od but the advent o f a new creation; it is the symbolism
the baptism develops in connection with the symbolism o f burial and
resurrection. I t b noteworthy that the “ sacerdotal” editor attaches all the
races o f the earth to Noah as their begetter, thus placing the dispersion of
peoples and languages (G en. 1 0 :3 2 ) under the sign o f the promise made
to Noah (G en. 9 :1 f f .) , and not only, as the “ Yahwist” editor does, under
the sign (if the fa ll. T h e calling o f Abraham is in direct contrast with thu
final am biguity o f the U rgeschichte (G . von R ad, op. cit., p p . 165-68).
and your posterity w ill be as innumerable as the dust o f the earth;
bat at least the m ovem ent from prom ise to f ulfillment, furnishes
the clew that makes it possible to put in order the disparate stories
concerning Abraham , Jacob, and Joseph.
W hat interests us here is that that historical schema was suffi­
ciently charged w ith m eaning to support a w hole series o f trans­
positions w hich, step by step, cou ld lead to the eschatological
figures and images.
The transposition is effected first in the ancestral history itself,
and, consequently, still in retrospection: the fulfillm ent o f the
Promise; w hich at first appears to be at hand ( “ A ll the land w hich
thou seest, to thee w ill I give it, and to thy seed forever. . . .
Arise, walk through th e'lan d in the length o f it and in the breadth
of it; fa r I w ill give it unto thee?’ [G en. 1 3 :1 5 -1 7 }), is constantly
postponed. In the meantim e, the revelation o f Sinai, the knowledge
of die L aw , the setting u p o f a cult, and the experience in the
wilderness take place. T h e wealth c l the interval is such that the
end itself changes its m eaning.111
It was the experience o f historical stalemate that was to “ escha-
tokgize” the Promise in a decisive m anner. T h e m eaning o f the
Promise m ade to Abraham — “ In thee all the nations o f the earth
shall be blessed” (G en. 1 2 :3 )— had n ot been exhausted in the
conquest o f Canaan under Joshua; new dimensions o f meaning,
concealed under the carnal desire fo r land and posterity, continu­
ally rrrmp into view as political success becom es m ore problem atic
and Israel ceases to exist as an independent state. T hen the look
that anticipates is n o longer only a look that interp rets the past;
the eye o f h ope is an eye that turns away from the U rgeschichte
and sees th e tnnaimig o f salvation com ing from the future toward
die present.
H enceforth the “ Promise” w ill express its tension through the
mythical im ages o f the en d ; those im ages and the figures in w hich
they w ill b e crystallized w ill supply the true answer to the images
and figures o f the beginning. J. H & ing16 proposed not long ago
to Affirm “ eschatology” as “ the ensemble o f the thoughts that

u G von Rad, op. ciL, pp. 169-77.

w J. H faing, L e royaum e d » D ieu et sa venue (Strasbourg, 1937).
express religious hopes concerning the com ing o f a w orld regarded
as ideal, that w orld b o n g habitually presented as one which most
be preceded by a ‘Judgment* (w hich im plies th e destruction of the
present w orld or o f the powers that dom inate it ).” 17 It is da
affinity o f the eschatological representations o f the Judeo-Chnshan
w orld with the representations concerning the UrgeschichU which
w ill be the theme o f our reflections from now on.
As the ritual-cultual vision o f life was coherent w ith the creation-
drama, as the spectacle o f T error and Pity went w ith the wicked
god o f tragedy, and as the odyssey o f the soul is the answer to the
wretchedness o f bodily existence, so it can be shown that die
eschatological representations o f the M an to com e are homogeneous
with the fall o f the first M an.
There is n o better illustration o f the cleavage between the
“ ritual-cultual” type and the “ eschatological” type than the evo­
lution undergone by the figure o f the K in g: the kingship founded
“ in those times” becom es little by little “ the K ingdom to came,”
as the eschatological type possesses itself m ore com pletely of the
images deposited by the ritual-cultual type. W e have already spoken
o f this inversion within the fram ework o f the “ ritual-cultual” type,
and we have considered the evolution o f the figure o f the King
from the point o f view o f the decom position o f the anterior ide­
ology. W e can now com prehend better the new dynamism that
carries those old images along toward a new horizon. T h e King,
the Anointed O ne, still charged with earthly and political hopes
in the oracles concerning the permanence o f D avid’s fine (for
exam ple, I I Samuel 7 :1 2 -1 6 ), begins to be “ eschatolqgized” in
Jeremiah 2 3 :1 -8 , Ezekiel 3 4 :2 3 ff. and 3 7 :2 0 ff., and above all in
Isaiah 9 :1 -6 (which does not prevent it from becom ing m ore and
m ore strongly “ political” under the Greek dom ination, while re­
maining within the horizon o f history, as one sees in the psalms
o f S olom on ). T h e beautiful words o f Isaiah deserve to be quoted:

The people that walked in darkness

have seen a great light:
11J. H irin g, op. e i t p . 51. O n the relation with the figure o f the King,
cf. A . Bentzen, op. eit., pp. 32 -42 . Gullmann, Christologie du Nouveau
Testam ent (Paris, 1958), p. 97.
 th x “ ad am ic ” m y t h an d t h e “ esc h a to lo g ic al ” v isio n 265
they that dw ell in th e land o f th e shadow o f death,
u pon them hath th e ligh t shined.

F or unto us a child is bom ,

u nto ns a son is given :
and the governm ent shall b e upon his shoulder:
ami his namp A all be rallwi
W on derfu l C ounsellor, T h e m ighty G od ,
T h e everlasting Father, T h e P rince o f P eace.
O f th e increase o f his governm ent and peace
there shall be no wni,
u pon th e throne o f D avid,
and u pon Ids kingdom ,
to order It, and to establish it
w ith judgm ent and w ith ju stice
from henceforth even fo r ever.
T h e zea l o f th e L o rd o f hosts w ill perform this.
Is . 9 :2 , 6 -7

In this text, as in the preceding ones, the K ing, the Shepherd,

the San o f D avid is in n o wise a mysterious personage “ com ing
from heaven,” life**- the Son o f M an in the later eschatologies;
eschatological does n ot mean transcendent, heavenly, but final. T h e
important thing fo r us is that the representation o f a reconciled
cosmos w hich accom panies this im age erf the com ing R eign ex­
presses n ot at all the regret for a lost golden age, but the expecta­
tion o f a perfection the like o f w hich w ill not have been seen
before.

W hile the M essianic figure is becom ing “ eschatologized,” other

historically im portant figures appear. T w o am ong them deserve
to be introduced h ere: that o f the “ Servant o f Yahweh” and that
<rf the “ Son o f M an,” in w hich the eschatological accent is par­
ticularly eviden t T h e Second Isaiah celebrates the sorrowful servant
in fou r upsetting “ songs” (4 2 :1 -9 ; 4 9 :1 -6 ; 5 0 :1 -1 1 ; 52:13—
5 3 :1 2 ) .u In m any o f its traits, this them e is original in relation to

u Q n the suffering servant o f G od (Ebed Yahweh) : H . H . R ow ley, The

Servant of the Lord and Other Essays on the Old Testament, 2d ed. (1 9 5 4 );
J. Jem m as, a r t n i l , in Theol. Worterbuch g. N. T., V , 636 f f .; J.
 the ideology o f the K in g ; it needs a new ear to understand the
song o f the suffering servant w h o gives him self fa r the remission
erf sins: “ Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sir-
rows. . . . H e was wounded fo r our transgressions, he was burned
fo r our iniquities” ; w e can n o longer use the ideology o f the King
to understand the role o f disciple, o r that o f the inspired sage, or
the wretched appearance, the absolute patience, the nan-resistance
to the wicked o f the E bed Yahweh. It is true that the eschatological
emphasis is weak in this figure; and yet it is said that this “slave
o f tyrants” is the one w ho w ill “ restore the survivo rs o f Israel”
and be “ the light o f the nations, so that m y salvation may reach
to the ends o f the Earth.” It is noteworthy that this canticle
“ speaks” without our being able to say who this Servant o f Yahweh
is, or even whether he is a people taken in a body, a “ remnant,"
or an exceptional individual.
A nd yet, in spite o f tins enigma— or in virtue o f this enigma—
we need the figure o f the E bed Yahweh to lead us to the idea of
“ pardon,” the examination o f w hich w e postponed because we
rejected the short cut o f religious psychology and d o s e the long
road o f sym bolic figures. It is through an enigm atic personage who
substitutes his suffering fo r our sins that pardon is announced.
Pardon does n ot appear here as a w holly inw ard change, psycho­
logical and m oral, but as an interpersonal relation to that immo­
lated personality (individual or collectiv e); tins interpersonal rela­
tion rests on the reciprocity o f a g ift ( “ in place o f,” ‘ffar our tins” )
and an acceptance ( “ we did esteem him stricken, smitten o f God,
and afflicted” ) ; this alliance supposes that the substitutive suffering
is not the am ple transfer o f defilement to a passive object, such
as the scapegoat, n or yet the ineluctable destiny o f a misunderstood
and rejected prophet,19 but the voluntary “ gift” erf a suffering taken
upon him self and offered to others: “ Y et it was our sufferings that
he bore, our griefs w ith w hich he was laden.” “ H aving given Us
life as a sacrifice fo r sin, he w ill see a posterity and prolong his days,

H irin g, op. eit., pp. 8 3 -8 5 ; A . Bentzen, op. cit., pp. 42 f f .; Th£o Frew,
L e FUs de l’H om m e, fragments d’un couxs sur la cbristalogie d o N . T.
(M ontpellier, 19 51 ), pp. 51 f f .; O . Cullm ann, op. eit., pp. 4 8 -7 3 .
19 O . Cullm ann, op. cit., p p . 52 and 64.
and the w ork o f the Eternal w ill prosper in his hands. Because o f
die travail o f his soul, he w ill see and b e satisfied; through his
knowledge m y just servant w ill justify m any m en and h e w ill take
their iniquities upon him self.” Expiation through the voluntary suf­
fering o f another, however mysterious the E bed Yahweh m ay be,
is an essential key to the idea o f pardon ; it w ill b e relayed through
aO the successive m ediations developed by the other figures.90
Other, profoundly other, is the apocalyptic figure indicated in
Daniel 7 :1 3 and in the extra-canonical apocalypses (book o f Ezra,
Ethiopian b ook o f E n och ). “ I w atched during m y visions in the
nigh t, and behold, an the clouds o f heaven there cam e one like
a sou o f m an; he advanced toward the A ncient o f Days, and they
brought him near to him . A n d there w as given him dom inion, glory,
and kingship; and all peoples, nationB, and m en o f every language
served him . H is eternal dom inion w ill never pass away, and his
kingship w ill never b e destroyed” (D am 7 :1 3 -1 4 ). A ccording to
the ensuing explanation given b y th e visionary (vss. 15 f f .) , the
“ Scm o f M an” represents the “ saints o f the M ost H igh.” This
figure, o f heavenly origin, com es to assemble the holy people o f the
end o f tim e and to share his reign w ith them. T his figure, the most
distant from the figure o f the earthly K ing,91 w ill lead us back, at

" T h e eschatological aspect o f tw o other figures m ight also be empha­

sized: (1 ) the figure o f the prophet o f the last tim es: M oses Redivivus,
Efia Redivivus in Judaism, the "M aster o f Justice” in the Quintan se ct
Preaching proclaim s th e end o f the w orld and offers the last chance fo r
repentance. H irin g, op. cit., p . 6 8 ; A . Bentzen, pp. 42 ff. (th e latter seeks
the unity o f the tw o figures o f the prophet and the M essiah in the figure
at the Son o f M an, rather than in t b it o f the M essiah-King, counter to the
ideology o f the K in g ); O . Onlhnann, op. cit., p p . 1 8 -4 7 , insists on the
im portance o f this G hristalogical title o f Jesus in Judeo-Christianity. (2 )
The figure o f the “ high priest” o f Genesis 14:l£k-20 and Psalm 11 0:4
{"T h o u art a priest forever, after the order o f M elchizedek” ) , a figure
which, as the ideal high priest expected a t th e end o f tim e, is akin to the
Prophet, the Priest-King, and the M an. H irin g, op. eit., p. 7 2 ; A . Bentzen,
pp. 67 f f , O . Cullm ann, op. cit., p p . 76 -94 .
U I leave the problem whether this figure belongs to a Zoroastrian,
Mnrufowm, o r gnnurifi tradition, as Rehxenstein, Bousset, and B nltmaim
have tried to establish. In any case, it d id n ot affect Christianity except
through esoteric circles in Judaism. M oreover, knowledge o f th e o rigins o f
the Son o f Man “ could add nothing o f im portance to the m eaning he
acquired in Judaism” (J . H irin g, op. eit., p . 8 1 ). See further A . Bentzen,
the end o f this chapter, to the initial figure: to M an, to Anthropas.
T h e Son o f M an is M an ; but he is n o longer the First M an, but a
M an w ho is com ing; he is th e M an o f the end, whether he he an
an individual or the personification o f a collective entity, o f the
remnant o f Israel, or o f the w hole o f humanity. A s such, he is die
replica o f the first M an, created in the image o f G od (O . CuOmaxm
supposes that the theme o f the imago Dai m ay have made the
adoption o f this figure that com es from elsewhere easier fear Juda­
ism ) ; he is the replica o f the first M an, but he is new in relation
to him and cannot be the return, pure and simple, o f a first Man,
supposed perfect and n ot a aim er, as in certain gnostic speculations
on Adam .2*
W hat draws this figure toward the m ost ultimate future is his
tw ofold function o f Judge o f the w orld and K ing to com e. The
K ingdom is to com e, and the Apocalypses present it in the great
setting o f the last judgm ent, when the M an is proclaim ed king and
receives the pow er, the glory, and the kingship over all nations.
It is to this eschatological role that the revelation o f the assembly
o f the just is join ed ; the “ collective com ponent” in the figure of
the Son o f M an is manifested thereby. Thus the true meaning of
present humanity is revealed, so to say, in the light o f what lies
ahead, starting from that true M an w ho “ is com ing” ; as Theo
Preiss insists: “ T h e m eaning is n ot mythical (in the sense of a
repetition o f a prim ordial Event) and anthropological, but escha­
tological : a savior w ho establishes a new w orld. T h e interest is
turned towards the future, towards the second creation which will

op. tit., pp. 37—4 2 ; E. Sjobeig, Der Mtmscheiuohn im ethiopischsn E enoch-

bueh (1 9 4 6 ) ; O . Cnllmann, op. tit^ pp. 1 1 8 -6 6 ; and especially Th£o Preas,
La Fils A* tHomme.
as O . Culhnann ( op. tit., pp. 12 4-2 8) insists on the incom patibility, even
from the point o f view o f the conception of time,, between th e gnostic th en
o f d ie return o f Adam and the conception o f th e San o f M an. T hat is why
the Son o f M an is not called Adam in Judaism and in the N ew Testament;
and that is w hy St. Paul w ill speak o f the “ second Adam” and n ot o f die
perfect return o f the M an o f the first age, even divided, in the manner <A
Philo, in to a heavenly Adam , created in the im age o f G od (according to
Genesis 1 :2 7 ), and an earthly Adam , drawn from the dust (according to
Genesis 2 :7 ) and sinful. A s we shall see, the “ second Adam ,” ac cording
to St. Paul, is the figure o f the new M an.
surpass the first creation in the very act o f com pleting it.” 88
I t is the problem o f the theologian, n ot o f the philosopher, to
understand what can be m eant b y the follow ing tw o affirmations
from the N ew Testam ent: at first, Jesus refers to him self in the
third person by the title o f Son o f M an (M ark 1 3 :2 6 -2 7 is a direct
echo o f D aniel 7 :1 3 ), and consequently the theme o f the Son of
M an gives the d ew to the first Christology, that o f Jesus him self;
afterwards Jesus fo r th e first tim e unites the idea o f suffering and
death, w hich had previously pertained to the theme o f the servant
o f Yahweh, w ith the figure o f the San o f M a n ; thus he makes the
theology o f glory follow the road o f the theology o f the Gross, and
profoundly transforms the function o f the Judge (connected with
the figure o f th e Son o f M an ) by bringing it into contact w ith the
suffering o f the "servant,” thereby making him both judge and
advocate. T hat Jesus could be the point o f convergence o f all the
figures without him self being a “ figure” is an Event that exceeds
the resources o f our phenom enology o f images. A ll the images w e
have exam ined are subject to our herm eneutic m ethod insofar
as they are scattered images, but their tem poral and personal unity
is n o t; the event announced in the Gospel, the “ fulfillm ent,” is
properly the content o f the Christian Kerygma.88 H ence, our
exegesis o f the figures stays an the hither side o f the Christian
K erygm a; this is possible because “ n o Christological title, n o Chris­
tian concept w as invented by Jesus o r by the Christians.” 88 O n the
other hand, w e can very w ell give an account o f the enrichment
that those fundam ental images received from their being rem olded
by Jesus in the Synoptic Gospels and from their convergence in his
ow n person.

** Th£o Preiss, L e FUs A t FHomm e, p . 70.

** Ibid., p . 21. O n the relation between the “ Christological titles” and
the problem o f the person and nature o f Jesus, cL O . Cullm ann, op. at.,
pp. “9 -1 6 , and conclusion, p p . 276-87.
* l U o Preiss, op. cit., p . 7. T h e author continues: “ O n the surface,
everything was borrow ed; but, in reality, there was a conversion and m odifi­
cation o f concepts and im ages through their convergent application to
Jesus o f Nazareth” (ibid.). A t the end o f his study: “ The notion o f the
Son o f sim ple enough in its beginnings, was enriched first in Jewish
rhrmgh t and than in the thought o f Jesus by so m any n ew elements that it
becomes difficult to see simultaneously aU its implication^* (p . 7 0 ).
 It is to be remarked, in the first place, that pardon and healing
are the tw o signs o f the irruption o f the new regim e into the old.
“ T h e Son o f M an has pow er on earth to forgive sins” (M ark
2 :1 0 ). Thus “ pardon” is not the m ovem ent o f the “ soul” separating
itself from the “ body” ; it is the beginning o f the new creation in
the midst o f men on earth, the penetration o f the new era into
ours. But what is m ost striking is that this pow er o f “ pardon” issues
from the eschatological focu s constituted b y th e cosm ic judgm ent.3®
W e can see what the idea o f “ pardon” receives from its contact
w ith the figure o f the Son o f M an. T h e figure o f the Suffering
Servant had contributed the idea o f a substitutive suffering that is
voluntary in character; the figure o f the Son o f M an at first ac­
centuates the heavenly or transcendent character o f that initiative
to such a degree that, in the tradition o f Judaism, this figure does
not seem susceptible o f incarnation; but at the same tim e it con­
firms the belief that what is highest above m an is w hat is most
inward to him . That heavenly figure is precisely M a n ; even more,
it is the identity o f one m an w ith men taken in a body. Hence­
forth, the substitution o f the suffering servant itself rests on the
profound identity o f the M an and m en. T h fo Preiss has m ade much
o f this: the identity o f the Son o f M a n and m en is the great
“ mystery” revealed in the prophecy o f the last judgm ent upon the
sheep and the goats; the verdict is based on the attitude o f men
toward the low ly, w ho are tile Son o f M a n : “ Inasm uch as you
have done it unto one o f the least o f these m y brethren, yon have
done it unto m e” (M att. 2 5 :4 0 ). T h e Judge o f m en is identical
w ith m en insofar as they com e face to face in action and insofar
as they are crushed by the “ greater” ones. T h is “ mystery” is aug­
m ented by another one, to w hich w e have already alluded: in the
great act o f Justification, the Son o f M an figures at the same time
as ju dge and as witness, Parakletos and K ategoros, w hile Satan
is tiie Antidikos, the Adversary— an astonishing end fo r the figure

*• “ The notion o f the Son o f M an requires a ju ridical setting; It desig­

nates the central figure o f a trial in w hich some are justified, others con­
dem ned. T h e ju ridical setting o f the great judgm ent . . . is fo reign to the
myth o f the Anthropos as we find it in oriental and gnostic syncretism.
This ju ridical character is one o f the distinctive traits o f the Jewish and
Christian notion o f the Son o f M an” (T h6o Preiss, ibid., p . 4 0 ),
o f the Serpent w ho, from Tem pter, becom es, within the juridical
fram ew ork o f the cosm ic judgm ent, the prosecuting attorney, while
the Judge becom es the intercessor; and he becom es the intercessor
because he is also the substituted victim . T h is series o f equivalences
is rite result o f the identification o f the San o f M an , ju d g e and
king a t th e End, w ith th e suffering servant: “ T h e Son o f M an
cam e n ot to be ministered unto, but to m inister, and to give his
life a, ransom fa r many” (M arie 1 0 :4 5 ). W hether this verse be a
saying o f Jesus, an interpretation b y the Palestinian church, o r a
gloss o f the H ellenistic church, it expresses com pletely the fusion
o f the tw o figures— the servant o f the Eternal’ and the Son o f M an.
A t tile same tim e, this fusion introduces a new note o f tragedy:”
“ H ow is i t written o f th e Son o f M an that h e m ust suffer many
things and b e set at nought?” (M ark 9 :1 2 ). T h e new note o f
tragedy is that the K in g is the V ictim , “must” (&£) be the V ictim .
T hat is “ the mystery o f Jesus.”
Perhaps it is necessary to have assimilated tins succession o f
figures in order to understand the one w hich insures the ultim ate
symmetry between the A dam ic figure o f the m yth o f origin and
the series o f eschatological figures— nam ely, the figure o f the “ sec­
ond Adam ,” dear to S t Paul. I f Son o f M an means M an and if
A dam also means M a o, the question is fundam entally o f the same
thing (although S t Paul never uses the expression San o f M an,
but speaks only o f the “ second Adam ,” the “ last A dam ,” the
“ A dam w ho is to com e” ) . T his new figure at the same tim e conse­
crates the preceding ones and adds a dedrive trait to them . O n the
one. hand, i t supposes the fusion o f the tw o figures o f the Son o f
M an and the suffering servant,*8 as w ell as the relation between
a single figure o f M an and the w hole o f m ankind, between “ one”
and “ many.” O n the other hand, the new m eaning that S t Paul
gives to the com parison o f the tw o Adam s is dedrive fa r a retro­
spective understanding o f the w hole series o f the earlier escha­
tological figures. W hat particularly interests us here is that, in
sr O n A n taVingr u p o f tragic in to A dam ic MiA m ninjinil
type, see below , C hap. V .
MK. Barth, Christas and Adam nach Rom. 5 s cm Beiirag tar Frag*
nach d m Atenschm and der Mnuehhrit, in Theol. Stud. 35 (1952);
French translation, Paris, 1958.
Rom ans 5 :1 2 -2 1 , the com parison between the first and the second
Adam not only establishes a similitude ( “ A s the fau lt o f one
brought condem nation upon all men, so also the justice a f one
procures fo r all a justification that gives life,” R om . 5 :1 8 ), but
the apostle, by means o f the similitude, brings to light a progres­
sion: “ But not as the faulty so also the g ift F or if by the fault ci
one many died, how much m ore the grace o f G od and the gift con­
ferred by the grace o f one m an, Jesus Christ, have abounded unto
many” (5 :1 5 ).89 This “ how m uch m ore,” w hich overturns the “ as
. . . so also,” gives to the m ovem ent from the first to the second
Adam its tendon and its tem poral im pulsion; it excludes the pos­
sibility that the “ gift” should be a simple restoration ctf the order
that prevailed before the “ fault” ; the gift is the establishment of a
new creation. W e have already spoken o f the role o f the law in
this experience o f a break. W e shall not go back to that point, but
w e shall insist an the irreversibility o f that movem ent w hich, beyond
the breaking o ff o f the regim e o f the law, leads to the abundance
o f sin, and from the abundance o f sin to the superabundance of
grace: “ T h e law entered in, that offense m ight abound. But where
sin abounded, grace did m uch m ore abound, in order that as sin
has reigned in death, even so grace m ight reign through justice
unto eternal life through Jesus Christ our L ord” (R om . 5 :2 0 -2 1 ).
T he sense o f “ as . . . so also,” then, is “ how m uch m ore,” and the
sense o f “how m uch m ore” is “ in order that” : “ G od has shut up
all in unbelief in order that he m ay have m ercy cm all” (Rom .
1 1 :3 2 ).
In transcribing the m ovem ent from the “ did man” to the “ new
man” in A dam ological terms,80 St. Paul opened the way to all die

