regard the first creation story as a divinely inspired text and proceed accordingly in their close reading of it throughout the Hexameron. Where modern scholars focus on issues such as the relationship between the priestly account of creation (the modern designation given to the first creation story that was edited into its present form by the priests during the Babylonian exile) and the ancient Babylonian creation story Enuma Elish, Basil and Ambrose approach the text with an eye toward spiritual truth and moral exhortation. This becomes immediately apparent as we read their commentary on the events described during the first day of creation: the spirit of God sweeps over the waters on the formless earth covered in darkness; God separates the light from the darkness, and day and night are created. Relying on a Syrian interpreter whom he trusts, Basil argues that the spirit or wind of God sweeping over the waters might be better understood as “warmed with fostering care” as in the case of “a bird brooding upon eggs and imparting some vital power to them as they are being warmed” (II.6). This powerful maternal image of God suggests a vision of the world imbued with the life-giving power of God. Ambrose emphasizes the moral lesson found in the opening verses of Genesis: humans, not God, created evil. “If evil has no beginning, as if uncreated or not made by God, from what source did nature derive it?” It stems from our deviation from the path of virtue. “Our adversary is within us, within us is the author of error, locked, I say, within our very selves. Look closely on your intentions; explore the disposition of your mind; set up guards to watch over the thoughts of your mind and the stupidities of your heart” (I.8.31).
Basil and Ambrose continue to draw spiritual and moral lessons from each of the subsequent days in the creation story. No element of the created order is too insignificant for our contemplative consideration. The assessment of the Greek Orthodox theologian Doru Costache regarding Basil applies equally well to Ambrose: “the exploration of creation and the effort to picture a worldview ultimately became for St. Basil a quest for the marks of the Creator’s wisdom and the meaning of human life.”11 The variety of trees, for example, reflects the differences between virtuous and deceitful persons. While we may marvel at the symmetry of the pine cone, says Ambrose, the tamarisk tree reminds us that duplicitous individuals often intermingle with people of good will. “For, just as there are men everywhere who are double-dealers at heart, who, while they show themselves to be gracious and unaffected in the presence of good men, cleave to those who are most vicious—so in a similar way these plants have a contrary tendency to spring up in both well-watered regions and in desert lands. That is why [Jeremiah] compared dubious and insincere characters to tamarisks” (III.16.69). Likewise, crabs stealthily place a pebble within the shell of the oyster to prevent it from closing, and then insert their claw and devour the oysters. “There are men who, like the crab, exercise surreptitiously their guile on others and fortify their own weaknesses by the use of certain inherent characteristics. Thus they weave a web of deceit around their brethren and find their sustenance in another’s anxieties” (V.8.23). The natures of various birds, too, provide models of human virtue and vice. We should emulate the love and care of the bird known as the waterfowl who “adopts the nestling of the eagle when disowned or not recognized and allows him to mingle with her own brood. She exercises over him the same maternal care as she does her own, providing food and nourishment impartially” (V.18.61).
Basil and Ambrose: Differences in Biblical Interpretation
There are literally dozens of similar moral reflections offered by Basil and Ambrose based on the nature of various plants, sea creatures, and land animals, but they do have one key difference in their respective approaches to biblical interpretation.12 Basil preferred staying close to the “literal meaning” of the text, though we might today describe it as “the plain meaning.” Ambrose on occasion employs an allegorical interpretation that allows for pairing different elements in the biblical story to persons or events outside the passage under consideration. These two methods of biblical interpretation have traditionally been associated with two different centers of thought in the ancient world: the literal with the city of Antioch and the allegorical favored by readers in Alexandria. Scholars today, however, insist that this distinction does not always hold up in practice, so it needs to be understood as a generalization.
Basil expresses his reservation regarding the use of allegory in Homily IX.13 “I know the laws of allegory, although I did not invent them of myself, but have met them in the works of others. Those who do not admit the common meaning of the Scriptures say that water is not water, but some other nature, and they explain a plant and a fish according to their opinion. They describe also the production of reptiles and wild animals, changing it according to their own notions, just like the dream interpreters, who interpret for their own ends the appearances seen in their dreams” (IX.1). According to Basil, sticking to the plain meaning of the text guards against the introduction of wild speculation into the act of interpretation. The historian Philip Rousseau describes Basil’s starting point: “one had to take the text at face value . . . simply, without burrowing away to find difficulties and complexities that were not there. The truth, Basil felt, was by its nature ‘naked’ and therefore easily discovered.”14 The waters above the firmament and waters below the firmament are simply that: water. Those who regard the waters above the dome as powers praising God, while regarding the waters that have fallen to earth as powers of malice, are introducing false and dangerous ideas. Rather, “let us consider water as water” (III.9).
In the course of his commentary on the creation of the heavenly bodies, Ambrose offers an allegorical interpretation in which the moon represents the church and the sun represents Christ. “Deservedly is the moon compared to the Church, who has shone over the entire world and says as she illuminates the darkness of this world: ‘the night is far advanced, the day is at hand.’ . . . Looking down, then, the Church has, like the moon, her frequent risings and settings. She has grown, however, by her settings and has by their means merited expansion at a time when she is undergoing diminution through persecution and while she is being crowned by the martyrdom of her faithful” (IV.8.32). The moon, of course, does not produce its own light, but merely reflects the light of the sun. In the same way, “Not from her own light does the Church gleam, but from the light of Christ. From the Sun of Justice has her brilliance been obtained, so that it is said: ‘It is now no longer I that live, but Christ lives in me’