20 O . C ullmann (o p . cit., pp. 147 ff.) insists on tw o points. In the first

place, the second Adam is heavenly as the Son o f M an, and he suffers in
place o f m en as the servant o f Y ahw eh; “ W e understand how Paul could
and must have seen, In the coupling o f the Ideas o f *San a f M an' and
E btd Yahweh, the solution to the problem ‘Son o f M an-Adam ,’ which the
Jews had not been able to solve” (ibid ., p. 14 9 ). O n the other hand,
Rom ans 5 :1 2 , 17, and 18, erects the parallelism o f the tw o “ men” an the
fact that in both cases “ one man” ( “ one offense,” “ one act o f justice” )
affects the destiny o f “all.” N ow , the Servant and the Son o f M an were
both figures representative o f all mankind, inclusive o f a community.
801 leave aside, fo r the present, the problem whether S t Paul did not in­
troduce into Adainology a H ellenistic theme closer to the gnostic dualism
“ progressivist” theologies o f history w hich, even if they g o consider­
ably beyond the intentions o f the first Christian theologian, are
manifestly prolongations o f his “ how m uch m ore” and his “ in
order that.” T h e Church itself in its liturgy sings: O certe neces-
sarium A das peccatum quod Ckristi m atte deletum est! O fetix
culpa, quae talem ac tantum m eruit habere R edem ptorem ! That
hymn celebrates only the greatness o f the R edeem er; but the
“ greatness” o f the Redeem er is also the “ greatness” o f the new
creation. T h at is w hy there is less o f error in the interpretation o f
the A dam ic m yth given b y Germ an idealism” than in all the
dreams o f a return to an earlier paradise. K ant, in the M uthmass-
licher A nfang der M enschengeschichte, sees the good o f the species
issuing from the evil o f the individual; and, in the R eligion within
the lim its o f Pure R eason ( I , I V ) , he understands the fall, free
and fated, o f m an as the painful road o f all ethical life that is o f
an adult character and on an adult level. W hat is properly Paulin-
ian, and what the Greek and Latin Fathers com m ented an fer­
vently,” is that, by a m iraculous initiative on the part o f G od, the

o f tiie “ spiritual” and tike “ earthly” (o r “ tike psychic” ) than to the Hebrew
tradition. I t is above a ll the other A dam ological passage in St. Paul ( I Gar.
1 5 :3 5 -5 5 ) that poses the problem : “ The first man Adam was m ade a
living sou l: the last Adam is a spirit w ho gives life. . . . T he first man,
sprung from the earth, is earthy; the second m an is from heaven.” O n this
hypothesis, w e shall attem pt further on to account fo r th e attraction o f
the A dam ic type in the direction o f the type o f the exiled soul (<£ below ,
Chap. V , $ 4 ) ; w hat w e have said about the dualism o f “ spirit” and “ flesh”
in St. Paul (Part I , Chap. I l l , 9 4 ) has prepared the way. F or the m o­
ment, let ns say only that S t fo u l does not break with the H ebrew tradi­
tion o f the Son o f M an, w ho there, too, is “ heavenly” (H an. 7 :1 3 ). Further­
m ore, as H irin g has suggested {o p . cit., p. 1 5 3 ), follow ed by GuDmarm {op.
cit., p p . 1 4 4 -4 5 ), the key to the text m ight b e to regard it as a polem ic
against the interpretation o f Philo, w ho distinguished tw o “ first men,” the
first heavenly and perfect (accordin g to Generis 1 :2 6 ), the second earthly
and fallen (according to Genesis 2 :7 ). F or S t Paul, it is the first who is
earthly, m id there is n o other first; it is the second w ho is heavenly, and he
is the la st T h e movem ent, the progression, from the earthly Adam to the
heavenly Adam is only m ore striking; there is n o longer, behind us, a
“ heavenly” A dam ; the perfect m an is w holly signified by the M an to
Gome.
81 A . M . D ubarle, L e p ic h i origm el dans VAcritnre (Paris, 19 58 ), p . 4,
notes 1 and 2.
M Texts from John Chrysostom and Irenaeus in Stanislas Lyonnet, D e
Peccato et Redem ption*, I (R om e, 19 57 ), pp. 36-37.
fall is turned into grow th and progress; the curse o f paradise lost
becom es a test and a m edicine. It is, therefore, S t PauFs “ how
m uch mare” and “ in order that” w hich con fer its truth upon that
vision o f history according to w hich man’ s access to his humanity,
his passage from infancy to maturity, both on the individual level
and an the level o f the species, proceed through awareness o f his
lim itations, his conflicts, and his sufferings. Salvation evolves a
history; in sym bolic term s: the second Adam is greater than the
first A dam ; the first A dam is with a view to the second Adam . We
must g o this far in order to understand that the Bible never speaks
o f sin except in the perspective o f the salvation that delivers from
sin. This “ pedagogy” o f the human race makes the pessimism af
the fall abound in order that the optimism o f salvation m ay super-
abound.
This detour through the “ images o f the End” permits us to give
the notion o f “ pardon” a ll its richness. I t has been said too readily
that pardon is G od’s answer to man’s avow al o f fault. B u t pardon
cannot be understood directly as a psychological event; in order
to arrive at the experience, one must have w nw from the symbolic
universe constituted by the accum ulation o f figures stretching from
the Adam o f the Yahwist editor to the tw o Adam s o f d ie Pauline
epistles and including the figures o f the M essiah-King, the Shep­
herd-K ing, the Prince o f Peace, the Servant o f Yahweh, and the
Son o f M an, to say nothing o f d ie L ord and the L ogos o f the
apostolic Church. Pardon, as something experienced, gets its mean­
ing from the participation o f the individual in the “ type” o f the
fundam ental M an. W ithout that reference to the symbol o f the
M an, the experience is shut u p in that w hich is m ost inward and
most individual. Something essential is then lost, something that
cannot be conveyed except by the over-determ ined figure o f a M m
w ho is him self and all m en, as the figures o f the Servant and o f die
Son o f M an already were. In Pauline language, the passage from
the “ old man” to the “ new man” is the psychological event which
expresses the incorporation o f the individual in the reality signifigd
by the “ types” o f the first and the second A dam ; the im w muta­
tion— “ putting an the new man” — is the shadow cast an the pin™*
o f experience by a transformation which cannot be w holly experi-
m iw l subjectively, n or observed from outride, but can on ly be
signified sym bolically as a participation in the “ types” o f the first
and the second Adam . It is in tins sense that St. Paul says that the
individual is “ transformed [furapoptpoiaOai—metamorphosed] into
the sam e im age [dietin']” (2 C or. 3 :1 8 ), “ conform ed [av/t/top^os] to
the im age [cuouv]” o f the Son (R om . 8 :2 9 ), and that h e “ bears
the h-nagR o f the heavenly” after having “ borne the image of
the earthy” ( I Car. 1 5 :4 9 ) .** O f course, w hat gives ontological
weight to these “ types” in S t Paul is the faith that Jesus him­
self, a historical m an, “ exists in the form o f G od,” that he ful­
fills the type, the form , the im age. T h e plenary sense o f those
images is therefore inseparable from that faith, and the phenom­
enology o f the images as such remains an abstraction in relation
to that faith. A t least, a simple com prehension o f the symbols, such
as w e are pursuing in this book, is sufficient to m ake it understood
that the psychology o f religious experience does n ot render an a c­
count o f phenom enon o f pardon. I t is n ot that the individual
undergoes a certain experience and then projects it in to a w orld
o f im ages; on the contrary, it is because he is incorporated into that
which those “ images” signify that the individual attains the experi­
ence o f pardon. T h e experience o f pardon is, so to speak, the
psychological trace o f that w hich happens in reality, and which
can on ly be spoken o f in an enigm a and signified as the passage
from incorporation in the first A dam to incorporation in the second
Adam .
N ow this transfiguration, this metamorphosis, or rather this
symmorphosis, is itself so rich in meaning that even an the level
o f “ types” it gives rise to a series o f sym bolic equivalents which
enrich the experience in their turn. W e should like to dwell an the
interplay between tw o significant symbolisms which develop in two
divergent directions, but without exhausting it, the same theme
o f the assimilation o f the individual to the QKXUVf the futptjnjy
o f the M a n : the m ore “ juridical” symbolism o f acquittal and the8

88 O . Cullm aim , op. eit., pp. 130-33, w ith reference to the third Pauline
passage on the M an (PhO. 2 :5 -1 1 ), w hich, according to H iring, n a y like­
wise be regarded as associating the figure o f the San o f M an { “ in the ferm
o f G od” ) with the figure o f the Servant ( “ he humbled himself” ).
m ore “ mystical” symbolism o f the living g ra ft It must not be
thought that th e first is the poorer, because “ juridical” ; “ juridical”
does not mean “ legalistic.” O n the contrary, this symbolism reaches
its culm ination in St. Paul, w ho pushed furthest the criticism of
the Law and o f justification by works, and in S t John, w ho does
not concern him self with the problem o f the Law . T h e “ juridical”
symbolism conveys some fundam ental significations without which
the “ mystical” symbolism itself w ould lose its force. It can be traced
very far back, to^the archaic theme o f retribution as w ell as to the
contractual aspects o f the “ C ovenant” This, perhaps, is what ex­
plains the appearance, in later Judaism and in the Septuagint, of
the idea o f “ debt” (o^dXq/ua) and the idea o f “ remission” ( o f m ,
rem ittere, to remit a d eb t), w hich in the Septuagint covers the
M essianic “ propitiation,” and even sometimes the M essianic “ lib­
eration.” ®* T h e notion o f “ debt’5 has, it is true, a short career
in the N ew Testament (it appears only in the enunciation of
the O ur Father in M atthew [6:1 2]— “ forgive us our debts as we
have forgiven our debtors” ) ; on the other hand, charts, the re­
mission o f sins in the sense o f forgiving a debt, plays a consider­
able role in the writings o f the prim itive Church. N ow this theme
o f “ remission” — associated with the themes o f “ unbinding,” “ taking
away,” “ destruction,” “ purification” — receives a considerable am­
plification when it is inserted in to the eschatological context o f tie
cosm ic judgm ent; the “ remission” o f the debt is the acquittal at tie
great trial in w hich the fundam ental M an is Judge and Advocate.
T he symbolism o f the eschatological judgm ent swells the m in in g
o f the notion o f pardon, because it relays to the level o f symbols
o f mythical degree the prim ary symbolism o f “ justification” which
w e have interpreted in our study o f g u ilt“ O n the one hand, the
primary symbolism provides a first foundation o f m eaning: gracious
initiative, m ovem ent from transcendence toward im m anence; but
it is the second-degree symbolism o f the eschatnlfyral judgment
that supplies the cosm ic and com m unal dimension, along with the
tem poral tension o f hope. W ithout that relay o f the images o f die

M O n this point, cf. Stanislas Lyonnet, op. cit., pp. 52 -5 4 .

35 C f. above, Part I , Chap. I l l , } 4.
End, justification w ould relapse into biography, subjective and
individual, as in the pietism o f all times. B y the mise en sein e “ o f
the great proceedings between G od and his elect cm the one hand,
and the adversary and his on the other,” SB something unique is
signified, something that does n ot appear in the individualistic and
subjective reductions o f “ pardon.”
In the first place, m an is an “ acquitted” bring. Rem brandt
understood thus the parable o f the prodigal son, in w hich he saw
above all the m ercy o f the Father.*7 Thus the “ return” preached
by the Prophets and the “ conversion” preached by the Baptist,
insofar as they are psychological events and the w ork o f human
initiative, are enveloped in the eschatological event o f “ acquittal,”
in w hich the divine initiative is m anifested.
T h e symbolism o f the Judgm ent says also that men are pardoned
in a body, n ot each one fo r him self; the individualism o f religious
experience is encompassed in the collective adventure o f the history
o f salvation; the relation o f “ one only” to “ all,” characteristic o f
the symbol o f the M an, unites mankind by a “h ow m uch mare”
pqgpntial bond than their sharing in the disobedience o f the first
Adam . T in s bond am ong men was already im plicit in the symbolism
o f the departure from Egypt, the Exodus, w hich answers, in the
Yahwistis account, to the banishment from E den ; it is a w hole
people that is delivered; and n ow it is all m ankind, enumeratively
and structurally, w hich is im plicated in the “ type” o f the cosm ic
judgm ent
T h e symbolism o f the Judgm ent says, finally, that the fulfillm ent
o f hum anity is mysteriously linked to a redem ption o f bodies and

86 T h fo Preiss, “L a justification dans la pens£e johannique,” Hom m age

tt reconnaissance & K . Barth (Neuchfttel & Baris, 1 9 4 6 ); reproduced in
La Via an Christ, p . 50. T he author, in discovering tins “juridical” aspect
o f Johanmne thought, lessens the distance between that thought and d ie
thought o f St. Baal, and places it in the continuation o f Jewish eschatology.
T h e "ju ridical” aspect is all d ie m are interesting because it is nowise
centered on the problem o f the law and turns principally about the
o f “ testimony,” “ witness,” “ truth,” and “ falsehood,” o f or
vopisA qroi, that is to say, witness fo r the defense; here, too, d ie final ju dge
is at th e same dm e advocate and victim .
*TLyonnet, op. cit., p . 61.
o f the w hole Cosm os; the soul cannot be saved without the body,
the inner cannot be saved without the outer, the subjective cannot
be saved without the totality.
As we see, the “ juridical” symbolism o f acquittal is not dry and
sterile; the “ mystical” symbolism o f the graft o f life completes it
only on the condition that it receive from it its transcendent, com­
m unal, and cosm ic dimensions. It is the inclusive character o f the
figure o f the San o f M an, representative o f a collectivity, winch
makes posable the living com m union between d ie Spirit and spirits.
N ow , the Son o f M an is the central figure in the justification at the
great cosm ic Judgm ent; what the symbol o f “ grafting” adds is the
intimate connection o f the infusion o f life with the gratuitousness
o f the grace o f acquittal. Thus we find, at the end o f our long
detour, that w hich the mystical interpretation o f S t Paul, dear to
Schweitzer, has brought to light and w hich religious experience
has been able to verify, nam ely, the mystical immanence o f life
by the S p irit But even so it is still the pow er o f the symbol, giving
what it says, that secretly animates the experience o f the “ fife in
Christ,” the feeling o f the continuity o f life between “ the vine and
the branches.” O ne lives only that w hich one imagines, and meta­
physical im agination resides in symbols; even L ife is a symbol, an
im age, before being experienced and lived. A nd the symbol o f fife
is saved as a symbol only through com m unication with the en­
semble o f the eschatological symbols o f “justification.”
It is still an open question whether and how a philosophy and
a- psychology o f “ pardon” are posable on the basis o f this rich
symbolism o f “ justification” and “ acquittal” at the cosm ic judg­
ment.
 IV. T he Myth o f the

Exiled Soul and Salvation

Through Knowledge

th e n e w “ t y p e ” o f m y t h that w e have now to consider is the

one w hich all anthropological dualism endeavors to transpose and
rationalize. W hat distinguishes it from all the other types is that it
divides m an into “ soul” and “ body” ; it is on the baas o f this myth
that m an understands him self as the same as his “ soul” and “ other”
than his “ body.”
L et us disregard fo r the m om ent the difficult question where
and when this m yth attained its final literary form . It has been
said that the type w hich w e are here setting forth was perfectly
exem plified b y archaic O rphism ; there has even been an inclination
to identify the m yth o f the exiled soul purely and am ply w ith the
O rphic myth. But, as we know, the problem s raised by Orphism
fa r the history o f religions and the history o f Greek thought are
considerable, and w e shall n ot attem pt to conceal them. W e know
that all o f Platonic and N eo-P latonic philosophy presupposes
Orphism and draws nourishment from its substance, but w e do
not know exactly what sort o f Orphism Plato was acquainted with
and what the mXaAr Aoyos o f Orphism was like before the
late revisions o f the myth. That is why w e must approach history
armed with a theory o f types such as we find in M ax W eber’ s
Id ed typ en , but prepared to correct the ideal outline o f the “ myth
o f the exiled soul” by a sort o f give-and-take between the typologi­
cal stylization and the patient investigation o f history. H ence we
shall give the first w ord to the conception o f "type” before turning
to the documents, with the understanding that only a certain
fam iliarity with the historical and critical problem s posed by ar­
chaic Orphism authorizes this heuristic and didactic boldness.
T h e m ythical schema o f the exiled soul can be understood
through a com parison w ith the three other schemata which we
have examined. It then becom es apparent that this m yth is the
only one w hich is, in the proper sense o f the w ord, a myth o f the
“ soul” and at the same tim e a m yth o f the “ body.” It tells how the
“ soul,” divine in its origin, becam e human— how the “ body,” a
stranger to the soul and bad in many ways, falls to the lot o f the
soul— how the m ixture o f the soul and the body is the event that
inaugurates the humanity o f m an and makes m an the place of
forgetting, the place where the prim ordial difference between soul
and body is abolished. D ivine as to his soul, earthly as to his body,
man is the forgetting o f the difference; and the myth tells how that
happened.
N one o f the other myths is a myth o f the “ soul” ; even when
they speak o f a rupture in the condition o f the human being, they
never divide m an into tw o realities. T h e dram a o f creation does
n ot concern man as soul; it presents him as an undivided reality,
it makes him as a w hole the seat o f the dram a and an author of
the dram a, even if only by means o f the ritual re-enactm ent The
tragic vision o f the w orld is just as little a myth o f the psyche;
it takes man as an undivided w hole just as m uch as the creation-
drama does; it is the hero as a w hole and, so to speak, without
rem ainder, w ho is stricken and condem ned. It is true that the
esthetic contem plation o f misfortune, w hich is the specific “ con­
solation” in tragedy, can be considered as a detachment o f the
soul, akin to one o f those “ madnesses,” ecstatic or phrenetic, that
Plato enumerates in the Phaedrus (244a) and that reveal the
supernatural, divine origin o f the sou l; but tragic enthusiasm, as
such, is n ot a departure toward another region, but ecstasy in the
spectacle itself and in m editation upon finitude and misfortune.
That is why the enthusiasm o f the tragic spectacle never gave birth
to a myth o f origin w hich w ould make evil the contrary o f that
enthusiasm, the reverse o f that madness, and which w ould declare
that our sojourn here below is itself intrinsically evil.
Finally, n o m yth is fundam entally less ‘‘psychic” than the Biblical
myth o f the fall. It is, o f course, an anthropological myth, and
even the anthropological m yth par excellen ce, the only one, perhaps,
that expressly makes m an the origin (o r the co-origin ) o f evil; but
it is not in any degree a myth o f the adventures o f the “ soul” con­
sidered as a separate entity. O n the contrary, it is a myth o f the
“ flesh,” o f the undivided existence o f m an. W hatever m ay be the
later confusions o f Christianity and Neo-Platonism , w hich in a
certain fashion retains the essential traits o f the O rphic m yth, the
dualistic myth and the m yth o f the fa ll are radically heterogeneous,
and the task o f typology is to com plete that difference by stylizing
the myths.
I f n ow w e turn to the literary documents,1 w e find the follow ing
situation: the Platonic philosophy presupposes a iraW os Aoyos
— an “ ancient discourse” — distinct from the H om eric and H eaod ic
theogonies and traditionally called O rphic, w hich it transposes,
integrates w ith its reflection on the soul, and rationalizes. Thus it
makes the myth its origin, one o f the nan-philosophical origins o f
philosophy. M oreover, as w e shall insist at the end o f this chapter,
there is a pact between this m yth and philosophy w hich has no
equivalent in any other m yth. Philosophy breaks w ith the theogonic
m yth, it breaks w ith the tragic m yth and its unavowable theology;
but, after the sophistic crisis, it recharges itself in the O rph ic myth
and draws therefrom a new substance and a new depth. Plato
him self shattered the tragic myth and transposed the rraXaihs Aoyos
from O rphism ; it is in this sense that “ philosophy” presup­
poses Orphism . U nfortunately that voAotos Aoyos is n ot to be
1 0 . K ent, Orphicorum Fragm enta et T estim onia; W . K . G . Guthrie,
O rpheus and G reek R eligion (L on don, 1 9 3 5 ); Nilsson, G eschichte der
griechischen R eligion, I (1 9 4 1 ), P t IV , Chap. I V ; Jeanm aire, D ionysos,
histoire du cu b e d e Bacchus (Paris, 1951) ; A . Boulanger, O rph ic, rapports
d e PorpMsme e t du christianistne (Paris, 1 9 2 5 ); D elatte, Studes sur la
UtUrature pythagorieienae (Paris, 1 9 1 5 ); Festugifcie, ‘ lie s myst&res de
Dionysos,” in R ev . bibttque, X U V (1 9 3 5 ); M oulinier, O rph ic et torphism e
d Pipoque classique (Paris, 1 9 5 5 ); G uthrie, T he G reeks and T heir Gods
(1 9 5 0 ), p p . 145-83 ( “ Dionysos” ) , pp. 30 7-3 2 ( “ The Orphics” ) .
found, and one is tempted to ask whether it was not philosophy
that caused it to crystallize in order to give itself a borrowed
authority, the authority o f archaic revelations.
W e d o, indeed, possess an etiological m yth that is called “ O r­
phic” ; but that m yth is attested, in its com plete form , only by die
Neo-Platonists, by Damascius and Proclus. This is an astonishing
situation: the perfect O rphic myth is post-philosophical. T he myth
is well know n: the infant Dionysos was assassinated by the cunning
and cruel Titans, w ho thereupon boiled and devoured the members
o f the g od ; Zeus, to punish them, blasted them with lightning and
from their ashes created the present race o f m en. That is why mm
today participate both in the evil nature o f the Titans and in the
divine nature o f Dionysos, whom the Titans had assimilated in the
course o f their horrible feast It is a very fine m yth, a true myth
o f original sin. T h e m ixture that constitutes the present condition
o f human beings stems from an anterior, pre-hum an, superhuman
crim e, and so evil is inherited; it points back to an event that
inaugurates the confusion o f tw o natures w hich had before been
separate. That event is a murder w hich signifies both d ie death of
a god and participation in the divine. Y es, it is a very fine myth.
Unfortunately w e have n o means o f proving that it belonged, in
this final form , to the “ ancient discourse” o f O rphism ; indeed, we
have reasons fo r suspecting that it is a N eo-Platonic invention,
created fo r the pleasure and the profit o f a philosophizing exegesis
o f myths.
Caught between a myth that is pre-philosophical, but n ot to be
found, and a myth that is perfect, but post-philosophical, the
phenom enologist is indeed embarrassed. T h e situation w ould be
desperate if it were not posable to distinguish from the fully worked
out etiological m yth, w hich is perhaps contem poraneous with the
philosophical exegesis o f it, a myth o f situation— a myth o f the
present situation o f man— w hich reveals “ soul” and “ body” as dis­
tinct magnitudes and powers, although it remains silent concerning
the origin o f their confusion. This myth o f a prim ordial distinction
is not undiscoverable; it can be reconstructed on the side baas of
the docum ents o f the archaic and classical ep och ; it is, by itself,
the “ ancient discourse” presupposed by philosophy. W ith respect to
die etiological myth and in com parison w ith the other etiological
myths o f evil, it is an em bryonic m yth; but perhaps it w ill b e pos­
able to show that the fam ous later myth is an orthodox explication
o f the archaic schema and that it is in perfect agreement w ith i t
Thus w e have n o need to suppose that the etiological m yth is an­
cient in order to give substance to the mtihuoc Aoyos invoked
by Plato.

1. T h e A rch aic M y t h : “ Soul” and “ B ody”

T h e ancient discourse o f Orphism is precisely the invention o f

“ soul” and “ body.”
It is noteworthy that Plato, in the fan ciful etym ology he p ro ­
poses fo r “ body” in the Cratylus, does not ascribe to th e Orphics
d ie exegesis o f trft/ui by but declares that the O rphics “ im ­
posed that name” ; and this is the im portant thing. It has al­
ready been remarked that the H om eric hero does n ot have a ‘ b o d y ,”
but “members” ;2 the body becom es a simple entity only in contrast
w ith the “ soul” and in virtue o f the m ythical symbolism w hich
confers upon it a destiny other than that o f the soul. Through the
m yth the body becam e an eschatological fo rce :
It was the Orphics in particular, I think, who imposed that name; in the
belief that the soul atones tor the faults for which it is punished, and
that, far its safekeeping [ { » o ^ y ra t], it has, round about it, the body
in the likeness o f a prison; hence, that it is, as its name implies, the
soma [the jail) of the soul, until the soul has paid its debt, and there
is no need to change a single letter.
Cratylus, 400c.

W e have here the nucleus o f the situational myth, prior to the

anthropogony o f the m yth o f origin. It does not yet make the body
the origin o f evil; the soul seems rather to bring w ith it an anterior
evil, w hich it expiates in the body. But this enclosure “ in the like­
ness o f a prison” receives from its penal character its own peculiar
significance o f alienation; in becom ing an instrument o f expiation,
the body becom es a place o f exile. I t is n o longer an exprestive
sign, according to another fanciful etym ology w hich also identifies
* CL above, Chap. I I , p . 215, n . 6.
<rw/tio and oijfLa. M ore than the ship fo r the pilot, the jail is for
the prisoner a strange, alien, hostile p la ce; it stands, in closest
proxim ity to the prisoner, fo r the m im ical transcendence o f the
judge and o f his sentence.
Starting with this first nucleus o f meaning, w e can reconstruct
other traits o f the ancient discourse. T h e place o f punishment is
also a place o f temptation and contam ination. It is n ot said, in fact,
that for the soul to “ pay its debt” (Shop/ StSovcu, berdvtar) is to
receive purification; the Jewish idea o f reconciliation or pro­
pitiation must n ot b e confused with the O rphic idea o f expia­
tion ; the punishment appears rather to b e a degrading sanction.
As such, it is both an effect o f evil and a new evil; the soul in
prison becom es a secondary delinquent, continually subject to the
hardening effect o f the regim e o f the penitentiary. T o understand
this second trait, w e must understand how the schema o f reiteration
interferes w ith the jail-schem a. T h e Pkaedo (70 c ff.) evokes tins
transmutation in the meaning o f life, when it ceases to be unique,
and o f death, when it ceases to be the lim it o f that unique life.
L ife and death alternate as tw o states: life com es from death and
death com es from fife, file waking and deeping; the one may be
the dream o f the other, and each borrow s its meaning from die
other. H ence, the punishment is n ot only incarnation, but reincar­
nation; and so existence, under the sign o f repetition, appears to be
a perpetual backsliding.
H ere w e must introduce a third theme, w hich does not flow
necessarily from the second and which, in fact, is not absolutely
consistent with it: the theme o f infernal punishment. Nilsson at­
taches a good deal o f im portance to it; indeed, he thinks that
preaching about the punishments in the infernal w orld— the abode
o f the im pure in the mire— was the center o f the missionary activity
o f the O rphics and the point o f departure o f their preaching,
w hich hinged upon punishment (op . cit., p. 6 3 2 ). W hile the
Eleusinians promised beatitude fo r the pure and the blessed and
seem to have been silent on the subject o f punishment, the Orphics
took seriously the H om eric theme o f the punishment o f great
crim inals and m ade o f it an i m m i n e n t threat that weighs upon
everyone. Plato attests that the traffickers in initiation w ho, at least
in his tim e, usurped the nam e and the writings o f Musaeus and
Orpheus, speculated on this fear o f punishment after death. “ They
call initiation those ceremonies w hich deliver us from the evils o f
the other w orld and w hich one cannot neglect w ithout expecting
dreadful torments” (R e p 3 6 4 d ). This speculation on the fear o f
the living surely does n ot exhaust the meaning o f the preaching,
w hich must have included, before it reached the decadence o f
Plato's day, both an appeal to a purity that was m oral rather than
ritual, as Plato him self understood it in the Phaedo, and also con­
cern fo r a punishment w hich w ould fa ll upon the guilty and not
upon the innocent, as com m only happens in this life.
A t first tight there appears to be n o connection between the
theme o f expiation in and through the body and the theme o f ex­
piation in the low er w orld. It is necessary to get beyond those tw o
half-themes in order to understand their profound unity. It must
be understood that life is a repetition o f hell, as hell is a doublet
o f life, w hich gives a punitive meaning to those nan-ethical tor­
ments the terrifying spectacle o f w hich is displayed in life and
history. T h e circularity o f life and death is w ithout doubt the m ore
profound m yth that subtends the tw o myths o f punishm ent in the
body (ofifta) and punishment in H ades. T o b e b om is to ascend
from death to life;, and to die is to descend from life to death.
Thus the “ body” can b e the place o f expiation fo r that other life
w inch w e ca ll death, and H ades the place o f expiation fo r the evil
com m itted in this life w hich, fo r the profane, is the only life.
Orphism , then, revived an old Indo-E uropean theme o f m igration
and reincarnation and at the same tim e plunged again in to the
depths o f the old agrarian myths, w hich have always hinted at a
hidden relation between the vernal rebirth o f vital forces and the
re-ascent o f energies accum ulated in the other realm , as if death
increased the “ wealth” (P lodtos) o f the prince o f darkness (P luto)
and as i f life cou ld grow only b y the forces granted to it b y the
other realm.* B at only a religion o r a religious m ovem ent such as
O rphism, w hich ascribes to the soul an occu lt reality in this life,
could understand that circularity n ot only as a succession o f tw o
states external to one another, b u t as an alternation w hich appears
* Jeanmaire, D ionysos, p. 54.
in our present life in the condensed form o f a superimposiUon; if
fragment 133 o f Pindar represents Orphism correctly/ the soul of
the sleeping wakes m id the soul o f the waking sleeps. Soul and body,
then, have inverse possibilities, w hich conceal each other. T he soul
is the witness o f the other w orld, hidden w hile w e are awake in
this life and revealed in dreams, ecstasies, love, and death, The
circularity o f death and life and the coincidence o f their inverted
values give the body-tom b a fullness o f meaning. I f bne life con­
ceals the other, w e must say with fragm ent 62 o f H eraclitus: “ Im­
m ortals, m ortals; mortals, im m ortals; our life is their death and
our death is their life,” and w ith the verses o f Euripides cited in
Plato’ s Gorgias (4 9 2 c ):

Who knows whether living is not dying

And whether dying is not living?
This perm utation o f meaning between life and death in this life
itself—w hich Plato sums up thus: “ Perhaps in reality w e are dead”
(492b ) — com pletes the m eaning o f the body that was adumbrated
in the theme o f the body-prison. F or the aspect o f the other world
that is repeated in the body is not its divinity, but precisely its penal
function. H ere, again, the Gorgias (493a) is very illum inating: the
reiterative penalties that the Greeks were pleased to imagine—
Sisyphus' rock, the vessel o f the Dan aides,— w hich are penalties in
virtue o f their character as im potent, vain, perpetual labors, are
reflected in this w orld, after having been projected into the other
w orld, and becom e a cipher fo r the body, insofar as the body itself
is an experience o f reiteration. W e see in the Gorgias that the vessel
w hich the uninitiated m an fails to fill w ith the w ater o f purifica­
tion, and w hich is therefore the figure o f an impossible purification,*

* ‘ T o r those w ho have paid to Persephone the ransom fo r their old

faults [roipitp raXotoO r4p$tos], she sends their souls anew to t ile sunlight
above at the ninth year; and fram those souls there rise up flhiBtn-
otis kings, m en m ighty in their strength o r great through their knowledge,
w ho are honored am ong mortals forever as heroes w ithout stain” (cited
by Plato, M en o, 8 1 b -c ). Nilsson compares this fragm ent, 133, w ith frag­
m ent 62 o f H eraclitus and with Gorgias, 492c. From these passages, he
concludes: “ it follow s that the idea according to w hich the body is the
tom b o f the soul is so closely bound to the m igration o f souls that the
Orphics must have shared those beliefs” {op. cit., p. 6 9 4 ).
becomes the im age o f desire itself. Thus the punishment fo r desire
is desire itself; the reiterative penalty that punishes in the other
world the disordered life o f this w orld is the cipher o f that disorder
itself.
This play o f reflection between hell and the body is at the center
oi the understanding o f the b od y; it explains that expiation in the
body is quite the contrary o f a purification; the soul in prison
becomes a secondary delinquent corrupted by punishm ent; and so
existence appears as an eternal relapse. T h e schema o f exile,
heightened b y the schema o f repetition, tends to m ake o f the body
the symbol o f the m isfortune o f existence; fo r is there a m ore fright­
ening idea than that w hich makes life a rebirth to punishm ent? In
propagating itself from one life to the other, from a life to a death
and from a death to a life, evil becom es the coincidence o f self-
inculpation and self-punishment. T his m ixture o f condem nation
and reiteration is the very figure o f despair.
T h e interpretation o f the “ body” as an instrument o f reiterated
punishment provokes, as a reaction, a new interpretation o f the
send, w hich m ay be called “ puritanical” w ith E . R . D od ds» the soul
is not from here; it com es from elsewhere; it is divine; in its present
body it leads an occu lt existence, the existence o f an exiled being
that longs fo r its liberation.
A rch aic Greek culture did n ot unify the soul any m ore than the
body. N either fo r the Ionians n or fo r the tragedians is the soul the
unique existential root o f thinking, m editating, feeling, suffering,
and w illin g; it is scarcely m ore than the breath that the dying man
gives back to the air, and that breath is n ot identified in a unique
destiny w ith the scant and shadowy existence o f death. “ Soul” and
"body” took substance together as the tw o dimensions, the two
inverse vectians o f human existence.
O ther cults taught enthusiasm, the possession o f the soul by a
god. W hat seems to be original in Orphism is that it interpreted
this sudden alteration, tins rapture, as an excursion from the body,
as a voyage in the other w orld, rather than as a visitation or a
possession. Ecstasy is now seen as m anifesting the true nature o f
the soul, w hich daily existence hides. O ther cults, too, taught the
survival o f the soul: H om er him self delights in pun tin g the infernal
punishments reserved far great sinners; the devotees o f Elena*
m editate an the delights o f Paradise. But the survival o f die soul
does not manifest a new “ type,” any m ore than possession by a
god does, as long as survival is n ot understood as a return to its
true condition, as an odyssey o f the souL T he soul possessed be­
com es another, the sinner and d ie devout are in different {daces;
the O rph ic soul becom es again that which it is, divine and sat
human.5 *8
Other seers, healers, purifiers exercised their follow ers in psychic
excursions;8 only the O rphics attained the revbhitionaiy intuition
that man is n o longer to b e defined as “m ortal” bat as “god.”
W isdom is n o longer “ thinking as a m ortal,” but recognizing one­
self as divine. T h e dividing line, the andc difference, is no laager
between the gods, w ho have kept im m ortality fo r themselves, and
men, w h o have only vain hope fo r their share; it runs through
m an, separating his godlike im m ortality frcrn the corruption of
his body. O nly this m utation in the very meaning o f human exist­
ence m ade possible the legendary transcription o f the life o f Py­
thagoras and the death o f Em pedndes. It is the O rphic soul that
cries out, in the Purifications: eyw 8‘viuv fade (Lfifiporvs, dbeen tfvynk.
Perhaps w e must go -still further. I f w e com pare what we have
just said about the “ divinity” o f the scad w ith our p revious remarks
concerning the body as a ja il and the m irror-play between the body
and hell, it appears that the “ divinity” o f the soul does not con­
sist am ply in its capacity far survival; indeed, the idea o f survival
is cm the way to being surpassed. T h e impo rtant thing now is to
escape from the alternation o f life and death, from reiteration;
the “ divine” soul is a soul that can be delivered from this reciprocal

5 “ It was here that the new religious pattern m ade its fateful contribu­
tion : by crediting man with an occu lt self o f divine origin, and thus selling
soul and body at odds, i t introduced in to European culture a new interpre­
tation o f hum an existence, the interpretation w e call puritanical” (£ JEL
D odds, T h t G retks and th t Irrational, p . 139),. It is o f little importance
fo r us whether this type was foreign to G reece and whether it was shamams-
tic before being O rp h ic; w hat is im portant fa r us is tin t this type of
“ divine man” appeared in G reece, at the source o f our peridental culture.
8 For Abaris, Aristeas, H ermotimut o f Clazamenae, and the farpopbm a
in contact with the N orth, and, on the other hand, Epimenides o f Crete,
cf. E. R . D odds, op. cit., p. 141.
 generation o f contrary states, from the “ wheel o f birth and rebirth.”
W e are an the threshold o f a new understanding o f the self:
the soul, having becom e the counterpole o f the life-death pair,
outlasts the tim e o f repetition. It is true that before Plato, before
i die attempt in the Phaedo to link this perenniality o f the soul with
tbe non-tem porality o f the Forms, “ imm ortality” is not yet “ eter­
nity” ; it is only, so it seems, a force sufficient to keep the soul in
existence through several bodies and several lives, as we see in
Socrates’ discussion w ith Simmias and Cebes. Before philosophy
there does n ot yet e a st a carefully thought-out m odel fo r an exist­
ence that remains identical, th e same as itself. But at least the
myth, in im agining a cycle o f life and death, suggests a sort o f
carrying forw ard o f the Self beyond contradiction, a sort o f Repose
beyond discord. Philosophy w ould n ot have tried to conceive the
ami’ s identity w ith itself if the m yth had not inspired it.
There is n o doubt that this understanding o f the self preceded
Plato. Even if those to whom he refers in the M en o are not O rphics
— or n ot only Orphics,— it is certainly the type o f th e exiled soul
that h e evokes in th e follow ing term s: “ T h ey are priests mid
priestesses w h o are anxious to b e able to give reasons fa r the func­
tions they perform , as w ell as Pindar and m any other poets— all
the truly divine ones. H ere is what they say; consider whether you
think they speak correctly. They say that the soul o f man is im ­
mortal, and that it sometimes departs from life, w hich w e call
dying, and sometimes com es back to life, but that it is never de­
stroyed; and that, fo r this reason, one’s conduct in this life should
be as holy as posable right to the end” (81 a-& ).
O f course, im m ortality is still tied to the im aginative schema o f
multiple rebirths ( “ thus the soul is im m o rta l and reborn many
times,” dflavards re o&ra. jeat voXX&kk ycyorna, ibid., 8 1 c ); but
the jtSBo* is already Xdyos it gives reasons (\6yav. . . 8i8ov<u).
That is w h y those m en and those wom en, “ skilled in divine things,”
said “ things w hich are true and beautiful” (8 1 a ).

2. T h e F inal M y t h
It was this myth o f situation w hich evolved into a myth o f
origin in the anthropogony that the Neo-Platonists “ quote” frag-
merits o f. A re w e in the presence o f an authentic restoration, or
rather o f a late construction which w ould perm it the last philoso­
phers o f G reece to place their speculation under d ie authority of
the poem s from w hich their master, Plato, was supposed to have
drawn his inspiration?
A re w e in the presence o f a pagan apologetics intended to tom
the tables on Christianity by countering its stories concerning the
origin and the fall o f mankind with com parable stories?
Som e paints are certain: it is- n ot disputed that the Orphic
movem ent was distinguished from similar movements o f the archaic
era by the existence o f writings, w hich broke w ith the oral and
confidential teaching o f other initiations o r liturgies; and it is cer­
tain also that those books included theaganies. B ut tire books must
have been in perpetual flu x; there was n o fixed “ canon” o f them,
and they were continually swelled by new speculations; the diversity
o f the N eo-Platonic versions is itself a sign o f this. Besides, it can­
not be proved that the archaic theogony was expanded into an
anthropogony; this can only be conjectured an the baas o f some
allusions in classic authors, such as Plato’s remark in the Laws
about the “ Titanic nature” o f man. It is also a reasonable way of
erecting a bridge between the theogony and the O rph ic preaching,
which was essentially turned toward m an and his actual condition
It is those allusions and this argument o f convenience winch io­
d in e the m ajority o f specialists on Orphism7— in spite o f Wfiamo-

7 A ccording to Guthrie ( Orpheus and G reek R eligion, 2d ed. rev., Lon­

don, 19 52 ), “ The O rphic writers had taken what suited them from popular
m ythology. They had added something to its m atter and m uch to its sig­
nificance. It was a crystallization around a new centre, and d ie centre was
the story o f the dismemberment o f Dionysos, d ie revenge o f Zeus an the
Titans, and the birth o f mankind from d ie ashes" (p . 1 5 3 ). "T h e dhnax
is original, is O rphic (an d in this all our evidence con cu rs), because it
enshrines the peculiarly O rphic thought o f our ow n m ixed earthy and
heavenly nature” (ibid ., p. 1 2 0 ) .
Nilsson, G eschichte d er grieehuchen R eligion, I , p p . 642-62, fallows
Guthrie in general. N ot only does he maintain that th e anthropogony was
“ fundam ental fo r the O rphic religion" and that “ in its broad outlines, it
goes back to the archaic age” (p p . 6 4 7 -4 8 ), bu t d ie episode o f the suffer­
ings o f Dionysos at the hands o f the Titans seems to him to be ancient, since
otherwise w e could not understand Plato’s allusion to the Titanic nature :
“ this nucleus o f the O rphic doctrine goes back to the ancient past” (p. 649).
 th e TOtn.y.n SOUL AND SALVATION THROUGH KNOWLEDGE Sgi

witz and Festugiere8— to think that the “ quotations” by the N co-

“ H ere," he says again, “ we touch upon the m ost original part o f the
Orphic creation in religion: the addition to theogony o f an anthropogony
designed to explain the nature o f man, com posed o f good and evil” (p.
650).
A. Boulanger, O rphia, rapports da Forphisme at du christianisme, pre­
lents the same argum ent o f convenience: the anthropogony reported by
the Neo-Platonists “ accounted for the tw ofold nature o f the origin o f evil
cm the earth, and. thus gave the author an opportunity to expound the
Orphic doctrine o f salvation through expiation and purification” (p . 3 3 ).
He does not go so far as to make o f Onamacritus (the chresm ologos o f the
era o f d ie Pidstraddae, o f whom Pausamas says that, “ borrowing from
Homer the name o f the Titans, he m ade them the authors o f the passion
of Dionysos” ) the St. Paul o f Orphism, and to ascribe to him a veritable
doctrine o f original sin and redem ption, “ w hich w e know only from texts
of a m uch later epoch” (p . 3 3 ). H e grants, nevertheless, that the O rphic
refigian was form ed fay the end o f the sixth century and that Onoxnacritus
limited him self to bringing together tw o myths that had been independent
before: the birth o f m en from the ashes o f the giants struck dow n by the
thunderbolts o f Zeus, and the passion o f Zagreus; that, however, is enough
to justify the attribution to him o f the discovery o f “ a new cause fo r the
existence o f evil an the earth” (p . 3 4 ). Such arguments authorize Boulanger
to present as an O rphic doctrine all o f the anthropogony which receives
a complete exposition only in the last Neo-Platonists. There is an excellent
summary an p p . 2 7 -2 8 . W e shall see later that the fundam ental argument
at Boulanger has been contested. A ccording to him , the myth o f the m urder
of Dionysos by the Titans is etiological: “ I t was evidently created to explain
a rite o f w hich the celebrants n o longer understood the m eaning, namely,
amophagy—that is to say, the sacrifice o f an anim al in w hich the spirit o f a
god o f vegetation is incarnated and the consum ption o f its raw flesh by the
participants, w ho believed that thereby they were assimilating a b it o f the
fe m e virtue” (p . 2 8 ). But is am ophagy a “ vegetation” rite? A nd, above
afl, is the m yth o f the dismemberment o f Dionysos in harmony w ith this
rite o f tearing apart and eating raw flesh? Jeanm aire, in his D ionysos
(pp. 3 8 4 -9 0 ), contests both points. T he second concerns us m ore here.
Furthermore, Jeanmaire grants the antiquity o f the myth o f the passion and
dismemberment o f' D ionysos: “ T o the extent that [the revelation contained
in the O rphic writings] unquestionably proceeds from systematic thought,
rim myth appears inseparable from their conception o f human nature, the
origin o f evil, and the conditions o f individual salvation” (p . 4 0 4 ); but he
regards the m yth as a dventitious in relation to the trance and the D ionysiac
ritual; it represents rather a m utation o f the legend o f Dionysos in the
direction o f a “pre-philosophy still held captive by and, so to speak, still
under the spell o f the categories o f immemorial myths” (p . 4 0 2 ).
• W ilainow itz-M oellendorf, D or G laubt dor H ellen tn , I I (1 9 3 2 ), pp.
199-202; F etfu giire, “ Les myst&res de Dionysos,” in R ev. biblique, X L JV
(1935). H ere is Festugiire’ s conclusion, after a careful examination o f the
archaic, classic, H ellenistic, and N eo-Platonic stages o f the final m yth:
Platanists preserve the essential character o f the ancient poem.
O ur typological m ethod does not require us to settle the purely
historical debate concerning the date when the anthropogenic myth
was worked out. A ccording to Glotz’s form ula, d ted by Boulanger,
the theory o f sin preceded that o f the fall am ong the Hellenes as

“ L et us sum up the fruit o f our inquiry. The historian finds Mrmmtf in the
presence o f three kinds o f documents.
“ 1) In the first place, a good number o f inscriptions relative t o the
mysteries o f Dionysos. Joined to the monuments decorated w ith figures in
Italy, this m aterial gives us .a pretty good knowledge o f d ie organization of
the thiasoi and the rites o f initiation. T he best specialists, Cum ont, WHarao-
w itz, Nilsson, have been able to pursue their studies without saying a word
about Orphism. Issuing from the Thraco-Phrygian cults, the religion of the
thiasoi is seen to depend m ore and m ore on public control: the are
fixed, they are humanized. The same evolution is repeated everywhere.
T he initiate at first sought only to escape fa r same hours from d ie
o f daily life. A t the tim e o f Christ, he is assured also o f happiness as a
reward after death. Orpheus is never named. Neither is Zagreus; th en is
only once an allusion to his legend, in the inscription o f Perm thus, which
is late and which, m oreover, relates an oracle o f the Sibyl.
“ 2 ) In the second place, a literary tradition about Orpheus. From the
sixth to the third century before our era, Orpheus appears as an inspired
singer, com panion o f the Argonauts, founder o f the teltta i, able to persuade
rocks, w ild beasts, and even Pluto. H is disciples, in the fifth century, prac­
tice rules o f abstinence and read poems attributed to him. In the fourth
century, itinerant charlatans sell pseudo-orphic recipes. I f Orpheus had his
colleges, his mysteries, as some pretend, they have left n o trace. T he vogue
o f Orphism was born again only in the third and fourth centuries of our
era. A t that time there flourished a whole literature, the authenticity at
which cannot be established.
“ 3 ) From the third century b .c. there circulated an ‘O rphic’ poem telling
the myth o f Dionysos Zagreus tom apart by the Titans. The identity of the
Cretan and the Thraco-Phrygian seems then an accom plished fact, at least
in a particular tradition, w hich does not exdude others. This legend of
Zagreus copies the legend o f O siris; we d o n ot know when and where it
was form ed. In an Egyptian ritual, it gives rise to special rites: the
deposits in the kalathos objects offered to the infant god b y tile T itan k a
‘passion’ o f the god perform ed? Is om ophagy practiced? W e do not know.
Plutarch connects the legend with the psychological dualism dear to the
school o f Pythagoras and to Plato. W ith Neoplatonism , the m oral tease
dominates and perhaps gives rise to rites that escape us. Unless new texts
are discovered, nothing allows us to say that Orphism transformed the
Bacchic mysteries constituted as w e see them in the first tw o centuries of
our era.
“ T o ask oneself whether tile mysteries o f Dionysos influenced Christianity
is therefore a vain question. I f one means the mysteries m ade known to ns
by epigraphy, no one dreams o f a relation. F or d ie rest . .
 well as am ong the Jews. H ence, it is to an intentional analysis o f
the m yth o f the fault o f the Titans that w e must now proceed, in
order to show in what sense it explicates and completes the myth
o f situation. Such an intentional analysis presupposes that we take
the myth in its final state (hence, in its late m anifestation), and
that w e relate it retrospectively to the exegesis o f the human con­
dition that w e have already reconstructed, w ithout the aid o f that
-------------------- '»*■ ■

myth, on the sole basis o f the testimony o f clastic authors.

W hat d o w e find in that fin a l m yth? A theogony w hich, in itself,
belongs to the type studied above under the heading o f the drama
o f creation, but w hich veers in the direction o f an anthropogony in
^

agreement w ith the experience o f the deep-seated discordance in

mftnT
T h e dram a o f creation in which the new anthropogenic episode
■
-

is set is n ot an indifferent fram e; it imposes its presence and its

- -------------- ---- --------------------- -

general m eaning on the new myth in a tw ofold manner. In the first

place, it gives a cosm ic rUmpngimrij an ontological depth to the
misfortune w hich afflicts the souL T h at m isfortune is rooted in the
pain o f being, represented by the violent succession o f the genera­
tions o f great god s; the theogony gives Crim e, D iscard, and Guile
a prehuman significance by associating them w ith the origin o f
-

things. In this regard, the figure o f the Titans, w hich w ill b e the
-

pivot o f the new m yth, is a part o f that pain o f bein g; the Titan
*- —

is the figure through w hich human evil is rooted in prehuman evil,

---- -------------------

at the same tim e as the pain o f bring is turned in the direction o f

anthropology through the same figure. But, in particular, the
drama iff creation preached to the O rphics already im plies a pos­
able interpretation o f evil from w hich the strictly “ O rphic” myth
o f the fault o f the Titans stands out in contrast T h e interpretation
o f evil through the theogony rem ained obscure in the poem o f
H esiod, w h o hardly did m ore than to put the disparate prim ordial
figures in a series. Some o f those figures— K ronos, Ouranos, Zeus—
are divinities from an earlier tim e w ho w ere now joined by means
o f dynastic succession, procreation, o r m urder; others— Night,
D eath, W ar— are aspects deem ed prim ordial in our experience,
joined together by a filiation com parable to the preceding; and
others, finally, are regions o r elements o f nature such as Earth and
Sky. T he myth attributed to the Oxphics sketches, through similar
images, a significant movem ent oriented from the one toward die
many, from the confused toward the distinct— the same movement
found in the Pre-Socratic cosmogonies. This kinship between the
still mythical cosm ogony o f the O rphics and a m ore philosophical
cosm ogony can be explained in various ways: the philosophical
cosmogonies may have been influenced by the O rphic myth, or more
probably the theogonic m yth, cm contact w ith philosophy, may have
turned in the direction o f a generis o f b o n g , w hile remaining a
prisoner o f the mythical imagination.
It is in the dom inant figure o f Phanes— “ the most beautiful
am ong the im m ortal gods” — that the “ philosophical” tone o f die
O rphic myth is manifested. H e is Protogonos, the first-born—
Erikepaios, and so bisexual— M etis, counsel— Dionysos, Eros. Bora
o f the prim ordial egg, representing the undifferentiated, he is both
the difference am ong beings and the manifestation, the «bmmg
forth, o f the totality erf the w orld. H e is truly “ the unity o f the
w hole and the separation o f the parts.”
But the same m yth plunges back into naive imagination. la
order to identify w ith this rather esoteric Phanes the Zeus o f com­
m on belief, the dying Zeus Zagreus and the dismembered aad
revived Dionysos o f the sects o f initiates, the myth resorts to a
series o f subterfuges. It tells o f a second creation o f the world by
Zeus, w ho swallows Phanes and his creation and thus causes all his
pow er to pass into him self; thus, says the myth, “ all was created
anew.” Then the myth imagines that Zeus cedes his power to
D ionysos: “ O gods, lend your ears; this is he w hom I have matte
your long.” These concatenations are very m uch in accord with
the taste o f the most archaic theogony. Is Plato alluding to a
series o f reigns when he exclaim s ironically in the PhUebus: “At
the sixth generation, cease the order erf your sang” (6 6 c) ?
Tow ard what interpretation o f evil is the myth oriented in its
theogonic part? A t first sight evil appears to be still included in dm
origin o f things, as it was fo r H esoid and particularly d ie Baby­
lonians. But the figure o f Phanes points to something different; in
Phanes, the one and m ultiple manifestation, w e have n o longer a
representation o f the prim ordial contradiction between good and
| evil, but rather erf progressive separation, o f gradual differentiation,
1 as one sees in the myth o f the prim ordial Egg. This myth, in
abandoning the contradiction and replacing it by a movem ent from
. the Confused to the D ifferentiated, ceases to account fo r the un-
i happiness o f m an, w hich consists, an the contrary, in the confusion
\ of his tw ofold original nature. Consequently a m yth o f differentia-
j tian n o longer suffices to explain the evil in m an, w hich is a
j mixture; and it is not astonishing that the source o f evil is dis-
] lodged from the sphere o f the divine, w hich is in the process o f
j concentrating itself in the figure o f Phanes, and that theogony
| appeals to an anthropogony to explain an evil, the secret o f which
| it no longer possesses. Thus the O rphic experience o f an occult
| sail im prisoned in a body that is its enemy burst the bonds o f the
! theogonic drama, which was itself in the process o f orientation
1 towards a rational cosm ology. A new etiological myth was needed,
j It is im possible to determine w ith any certainty w hat the O rphic
j anthropogony was in the archaic epoch. O n e must be content to
i coll the m ore and m ore precise quotations from later authors,
j which indicate pretty w ell the progressive construction o f the
i theme, w ithout ou r being able to tell whether they reflect an actual
. creation or a rediscovery o f archaic themes. Nevertheless, some
archaic traits can be m ade out am ong the manifestly later elabora-
; bOOS.

! In Ihe first place, it is significant that the origin o f evil was re-
1 lated to the “ passion” o f the youngest o f the gods, Dionysos. The
J new m yth, then, com es about from a strictly “ theological” elabora-
1 tion o f the figure o f Dionysos. N ow , the infant god w ho is at the
center o f the original fault is not the Dionysos w h o inspires the
? futna o f the bacchantes, the rhythm ic frenzy, their jo i de vivre;
j he is a master o f life, the young god w h o com es after Zeus.
* First, then, the madness o f w hich Euripides’ Bacchantes gives us
! a picture (itself n o doubt m ythical, but significant) had to be
j replaced by m editation, delirium had to becom e speculation. That
the O rpines did thus turn Dionysianism against itself is very
probable;® that they oriented it toward a sort o f pre-philosophy,
•Nilsson, Gesch. del gr. R el., regards the legend that Orpheus died by
being tom apart b y the M aenads as an indication o f the vindictiveness o f
still captive to the mythical im agination, is all the more admissible
as the Dionysiac movem ent suffered other transpositions just as
extraordinary, if it is true that ritual action gave birth to the tragic
spectacle, by way o f the dithyramb.*10 T h e possibility is not excluded
that Qrphism from the beginning turned Dianyaanism toward
speculation and placed Dionysos a t the center both o f creation, as
the last g od , and o f anthropogony, as the victim o f the Titans. But
n o doubt it was only later that Dionysos becam e explicitly the
conqueror o f the O rient, and then master o f the world, ready for
those great syncretisms, strongly tinctured w ith Orientalism, which
dom inate the mystery religions centered on the death and resur­
rection o f tire god. T h e anthropogenic m yth does not presuppose a
fu ll explicitation o f the consequences o f the reform o f Dionysiamsin
by the O rphics, but it does, surely, presuppose a derisive inversion
o f the type o f religious experience w hich was essential to it.
T h e second point to b e considered is the rede o f the Titans in
the new myth. O n the one hand they are associated with the pas­
sion o f Dionysos as the “ authors” o f his m urder; an the other hand

the devotees o f Dionysos against the reform er. T h e prohibition of meat ap­
pears to him as another sign o f the struggle o f the O rphics against the
barbarous rite o f tearing an anim al apart ( diasparagmos) and devouring k
raw ( om ophagy) .
10 Jeanmaire, D ionysos, pp. 220 ff. The author, a partisan o f the antiquity
o f the O rphic anthropogony, agrees that, “ although there is n o reason to
doubt that this introduction o f Dionysos in to the system that be exposed
goes back to the oldest O rphic writings, tire consequences o f it appeared
only in a future w hich at that date was (till q u ite distant?* (p . 40 1). The
author undermines one o f Boulanger’s arguments in favor o f d ie antiquity
o f the legend o f the dismemberment o f Dionysos. I f one could show that
the dismemberment is the m ythical explanation o f the .rite o f tearing apart
{diasparagm os) the animal that the initiate devours taw (om ophagy),
it w ould have a bans in the archaic ritu al; bu t in the m yth the infant-god
is n ot devoured raw ; he is “ boiled,” and “ tile affirm ation that the flesh was
consumed by the Titans (after bring cooked) is found only in some wit­
nesses and does not seem to be essential” (p . 3 8 4 ). T h e myth o f tile snfis-
ing o f Dionysos is, then, not specifically D ionysiac; it is adventitions sad
is only attached to, rather than integrated in , tin legendary cyde of
Dionysos. Even if, independently o f the cult o f Dionysos, it has in own
archaic roots—as Jeanmaire believes, seeing in the sufferings o f the young
god the mem ory o f a ritual o f initiation,— it w ould be necessary to show
that the myth o f the “ passion” o f the young god was already incorporated
in the legendary cyd e o f Dionysos in archaic times.
they are incorporated in the genesis o f m ankind through their
punishment and their “ ashes.” I t is this progression in the m yth
that the literary expression perm its us to follow from century to
century. I f d ie passion o f Dionysos at the hands o f the Titans is
attested b y several authors between the third century before our
era and d ie first century o f ou r era,11 n o text before Plutarch puts
the crim e o f the Titans in to relation w ith the birth o f mankind.
After having told h ow the Titans w ere struck b y lightning as a
pmrnhTpmt fo r the m urder o f Dionysos, Plutarch gives the follow ­
ing explanation: “ T his myth makes allusion to palingenesis. In
fact, that part o f us w hich is n ot amenable to reason or order,
which is violent, n ot divine but dem oniac, was called by the an­
cients Titans, and it is that part w hich is chastised and must pay
the penalty” (D e E sv Carnium , I, 9 96 ; K ern, O . F ., 2 3 1 ). N ow it
was Plutarch also w h o assimilated the Dionysos-Zagreus myth to
the myth o f O siris; it is tem pting to suppose, w ith Festugiere, that
he was d ie author o f the T itan ic origin o f m an as w ell. T h e
Christian writers— Justin, Clem ent o f Alexandria, A m obius— w ho
worry about the persistence o f the ancient beliefs say nothing about

u T h e m yth o f D ionysos killed by the Titans seems to have been known

in the third century before ou r e ra : “ in the excess o f their violence they
[the Titans] pu t him to bail” (E u ph orion ). A recovered fragm ent o f the
Epicurean Philodem us, a contem porary o f Cficero, after having spoken o f
the three births o f Dionysos— “ and the third when, after his dismember­
ment by the Titans, R hea having reassembled the members, he cam e back
m fife” — confirms d ie third-century p o e t: “ Euphorion, in the M opsopia,
cnnfirms tins legend, and Orpheus declares that the god has dw elt all this
time in Hades” (K ern , Orphicorum Bragmenta, ft. 3 6 ). H ow ever, the
authors o f the rom anced fives o f the god, w ho flourished in the last cen­
turies before ou r era, neglect this episode. O nly D iodorus o f Sicily (first
century B .C .), in bis vast review o f myths, after having told the episode o f
the god tu n apart by the sons o f the earth, then booled, and revived ter
Demeter, n otes: “ I t is o f this god (Dionysos] that Orpheus tells us ip the
Tsietai that he was tom apart by the Titans” (K ern, Orph. Frag., SOI
and 3 0 3 ); bu t h e interprets it in the allegorical m anner o f d ie Stoics, as a
transcription o f wine-m aking. Pausanias (first century a j x ) , attributes die
episode to d ie forger Q nam acritus: “ Borrowing the name o f the Titans from
H om er, O nom acritns com piled d ie mysteries ( orgia) , w hich h e relates to
D ionysos; it was the Titans, according to him , w ho were fo r the g o d the
authors o f his sufferings (voff^ftaro]” (K ern , Testimonia, 1 9 4 ). O n a ll this,
see Festugiire, T ies mystferes de Dionysos,” Rev. btbl, X L IV (1 9 3 5 ), pp.
366-81, and Jeanmaire, Dionysos, pp. 372-416.
this T itanic origin o f man (it is true that they d o n ot say anything
about Dionysos? return to life eith er); and sometimes they pass
over, in « ! « « * ) the sinister repast, although it is essential to die
anthropogenic m yth. Thus w e arrive at Proclus’ (fifth century;
K ern, O . F ., 210) and Olympiodorus? (sixth century; O . F., 209,
211-12, 220 f.) versions o f the birth o f mankind from the ashes
o f the T itans; it is here that the myth gets its final farm? man is
the inheritor both o f the violent nature o f the Titans, murderers of
Dionysos, and o f the nature o f Dionysos, with w hich the Titans
identified themselves by their horrible fea st Thus the myth is com­
pleted at the m om ent when the cycle o f the N eo-Platonic philoso­
phy reaches its end.
I f w e follow the progress o f the m yth through the successive
quotations, w e get the impression o f a growth by addition o f parts.
T h e question now is whether this inflation o f the O rphic myth at
the beginning o f our era also gave increasing explicitness to die
myth o f situation w hich w e have elaborated without recourse to
that anthropogony.
T h e myth o f situation, as w e have seen, tends- to elevate the soul
and to brand the body w ith a mark o f infam y; it sets up die soul
as the Same, and the body as d ie O th er; the m yth o f situation is
the im aginative expression o f the dualism o f sold and body, or
rather d ie construction o f that dualism in im agination. T h e ques­
tion, then, that is raised b y the m yth is this: W hy is that duality
forgotten? W hy is that tw ofold nature experienced as a confused
existence? It was at tins poin t that the m yth in w hich 1he duality
o f the roots o f existence was elaborated called fa r a m yth which
w ould recount the beginning o f the confusion that m akes necessary
a constant effort to regain the vision o f duality. It cannot be proved
that tins m yth o f origin was form ulated explidtiy in the archaic
era, although Plato’s allusion to “ the T itanic nature” {Lam ,
701s) is troublesom e; but it can be shown, by an analysis o f mean­
ings, that the myth o f origin com pletes the sense o f the myth of
situation.
I f w e confine ourselves to the citations in the classics, w e find
several times an allusion to an “ ancient curse.” Thus, in the frag­
m ent o f Pindar cited by Plato in the M en o (8 1 6 ), expiation in
 this body im plies a p rior fau lt— a vow iraXaiov wtvBas. N ow , the
‘ idea o f a fau lt com m itted in another life, besides m aking it pos­
sible to safeguard the o ld law o f retribution by spreading it out
l over a series o f generations, as a text o f the Laws (872d -e ) on the
vindictive justice o f the gods says, im plies a reference to a prior
misfortune, to the transcendence o f a 'c h o ic e w hich is both m ine
and older than I — in short, an evil that is both com m itted and
i undergone. Thus the p rior life represents the unfathom able origin
j o f an evil, the rem embrance o f w hich w ould be older than all
j memory. O ne m ight object, it is true, that the m yth o f the Titans
points in another direction than that w inch is indicated in a
Pythagorean verse quoted by Chrymppus, according to Aulus G el-
! lius, V I I , 2, 12: Tvmm if&iOp&mtm avGaipera otj/uit’ ^ o n w .u
! Contrary to this fragm ent o f a Pythagorean Upo? Aoyos con -
, cem ing a “ freely chosen evil,” does n ot the m yth o f the Titans
1 entirely rem ove the blam e fo r evil from m an by referring the
origin o f evil to superhuman events and brings?
j I t m ay b e remarked that d ie Biblical m yth also distributes the
j origin o f evil between a human figure— A dam — and a nan-human
i figure— the serpent,— thus separating the w illed from the suffered.
T h e m yth o f the T h an , instead o f dividing ch d ce and fate between
j m an and dem on, concentrates them in a single, am biguous figure
* an the border between the divine and the hum an. T h e T itan is not
1 truly other than m an: w e are bam from his ashes; h e is the in -
' herited and contracted part o f evil ch oice, that w hich Plato calls
our T itanic nature; h e attests that the lowest degree o f freedom
j is d ose to the brute, angry, inordinate farce o f d ie unleashed ele-
f m eats; Prometheus is in harmony on ly w ith the shapeless scenery
j o f d ie Caucasus, n ot w ith d ie tem perate landscape o f Cakmus,
] which bathes the aged, transfigured O edipus in sweetness. T his
j savage possibility in ourselves, beginning from w hich o u r freedom
} becom es hum anized, is relegated b y d ie m yth to the origin and
• incarnated in a crim e older than any hum an fa u lt; and so the
Titan represents the anteriority o f evil in relation to actual human
j evil. T h ere is n o occasion fo r opposing it to those evils, evoked

1 u "Y o u shall know that m en have self-chosen woes.” Q uoted b y D elatte,

) S tudts M r fa fitth a ter* pythagoricitnne, p . 25.
 by the Pythagorean Upos kayos, 'which are axOaipera— “willed
by ourselves,” “freely chosen” ; the O rphic myth projects the
tem poral transcendence o f evil intp a mythical tim e; it gives a
figurative expression to this experience: evil does not begin became
it is always already there in same fashion; it is choice and heritage.
T h e Platonic myth in Book X o f the R epublic w ill give expres­
sion to the same fateful character attached to evil ch oice; it, too,
w ill project tins background im plied in every actual choice into a
choice that has already taken place, once upon a tim e; elsewhere.
W e shall return to this point later.
Even if the O rphic anthropogony is a late elaboration, even if it
is only a philosophizing allegory invented after the beginning o f
ou r era, it reveals the profound intention o f the myth o f situation
which undoubtedly existed, in Orphism and outside Orpbism,
m uch earlier than Plato. T h e anthropogenic m yth exhibits, an the
level o f theagonic images, the com plete unfolding o f the myth of
situation by means o f w hich the O rphics invented the “ soul” and
the “ b o d y ”

3. Salva tio n an d K n o w led ge

I f now , turning toward the future, toward deliverance, w e ask

what type o f “ salvation” goes with this type o f “ evil,” one answer
forces itself u pon u s: w hile the not-to-be-avow ed theology o f the
wicked god excludes philosophy and finds, fulfillm ent in die spec*
tacle, the myth o f the exQed soul is par excellen ce the principle and
promise o f “ knowledge,” o f “ gnosis.” T he Orphics, says Plato,
“ named” the body; in naming the body, they nam ed the soul. Now
the act in w hich m an perceives himself as soul, or, better, makes
him self the same as his soul and other than his body— other than
the alternation o f life and death,— this purifying act par excellence
is knowledge. In this awareness, in this awakening to itself o f the
exiled soul, all “ philosophy” o f the Platonic and N eo-Platonic type
is contained. I f d ie body is desire and passion, the soul is the
origin and principle o f any withdrawal, o f any attem pt to put a
distance between the kayos on the one hand and the body pnd its
vdOos on the oth er; and all knowledge o f anything, every sti-
ence, whatever its ob ject, is rooted in the knowledge o f the body
as desire and o f oneself as thought in contrast w ith desire.
O f course the O rphic m ovem ent itself seems n ot to have been
capable o f going explicitly beyond “ myth” to “ philosophy” ; even
an d ie level o f the Upos koyoc the O rph ic reform , as w e have
seen, does indeed bear an “ meanings,” as Guthrie says, but it re­
mains a prisoner o f cosm ogonic im agery. But Orphism is n ot only
a ftfos Xoyos ; it is also a Plus, a ‘Sway o f life.” T his “ w ay o f
life” is to the future what the m yth is to the past; as the myth is
die recollection o f a human evil that is older than m an, so the
O rphic Uphs is the prophecy o f a deliverance that is m ore human
than man. A n d just as the m yth wavers between theogonic imagina­
tion and philosophical reflection, so the O rph ic pim hesitates
between the old ritual purification and a new sort o f purification in
spirit and in truth. O n the one hand, it looks to the teletcd preached
by so m any other professional purifiers, so m any other m endicant
soothsayers and prophets o f the sort judged so severely by Plato
in B ook I I o f the R epu blic:

For their part, mendicant priests and soothsayers go to the doors o f the
rirh and persuade them that they have power, obtained from the gods by
sacrifices and incantations, to repair by means o f pleasurable rites and
feasts any crime committed by a man or by his ancestors. . . . On die
other hand, they produce a host of hooks by Mnsaeus and Orpheus, sons
of the Moan and of the Muses, so they say. They follow these books in
their sacrifices, and they make not only individual men but also states
believe that there are ways o f absolving and purifying men from their
crimes through sacrifices and diversions, whether they he living or dead.
They give the same o f initiations to those ceremonies which deliver us
from the evils o f the other world, and they assert that dreadful things
are in store for those who have not sacrificed.
Republic, 3646-365a
Nevertheless, one can discern, am id these equivocal activities, the
attem pt to discover a life m ore concerned w ith purity o f h eart18
18 Compare this severe fragment with the testimony of Fausanias, quoted
by Guthrie, op. a t, pp. 59-60: “Now in my opinion Orpheus was one who
surpassed those who went before him in the composition of verses, and
reached a position of great power owing to the belief that he had dis­
covered how to initiate into communion with tile gods, how to purify from
 N o doubt O . Kern’s grandiose reconstruction, in D ie Religion
der Griechen, o f an O rphic religion on the Christian m odel, with
parishes, sacraments, hymns, and dogmas, must be rejected. It is
posable that Orphism was less a hom ogeneous movem ent than the
m odification o f several other movements dedicated to A pollo and
Dionysos, themselves on the way to merging.1* Orpheus himself
seems to have been an A pollonian reform er o f the w ild cult of
Dionysos before becom ing the patron saint o f the sects in Italy,
w hich did not hesitate to place their own mystical com positions
under his patronage. But it appears that same o f them had begun
to realize, before Plato, the “ potential greatness,” as Guthrie says
(1 8 7 ), in Orphism . Otherwise, how can w e explain the fa ct that
Plato, so severe in R epublic I I , could w rite in die Phaedo:

Besides, it is possible that those to whom we owe the institution of initia­

tions were not without merit, but that it is really the troth which has
lain hidden from olden times under their enigmatic language: whoever
arrives in Hades profane and uninitiated lies in the mud, while he who
has been purified and initiated will dwell with the gods when he arrives
there. For, as those who concern themselves with initiations say, the
thyrsus-bearers are many, the bacchantes are few. Now the latter, in my
opinion, are those whose occupation has been philosophy in the strict
sense of the term.
Phaedo, 69c~d

Significant also is the fam ous passage o f the M en o in which Plato

speaks with reverential admiration o f those "divine” m en, those
priests and those priestesses w ho have been concerned to “ give
reasons” (AtfyoF &&mu) fo r their office. A nd even the bizarre
rites traditionally ascribed to the O rphics must have wavered
between the archaic form o f taboos and a quite esoteric symbolism,

sin, to cure diseases and to avert divine vengeance” Kern, Test., 142, 93,
116, 123, 120.
Guthrie himself writes: “The Orphic showed a genius for transforming
the significance of his mythological or ritual material (he would not have
been a Greek if he had not), and sometimes saw an opportunity of preaching
his religion through the medium of symbols which were in their origin of
the crudest and most primitive” [ibid., p. 128).
14Guthrie, op. cit., pp. 41-48.
 such as Plato im plies in his allusion to the “ O rph ic regime” and its
abstinences (Law s, 782$).15
T hat O rphic “ purification” was already an d ie road toward
philosophy is suggested by the saying quoted by P lato: “ M any bear
the thyrsus, b u t few becam e bacchantes.”
I t is the Pythagorean literature that m arls, decisively and ex­
plicitly, the passage from “purification” as rite and “ purification”
as “ philosophy.” 1* T h e “ sacred discourse” o f Pythagoreanism— as
it can b e reconstructed, o r am ply conjectured, on the baas o f the
testimony o f the fourth and third centuries alone, w ithout recourse
to the N eo-Pythagorean apocrypha o f about the beginning o f our
era, and still less to the even later “ G olden Verses” — was pre­
eminently a discourse o f this sort, hesitating between m yth and
philosophy. T h at literature, situated at the crossroads o f science
and revelation—the division between “ M athematicians” and
“ Acousmatics” is very significant in that respect,— is connected on
the one hand w ith the pessimistic m yth o f the fa ll and, on the
other hand, points toward purification b y knowledge. It is an echo
o f Orphism that w e hear in the fragm ent o f Chrysippus, w hich
refers expressly to a Pythagorean m axim : y m r o 8’dvfyxoxovs abOalpera,
mjpar’ cypimus.17 It is Orphism that the Pythagoreans extend
in the direction o f Platonism when they proclaim that unity o f
the race o f m en and o f gods w hich Pindar also rings: “ O ne is
the race o f m en, one the race o f the gods” (frag. 131, N em .,
6, 1 ). “ T o follow the god,” to w alk in the “ traces o f the di-

i* Cf. also Euripides, Hippolytus, 952; Aristophanes, Frogs, 1032; Herod­

otus, II, 81. Nilsson (pp. 687—88) refers to all these texts.
See Nilsson’s very reasonable conclusion on the significance of Orphism
in general (op. cit., p. 699): “They put man, with his nature composed of
good and evil and his need for deliverance from the bonds of corporeity,
at the center of their religious thinking. Thus Orphism is the creation of
a religions genius whose work was in part obscured by gross myths and
mercenary priests.”
18 Delatte, Studes sur la littiratare pythagoricienne: “He wavered be­
tween the Orphics and the philosophers, seeking his way; and, as his mind
fflad nflhwtli* with both, he believed he could synthetize their work” (p. 26).
7 1TAulus Gelliua, VII, 2, 12, S.V.F. 1000, quoted by Delatte, op. cit.,
p p. 25. Delatte finds a faithful comment on this fragment in Iamblichus’
« Life of Pythagoras: MSufsr 8r« ol D eal r&p cacSr d m v Avalrun sal S n p 6o w
r sal tea irciflij. ar&jttarot d*oXcurias Arrl rripfiara.

r
4 .
vine”— this is already the scheme o f deliverance o f “ philosophy.”
Plato also w ill spealc o f the “ traces o f the G ood” in the Republic.
The very word “ philosophy” bears witness to what we have said:
rather than calling a man w ho meditates in pursuit o f the god
<ro<f>ot or (Totfrurnp, the Pythagoreans preferred d ie rather eso­
teric term pthooopoei it evokes d ie piXia that is broken by “ dis­
cord,” by ipn, which sets man at variance with the divine and
with his own origin. W ithdrawal o f the soul, reunion o f the soul
with the divine— there we have the philosophical intention before
Plato. T h e idea o f happiness— ti>8at/iovdv— is at the point where
the m agical vision and the philosophical vision m eet; fo r “ happi­
ness” is the “ good soul,” 18 and the “ good soul” com es to a man
when he “ knows,” when knowledge is the “ strongest” and desire
the weakest19
Perhaps w e can best sum up the w hole pSBos and the whole
jSfos o f the Orphico-Pythagoreans in the follow ing exclamations,
taken from the Purifications o f E m pedocles: “ W hat honors and
what heights o f bliss have I left to wander here am ong m ortals!”
And again: “ I have wept and I have w ailed upon seeing the un­
fam iliar place where M urder dwells, and W rath, and tribes o f
other woes— withering diseases, corruption, flood.” A n d : “ O f these
am I now one, exiled from the divine abode, a wanderer w h o has
placed his trust in raving D iscord.” A nd, finally, the fam ous w ords:
“ I assure you that I am an immortal god, and n o longer a m ortal.”
But these fragments n ot only testify to the carrying out o f the
Orphico-Pythagorean tradition in the m ingled ligh t and shade o f
the philosophizing m yth (o r m ythicizing philosoph y); they herald
something else. W e cannot forget that the author o f the Purifica­
tions is the author o f a poem On N ature. F or the first tim e, per­
haps, tiie same principle— D iscord, vukos— is invoked both as a
cosm ological principle, coupled with Friendship, and as the root o f
human evils; the souls o f m ortals are long-lived gods w ho have
“ erred, soiling their hands with murder,” and w ho, 'la v in g vio-
11D . L., VIII, 32: tiS a i/ u n w r r ’ irC p d r rovi St o p 'h ’ x h w p o o y ip q n u .
19 “What is strangest?” the catechist asks the acousmatics. Answer
"‘ynbpil.” “What is most excellent? Happiness.” “ What is the truest
saying? That men are wicked.” (From lamblichus, Life of Pythagoras,
Chap. XVIII, quoted by Delatte, op. cit., p. 282).
lated their oath,” have “ follow ed in the steps o f D iscord.” Friend­
ship and D iscord em erge from the myth and are elevated to the
rank o f Principles: “ G ood and E vil as principles,” says Aristotle.*0
W ith Em pedocles’ D iscord, a principle o f things w hich is mani­
fested in human evil, w e are on the threshold o f a new peripeteia;
the “ myth” rises to “ speculation.” W e shall n ot now cross this
threshold o f d ie sym bolic know ledge o f EviL

20 Aristotle, M etaphysics, A , 4 , 985 a 8.

 V . T h e Cycle o f the Myths

1. From th e Statics to th e D ynamics of the M yths

at th e end o f these hermeneutic exercises, there is a question that

must be troubling the reader as it has embarrassed the author. Gan
w e live in all those m ythical universes at the same tim e? Shall we,
then, w e children o f criticism , w e men w ith immense memories, he
the D on Juans o f the m yth? Shall w e court them all in turn?
A nd if w e had some reason fo r preferring one o f them, why did
we have to lend so m uch attention and understanding to myths that
we were going to declare abolished and dead?
W e must try to get beyond this alternative. O n the one hand,
having fam iliarized ourselves successively with each o f the myths,
we are assured that they all speak to us in some fashion; tins credit,
this belief, are the presupposition o f our enterprise; w e w ould not
have interrogated them if they had n ot challenged us and if they
could not still address themselves to us. A nd yet, nobody asfa ques­
tions from nowhere. O ne must be in a position to hear and to
understand. It is a great illusion to think that one could malm
him self a pure spectator, without weight, without m em ory, without
perspective, and regard everything w ith equal sympathy. Such
indifference, in the strict sense o f the w ord, destroys the possibility
o f appropriation.
T h e presupposition o f m y undertaking is that the place where
one can best listen to, hear, and understand what all the myths
together have to teach us is the place where the pre-em inence o f
one o f those myths is proclaim ed still today—nam ely, the Adam ic
myth. F or that presupposition I must “ give reasons,” as Plato says
306
\
J
jn speaking o f the initiates o f the Orphico-Fythagorean tradition,
and as St. Paul says in addresting the Christians o f the A postolic
age.
H ow ? By an exact awareness o f the m ode o f belief attached to
that proclam ation. Three points need to be stated precisely in this
order o f ideas.
1. In the first place, the faith o f the Christian believer is not
concerned prim arily with an interpretation o f evil, its nature, its
origin, and its en d ; the Christian does n ot say: I believe in tin,
b u t: I believe in the remission o f tins; tin gets its fu ll meaning only
retrospectively, from the present instant o f “ justification,” in the
language o f St. P aul; cm this point w e have insisted sufficiently at
the end o f ou r study o f the trilogy defilem ent-sin-guilt. I t follow s
that the description o f sin and the symbolization o f its origin by
means o f the m yth belong to the faith only secondarily and deriva­
tively, as the best counterpart o f a gospel o f deliverance and hope.
It is not w ithout reason that w e repeat this, in opposition tp the
tendency, issuing from Augustinianism, to confer upon the “ dogm a
o f original sin” the same sort o f authority as upon justification by
faith in the death and resurrection o f C hrist; like the church o f the
first centuries, w e regard the interpretation o f sin as a part o f the
“ prolegom ena o f the faith,” rather than as a part o f the “ deposit
o f the faith.” A ll our effort to relate the dogm a o f original tin to
the A dam ic m yth, and the latter to the penitential experience o f
i Israel and o f the A postolic ch in ch , points in the same direction;
1 in m aking apparent the intentional relation o f the dogm a to the
myth and o f the m yth to the confession o f sins, w e have confirm ed
the subordination o f the dogm a o f original sin to the p ea ch in g o f
\
) salvation. T h e band that unites the A dam ic m yth to the “ Christo-
logical” nucleus o f the faith is a band o f suitability; the symbolic
I
description o f m an, in the doctrine o f tin, suits the announcem ent
o f salvation, in the doctrine o f justification and regeneration. T o
understand that band o f suitability is already to give a reason fo r
the belief accorded to the Biblical sym bolization o f human evil.
i4A 2. T h at doctrine o f sin, even when considered abstractly, de­
4
tached from its soteriological context, is not an incomprehensible
i revelation; betides its relation o f suitability to Christology, it is
\
308 the s y m b o l is m o f e v il

revealed insofar as it is revealing. In fact, here again w e find our

interpretation o f the myth as a symbol o f the second degree. It is
far from being the case that file Christian believer is obliged to
lim it him self to the alternative, either myth or revelation; rather,
he should resolutely seek the meaning revealed in the story o f the
fall an the basis o f its interpretation as myth, in the tw ofold sense
o f an etiological fable dem ythologized by history and a revealing
symbol liberated by the very process o f dem ythologization. Is not
the revelation o f this myth, then, precisely its pow er to challenge?
St. Paul spoke o f the “ inner witness o f the H oly Spirit.” W hat can
that witness signify, in the particular case o f the understanding o f
evil, its nature, and its origin, if not the “ discerning o f spirits” ?
A nd is that, in its turn, anything other than file election o f file
best myth, the recognition o f the most significant, the most reveal­
ing myth, and, at the same time, the myth that can most appropri­
ately be co-ordinated w ith the advent o f salvation, serving as a
prolegom enon to the faith ? I f it is in this sense that w e must seek
fo r some quality o f revelation in the Biblical story o f the fall, that
quality is n ot irrational; it calls fo r verification o f its revealed
origin by its revealing pow er. T h e H oly Spirit is not an arbitrary
and absurd com mandment, it is discernm ent; as it addresses itself
to m y intelligence, it invites m e, in m y turn, to practice the crisis,
the discernment o f m yths; and this is already a way o f practicing
the erode ut intelligas which we shall evoke in the follow ing chap­
ter. This discernment calls for a hermeneutics capable o f bringing
out the sym bolic meaning o f the myth. As we shall show in the
m ethodological chapter that terminates this investigation o f the
myths o f evil, the hermeneutics, in its turn, requires that the
philosopher wager his belief, and that he lose or win the wager
by putting the revealing pow er o f the symbol to the test o f self­
understanding. In understanding him self better, the philosopher
verifies, up to a certain point, the wager o f his faith. A ll the rest
o f this work w ill be devoted to the verification o f the wager through
integral experience; thus the revealing pow er o f the myth w ill be
m anifested. This is the second way in w hich the believer justifies
his belief in the revealed character o f the myth to w hich he
ascribes pre-em inence.
 3. T h e pre-em inence o f the A dam ic myth does n ot im ply that
the other myths are purely and simply abolished; rather, life , or
new life, is given to them by the privileged m yth. T h e appropria­
tion o f the A dam ic myth involves the appropriation, one after the
other, o f the other myths, w hich begin to speak to us from the
place from w hich the dom inant myth addresses us. N ot that the
other myths are “ true” in the same sense as the A dam ic m yth:
w e have seen that the A dam ic m yth is opposed to all the others
in various ways, as they are opposed to one another; but the
A dam ic m yth, by its com plexity and its inner tensions, reaffirms
in varying degrees the essential truths o f the other myths. Thereby
one catches sight o f a specific manner o f justifying the A dam ic
m yth, w hich consists in displaying the relations o f opposition and
identification that attach the other myths to the A dam ic m yth. By
thus putting all the other myths in to perspective w ith relation to a
dom inant m yth, w e bring to ligh t a circularity am ong the myths
and w e m ake possible the substitution o f a dynam ics fo r a statics
o f the m yths; in place o f a static view o f myths regarded as having
equal rights, the dynam ic view makes m anifest the struggle am ong
the myths. T h e appropriation o f the struggle am ong the myths is
itself a struggle fo r appropriation.

This chapter is devoted to the dynamics o f the myths. O f the

three ways o f accounting fo r the pre-em inence o f the A dam ic m yth,
this is the one that most naturally follow s ou r m ythical investiga­
tion o f fault. T h e second w ay w ill b e the ob ject o f the last volum e
o f this w ork; it corresponds to the line o f force o f ou r w hole under­
taking and com mands a philosophy o f fault, distinct from a the­
ology; the principle o f it w ill be set forth in the concluding chapter
o f the present w ork T h e dynamics o f the myths w hich w e are going
to propose plays a propaedeutic role w ith relation to that philo­
sophical interpretation o f the symbols o f evil; fo r it is n ot the
A dam ic m yth alone, but the w hole cycle o f myths and its gravita­
tion around the dom inant m yth, that provide the subject m atter fo r
reflection on the symbols o f evfl. A s to the first w ay o f justifying
the A dam ic m yth, it belongs to theology and n ot to philosophy.
T h e philosopher verifies what is revealed by that w hich reveals; the
mythical expression. It is precisely the tragic myth which is the
depository o f the Ineluctable im plied in the very exercise of freedom,
and w hich awakens us to those fateful aspects which we are always
stirring u p and uncovering as w e progress in maturity, autonomy,
and the social engagement o f our freedom . T he myth regroups
these fateful aspects, w hich cam e to the surface tfiscaothmoasly
through scattered signs. F or exam ple, it is n ot possible for me to
aim at completeness without running the risk o f losing myself in
th e indefinitely varied abundance o f experience or in the niggardly
narrowness o f a perspective as restricted as it is consistent. Between
chaos and the vend, between ruinous wealth and destructive im­
poverishm ent, I must m ake m y way by a road that is difficult and,
in certain respects, impossible. It is Ineluctable that I lose die
wealth in order to have unity, and v ice versa. Kierkegaard dearly
recognized the mcamposribiHty o f the requirements far becoming
oneself; T h e C oncept o f D read evokes the tw o ways in which a man
m ay lose him self: in the infinite w ithout finiteness or in the finite
without infinity, in reality w ithout possibility or in imagination
without the efficacy o f w ork, m arriage, profession, political activity.
T o this m ajor sign o f the fateful character o f freedom many
others can be added. W ho can realize him self without fadnding
not only possibilities but realities and existences, and, consequently,
without destroying? W ho can join the intensity o f friendship and
love to the breadth o f universal solidarity? It is a tragic aspect of
existence that the history o f self-awareness cannot begin with die
sympathy o f the Stoics, but must start with the struggle o f master
and slave, and that, once having consented to itself and to die
universal, it must plunge anew into self-division.
N ow , all these fateful aspects, because they are implied in free­
dom and not opposed to it, are necessarily experienced as fault It
is I w ho raise up the Ineluctable, within myself and outride myself,
in developing m y existence. H ere, then, is a fault no longer in an
ethical sense, in the sense o f a transgression o f die moral law, but
in an existential sense: to becam e oneself is to fad to realize
wholeness, w hich nevertheless remains d ie end, the dream, the
horizon, and that which the Idea o f happiness points to. Because
 fate belongs to freedom as the non-chosen portion o f all our
dunces, it must be experienced as fault.
Thus the tragic m yth is reaffirm ed as an associated m yth, re­
vealing the fateful reverse side o f the ethical confession o f sins.
U nde the figure o f the blinded and m isled hero, it expresses the
role o f ineluctable guilt. This fateful aspect, join ed to the aspects
of antecedence and externality expressed b y the other myths, points
toward the quad-nature o f an evil already there, at the very heart
of the evil that springs u p now . It can only b e represented dramati­
cally, theatrically, as a “ fate,” as a fo ld or crease that freedom has
contracted. That is w hy tragedy survived its destruction by Plato­
nism and Christianity. W hat cannot be thought, can and must
nevertheless b e exhibited in the figure o f the tragic h ero; and that
figure necessarily excites anew the great tragic em otions; fa r the
nun-posited aspect that any positing o f evil involves can only
awaken terror and com passion, beyond all judgm ent and all con­
demnation; a m erciful vision o f m an com es to lim it the accusation
and save him from the wrath o f the Judge.
It is here that the “ tragic” light cast upon the A dam ic myth
enhances the enigm a o f the serpent A s w e have said, it is not
possible to absorb all the meanings revealed through that figure
into the avowal o f a purely human origin o f evil. T h e serpent is
mare than the transcendence o f sin over sins, m ore than the non-
panted af the posited, m are than the radical o f radical ev il; it is
the Other, it is the Adversary, the p ole o f a counterparticipation,
af a counterlikeness, about w hich one can say nothing except that
the evil act, in p ostin g itself, lets itself be seduced by the counter-
positing o f a source o f iniquity represented by the E vil O ne, the
Diabolical. W hen tragedy shows the hero blinded by a dem onic
power, it manifests the dem onic ride o f the human experience o f
evil by means o f the tragic action ; it makes visible, w ithout ever
making it thinkable, the ritualson o f the w icked w ho can never
occupy any but th e second place in wickedness, “ after” the Adver­
sary. Thus, the tragic representation continues to express not only
• the reverse side o f all confession o f sins, but the other p ole o f
.. human ev il; the evil fo r w hich I assume responsibility makes m ani-
fest a source o f evil fo r w hich I cannot assume responsibility, but
w hich I participate in every tim e that through m e evil enters ism
the w orld as i f fo r the first tim e. I t m ight be said that the avowal
o f evil as human calls forth a second-degree avowal, that of ev3
as non-hum an. O nly tragedy can accept this avowal o f the avowal
and exhibit it in a spectacle, fo r n o coherent discourse can include
that Other.
b u t perhaps there is m ore to be said: it is not only something
o f the tragic anthropology that is reaffirmed by the Adam ic myth,
but something even o f the tragic theology. T h e tragic element in
Biblical theology can be discovered in the follow ing way. I will
start w ith the ethical sense to w hich the Covenant between Israel
and Yahweh was elevated. That ethical sense, which makes the
Law the bond between man and G od, reacts upon the conception
o f G od him self; G od is an ethical G o d This “ ethicim tion” o f man
and G od tends toward a m oral vision rtf the w orld, according to
which History is a tribunal, pleasures and pains are retribudaa,
G od him self is a judge. A t the same rime, the whole o f human
experience assumes a penal character. N ow , this m oral vision o f die
w orld was wrecked by Jewish thought itself, when it meditated on
the suffering o f the innocent. T h e b ook o f Job is the upsetting
docum ent that records this shattering o f the m oral vision c£ the
w o rld T h e figure o f Job bears witness to the irreduribflity o f the
evil o f scandal to the evil o f fault, at least an the scale o f human
experience; the theory o f retribution, w hich was the first, name ex­
pression o f the m oral vision o f the w orld, does not acmrnit far all
d ie unhappiness in the w o rld H ence, it m ay be asked whether die
H ebrew and, m ore generally, the Near-Eastern theme o f the “ suf­
fering Just O ne9 does n ot lead back from d ie prophetic accusation
to tragic pity.
T h e m ovem ent o f thought that w e shall try to describe zests an
the ethical virion itself: where G od is perceived as the origin of
justice and d ie source o f legislation, the problem o f jnst wmiainm
is raised w ith a seriousness w ithout precedent; suffering emerges
as an enigm a when d ie demands o f justice can n o longer explain
it; this enigma is the product o f the ethical theology itself. That is
why the virulence o f the book o f Job is w ithout equivalent in any
culture; Job’s com plaint supposes the fu ll maturity o f an ethical
vision o f G o d ; d ie dearer G od becom es as legislator, the m are
obscure he becom es as creator; the irrationality o f pow er balances
1he gfrhfcal rationalisation o f holiness; it becom es possible to turn
the y m n iin n back against G od, against the ethical G od o f the
arnia^tirm Thereupon there begins the foolish business o f trying
to justify G o d : theodicy is b om .
It is at this point o f doubt, when the spontaneous ethical vision
appeals to the arguments o f theodicy and has recourse to a rhetoric
of conviction, that the possibility o f a tragic virion loom s up again.
That possibility is b om o f the im possibility o f saving the ethical
vision w ith the aid o f any “ proof.” T h e friends o f Job d o, indeed,
mobilize forgotten sins, unknown sins, ancestral sins, the sins o f
the people, in order to restore the equation o f suffering and pun­
ishment; b u t Job refuses to close the gap. H is innocence and his
suffering are m arginal to any ethical virion.1
Babylonian “ wisdom” had already carried very fa r the dissolution
that the ethical virion suffers when it com es in to contact w ith m ed­
itation cm suffering.* Fear the author o f A Pessimistic D ialogue be­
tween M aster and Servant, suffering is n ot so m uch unjust as
senseless, and it has the result o f m aking every undertaking sense-
1There is no need to ask whether such a just man existed, nor even
whether such a just man is possible. Jab is the imaginary personage who
serves as touchstone for die ethical vision of the world and makes it fly
to pieces. By hypothesis or by construction, Job is innocent; he must be
jest in order that the problem may be posed in all its intensity: how is it
passible that a man so wholly just should be so totally suffering? Besides,
sach a product of the imagination was made possible precisely by the
inurnment of the idea of degrees of gnih (cf. Part I, Chap. I ll, $ 1, p.
107); die imagining of the extremes of die just and the unjust is enveloped
in the representation of gradual guilt; Job is die zero degree of guilt joined
to the extreme of suffering; from this conjunction is bom die scandal
which also is extreme.
1S. Langdon, Babylonian W isdom (London, 1923); J. J. Stamm, Dor
Leiden d o t Unschuldigen in Babylon and Israel (Zurich, 1948). For the
tests we have used Robert H. Pfeiffer’s BngHsh translation, in Pritchard,
Ancient N ear Eastern T exts, pp. 484-40: “I Will Praise die Lord iff
Wisdom” (the Babylonian Job) ; M A Pessimistic Dialogue between Master
and Servant"; and “A Dialogue about Human Misery” (die Babylonian
Ecclesiastes). They are reprinted in Mendelsohn, op. cit., pp. 187—204.
Only dm '‘Pessimistic Dialogue” is reproduced in Pritchard’s A nthology
(pp. 230-52).
less; in the face o f absurdity, everything is eq u a l Thus the ethical
vision is eaten away right dow n to the very care o f actual.1 In other
texts, such as the poem o f the suffering just man ( “ I W ill Praise
the L ord o f W isdom ” ) , com plaint is pushed to such a point of
despair that it rivals Job’s com plaint and protestation,4 but “ wis­
dom ” counsels mute resignation and a most extreme sacrifice of
the w ill to k now ; a theophany o f M arduk, w hich fills the believer
w ith gratitude; but not with understanding, casts a ray o f hope into
the darkness o f distress.1

8 “ A Pessimistic D ialogue between M aster and Servant,” Strophe I

(Pritchard, op. tit., p . 4 3 8 ): “ [‘ServantJ obey me.’ Y es, my lord, yes.
[■Bring m e at once die] chariot, hitch it up. I w ill ride to the palace.* [Ride,
m y lord, rid el A ll your wishes] w ill be realized fo r you. The king will he
gracious to you. ['N o, servantJ I shall n ot ride [to] the palace.’ [D o not
ride], m y lord, do not ride. [T o a place . . .] he w ill send yon. [fn a band
which] you know [not] he w ill let you be captured. [D ay and] night he will
let you see trouble.”
T he poem continues: T o eat and drink? Yes and no. T o speak, to be
silent? It’s all the same. T o love a w om an? Id s the ruin o f a man. To help
his country? The mounds o f ancient ruins and the skulls o f former men
teach that benefactors and evildoers cam e to the same end.
T h e poem ends thus: “ ‘Servant, obey m e.’ Y es m y lord, yes. ‘Now, what
is good ? T o break m y neck, your neck, throw [both] in to die river— [that]
is good.’ W ho is tall enough to ascend to heaven? W h o is broad enough to
em brace th e earth? W o, servant, I shall kill yon an d send yon ahead of me.*
[Then] w ould m y lord [wish to] live even three days after m e?” (Pritchard,
op. cit., p . 4 3 8 ).
O n this poem , cf. Langdon, op. t i t , pp. 6 7 -8 1 , and J. J. Stamm, op. du,
pp. 14—16.
4 “ I W ill Praise the L ord o f Wisdom** (Pritchard, op. a t., pp. 4 3 4 -3 7 ):
”1 look about m e: evil upon evil!
M y affliction increases; right I cannot find.
I im plored the god, bn t he did n ot turn his countenance;
I prayed to m y goddess, but she did not raise her head.”
I I , 2 -5
"W hence com e the evil things everywhere?”
I I , 10
"O h that I only knew that these things are w ell pleasing to a god!
W hat is good in one’ s sight is evil fo r a god .
W hat is bad in one’s own m ind is good fa r h is god.
W ho can understand the counsel o f d ie gods in the m idst o f heaven?
T h e plan o f a god is deep waters, w ho can com prehend it?”
n. 33-37
8 Langdon ( o f . tit.) shows w ell that d ie revolt is brought back, by means
o f d ie consolation and restoration o f the suffering just man, into the classic
 Scepticism, surrender to the inscrutable, m odest hedonism, ex­
pectation o f a m iracle— all these attitudes are already held in re­
serve and in suspense in the Babylonian “ wisdom .” T h e com plainer,
then, w ill sacrifice his com plaint, w ill learn patience, w ill surrender
himself hum bly in to the hands o f an inscrutable god , and w ill forgo
knowledge.
But the m ost extraordinary docum ent o f the ancient “ wisdom”
o f d ie N ear East, concerning the turn from ethical com prehension
to tragic com prehension o f G od him self, is the book o f Job. A nd
since the “ ethirization” o f the divine had nowhere else been carried
as far as in Israel, the crisis o f that vision o f the w orld was no­
where else as radical. O nly the protestation o f Prom etheus Bound
can perhaps be com pared w ith that o f J o b ; but the Zeus that
Prometheus calls in question is not the holy G od o f the Prophets.
T o recover the hyperethical dimension o f G od , it was necessary
that the alleged justice o f the law o f retribution should be turned
against G od and that G od should appear unjustifiable from the
point o f view o f the scheme o f justification that had guided the
whole process o f “ ethidzation.” H ence the tone o f legal pleading
in the book, w hich turns against the earlier theodicy invoked by
die three “ friends.”

I know as m uch as y ou ; I y ie ld to you in nothing.

B ut I m ust speak to Shaddai;
I w ish to rem onstrate w ith G od . . . .
H e m ay slay m e : I have n o oth er h ope
than to ju stify m y condu ct before him .
J ob 1 3 :2 -3 ,1 5

paths o f the penitential B alm s, leaving the problem that had been raised
unsolved. But although one finds here the Babylonian confession o f divine
mscrutahility, enmnum to all orthodox prayers ( “M ankind is dum b and
knows nothing. M ankind as m any as hear names, what know they?” ) and
to Greek wisdom , on the other hand the avow al o f sin forgotten, unknown,
rmnnmiml o r ancestral, already ceases in the sapiential literature o f
Babylon to support the old theory o f retribution; that is w hy the problem
remains open . Stamm (o p . eifc, p . 19 ) emphasizes the value o f tins poem
as an anticipation o f J o b : die theophany o f M ardnk attests that the in­
comprehensible god has the pow er to save when man does n ot expect it any
longer; thus h e w ill praise the L ord, even though d ie enigm a persists.
 O h ! if I knew how to fin d him ,
h ow to com e to his dw elling place,
I w ould present m y case before him ,
m y m outh w ou ld b e fu ll o f arguments.
I w ould know th e w ords o f his defense,
I w ould b e attentive to w hat h e w ould say to m e.
Job 2 3 :3 -5

Job’s adm irable apology in Chapter 31— w hich is also an inter­

esting docum ent concerning the scrupulous conscience, in virtue
o f its enumeration o f the faults that Job has n ot com mitted— ends
w ith these proud w ords:

O h l w h o w ill m ake G o d listen to m e?

I have said m y last w ord ; le t Shaddai answer m e!
I f m y adversary w ill w rite ou t an indictm ent,
I w ill w ear it upon m y shoulder,
I w ill pu t it on lik e a diadem .
Job 3 1 :3 5 -3 6

T h e putting in question o f the ethical C od reaches its utmost

virulence when it begins to disturb d ie dialogal situation which,
in Israel, is at the very bans o f the consciousness o f an. M an is be­
fore G od as before his aggressor and his enemy. T h e eye a f God,
w hich represented fa r Israel the absolute measure o f a n , as well as
the watchfulness and the com passion o f the L ord, becom es a source
o f terror:

W hat Is m an, that you m ake so m uch o f him ,

that you fix your attention an him ,
that you inspect him every m orning,
that you scrutinize him every instant?
W ill y ou ever stop looking at m e
fo r th e length o f tim e it takes to sw allow m y spittle?
J ob 7 :1 7 -1 9

T h e eye o f G od is upon Job as d ie eye o f the hunter is upon

the w ild beast; G od “ surrounds” him , G od “ spies an” him , he
“ encompasses him with his nets,” he ravages h is house and “ ex­
hausts his strength.” Job goes so fa r as to suspect d o t it is dan
inquisitorial eye w hich makes m an guilty: “ Yes, I know that it is
so; but how shall a m an b e just before G od ?” O n the contrary, is
not m an to o weak fo r G od to require so m uch o f h im ? “ W ill you
frightm a leaf that is driven b y the w ind, or pursue a dry straw ?"
(1 3 :2 5 ).

Man bom o f woman,

short-lived, but with more than enough troubles,
lik e a flower, he opens and then fades,
he flees like a shadow without stopping.
And you deign to open your eyes upon him,
you bring him into judgment before you!
Job 14:1-3

T h en J ob cursed the day o f his birth : “ L et the day perish wherein

I was bam , and the night in w hich it was said: A man child has
been conceived! . . . W hy d id I n ot die from the w om b? W hy did
I n ot perish as soon as I was b om ?” (3 :3 ,1 1 ).

My hope is to inhabit Sheol,

to make my bed in the darkness.
I cry to the grave: “You are m y father!”
to the vermin: “You are my mother and my sister!”
Job 17:13-14

Faced w ith the torturing absence o f G od (2 3 :8 ; 3 0 :2 0 ), d ie

man dreams o f his ow n absence and repose:

Henceforth I shall be invisible to every eye;

your eyes will be upon me and I shall have vanished.
Job 7 :8

Is it n ot the tragic G od that Job discovers again? the inscrutable

G od o f terror? W hat is tragic, too, is the denouem ent "Suffering
far the purpose o f understanding/* the Greek chorus said. Job, in
Ins turn, penetrates beyond any ethical virion to a new dimension
o f faith, the dimension o f unverifiable faith.
W e must never lose sight o f the fa ct that Job’ s p la in t even when
it seems to be destroying the basis o f any dialogal relation between
G od and m an, does n ot cease to m ove in the field o f invocation.
It is to G od that Job appeals against G od :
 O b ! that you w ould h ide m e in Sheol,
that you w ou ld shelter m e there, until your anger passes,
that you w ould fix a tim e fo r m e and rem em ber m e thereafter;
— fo r , on ce dead, can a m an com e to life again?—
A ll d ie days o f m y service I w ould w ait
fo r m y relief to com e.
Job 14:13-14

"E ven now I have a witness in heaven, and m y d*fm dw is an

high” (1 6 :1 9 ). . . . “ I know that m y defender is Bring, and that
at the a id he w ill rise upon the earth. A fter m y awakening, he
w ill raise m e u p beside him and in m y flesh I shall see God”
(1 9 :2 5 -2 6 ).
This faith gets its veracity from the very defiance that argues
against the vain science o f retribution and renounces the wisdom
that is inaccessible to man (C hap. 2 8 ). In his unknowing, Job
alone has "spoken rightly” o f G od (4 2 :7 ).
Shall w e say that Job returns to the crushing silence o f resigna­
tion, like the Babylonian Job? Yes, u p to a certain p oin t The
G od w ho answers Job "ou t o f the storm” reverses the relation of
questioner and questioned: "W here were you when I laid the foun­
dations o f the earth? Speak, if your knowledge is enlightened”
(3 8 :4 ). "G ird u p your loins like a man. I am going to question
you, and you w ill give m e the answers” (4 0 :7 ). And Job gave this
answer to Y ahw eh:

1 know that y ou are all-pow erfu l;

w hat you plan, yoiroa n accom plish.
I t w as I w h o darkened your counsels
by utterances w ithout sense.
T h erefore I have spoken w ithout understanding,
concerning things to o w onderful fo r m e, about which. I know nothing,
(lis te n , le t m e speak,
I am goin g to question you and you w ill give m e the answers.)
I d id n ot know yon except b y hearsay,
bu t n ow m y eyes have seen you.
T h erefore I take back m y w ords,
I repent in dust and ashes.
Job 42 ; 2-6
 A nd yet the silence o f Job, on ce the question itself has been
blasted b y the lightning, is n ot altogether the seal o f meaningless­
ness. N either is it altogether the zero degree o f speech. Certain
words are addressed to Job in exchange fo r his mlence. Those words
are n ot an answer to his problem ; they are n ot at all a solution o f
the problem o f suffering; they are in n o way a reconstruction, at a
higher degree o f subtlety, o f the ethical vision o f the w orld. T he
G od w h o addresses Job out o f the tempest shows him Behemoth
and Leviathan, the hippopotam us and the crocodile, vestiges o f the
chaos that has been overcom e, representing a brutality dom inated
and measured by the creative act. Through these symbols he gives
Him t o understand that all is order, measure, and beauty— inscruta­
ble order, measure beyond measure, terrible beauty. A w ay is marked
out between agnosticism and the penal view o f history and life—
the way o f unverifiable faith. There is nothing in that revelation
that concerns him personally; but precisely because it is n ot a ques­
tion o f him self, Job is challenged. T h e oriental poet, like Anaxi­
mander and H eraclitus the Obscure, announces an order beyond
order, a totality fu ll o f m eaning, w ithin w hich the individual must
lay dow n his recrim ination. Suffering is n ot explained, ethically or
otherwise; but the contem plation o f the w hole initiates a m ovem ent
which must be com pleted practically by the surrender o f a claim ,
by the sacrifice o f the demand that was at the beginning o f the
recrim ination, nam ely, the claim to form by oneself a little island
o f meaning in the universe, an em pire within an em pire. It be­
comes suddenly apparent that the dem and fa r retribution animated
Job’ s recrim inations n o less than the m oralizing hom ilies o f his
friends. That, perhaps, is w hy the innocent Job, the upright Job,
repents. O f w hat can he repent, if n ot o f his claim fo r compensa­
tion, w hich m ade his contention im pure? W as it n ot still the law
o f retribution w hich drove him to dem and an explanation in pro­
portion to his existence, a private explanation, a finite explanation?
A s in tragedy, the final theophany has explained nothing to him ,
but it has changed his view ; h e is ready to identify his freedom
with inim ical necessity; he is ready to convert freedom and neces­
sity into fate. This conversion is the true “ re-enactm ent” — n o longer
the material re-enactm ent w hich is still a kind o f recom pense and
hence a sort o f retribution, but the wholly internal re-enactment
w hich is n o longer restoration o f an earlier happiness, but re-enact­
m ent o f the present unhappiness.
I d o not mean to say that all this is already in the book o f Job.
But that is how w e can bring it to com pletion in ourselves, starting
from the impulse that w e receive from it. T h at impulse is given
by a simple touch in the prologu e: Satan has m ade a bet that Joh,
if h e is confronted with m isfortune, w ill n ot fear G od “ far nothing”
( 1 :9 ) . This is what is at stake: to reno unce the law o f retribution
to the extent n o t only o f ceasing to envy the prosperity o f dm
wicked, but o f enduring m isfortune as one accepts good fortune—
that is to say, as G od-given ( 2 :1 0 ). Such is the tragic wisdom o f
d ie “ re-enactm ent” that triumphs over the ethical vision o f dm
w orld.

I f now w e turn back from “ faith in the hidden G od” and die
“ re-enactm ent” o f misfortune— w hich illuminates it with a sombre
light— to the A dam ic m yth, w e see what tragedy contributes to dm
understanding o f that m yth. I t contributes tw o things: o n dm one
hand, pity fo r human b on gs, w ho are nevertheless accused by dm
Prophet; on the other hand, fear and trem bling before die divine
abyss, before the G od whose holiness is nevertheless proclaim ed by
the Prophet. Perhaps it is necessary that the possibility c f dm tragic
G od should never be abolished altogether, so that Biblical theology
m ay be protected from the platitudes o f ethical monotheism, with
its Legislator and its Judge, confronting a m oral subject who is
endow ed w ith com plete and unfettered freedom , still intact after
each act. Because the tragic theology is always posable, although
n ot to b e spoken, G od is D o ts Absconditus, A nd it is always passi­
ble, because suffering can no longer be understood as a chastise­
m en t
Just as the tragic anthropology regroups the scattered signs of
the ineluctable that are m ingled with the growth o f ou r concrete
freedom , so the tragic theology regroups d ie signs o f the apparent
hostility a t fate. Those signs appear when, fo r exam ple, ou r vision
o f things becom es contracted. W hen wholeness is lost, w e sink into
the angularity o f conclusions w ithout premises. O nly dm “ seer” cf
Greek tragedy and the “ fool” o f Shakespearian tragedy escape from
 (fae tragic; the seer and the fo o l have ascended from the tragic to

| die com ic b y their access to a com prehensive vision. N ow , nothing

is m ore likely to destroy that com prehensive vision than suffering.
■ We are stall d ose to the tragic theology when the contradiction
; seems to us n ot only unresolved but unresolvable. A nan-dialec-
1 deal contradiction; there w e have the tragic. T hus A ntigone
; and Cream, destroy one another, and there is n o third force that
might m ediate their opposition and em brace th e g ood reasons o f
! both. T h at a value cannot he realized w ithout the destruction o f
I soother value, equally positive— there, again, is the tragic. It is
! perhaps at its height when it seems that the furthering o f a value
' requires the destruction o f its bearer.® I t seems then that it is the
' very nature o f fbingB that makes such a thing h appen; the very
j order o f the w orld becom es a tem ptation to despair. “ T h e object
j in the background o f the tragic,” says M a x Scheler, “ is always the
] world itself, thought o f as a unity— the w orld in w hich such a thing
• is possible.” T h e indifference o f the course o f events to human
1 values, the blind character o f necessity— o f the sun that shines on
j die good and th e bad—p lay the role o f the G reek fudpa, w hich
becomes a u a k Salfuav, as soon as value-relations and personal
: relations are confronted w ith relations o f the causal order. T h e
| hero is the poin t o f intersection, the “ tragic knot,” as M ax Scheler
also says, where the blindness o f order is transform ed into the
enmity o f fe te ; the tragic is always personal, but it malum m anifest
i a sort o f cosm ic sadness w hich reflects the hostile transcendence to
which the hero is a prey. A n d since t^e h ero is d ie agent o f that
: apparent enm ity in d ie principle o f things, o n ce h e “ delays” the
: progress and “ precipitates” th e denouem ent o f the tragic action,
blind necessity appears to h e a hostile intention intertwined w ith
1 die intention o f the tragic hero.
That iB w hy the tragic vision always remains possible, resisting
any logical, m oral, or esthetic reconciliation.

Shall w e leave the A dam ic myth and the tragic m yth face to face,
as tw o interpretations o f existence between w hich w e can only
fluctuate endlessly? N ot a t all.
In the first place, the tragic myth saves the Biblical m yth only
• M ax Scheler, L e phJnomin* du Tragique.
insofar as the latter first resuscitates i t W e must not grow weary of
repeating that only he w ho confesses that he is the of evil
discovers the reverse o f that confession, namely, the non-posxtcd in
the positing o f evil, the always already there o f evil, the other of
tem ptation, and finally the incom prehensibility o f G od, who tests
m e and w ho can appear to m e as m y enemy. In this circular rela­
tion between the Adam ic myth and the tragic myth, the Adamic
myth is the right side and the tragic m yth is the reverse side.
But, above all, the polarity o f the tw o myths betokens the arrest
o f undem anding at a certain stage. A t that stage our vision re­
mains dichotom ous. O n the one hand, the evil that is committed
leads to a just exile; that is what the figure o f Adam represents.
O n the other hand, the evil that is suffered leads to an unjust dep­
rivation; that is what the figure o f Job represents. T he first figure
calls fo r the second; the second corrects the first. Only a third figure
could announce the transcending o f the contradiction, and that
w ould be the figure o f the “ Suffering Servant,” w ho would make
o f suffering, o f the evil that is undergone, an action capable of re­
deem ing the evil that is com m itted. T his enigmatic figure is fire
one celebrated by the Second Isaiah in the fou r “ songs o f the Serv­
ant o f Yahweh” (Is. 4 2 :1 -9 ; 4 9 :1 -6 ; 5 0 ;4 - l l ; 5 2 :1 3 -5 3 :1 2 ), and
it opens up a perspective radically different from that o f “ wisdom.”
It is not contem plation o f creation and its immense measure that
consoles; it is suffering itself. Suffering has becom e a gift that ex­
piates the sins o f the people.

It was our sufferings that he bore

and our griefs w ith w hich he w as laden.
A n d w e thought o f him as chastised,
stricken by G od, and hum iliated.
H e was pierced fo r our sins,
crushed fo r our crim es.
T h e chastisem ent that brings us peace is upon him
and it is ow ing to his w ounds that w e are healed.
• * • • • • • •

Y es, h e was cu t o ff from the land o f th e living

fo r our sins, he was sm itten to death.
Is. 5 3 :4 - 5 ,8b
 'Whatever m ay be the meaning o f this “ Suffering Servant,”
whether he he a historical personage, individual or collective, o r
the figure o f a Savior to com e, he reveals an entirely new possibility
— that suffering gives itself a m eaning, by voluntary consent, in the
meaninglessness o f scandaL In the juridical and penal view o f life,
guilt h ad to provide the reason fo r suffering. But the suffering o f
the innocent brake the schema o f retribution in pieces; tin and suf­
fering are separated by an abyss o f irrationality. I t is then that the
suffering o f the “ Suffering Servant” institutes a bon d between suf­
fering and sin, a t another level than that o f retribution. But the
tragedy o f the “ Suffering Servant” is beyond the G reek tragedy of
the hero.
O f course, there is n o lack o f “ juridical theologies,” w hich have
understood substitutive suffering as a supreme w ay o f salvaging
the law o f retribution. A ccordin g to that schema, the suffering
which is a gift w ould be the means by w hich m ercy w ould give
“satisfaction” to justice. In this m echanical balancing o f the divine
attributes, justice and m ercy, the new quality o f the offered suffer­
ing is swallowed up again in the quantitative law o f retribution.
In truth, the suffering that is a gift takes up in to itself the suffering
that is a scandal, and thus inverts the relation o f guilt to suffering.
A ccording to the old law , guilt was supposed to produce suffering
as a punishm ent; but now a suffering that is outside retribution, a
ngniwipjw and scandalous suffering, anticipates hum an evil and takes
□pan itself the tins o f the w orld. There had to appear a suffering
which w ould free itself from the legal-mindedness o f retribution
and submit voluntarily to the iron law , in order to suppress it by
fulfilling i t In short, a stage o f absurd suffering, the stage o f Job,
was needed, to m ediate the m ovem ent from punishment to gen­
erosity. But then guilt gets a new h orizon: not that o f Judgm ent,
but that o f M ercy.
W hat does tiie tragic virion signify with respect to this ultimate
significance o f suffering? T h e tragic vision always remains possible
for all o f us w ho have n ot attained the capacity fo r offered suffer­
ing: Short o f this holiness o f suffering, the question rem ains: Is
not G od w icked? Is it n ot that possibility that the believer evokes
when he prays: “ Lead us n ot into temptation” ? D oes n ot his re­
quest signify: "D o n ot cam e to m eet m e w ith the fa ce o f the tragic
G od” ? There is a theology o f temptation w hich is very dose to the
tragic theology o f blinding, . . .
T h at is w hy tragedy has never finished dying. Killed twice, by
the philosophical Logos and by the Judeo-Ghristian Kerygma, it
survived its double death. T h e them e o f d ie wrath o f God, the
ultim ate m otive o f the tragic consciousness, is invindhle to the
arguments o f the philosopher as w ell a s o f the riwdngMm
there is n o rational vindication o f the innocence o f G od ; every ex­
planation o f d ie Stoic o r Leibnizian type is wrecked, Eke die nave
arguments o f Job’s friends, on the suffering o f d ie innocent They
leave intact the op ad ty o f evil and the opacity o f die world “ in
w hich such a thing is possible,” as M ax Scheler says in Us essay
ora the "Phenom enon o f the T ra g ic"; as soon as mearunglenww
appears to swoop dow n intentionally an m an, the schema of the
w rath o f G od loom s u p and the tragic corasdousnes is restored.
O nly a consciousness that had accepted suffering without reserva­
tion cou ld also begin to absorb the W rath o f G od into the Love c£
G o d ; hut even then the suffering o f others, the suffering o f chil­
dren, o f the low ly, w ould renew the mystery o f iniquity in Us eyes.1
O nly tim id hope could anticipate in silence th e end o f the phan­
tasm o f the “ wicked G od ."

3. T h e A ppropriation of th e M yth of C haos

M editation on the invincibility o f the tragic myth gives an indi­

cation, in its turn, how the myth o f chaos, too, can be reaffirmed
up to a certain point at least. H e question arises; Does the theo-
gon ic m yth still speak to m e, or is it radically dead? It must be
adm itted that this question cannot receive a com plete answer at
this stage in our m editation. O f course, in a w ay, the theogonic
myth has been blasted by ethical monotheism, the rramiwtim of

1 That the theology o f love cannot becam e a systematic theology appears

evident. Its powerlessness to integrate justice conceptually is nothing com­
pared to its powerlessness to account fo r tile position o f evil in the world;
the concept o f “ permission” (G od “ permits” evil, but does not “ create” it)
is the witness to this failure. W e shall return to this point in the framework
o f the speculative symbols o f evil.
which w ith the avowal o f hum an evil w e now know . T h at connec­
tion is very stron g fo r it is reciprocal: because G od is holy, man
alone is gu ilty; because m an is guilty, G od is in n ocen t A n d yet d ie
last w ord has n ot been said. R eflection an the tragic gives rise to
the thought that ethical monotheism itself m ust b e transcended; it
must b e transcended insofar as it is ethical— perhaps also insofar
as it is monotheism . W hy this last doubt? Far a reason o f fact
w hich is soon transcended in a reason o f right. T h e fa ct is this:
although the n aive theogony o f B abylonia and archaic G reece is
dead, m ore refined anto-thealogies have n ot ceased to appear, ac­
cording to w h ich evil is an original elem ent o f b o n g . T h e cosm o­
logical fragments o f H eraclitus, the Germ an mysticism o f the four­
teenth century, Germ an idealism , propose philosophical and learned
equivalents o f theogony: evil has its roots in the pain o f being, in a
tragedy th at is the tragedy o f b a n g itself. T h e fa ct that theogony
revives under ever new form s gives cause fo r reflection.
This seductiveness o f theogony can b e understood on the baas
of the tragic. O n the one hand, as w e have just said, th e tragic is
invincible, at least at a certain level o f our experience o f evil com ­
mitted and evil suffered; on the other hand, the tragic theology is
unavowable, unthinkable. T h e tragic is invincible a t the level o f
man and unthinkable at the level o f G od. A learned theogony,
then, is the only means o f malting tragedy invincible and intelligible
at the <nmn<i tim e; it consists, in the last resort, in assigning the
tragic to the origin o f things and m atin g it coincide w ith a logic
of being, b y means o f negativity.
As a consequence, everything that makes the tragic virion o f the
world ineluctable, makes th e tragi-logic o f being seductive, as the
consecration and liquidation o f the “ wicked god.” T h e “ wicked
god” o f tragedy becom es a logical m om ent in the dialectics o f bring.
T h e txagi-4pgic o f brin g is seductive, but is it true? W e are n ot
equipped t o exorcize its spell, and so a com plete answer to tins
problem w ill n ot b e foun d either in this or in the follow in g volum e.
T h e answer needs a P oetics o f freedom and o f the being o f man
w inch exceeds the possibilities o f a philosophical anthropology. A ll
'that m editation on the symbols and myths lets us understand is
that man’ s positing o f evil discloses another ride o f evil, a n on -
pouted factor, mingled with man’ s pouting o f eviL That non*
pouted factor points to an other than m an, represented by the
Serpent; but that non-pouted factor, that O ther, can only be at
the frontier o f an anthropology o f eviL Any hypostatizatian of this
nan-human source o f evil in an absolute dialectics goes beyond the
resources o f that anthropology. It must b e said, then, that the pre­
eminence o f the A dam ic myth gives rise to the thought that evil
is not a category o f bein g; but, because that myth has a reverse,
or a residue, the other myths ant invincible. H ence, an anthropology
o f evil can neither posit nor take away the right o f an absolute
genesis o f being, to w hich evil w ould belong primardiaDy.
Far the purpose o f stating, without any reserve, all die presup­
positions o f this investigation o f finitude and evil, I will add this:
the only thing that could dissolve the spell o f that ahmhite genesis
o f bring and that hypostatizatian o f evil as a category o f being
w ould b e a “ Ghristolqgy.” By Christology I m ean a doctrine capa­
ble o f including in the life o f G od itself, in a HfaW tir o f divine
"persons,” the figure o f the suffering servant which we evoked
above as the supreme possibility o f human suffering.
A ccording to “ Christology,” that suffering is a moment in di­
vinity; that mom ent o f abasement, o f annihilation o f the divine fife,
both com pletes and suppresses tragedy. Tragedy is consummated,
fo r the evil is in G od : “ D o you not know that the San of Man
must be delivered u p?” That “ must” exalts fate and includa it in
the divine life. But tragedy is suppressed because it is inverted. Is
theogony, K ronos mutilates his Father and M arduk cuts to pieces
the monstrous pow er o f Tiam at. O n the contrary, it is as an abso­
lute V ictim that the Christ o f the Gospels is glorified— that is to
say, elevated in bring. T h e “ must,” th at, is unintelligible except
in the light o f the “ g ift” “ N o one takes m y life from me, but I
give it o f myself,” says Christ, according to John. That absolute
Fate should also be absolute G ift— there is tragedy completed and
suppressed.

But if this “ Christology” is part o f the prolongation o f the medi­

tation on the “ Servant o f Yahweh” w hich occupied us above, it
is o f p n n tW order. T h e figure o f the servant o f Yahw eh still be­
longs to the symbolism o f hum an existence; it discloses an extrem e
possibility o f Tinman suffering; the servant o f Yahw eh m ay be a
man or a people, a prophet o f the past, o r a teacher to com e; in
short, that figure illuminates man’s inner nature from the view point
of that w hich is an extreme lim it fo r m an; that is why a p h ilo­
sophical reflection on the symbols o f human existence can learn
cnnwihm g from the symbol o f the servant o f Yahw eh. O n the con­
trary, the doctrine that hypostatizes in G od the suffering w hich is a
«nm«TaT, itself having been taken u p in to the suffering w hich is a
gift, does n ot belong to the symbolism o f "human existence, because
it does n ot reveal a possibility, even an extreme one, in m an. O ne
can, o f course, take the identity o f “ fate” and “ gift,” realized in
Christ’s sacrifice, as a m odel fa r ou r action and suffering, and thus
ynfoit it in a symbolism within the confines o f the hum an; but
such a symbolism is n ot on the level o f a Christology, and Christol-
agy is n ot o f the same order as such a symbolism. H ence, tragedy
as com pleted and suppressed in Christology is n ot within the pow er
of a philosophical anthropology.
T hat ia w hy theogcny rem ains as a suspended question, even
after the death, o f the archaic cosm ogonies. T h e recognition o f a
non-human source o f evil, included even in the confession o f the
human origin o f evil, revives tragedy; and, since tragedy is unthink­
able, theogony offers itself as the ultim ate means o f saving tragedy
by converting it in to logic. Everything that speaks in favor o f the
unsvowahle and unthinkable theology o f the “ w icked god” is also
an appeal launched in the direction o f a thinkable and avowable
onto-theology, in w hich evil becom es m ediation o f being.
A ll the rest o f our reflections w ill stay on tins ride o f that ulti­
mate alternative: either consolidation o f the tragic in a log ic o f
being, or its inversion in a Christology. T h e choice between those
tw o possibilities depends an a Poetics o f freedom that is n ot yet
in our pow er. T hat is why the philosophical anthropology w hich
we are going to elaborate under the guidance o f the symbols and
myths o f human evil stands out from the background o f an unre­
solved alternative. W e are confronted by that alternative every
time we skirt the enigma o f a non-hum an, perhaps pre-human,
evil; and w e renew that enigm a every tim e w e manifest evfl m
ourselves and among ourselves.

4 . T h e S tru g gle b e tw e e n t h e A d am ic M y t h and

t h e M y t h o f E x il e

T h e m yth o f the exiled soul, w e have said, is separated from the

others by a significant typological distance. Shall we say that it is
accessible only to a re-enactm ent in sympathetic imagination and
that it cannot be related to the Adamic, myth except as an opposed
m yth?
T h e simple fact that the history o f the use in Christianity of a
N eo-Platonic m ode o f expression offers s o m any examples o f con­
tam ination o f the m yth o f the fa ll by the m yth o f the exiled soul
lends itself to reflection. O ne m ay try to get rid o f these mixed
form s by dunn^n-m ing thwn a» mmpln Tnt<nmd«»rah in d fn g « It may
even be an im portant undertaking fo r the philosopher and the the­
ologian to cut the knot o f confusion forcibly. T his contamination
is responsible fo r the shift in Christianity to what Nietzsche called
Platonism fo r the p eop le; because o f it, Christianity has seemed
like the most considerable invention o f afterworlds in history. We
ourselves have already vigorously contrasted the dualism of soul
and body, w hich makes evil a m ixture, w ith the anthropological
m onism o f the A dam ic m yth, to w hich corresponds the conception
o f evil as a deviation from a prim ordial state. T h e place o f the
O rphic m yth, on the extreme periphery o f the system gravitating
around the A dam ic myth, expresses, an the plane o f dynamics,
what the statics o f the myths has already m ade apparent
There still remains, however, the task o f understanding the mo­
tivations that have governed the process o f contamination. Now,
it is only by discovering in each o f these myths an affinity for the
other that w e shall be able to account fo r the possibility o f their
confusion; and in thus making the contam ination intelligible through
a play o f underground affinities, w e shall have stretched to the limit
our endeavor to com prehend all the myths, including the most
contrary ones, in the light o f the dominant myth.
 Let us begin with the A dam ic myth, and see how it goes to meet
the myth o f the exiled soul.
O ur starting-point must once again be the experience o f evil
as already there— that is to say, the other side o f the A dam ic m yth,
the aide represented by Eve and the Serpent But, w hile the tragic
myth interprets passivity and seduction in terms o f divine blinding
and the theogonic m yth interprets them in terms o f a resurgence
of prim ordial chaos, the O rphic m yth develops the aspect o f the
apparent externality o f the seduction and tries to make it coincide
with the “ body,” understood as the unique root o f all that is in­
voluntary.
T h e passage from the theme o f the serpent to the them e o f the
body-prison is n ot hard to understand. I f w e go back from mythical
symbolism to the prim ary symbolism o f the experience o f evil, w e
find symbols whibh, although they belong to H ebrew literature,
anticipate the transition to O rpine symbolism— fo r exam ple, the
captivity in Egypt and the departure from Egypt, the Exodus.
Those symbols w ere re-enforced by the historical experience o f the
Babylonian Exile and by the vehem ent hope fo r a great Return,
which animated the great Prophets o f the E xile and w hich even
today acts as a m agnet fo r dispersed Judaism. N ow this symbolism,
directly connected w ith the Jewish theology o f history, has its
strictly m ythical expression in the them e o f banishment, inseparable
from riie story o f the h ill; the fa ll inaugurates a tim e o f banishment,
w andering and perdition, symbolized successively by the expulsion
o f A dam and E ve from the garden o f Paradise, the wandering o f
C ain, the dispersion o f the builders o f Babel, and the undoing o f
creation in the F lood. I t cannot b e said, then, that the them e o f
exile is alien to the theme o f the fa ll; it is attached to it as a
“ curse." I t m ay b e said th at captivity, in the B iblical sense, is to
the exile o f the soul w hat the Exodus o f the Jews is to the odyssey
o f the soul according to the Q rpbics.
I t is true that fo r the O rphics the exile and the return to the
kingdom are an exile and return o f the “ soul,” and that the
“ body” is the place o f exile; but even that can be understood up
to a certain point on the basis o f H ebrew symbolism. T h e symbols
o f captivity and exodus, w e have said, consecrate the aspect o f
externality in human evil. N ow that externality was already ex­
pressed by the Prophets, particularly Ezekiel and Jeremiah, in a
symbolism drawn from the body: heart o f stone, the lewdness of
the adulterer like the rut o f beasts, etc. M oreover, it was die same
experience o f the externality o f evil that m ade possible the survival
o f the symbolism o f defilement in the symbolism o f sin: “ Cleanse
m e w holly from m y iniquity and purify m e o f my sin! Purify me
and I shall be without spot; wash m e and I shall be whiter than
sn ow !" the psalmist prays. From this renovated symbolism o f de­
filement to the symbolism o f the body, the distance is not insuper­
able; for the body itself is not only the literal body, so to speak,
but also a symbolic body. It is the seat o f everything that happens
in m e without m y doing. N ow seduction is also in m e without my
d oin g; and so it is not astonishing that th e quasi-externality of the
involuntary m otions o f the body could serve as a schema o f ex­
ternality, in order to convey an experience analogous to that which,
in the Biblical story, was expressed in the encounter o f Eve and
the Serpent. It is enough for the notion o f the body to retain a
very great wealth o f sym bolic overtones and n ot to be reduced to
a simple biological mechanism. This was the case before the birth
o f a science o f the human body and outside the regions touched
by the m edical thinking o f the Greeks.
A new stage in the process o f contam ination is represented by
the type o f religious experience found in St. Paul, St. Augustine,
and Luther, w hich has very justly been called the type of die
tw ice-born * T h e ardent believers w h o belong to this type experi­
ence alternately the irresistibility o f evil and the irresistibility of
grace; their anthropology is as anti-voluntaristic as possible; man,
at first a slave to sin, becom es by grace a “ slave o f C hrist” The
example o f S t Paul is particularly striking. IB s language is some­
times so close to d ie language o f Hellenistic and gnostic wisdom
that it has lent itself to interpretation as the expression o f an
already active contam ination o f the Biblical tradition by the Neo-
Orphism o f the gnostics. H e speaks o f the “ sin that dwells in me,”
o f “ another law in my members, warring against the law o f my

8 Cf. N. P. Williams, Ideas of the Fall and of Original Sin (New York
and Toronto, 1927).
rpggrm and bringing m e into captivity to the law o f sin w hich is
in m y members” ; sometimes the body itself is called “ body of
death.” But it is enough to extend the line that passes through the
symbol o f captivity and d ie expressions o f Jeremiah and Ezekiel
to reconstruct the Pauline theme. As w e have already said, the
Paulina con cept o f the “ flesh” and the “ body” designates n ot a
mihui-qntinl reality, but an existential category, w hich n ot only covers
the w hole field o f the passions, but includes the m oralizing w ill that
boasts in the law . I t is the alienated self as a w hole, in opposition
to the “ desires o f the S p rit,” w hich constitute the inw ard m an.
T h e cleavage between m e and m yself and the projection into ex­
ternality o f this self that is alienated h u m itself is the key to the
Pauline conception o f the flesh. There is n o need to dw ell further
an tins generis o f St. Paul's symbolism o f sin. W hat concerns us
h o e is that that symbolism, although it can b e explained in its
essentials b y the H ebrew tradition, gives significant pledges to the
Hellenistic tradition o f a soul exiled in a body that is evil from its
origin, and prepares the w ay fo r a ll the subsequent contacts o f
Christianity w ith Neo-Platonism and fo r all the misunderstandings
w hich result therefrom . Step by step, the B iblical them e o f sin
tenth towards a quasi-dualism, accredited by the inner experience
o f cleavage and alienation.
As fo r St. Paul him self, far as he w ent in the direction o f H el­
lenistic dualism, at least in his vocabulary,9 it m ust be admitted
* We wfll consider some of those texts in which die equivocation is at its
height: Ram. 8:1—12; Eph. 2:1-6; 4:22; II Cor. 4:16. All these texts
wtn he interpreted according to the schema of externality proposed above;
bat, once the motivation is forgotten that leads to the concept o f flesh, the
hum wprwannn becomes quasi-iniiiBtingTiishahlB from the expressions of the
Hellenistic conception. The equivocation becomes all the more inevitable
because St Paul himself perhaps conceded much to the language of his
ffrffenfond surroundings hi his description of a situation which owes nothing
to tile Hellenistic conception. Was St Paul misled thereby? None of the
texts, even the most suspect, convicts him openly of dualism. Thus, I Cor.
15 totally opposes the “psychic,” “terrestrial,” "corruptible,” “mortal” body,
that of the “first man,” to the “spiritual,” “celestial)” “incorruptible,”
“immortal” body, that of the “second man” ; but one cannot distinguish in
first man, sprung from the earth, terrestrial, an aspect created good
and an aspect tint became evil contingently. But perhaps it should be said
that Sb Pruil had no need to make that distinction at that moment, since
his problem is that of death and not that of sin, and since the series of
 that he was kept from falling into gnosticism, first, by his acute
sense o f file incarnation o f Christ in a flesh like ours; second, by
his expectation o f a redem ption o f our bodies; and finally, by the
A dam ic myth. This l^st point merits further attention; for, while
it m ay have been disturbing to see St. Paul contributing to the
A dam ic m ythology and congealing the A dam ic symbol in literalism
by regarding Adam as an individual situated at the beginning at
history, it must now be granted that it is that m ythology which
keeps S t Paul from turning to dualism. T h e same pages that make
the individual Adam the counterpart o f C h rist called the second
A dam ( “ as fay one man . . .” ) , have a new ring when they are
com pared with the quasi-dualistic texts; they re-introduce con­
tingency where there was a tem ptation to see a law o f nature. The
“ one man” represents the divergence between the good creation and
the actual state o f man, which S t Paul calls elsewhere “ the flesh,”
“ the old m an,” “ the w orld.” Thus it Is the A dam ic mythology
that strikes a counterblow in opposition to the drift towards gnosis.
T h e distance between the A dam ic myth and the myth o f the
exiled soul, w hich is still very perceptible in S t Paul, wiD become
smaller when, on the one hand, the peculiar traits o f the Adamic
myth becom e attenuated and, on the other hand, new traits o f
Christian experience make the m yth o f the exiled soul more se­
ductive. O n the one hand, Adam w ill be le a and le a the symbol
o f the humanity o f m an ; his innocence w ill becam e a fantastic
innocence, accom panied by knowledge, bliss, and immortality,
whether by nature o r as superadded g ift; at the same time, his
fault, instead o f being a case o f “ going astray,” w ill becom e truly
a “ fall,” an existential downgrading, a descent from the height o f
a superior and actually superhuman status; consequently, Adam’s
fall w ill n o longer b e very different from the fa ll o f the souls in

terms—psychic, terrestrial, corruptible, mortal—designates a creaturely

state which Is not necessarily evil. Moreover, 15:56 covertly connects tins
text with the theme of the inner struggle. Galatians 5:17 seems quite
dualiitic: “For the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against
the flesh: and these are contrary the one to the other: so that ye cannot do
the things that ye would” ; but the following verse allows ns to link tins
dualism with the experience of the inner struggle under the regime of the
law: "But if ye be led id file Spirit, ye are not under the law.”
Plato’s P haedrus, where the soul, already incarnate, falls into an
earthly body. E xcept fo r the im age, the fa ll w ill tend to becam e
confused w ith the exile o f the soul fa r from its previous hom eland.
A t the same tim e as the A dam ic m yth is b a n g altered, C hristian
experience w ill b e transform ed and, in ardor to account fo r its new
qualities, it w ill, so to speak, breathe the air o f the dualistic m yth.
In its ascetic form as w ell as in its m ystical form , Platonizing
Christianity adopts the opposition between contem plation and con­
cupiscence, w hich, in its turn, introduces the opposition between
tiie spiritual soul and the m ortal and raving b od y ; the o ld fear o f
defilem ent and the old fear o f the body and sexuality are taken
over b y the new wisdom. Thus everything that leads the Christian
experience o f a n from pride tow ards concupiscence, also leads it
towards the dualistic myths. I t m ight b e said that Christianity w ill
tend towards the identification o f evil and the bod y (w ithout, it
is true, ever reaching that lim it), fo r the same reasons w hich im­
pelled it to adopt the Greek them e o f the im m ortality o f the soul.
A m ong the m otives fo r that transformation w e ought, n o doubt,
to give a special place to the experience o f death, or rather, o f
dying ^ w ith martyrdom , the experience o f dying w ill reach a point
o f virulence and authenticity w hich has m arked all later spirituality.
N ow m artyrdom , accepted w ith jo y and sometimes desired, inclines
a m an to regard death as the beginning o f true life, the life with
C hrist; b y contrast, the sojourn in this “ valley o f tears” seems to
b e n o m ore than a tim e erf trial and a figure o f evil. T h e purest
desire is to flee from here to the beyond, as it was fo r the Socrates
o f the Gorgias. Thus there w ill b e assembled, within the Christian
experience, the conditions fo r a fusion w ith N eo-P latonic spiritual­
ity, the rem ote h eir o f the m yth o f the exiled soul and the body-
prison. W e shall return later to this three-term ed dialectic o f C hris­
tianity, N eo-Platonism , and gnosis, w hich w e are n ot yet equipped
to understand rightly, because w e have n ot yet brought to light all
the factors involved. M oreover, it belongs to the plane o f m uch
m ore speculative symbols, such as “ m atter,” “ original sin,” “ fall
o f the eons.” A ll o f our analysis m oves on a low er level. I t is
enough to have sketched, on the level o f m ythical symbols, the lines
10 See Gargam, Uamour et la mort (Paris, 1959), pp. 281 S.
o f m otivation w hich, beginning from the internal tensions o f the
A dam ic m yth, incline it toward the m yth o f the exiled soul and
make possible their reciprocal influence-on one another.

But this trend from the A dam ic scheme toward the theme o f die
exiled soul w ould n ot have been possible if the latter, an its
had n ot revealed an extraordinary potency fo r sym bolic transposi­
tion. Severed times w e have alluded to the sym bolic richness o f the
oldest o f the symbols erf evil, the symbol o f defilement. Defilement
is always m ore than a stain, and so it can signify analogically all
the degrees erf the experience o f evil, even to the m ost elalvwatp
concept o f the servile w ill. N ow the over-determ ination o f the sym­
b ol o f the body is not less than that o f the symbol o f defilem m t,
fo r the tw o processes are inseparable. O ne can understand why. If
the essence o f the symbol o f defilem ent is constituted by the tlwmw
o f positiveness, externality, and nan-destructive alteration, the body,
in its turn, can serve as a symbol far the sym bol; it, too, is brought
into existence, it is on the border between the inner and the outer,
it is essentially a producer o f effects. T h at is w hy “ explanation” of
evil by the body always presupposes a degree o f sym bolic transpo­
sition o f the body. W ithout this, the body w ould b e sim ply an »Khi
fo r guilt, as it is when someone invokes character or heredity to
excuse him self. T h e explanation o f evil by the body is n ot an ob­
jective explanation, but an etiological m yth; that is to say, it is
ultimately a symbol o f the second degree. But if that explanation
aims at becom ing scientific, as in m odem times, th a t the ethical
character o f evil action disappears; m an cannot im pute evil to
him self and at the same tim e refer it to the body, without treating
the body as a symbol o f certain aspects o f the experience o f the evil
that he confesses. T h e sym bolic transmutation o f the body is a nec­
essary condition fo r its belonging to the mythics o f evil.
T hat is why it is n ot astonishing that history presents examples
o f the internalization o f the O rphic symbol o f the body-prison,
corresponding to the extern aliration o f the Biblical symbol o f the
fall. Just as S t Paul is on the road that goes from the image o f the
“ fall” to the im age erf the “ flesh,” Plato illustrates the apposite
m ovem ent, leading from the evil body to the unjust soul.
 It w ould b e inexact to Bee in Plato only the accusation against
the body— “ that evil thing w ith w hich our soul is m ixed,” says the
Phaedo— and n ot to recognize the m ovem ent o f review , rectifica­
tion, and internalization o f the previous symbolism o f the body-
prison. A t the «amn tim e as he projects the Socratic analysis o f the
unjust soul into the body, he transmutes the body itself into a sym­
b o l o f the passivity o f the soul. O n the one hand, the idea, w hich
seems to b e purely Socratic, o f “ tending” the soul, or “ taking care”
o f the soul, calls fo r the symbolism o f the b o d y ; “ care” o f the soul
presupposes, in fact, that the soul is like a body threatened by
disease, w hich must b e cared fo r and saved; and so ethics and poli­
tics are com parable to a “ m edicine” o f the soul (Protagoras, 31 l b -
3138, 3 5 6 c-35 7a ). T o this m edical symbol o f “ care o f the soul”
corresponds the symbol o f the “ disease o f injustice” (rd vdmj/ta
•rijs a&xlas, Gorgjias, 4 8 0 b ), and o f the other discordances in the
soul, conceived on the m odel o f derangements o f the hum ors o f
the body. T h e same symbolism governs the idea o f expiation; it
“ relieves” the soul o f its wickedness, as purgation “ relieves” the
body o f its evil humors. T h at is w hy the soul that has been pun­
ished— purged o f its ills b y punishment—is happier than the un­
just soul that has n ot m ade atonem ent; this function o f punishment
supposes that injustice is like a disease and that justice, w hich
administers punishment, is like the art o f healing. H ence, before
the body is the “ cause” o f injustice, its ow n ills are the symbol o f
injustice. It was this m edical m etaphor o f disease and cure, directly
applied to the ills and the care o f the soul, w hich m ade possible,
in the other direction, the philosophical transposition o f the
O rphic m yth o f the body-prison and its transmutation in to a cipher
o f the unjust soul. T h e Socratic soul was ready fo r Plato’ s resump­
tion o f the O rph ic myths. T h a t resum ption marks both a re-immer­
sion o f philosophy in m yth and an advance tow ard a symbolism o f
a higher degree, in w hich the literal m eaning o f the bodily symbol
is increasingly m uted.
T h e progressive transmutation o f the symbol o f the body is quite
visible in a dialogue like the Phaedo> o f w hich it has been said
that it runs through the w hole gam ut o f the degrees o f knowledge.
N ow , just as the meaning o f the soul changes, as one rises above
am ple exhortation, w hich is itself d ose to mythical speech, the
meaning o f the body changes also. A t the first level, it is living in
its totality, and as such, that constitutes evil and form s the ahrahim
contrary o f philosophizing; the body is the counterpole o f thought,
apparently n o innocence is left unsullied by contact with the world,
since it is the body that “ troubles the soul and prevents it from
attaining truth and thought, every tim e w e have HpaKnpt with it”
(6 6 a ); philosophy consists then in the death o f the body, in order
to “ behold things themselves w ith the soul itself’ (6 6 d ); the body
appears to b e pre-eminently the locus o f evil: “ ou r soul is mired
w ith an evil thing” (6 6 b ), it is delivered up to the “ dementia of
the body” (6 7 a ). But even at this low er degree o f knowledge, the
evil influence o f the body does not reside in what today we would
call its m ateriality, n or in its pow er to make contact with things;
rather, w hat is blam ed in that contact is the “ spell” that bewitches
it and thus rivets the soul to the body, making it captive to the
“ contact” : “ T he soul o f every human being, w h at it is intensely
pleased or pained by something, thinks that the particular object
o f its feeling is the clearest and truest thing in the w orld, although
it is not so at all” (8 3 c). H ence, i f the percept is not nmooent,
that is because the feeling that clings to it is n ot innocent either;
and the feeling, in its turn, holds the soul captive because there is
in the soul a dizziness that transforms feeling and perception into
vado<s. It is this dizziness in the soul that precipitates the soul into
a body o f desire (7 9 c ). H ence “ passivity” is secretly an action cf
the soul w hich makes itself a captive, w hich delivers itself up to
im prisonm ent: “ A nd the astonishing thing about this prison, as
philosophy has seen, is that it is the work o f desire and that he
w ho helps m ost to load the prisoner w ith bis chains is perhaps die
prisoner him self” (8 2 e ). I f this is so, it must be admitted that the
soul is “ its ow n torm entor.”
W e are fa r from the myth o f the evil body. O r, rather, the
ethical exegesis o f the myth brings out the over-determination of
the expression “ s8ma” in the m yth; this mythical “ sSma” is already
m ore than body. O f course, the notion o f reincarnation attracts
it tow ard a purely im aginative m ode o f representation, according
to w hich existence is a literal captivity in a series o f corporeal
coverings w hich are put an and taken o ff like a garm ent; but the
practice o f purification already begins to attract the m yth o f the
“ body” in the direction o f meanings that are sym bolic, rather than
literal.
T hat is why, when Plato goes farther u p in the hierarchy o f
degrees o f knowledge, the m eaning o f the body changes w ith the
m eaning o f the soul. T h e soul is n ot only a fugitive that goes from
body to body, wearing them out one after another; it is also— at
1«w t at a level w hich is n ot yet th e level o f dialectics— an existence
characterized by its ‘ likeness” to the Ideas (at a higher level it
w ill b e constituted b y an Idea, tire Id ea o f life ). N ow , i f the soul
is “ that w hich is m ost like” the Ideas, w hich rem ain identical w ith
themselves, the body is “ that w hich is m ost like” that w hich per­
ishes. Just as the soul is in labor w ith regard to being, so the body
is less a thing than a direction o f existence, a counterlikeness:
“ Then the soul is dragged by the body in the direction o f those
things th at never preserve their identity; it wanders about, it is
troubled, its head spins as i f it w ere drunk, because it is in contact
w ith things o f that kind” (7 9 c ). Thus tw o existential movements
are sketched, tw o movem ents governed b y tw o “ likenesses,” by
tw o “ kinships,” one w ith the perishable and one w ith the immuta­
ble. Just n ow w e contrasted the Id ea and the B ody, in a naive way,
as tw o ‘Svorids” ; but the soul itself, w hich is between the tw o, is
m ovem ent tow ard both— a m ovem ent by w hich it attempts to make
itself im m utable b y means o f geom etry and dialectics, and a m ove­
m ent that consists in m aking itself perishable through the v ertig o'
o f desire.
T h at “ something evil” w hich is the body is, then, less a thing
than the direction o f a vertigo, the counterpole o f the likeness o f
the soul to the idea. T he soul makes itself like the order o f perish­
able things, instead o f “ seeking refuge” in the ideas.11

nT he eschatological myth which separates the second and the third

parts of the Phaido itself bears the mark of this advance In reflection. The
unjust sold, arrived in the underworld, hears the trace of its injustice, as
blows that it has inflicted upon itself; it is by these traces in the naked soul
that the judge recognizes the affinity of the soul for its bodyfrA tfujianntM*
81c). This affinity is represented in the myth by the wandering of
die dead man, haunted by the desire for a new body appropriated to its
 W hat is the principle o f this counterlikeness?
T he properly philosophical meaning o f the myth o f the body
must be sought fo r in the direction o f a meditation on “injustice.”
That the dizziness o f desire must be understood thus is already
suggested by the Cratylus. There we find an allusion to an active-
passive dizziness that escapes from a literal interpretation o f the
body-prison and already belongs to an interpretation o f evil as a
positive m ovem ent o f the soul. R eflecting on the perversion o f lan­
guage, the Cratylus evokes the figure— still mythical— o f a drunken
legislator as the source o f the aberrant meanings. I f there is a lan­
guage o f becom ing, if mobilism— itself a perversion o f philosophy
— finds words to express itself and finally to engender itself in ex­
pressing itself, that is because the initiators of- that illusion “ have
themselves fallen into a sort o f w hirlpool where they are agitated
and confused, and they have dragged us in after them” (4 3 9 c).
This text is o f great im portance if one considers that Platonism
is throughout a justification o f language, laying the foundations of
language first in the reality o f meaning, then in the dialectical
structure o f meaning. If, then, man is essentially speech, the “ pas­
sions” o f speech sue cardinal passions. Parmenides had already
noted the bond connecting opinion, error, and confusion in nam­
ing. N ow the “ passions” o f speech are not passive passions, so to
speak. As political life shows, falsifications o f language are active
counterfeitings o f true speech; they constitute a w orld o f para—a
paralogy— a w orld centered on the category o f the Pseudo; they
are “ imitations” o f discussion, o f the restraint im posed by truth,
and o f the agreement o f interlocutors in the same logos. W e see
how this theme o f “ falsehood” reacts on the theme o f “ desire,”
w hich seemed to throw the blam e fo r evil on the body. Desire is
evil only because it is n o longer strictly corporeal; it m ost be
seized by a frenzy o f im m oderation; and im m oderation comes to
desire only through “ falsehood.” T h e tyrant is the living p roof o f
the madness that takes possession o f desire. T h e tyrant, indeed, is
fo r philosophy a m agnitude that is m ore than political and is,
properly speaking, metaphysical, because he is the symbol o f the

care. The txace of the old body is like the habitus of the soul, its customary
manner of being “chained and glued” (82c), “nailed” (83d) to its body.
man w ho has the power to satisfy all his desires; he is the myth
o f unlimited desire— unlimited because it is ministered to by a
pow er that is itself not lim ited by law. N ow the tyrant gives evi­
dence that this body o f desire undergoes a sort o f m utation from
the fa ct o f the unjust soul w hich inhabits it, that desire is a crea­
tion o f injustice and not vice versa.
“ Injustice,” then, and not the “ body” as such, makes detire a
disease o f the souL
W e have now m ade the opposite journey o f the one that led us
from the Socratic idea o f the unjust soul to the idea o f an evil
influence o f the body, taken over from the myths o f defilement.
T h e dizziness that seemed to m ount from the body toward the
soul, in a first philosophical approxim ation that was still close to
the language o f m yth, is really an evil o f injustice, an evil o f false
discourse, w hich paralyzes the soul and delivers it up to the sorcery
o f its suffering. T h e body, then, is no longer the origin o f evil,
but only the “ place” o f the soul’ s captivity, while detire is “ tempta­
tion,” and injustice is the origin o f the evil by w hich the soul makes
itself like its body. Injustice begets the dizziness that disrupts the
original com m unity o f the soul w ith truth, and produces the de­
ceptive likeness o f the soul to its body.
Is it possible to interpret the myth o f the fall in tire Phaedrus
similarly? I think so. T h e opposition between the Biblical fall, con­
strued as a deviation o f the w ill, and the Platonic fall, construed
as a fall into the body, should not be pushed to o far. Otherwise,
besides rem aining a prisoner o f the most literal interpretation o f
“ b o d /’— an interpretation encouraged, it is true, by those Platonic
“ revivals” w hich are closest to the myth,— one does n ot take ac­
count o f the structure o f the myth itself. W e have had occasion to
begin this exegesis in our phenom enology o f fallibility and to note
that the myth is a myth o f “ com position” before being a m yth o f
a “ fall.” By the same token, evil is not exactly outside, in an alien
and seductive body, but inside, in a discordance o f self with self,
tiie decisive philosophical interpretation o f w hich belongs to the
ethical order. T h e soul is com posite and incarnate before the fa ll;
that statement is so true that the p roof o f imm ortality in the
Phaedrus rests on the hypothesis o f a soul that m oves itself in m ov-
 342 THE SYMBOLISM 0 7 EVIL

ing a body under its control. T h e com bination o f a “ self-m over”

and a “ m oved” is, then, prior to evil (2 4 5 c-2 4 6 a ); it characterizes
all the members o f the great heavenly procession— gods, stars, and
human souls: “ H ow does it happen that m ortal and immortal
m erit the nam e o f living being? L et us try to explain this. Soul in
all its species has charge o f all that is soulless” (2 4 6 b ). Thus a
god is “ an im m ortal living being, possessing a soul and a body
which are by nature united forever” (2 4 6 d ). A s to the world-soul,
that “ perfect and ever-winged soul administers the w hole cosmos”
(2 4 6 c). T h e Tim aeus says the same thing (3 4 c~ 3 6 d ): the whole
o f the corporeal is in the soul, n ot the soul in it (3 6 d -e ).
As the soul is from the beginning com posite and corporeal, so
it is from the beginning a m over: “ A s it goes around in the whole
universe, it takes on different form s here and there” (2 4 6 b ). Thus,
the business o f administering the body and d ie w orld is a journey
(lurttaporopti, 246b~ c), and m ore precisely a desire to ascend,
oriented in the opposite direction from heaviness, and to “ lead
upward that w hich is heavy” (2 4 6 d ). It is here, in the “ composi­
tion” that precedes the fall, that the nascent disagreement between
the rational and the em otional appears. This disagreement is not
between the soul and the body, but is in the soul itself. H ence, it
does not differ fundam entally from what w e have called above
the double likeness inscribed in the soul. T hat double likeness has
only been enriched by a new trait that brings the “ com position”
o f the soul in the Phaedrus closer to the tripartite division o f the
soul in d ie R epublic, IV , where the frailty o f the soul, its original
-AT*

am bivalence, is connected w ith an interm ediate, “ ambiguous1’ func­

tion, Ovpd«, w hich sums up in itself the double soliritaton o f the
soul. Thus the soul is originally a dram atic or polem ic multiplicity,
in w hich feeling does n ot play the role o f a principle o f evil, but
rather o f a principle o f fallibility o r temptation.
T hat is why the “ fall” o f the Phaedrus is n ot a fa ll in to em o­
tionality or into the body, but a fall into the “ earthy.” T h e “ earthy”
is in the opposite direction from the “ heavenly” — that is to say,
from the intelligible truth towards w hich Eros tends. T h e earthy
is the contrary o f philosophical Eros.
It can be said, however, that the human souls are the only ones
in the procession w hich seem to b e afflicted by a prim ordial grace­
lessness, w hile the gods have an "easy ascent” and the m ovem ent
o f their contem plation is naturally perfect, the m ixture in the
human souls prior to their faO is already a discordant u n ion ; the
soul is already distended between the heaviness o f its Team and
the gracefulness o f its W ings.
Thus the fall seems to be, by turns, a consequence o f tins pri­
m ordial discord o r a new cropping-up o f the evil o f injustice. As
in Kierkegaard’s C oncept o f Dread, the “ passage” from “ com posi­
tion” to “ fall” — I w ould say: from fallibility to fault— is by turns,
or even at the same tim e, a subsequent m isfortune o r an unfore­
seeable “ leap.” But the Biblical m yth o f the toll also com bined
the continuous progression from tem ptation to fau lt and the dis­
continuous outburst o f the act itself. I f the fall were only the
inevitable effect o f a graceless constitution, evil w ould be entirely
reducible to the original indigence w hich, according to the Sym­
posium , attended the birth o f E ros; it w ould b e the O ther o f the
W ord w hich the last dialogues evoke. N eo-Platonism understood
it thus, without, how ever, being able to elim inate the inner defec­
tion o f the soul, w hich surrenders itself to that O ther. But then
“ conversion” w ould be incom prehensible, if it did not crane from
the same source as corruption, as K ant rightly saw.
Everything leads to the conclusion that the philosophical point
o f the m yth is the suggestion that the “ earthy” signifies the cap­
tivity im posed an the soul by itself, the “ w orld” in St. John’ s sense,
the “ flesh” (and the “ body” ) in S t Paul’s sense. In short, it is
“ injustice” w hich predom inates in the philosophical exegesis o f the
earthy, just as it is the earthy “ body” that m ythically symbolizes
injustice.
T h e R epublic resolves the am biguity in favor o f the philosophical
exegesis. T h e idea that injustice is the peculiar evil o f the soul is
like the basso continuo o f that collection o f dialogues (I , 352c-
354a; IV , 4 3 4 c-4 4 5 b ). N ow , the evil o f injustice is properly the
passage from original discord to civil w ar, w hile, inversely, justice
consists in “ becom ing one from many” (4 4 3 e ). E vil, then, is the
consecration o f m ultiplicity in ourselves. Book X draws tire most
radical consequences therefrom : this evil does not destroy the soul,
 as corruption destroys the body, but, so to speak, consecrates and
eternalizes its unhappiness; only the send is an exception to the
rule that evil destroys the thing o f w hich it is the corruption
(6 0 9 a ); the soul is that being w hich is not made to die by its eviL
This evil, then, cannot be foreign to the soul, but must be its ow n;
n o longer the body, but injustice.
W e have developed to considerable length the Platonic trans­
position o f the O rphic myth.18 F or the reader instructed by the
prophets o f Israel and the Christian Kerygm a, it represents an
inflection o f the symbolism o f the “ evil b od y " is the direction af
the theme o f “ evil choice,” and at the same tim e it helps to malm
intelligible the contam ination by each other o f the tw o mythical
cycles, that w hich gravitates around the prim ordial “ Anthropas”
and that w hich begins with the m ythology o f the “ body-prison.”
I f w e adm it that, in S t Paul and S t John, the "flesh” is more
than the physical body and the “ w orld” m are than the universe
o f things, it is fair to read Plato with the same understanding for
the symbolism and the same irony. Consequently, the difference
between the “flesh” according to S t Paul and the “ body” accord­
ing to Plato tends to vanish. W e d o not say, however, that there
is n o difference; fo r just as S t Paul is preserved from the gnosis
o f the evil body by his Adam ic m ythology, Plato is separated from
the Biblical conception o f evil by his attachment to the Greek can-
cepton o f Desire, to Xoyurrusw and to hrtOvfajrtKov constitute
the fundam ental polarity o f existence according to Book TV cf
the R ep u blic; the Rational and the Desirous form a pair o f con­
traries in w hich the second term tends to take up in to itself every­
thing that blocks and resists thought. That is why the “ concupisri-
ble” in Plato cannot coincide exactly w ith the “ flesh” according
is We have not carried this transposition beyond right opinion to the
dialectical level, in order not to step out of the framework of hermeneutics
that limits our present investigation. In Book III we shall return to the
Platonic “metaphysics” and to the speculative ciphers it proposes: "neces­
sity,” “errant cause,” the “inferior gods,” the “other soul,” the “unlimited,"
the “other,” the “metempirical choice,” etc. We shall see that that meta­
physics erects symbols of a higher degree upon the phenomenology of de­
sire and injustice which has found its expression in a resumption of the
Orphic myth.
to S t Paul, fo r the latter includes, besides the passions in the
Greek sense, m orality and wisdom when they becam e “ self-right­
eousness.” T h e Socratics— the Cynics and the Cyrenaics, am ong
others—inoculated G reek thought w ith a suspicious attitude to­
w ard pleasure w hich is altogether foreign to the m orality o f the
Prophets; the latter is m ore sensible o f pride than o f concupiscence.
H ence the contribution o f Aristotle, w h o restated the problem
o f pleasure and directed ethical reflection on pleasure toward the
activity o f w hich pleasure is only the bloom o r the premium, is so
m uch the m ore valuable; w e shall com e back to it. But Stoicism ,
in spite o f Epicurus, led ethical reflection back into the old groove
o f the Cynics. Thus there is a line o f force in Greek thought w hich
goes from the Socratics through Plato to the Stoics, according to
w hich evil is the passivity o f desire, rather than active evil w ill.
That is why this type o f thought has a natural affinity to the O rphic
m yth, rather than to the A dam ic m yth. T hrough the O rphic myth,
it prolongs the symbolism o f defilem ent and the tradition o f m ystico-
ritual purifications, rather than the Biblical symbolism o f sin. T h e
w hole series o f treatises on the “ passions o f the soul” is contained
in germ in this old pact between Greek philosophy o f the Platoniz-
in g type and the myth o f the soul exiled in the prison o f an evil
body.
*

* *

Is this attempt to view all the myths in the perspective o f a

dom inant m yth entirely satisfactory? W e d o not pretend that it
is. I f it w ere, that w ould m ean that the hermeneutics o f myths can
take the place o f systematic philosophy, w hich is n ot the case. T h e
universe o f the myths remains a broken universe; n ot being able to
unify the m ythical universe o n the basis o f one o f these myths
alone, imaginative and sympathetic understanding, w ithout per­
sonal appropriation, often remains as the thinker’ s only resource.
Besides, alternatives w hich cannot he settled by a simple passage
from the statics to the dynamics o f the myths subsist at the flection
o f each o f the pairs that w e have constructed in order to get the
dynamics going.
 T h e failure o f our undertaking challenges us to pose the more
radical problem o f the m ethod o f a philosophy which would learn
from the symbols and yet be fully rational.
O ne thing that w e have acquired, at the end o f our exercise in
hermeneutics, is a conviction that the three myths o f chaos, of
divine blinding, and o f exile, reveal the hyper-ethical dimension
o f the myth o f the fall and so indicate the limitations o f any “ phi­
losophy o f the w ill” w hich tries to remain an ethical vision o f the
world. T he myth o f the fall needs those other myths, so that die
ethical G od it presupposes may continue to be a D eus Abscondxtus
and so that the guilty man it denounces m ay also appear as the
victim o f a mystery o f iniquity which makes him deserving of
Pity as well as o f W rath.
 Conclusion: T h e Symbol

Gives Rise to Thought

at th e end o f our double approach— through the abstract descrip­

tion o f fallibility and through the “ re-enactm ent” o f the religious
consciousness o f fault— the question arises: H ow shall w e continue?
T h e hiatus between pure reflection on "fallibility” and the con­
fession o f “ sins” is p aten t Pure reflection makes n o appeal to any
myth o r sym bol; in this sense it is a direct exercise o f rationality.
But com prehension o f evil is a sealed book fo r it ; d ie reflection is
pure, but it leaves everyday reality outride, insofar as man’ s every­
day reality is "enslavement to the passions.” O n the other hand,
the enigma o f servile freedom is avowed by d ie religious conscious­
ness, but at the p rice o f a m ethodological rupture in the continuity
o f reflection. N ot only does the confession o f sins appeal to a differ­
ent quality o f experience, but it has recourse to a different language,
w hich w e have shown to be sym bolic through and through. Is it
posable, after this rupture, to com e back to pure reflection and to
pm-irb it with all that we have gained from the symbolic knowledge
o f evil?
T h e question is difficult, fo r w e are required to advance between
tw o hazards. O n the one hand, it is not posable am ply to juxtapose
reflection and confession; it is n ot possible to interrupt philosophi­
cal discourse, as Plato does, by fanciful stories, and to say: here
discourse ends, there myth begins. Lachelier is right: philosophy
must com prehend everything, even religion. Philosophy, in fact,
cannot stop along the w ay; it has sworn at the start to be consist­
en t; it must keep its promise right to the a id . But neither is it
possible to have a direct philosophical transcription o f the religious
symbolism o f evil, fo r that would involve going back to an allegor­
izing interpretation o f the symbols and the myths. W e have already
insisted that the symbol does n ot conceal any hidden teaching that
only needs to be unmasked fo r the images in w hich it is clothed to
becom e useless. Between these tw o impasses, w e are going to explore
a third way— a creative interpretation o f meaning, faithful to the
im pulsion, to the gift o f meaning from the symbol, and faithful
also to the philosopher’s oath to seek understanding. This is the
road, requiring patience and rigor on our part, w hich is indicated
by the aphorism inscribed at the head o f this conclusion: “ T h e
symbol gives rise to th ou gh t”
That sentence, w hich enchants m e, says tw o things: the symbol
gives; but what it gives is occasion fo r thought, something to think
abou t
T h e symbol gives: a philosophy instructed by myths arises at a
certain m om ent in reflection, and, beyond philosophical reflection,
it wishes to answer to a certain situation o f m odem culture.
Recourse to the archaic, the nocturnal, the oneiric, w hich is also,
as Bachelard says in his P oitiqu e de VEspace, a way o f approaching
the birthplace o f language, represents an attempt to escape the
difficulties o f a radical beginning in philosophy. T h e beginning is
not what one finds first; the point o f departure must be reached,
it must be w on. Understanding o f symbols can play a part in the
m ovem ent towards the point o f departure; fo r, if the beginning is
to be reached, it is first necessary fo r thought to inhabit the fullness
o f language. W e know the harassing backward flight o f thought
in search o f the first truth and, m ore radically still, in search o f a
point o f departure that m ight w ell not he a first truth. T h e illusion
is not in looking fo r a point o f departure, but in looking fo r it
without presuppositions. There is n o philosophy without presuppo­
sitions. A m editation on symbols starts from speech that has already
taken place, and in w hich everything has already been said in some
fashion; it wishes to be thought w ith its presuppositions. F or it, the
first task is n ot to begin but, from the midst o f speech, to remem­
b e r; to remember w ith a view to beginning.
M oreover, this task has a precise meaning now , at a certain stage
in philosophical discussion, and, m ore broadly, in connection with
certain traits o f ou r “ modernity.” T h e historical m om ent o f the
philosophy o f symbols is th at o f forgetfulness and restoration. For­
getfulness o f hierophanies, forgetfulness o f the signs o f the sacred,
loss o f m an him self insofar as he belongs to the sacred. T h e forget­
fulness, w e know, is the counterpart o f the great task o f nourishing
m en, o f satisfying their needs by mastering nature through a plane­
tary technique. It is in the age when ou r language has becom e
m ore precise, m ore univocal, m ore technical in a w ord, m ore suited
to those integral form alizations w hich are called precisely symbolic
logic, it is in this very age o f discourse that w e want to recharge
our language, that w e want to start again from the fullness o f lan­
guage.
T hat also is a gift o f our “ m odernity,” fo r w e m odem s are the
heirs o f philology, o f exegesis, o f the phenom enology o f religion,
o f the psychoanalysis o f language. T h e same epoch holds in reserve
both the possibility o f emptying language by radically form alizing
it and the possibility o f filling it anew by rem inding itself o f the
fullest meanings, the m ost pregnant ones, the ones w hich are most
bound b y the presence o f the sacred to man.
I t is n ot regret fo r the sunken Atlantides that animates us, hut
hope fo r a re-creation erf language. Beyond the desert erf criticism ,
w e wish to b e called again.
But w hat the symbol gives rise to is thmking. A fter the gift,
positing. T h e aphorism suggests at the same tim e that everything
has already been said enigm atically and yet that it is always neces­
sary to begin everything and to begin it again in the dimension
o f thinking. It is this articulation o f thought given to itself in the
realm erf symbols and erf thought positing and thinking that consti­
tutes tiie critical point erf our w hole enterprise.
H ow can w e make the symbol the starting-point o f our thinking,
if it is n ot an allegory? H ow shall w e disengage from the symbol
an “ other,” if it is, as Schdling says, tauftf-garical? W hat w e need
is an interpretation that respects the original enigm a erf the sym-
b ob , that lets itself be taught by them, but that, beginning from
there, promotes the meaning, form s the meaning in the fu ll respon­
sibility o f autonom ous thought
Such is the problem : how can thought be bound and free at the
same tim e? H ow can the im m ediacy o f the symbol and the medi­
ation o f thought be held together?
T h e enterprise w ould be a hopeless one if symbols were radically
alien to philosophical discourse. But symbols are already in the
element o f speech. W e have said sufficiently that they rescue feel­
ing and even fear from silence and confusion; they provide a
language fo r avow al, fo r confession; in virtue o f them, man remains
language through and through. T hat is n ot the m ost im portant
thing: there exists nowhere a sym bolic language without h om o*
neutics; wherever a man dreams o r raves, another man arises to
give an interpretation; what was already discourse, even i f inco­
herent, is brought into coherent discourse by hermeneutics. In this
respect, the hermeneutics o f m odem men is continuous with the
spontaneous interpretations that have never been lacking to sym­
bols. O n the other hand, what is peculiar to the m odem hermeneu­
tics is that it remains in the line o f critical thought But its critical
function does not turn it away from its appropriative fun ction ; I
should say, rather, that it makes it m ore authentic and m ore per­
fe c t T h e dissolution o f the m yth as explanation is the necessary
way to the restoration o f the myth as symbol. Thus, the tim e o f
restoration is n ot a different tim e from that o f criticism ; w e are in
every way children o f criticism , and we seek to go beyond criticism
by m Bnn o f criticism , by a criticism that is n o longer reductive
but restorative. T hat is the purpose which animated Schelling;
Sehleiermacher, D ilthey, and today, in various ways, Leenhardt,
van der Leeuw , filiade, Jung, Bultmann. T oday w e have a m ore
acute awareness o f the immensity o f the wager o f this hermeneu­
tics. O n the one hand, it represents the advanced point o f criticism,
as an awareness o f the myth as myth. By that awareness it hastens
the movem ent o f dem ythologization, w hich is only the counterpart
o f an ever m ore rigorous decision about what is history according
to the historical m ethod; dem ythologization is the irreversible gain
o f truthfulness, intellectual honesty, objectivity. O n the other hand,
m odem hermeneutics entertains the project o f a revivification o f
philosophy through contact w ith the fundam ental symbols o f con­
sciousness.
D oes that m ean that w e cou ld go back to a prim itive naivete?
N ot at all. In every w ay, something has been lost, irrem ediably
lost: im m ediacy o f belief. But if w e can n o longer live the great
symbolisms o f the sacred in accordance w ith the original belief in
them, w e can, w e m odem m en, aim at a second naivete in and
through criticism . In short, it is by interpreting that w e can hear
again. Thus it is in hermeneutics that the symbol’ s gift o f meaning
and the endeavor to understand by deciphering are knotted to­
gether.
H ow does hermeneutics m eet the problem ?
W hat w e have just called a knot— the knot where the symbol
gives and criticism interprets— appears in hermeneutics as a circle.
T h e a id e can b e stated bluntly: “ W e must understand in order
to believe, but w e must believe in order to understand.” T h e
a id e is not a vidou s d rd e , still less a m ortal on e; it is a living
and stimulating d rd e . W e must believe in order to understand:
never, in fact, does the interpreter get near to w hat his text says
unless he lives in the aura o f the m eaning he is inquiring after. As
Bultmann very w ell says in Ins fam ous artide on “ the problem o f
hermeneutics” in Glauben ttnd V erstehen: “ A ll understanding, like
all interpretation, is . . . continually oriented by the m anner o f
poring the question and by what it aims at [by its W oraufhin].
Consequently, it is never without presuppositions; that is to say, it
is always directed by a prior understanding o f the thing about
w hich it interrogates the text. It is only on the basis o f that prior
understanding that it can, in general, interrogate and interpret.”
A n d again: “ T h e presupposition o f all understanding is the vital
relation o f the interpreter to the thing about w hich the text speaks
directly or indirectly.” In insisting on this coin dden ce w ith the
W oraufhin, w ith the thing about w hich the text speaks, Bultmann
warns against a confusion w hich w ould consist in identifying tins
participation in the meaning w ith some psychological coin dden ce
between th e interpreter and the “ particular expressions o f life,”
according to Dfithey’s expression. It is not a kinship o f one life
 T B S SYMBOLISM OF EVIL
358
with another that hermeneutics requires, but a kinship o f thought
w ith what the life aims at— in short, o f thought w ith the tiling
which is in question. It is in this sense that w e must believe in
order to understand. A nd yet, it is only by understanding that we
can believe.
F or the second im m ediacy that w e seek and the second naivete
that we await are no longer accessible to us anywhere else than
in a herm eneutics; we can believe only by interpreting. It is the
“m odem ” m ode o f belief in symbols, an expression o f the distress
o f m odernity and a remedy fo r that distress.
Such is the circle: hermeneutics proceeds from a prior under*
standing o f the very thing that it tries to understand by interpret­
ing it. But thanks to that circle in hermeneutics, I can still today
com m unicate with the sacred by m aking explicit the prior under­
standing that gives life to the interpretation. Thus hermeneutics,
an acquisition o f “ m odernity,” is one o f the m odes by w hich that
“m odernity” transcends itself, insofar as it is forgetfulness o f the
sacred. I believe that being can still speak to me— n o longer, of
course, under the precritical form o f im mediate belief, but as the
second im m ediacy aimed at by hermeneutics. This second naivete
aims to be the postcritical equivalent o f the precritical hieropbany.
T h e conjunction o f belief and criticism furnishes, as a conse­
quence, the second interpretation o f the sentence we are meditat­
ing o n : “ T h e symbol gives rise to thought.” A nd this conjunction is
a c i r c u l a r relation between a believing and an understanding. W e
see, then, with what prudence one can speak o f 1‘demythologiza-
tion” ; it is legitim ate to speak o f “ demythologizing” if dem ytholo-
gizing is distinguished carefully from “ dem ythidring.” AH criticism
“ demythologizes” insofar as it is criticism ; that is to say, it always
adds to the separation o f the historical (according to the rules o f
the critical m ethod) and the pseudo-historical. W hat criticism con­
tinually endeavors to exorcize is the logos o f the mythos (fo r exam­
ple, the representation o f the universe as a series o f places, one
above the other, with the earth in the m iddle, the heavens above,
and hell b e lo w ). As an advance post o f “ modernity,” criticism can­
not help being a “ demythologization” ; that is an irreversible gain
o f truthfulness, o f intellectual honesty, and therefore o f objectivity.
 CONCLUSION: THE SYMBOL GIVES RISE TO THOUGHT 353

But it is precisely because it accelerates the m ovem ent o f “ de-

m ythologizatian” that m odem hermeneutics brings to light the
dimension o f the symbol, as a prim ordial sign o f the sacred; it is
thus that it participates in the revivification o f philosophy through
contact w ith sym bols; it is one o f the ways o f rejuvenating philoso­
phy. This paradox, in accordance w ith w hich “ demythologizatian”
is also a recharging o f thought w ith the aid o f symbols, is only a
corollary o f what w e have called the circle o f believing and under­
standing in hermeneutics.

These reflections on the “ circle” in hermeneutics put us on the

road to a philosophical hermeneutics, but they d o not take its place.
T h e awareness o f that “ circle” is only a necessary stage by w hich
w e pass from a am ple “ re-enactm ent” without belief to autono­
mous “ thought”
There is, indeed, a w ay o f understanding symbols w hich, in a
sense, remains within the sym bolic m ode. T h is is the case o f all
purely com parative phenom enology that lim its itself to understand­
in g symbols through symbols. Such an understanding, w ithin the
symbols, is necessary fo r the purpose o f breaking w ith explicative
and reductive thinking, and indeed it is sufficient fo r a descriptive
phenom enology, fo r it is already a w ay o f understanding, insofar
as it examines, retains, connects; fo r it, there is a “ w orld” o f
symbols. T o understand, fo r it, is to display the m ultiple and
inexhaustible intentions o f each symbol, to discover intentional
analogies between myths and rites, to run through the levels o f
experience and representation that are unified by the symbol.
This m ode o f understanding, o f w hich filiade’ s works provide
very good examples, tends to place the symbols in a w hole which
is hom ogeneous w ith the symbols, but vaster, and w hich form s a
system on the plane o f the symbols themselves. O u r analysis o f the
symbols and myths o f human evil belongs to that sort o f under­
standing, insofar as it is a life o f thought devoted to its symbols.
But it has n ot been possible to lim it ourselves to such under­
standing o f symbols in symbols. There the question o f truth is un­
ceasingly eluded. Although the phenom enologist m ay give the name
o f truth to the internal coherence, the systematidty, o f the w orld
o f symbols, such truth is truth w ithout belief, truth at a distance,
reduced, from w hich one has expelled the question: d o 1 believe
that? what d o I make o f these sym bolic meanings, these hieropb-
anies? That question cannot be raised as long as one remains at
the level o f camparativism, running from one symbol to another,
w ithout oneself being anywhere. T hat level can only be an inter­
m ediate stage, the stage o f understanding in extension, panoramic
understanding, curious but not concerned. It has been necessary
to enter into a passionate, though critical, relation with the truth-
value o f each symbol.
Thus, the transition to philosophical hermeneutics was begun
when w e passed from the statics to the dynamics o f the mythical
symbols. T h e w orld o f symbols is n ot a tranquil and reconciled
w orld ; every symbol is iconoclastic in com parison w ith some other
symbol, just as every symbol, left to itself, tends to thicken, to be­
com e solidified in an idolatry. It is necessary, then, to participate
in the struggle, in the dynamics, in w hich the symbolism itself
becom es a prey to a spontaneous hermeneutics that seeks to tran­
scend i t It is only by participating in this dynamics that compre­
hension can reach the strictly critical dimension o f exegesis and
becom e a herm eneutic; but then one must abandon the position—
or rather, the exile— o f the rem ote and disinterested spectator, in
order to appropriate in each case a particular symbolism.
W ell, then, w e have left the plane o f truth without belief and
com e to the circle o f hermeneutics, to the believing far the sake
o f understanding w hich is also understanding fo r the sake o f believ­
ing. I entered that circle as soon as I adm itted that I read the
ensemble o f the myths from a certain point o f view , that the mythi­
cal space was fo r m e an oriented space, and that m y perspective
angle was the pre-em inence o f the Jewish confession o f sins, its
symbolism, and its m ythology. By that adoption o f one m yth, the
appropriation o f all o f them becam e posable, at least up to a cer­
tain point.
But that appropriation, in revealing its circular character, re­
quires in its turn to be transcended. T h e exegete, as exegete, can
live indefinitely within the circle, as the com parativist can practice
endlessly the ep o ch i o f truth and live in neutralized belief. But the
philosopher, w ho elsewhere practices rigorous consistency in reflec­
tion, cannot stop at this stage; awareness o f the herm eneutic circle
has tom him away from the conveniences o f neutralized belief.
But this is to instigate him to think with the symbols as a starting-
poin t, and n o longer in the symbols.
H ow shall w e get beyond the “ circle o f hermeneutics” ? By trans­
form ing it in to a wager.
I wager that I shall have a better understanding o f man and o f
the bond between the being o f m an and the being o f all beings
if I follow the indication o f sym bolic th ou gh t That wager then
becom es the task o f verifying m y w ager and saturating it, so to
speak, w ith intelligibility. In return, the task transforms m y w ager:
in betting on the significance o f the sym bolic w orld, I bet at the
same tim e that my wager w ill be restored to m e in pow er o f reflec­
tion, in the element o f coherent discourse.
Then there opens before m e the field o f philosophical hermeneu­
tics properly so called: n o longer an allegorizing interpretation that
pretends to find a disguised philosophy under the im aginative gar­
ments o f the m yth, but a philosophy that starts from the symbols
and endeavors to prom ote the m eaning, to form it, by a creative
interpretation. I shall venture to call that endeavor, at least pro­
visionally, a “ transcendental deduction” o f symbols. Transcendental
deduction, in the Kantian sense, consists in justifying a concept by
showing that it makes possible the construction o f a dom ain o f
objectivity. N ow , if I use the symbols o f deviation, wandering, and
captivity as a detector o f reality, if I decipher m an an the bads o f
the m ythical symbols o f chaos, m ixture, and h ill, in short, i f I
elaborate an em pirics o f the servile w ill under the guidance o f a
m ythology o f evil existence, then I can say that in return I have
“ deduced” — in the transcendental m eaning o f the w ord— the sym­
bolism o f human evil. In fact, the symbol, used as a means o f de­
tecting and deciphering human reality, w ill have been verified by
its pow er to raise u p, to illum inate, to give order to that region
o f human experience, that region of confession, w hich w e were too
ready to reduce to error, habit, em otion, passivity— in short, to one
or another o f the dimensions o f finitude that have n o need o f the
symbols o f evil to open them up and discover them. But the ex-
 356 THE SYMBOLISM 0 7 EVIL

pression, “ transcendental deduction o f symbols,” is not absolutely

satisfactory; it orients us toward the idea that the justification o f
the symbol by its power to reveal constitutes a am ple augmenta­
tion o f self-awareness, a simple extension o f reflexive circumscrip­
tion, whereas a philosophy instructed by the symbols has far its
task a qualitative transformation o f reflexive consciousness. Every
symbol is finally a hierophany, a m anifestation o f the bond between
man and d ie sacred. N ow in treating the symbol as a simple re-
vealer o f self-awareness, w e cut it a d from its ontological function;
w e pretend to believe that “ know thyself’ is purely reflexive,
whereas it is first o f all an appeal by which each man is invited
to situate him self better in being—in Greek terms, to “ be wise.”
As the Charmides o f Plato says: “ T h e G od [at D elphi], by way o f
salutation, says to them, in reality: B e w ise; but, as a soothsayer,
he says it in enigm atic form . B e w ise and K n ow thyself are funda­
mentally the same thing, as appears from the text and as I main­
tain. But one m ay be deceived about it ; and that is what happened
to the authors o f the follow ing inscriptions: N othing too much and
T o stand surety fo r som eone invites m isfortune. R egarding K now
thyself as advice and n ot as a salutation o f the god, they trished
to contribute their share o f good advice and so they m ade those
dedicatory inscriptions” ( 165a).
Finally, then, it is as an index o f the situation o f m an at the
heart o f the being in w hich he moves, exists, and wills, that the
symbol speaks to us. Consequently, the task o f the philosopher
guided by symbols w ould be to break out o f the enchanted en­
closure o f consciousness o f oneself, to end the prerogative o f self­
reflection. T h e symbol gives reason to think that the C ogito is
within being, and n ot vice versa. Thus the second naivetfi w ould
be a second C opem ican revolution: the bring w hich pouts itself
in the C ogito has still to discover that the very act by w hich it
abstracts itself from the w hole does n ot cease to share in the being
that challenges it in every symbol. A ll the symbols o f guilt— devia­
tion, wandering, captivity,— all the myths— chaos, blinding, m ix­
ture, fall,— speak o f the situation o f the bring o f man in the bring
o f the world. T he task, then, is, starting from the symbols, to elabo­
rate existential concepts— that is to say, n ot only structures o f reflec-
tion b at structures o f existence, insofar as ex isten ce is the bring o f
m a n . Then the problem w ill arise, how the quasi-being and the
quasi-nothingness o f human evil are articulated upon the being o f
m an and upon the nothingness o f his finitude.
If, then, w e call the elaboration o f an em pirics o f the servile w ill
a transcendental deduction, the transcendental deduction itself
must be inscribed in an ontology o f finitude and evil that elevates
the symbols to the rank o f existential concepts.
Such is the wager. O nly he can ob ject to this m ode o f thought
w ho thinks that philosophy, to begin from itself, must be a philoso­
phy w ithout presuppositions. A philosohy that starts from the full­
ness o f language is a philosophy w ith presuppositions. T o be honest,
it must m ake its presuppositions explicit, state them as beliefs,
wager on the beliefs, and try to make the w ager pay o ff in under­
standing.
Such a wager is the contrary o f an apologetics that pretends to
lead reflection, w ithout a break, from knowledge toward belief. A
philosophy that begins w ith symbols proceeds in the opposite direc­
tion, in accordance with an essentially Anselmian schema. It finds
man already settled, w ith a prelim inary tide, within its foundation.
H is being there m ay appear contingent and restricted. W hy sym­
bols? W hy these symbols? But, beginning from this contingency
and restrictedness o f a culture that has h it upon these symbols
rather than others, philosophy endeavors, through reflection and
speculation, to disclose the rationality o f its foundation.
O nly a philosophy first nourished cm the fullness o f language
can subsequently be indifferent to the m odes o f approach to its
problem s and to the conditions o f its activity, and rem ain con­
stantly concerned w ith thematizing the universal and rational struc­
ture o f its adherence.
 Epilogue:

Religious

Perspectives

I ts M eanin g an d P urpose

this is a r e pr in t o f V olum e X V II o f the R eligious P erspectives

Series, w hich the present w riter has planned and edited in collabo­
ration w ith a Board o f Editors consisting o f W . H . A uden , K a r l
barth , M ar tin C . D ’A r c y , C h risto ph er D aw son , C . H . D odd ,
M ir c e a E llade, M uham m ad Z a f r u lla K h a n , A lexan d re K oyre ,
J acques M a r ita in , J ames M uilenburo , Sa r v e p a l l i R ad h ak -
rishnan , G ershom S cholem , D . T . S uzu ki, P a u l T il lic h .

R eligious P erspectives represents a quest for the rediscovery o f

man. It constitutes an effort to define man’s search for the essence
o f being in order that he may have a knowledge o f goals. It is an
endeavor to show that there is no possibility o f achieving an under­
standing o f man’s total nature on the basis o f phenom ena known by
the analytical m ethod alone. It hopes to point to the false antinom y
between revelation and reason, faith and knowledge, grace and
nature, courage and anxiety. M athem atics, physics, philosophy,
biology and religion, in spite o f their almost com plete independence,
have begun to sense their interrelatedness and to becom e aware o f
that m ode o f cognition w hich teaches that “ the light a not without
but w ithin me, and I m yself am the light.”
M od em man is threatened b y a w orld created by himself. He
is faced w ith the conversion o f m ind to naturalism, a dogmatic
secularism and an opposition to a belief in the transcendent. He
begins to see, however, that the universe is given not as one existing
and one perceived but as the unity o f subject and object; that the
barrier between them cannot b e said to have been dissolved as the
result o f recent experience in the physical sciences, since this barrier
has never existed. C onfronted w ith the question o f m eaning, he is
summoned to rediscover and scrutinize the im m utable and the
perm anent w hich constitute the dynam ic, unifying aspect o f life
as w ell as the principle o f differentiation; to recon cile identity and
diversity, im m utability and unrest. H e begins to recognize that just
as every person descends b y his particular path, so he is able to as­
cend, and this ascent aims at a return to the source o f creation, an
inward hom e from w hich b e has becom e estranged.
It is the hope o f R eligious P erspectives that the rediscovery
o f m an w ill point the w ay to the rediscovery o f G od . T o this en d a
rediscovery o f first principles should constitute part o f the quest.
These principles, not to be superseded b y new discoveries, are not
those o f historical w orlds that com e to b e and perish. T h ey are to
be sought in the heart and spirit o f m an, and no interpretation o f a
m erely historical or scientific universe can guide the search. R e l i ­
gious P erspectives attempts not only to ask dispassionately w hat
the nature o f G od is, but also to restore to hum an life at least the
hypothesis o f G od and the symbols that relate to him . It endeavors
to show that m an is faced w ith the m etaphysical question o f the
truth o f religion w hile he encounters the em pirical question o f its
effects on the life o f hum anity and its meaning fo r society. R eligion
is here distinguished from theology and its doctrinal form s and is
intended to denote the feelings, aspirations and acts o f m en, as they
relate to total reality.
R eligiou s P erspectives is nourished b y the spiritual and in­
tellectual energy o f w orld thought, b y those religious and ethical
leaders w ho are not m erely spectators but scholars deeply involved
in the critical problem s com m on to all religions. These thinkers
360 THE SYMBOLISM OF EVIL

recognize that human m orality and human ideals thrive only when
set in a context o f a transcendent attitude tow ard religion and that
by pointing to the ground o f identity and the com m on nature o f
being in the religious experience o f man, the essential nature o f
religion m ay be defined. Thus, they are com m itted to re-evaluate the
m eaning o f everlastingness, an experience w hich has been lost and
w hich is the content o f that visio Dei constituting the structure o f all
religions. It is the many absorbed everlastingly into the ultimate
unity, a unity subsuming what W hitehead calls the fluency o f G od
and the everlastingness o f passing experience.
These volum es w ill seek to show that the unity o f w hich we speak
consists in a certitude em anating from the nature o f m an w ho seeks
G od and the nature o f G od w ho seeks man. Such certitude bathes
in an intuitive act o f cognition, participating in the divine essence
and is related to the natural spirituality o f intelligence. This is not
by any means to say that there is an equivalence o f all faiths in the
traditional religions o f human history. It is, however, to emphasize
the distinction between the spiritual and the tem poral w hich all
religions acknowledge. For duration o f thought is com posed o f
instants superior to tim e, and is an intuition o f the perm anence o f
existence and its metahistorical reality.
R e lig io u s P e r spe c tiv e s is therefore an effort to explore the
meaning o f G od, an exploration w hich constitutes an aspect o f man’ s
intrinsic nature, part o f his ontological substance. T he Series grows
out o f an abiding concern that in spite o f the release o f man’ s
creative energy w hich science has in part accom plished, this very
science has overturned the essential order o f nature. Shrewd as man’ s
calculations have becom e concerning his means, his ch oice o f ends
w hich was form erly correlated w ith belief in G od, with absolute
criteria o f conduct, has becom e witless. G od is not to be treated as
an exception to m etaphysical principles, invoked to prevent then-
collapse. H e is rather their ch ief exem plification, the source o f all
potentiality. T h e personal reality o f freedom and providence, o f w ill
and conscience, may demonstrate that “ he w ho knows’ ’ com m ands
a depth o f consciousness inaccessible to the profane m an, and is
capable o f that transfiguration w hich prevents the twisting o f all good
to ignom iny. This religious content o f experience is not within the
province o f science to bestow ; it corrects the error o f treating the
scientific account as if it were itself metaphysical or religious, it
challenges the tendency to make a religion o f science— or a science
o f religion— a dogm atic act w hich destroys the m oral dynam ic of
m an. Indeed, m any m en o f science are confronted with unexpected
im plications o f their ow n thought and are beginning to accept, for
instance, the trans-spatial nature o f events w ithin spatial matter.
R eligious P erspectives attempts to h o w the fallacy o f the
apparent irrelevance o f G od in history. T h e Series submits that no
convincing im age o f m an can arise, in spite o f the m any ways in
w hich hum an thought has tried to reach it, without a philosophy o f
human nature and hum an freedom w hich does not exclude G od.
H ub im age o f Homo cum Deo im plies the highest conceivable freedom ,
the freedom to step into the very fabric o f the universe, a new form ula
for man’ s collaboration w ith the creative process and the only one
w hich is able to protect man from the terror o f existence. This image
im plies further that the m ind and conscience are capable o f making
genuine discrim inations and thereby m ay reconcile the serious ten­
sions between the secular and religious, the profane and sacred. The
idea o f the sacred lies in what it is, timeless existence. By emphasizing
timeless existence against reason as a reality, we are liberated, in our
com m union w ith the eternal, from the otherwise unbreakable rule
o f “ before and after.” Then w e are able to admit that all forms, all
symbols in religions, b y their negation tit error and their affirmation
o f the actuality o f truth, make it possible to experience that knowtng
w hich is above know ledge, and that dynam ic passage o f the universe
to unending unity.
T h e volum es in this Series w ill seek to challenge the crisis which
separates, to make reasonable a religion that binds and to present
the num inous reality w ithin the experience o f man. Insofar as the
Series succeeds in this quest, it w ill direct mankind toward a reality
that is eternal and away from a preoccupation w ith that which is
illusory and ephem eral.
F or m an is now confronted w ith his burden and his greatness:
“ H e calleth to m e, W atchm an, what o f the night? W atchman,
362 THE SYMBOLISM OF EVIL

what o f the night?” 1 Perhaps the anguish in the human soul may
be assuaged by the answer, by the assimilation o f the person in G od :
“ T he m orning com eth, and also the night: if ye w ill inquire, inquire
ye: return, com e.” *
R trra N an d a A nshen
New York, 1960

1 Isaiah 21 :11.
* Ibid., 21 :12.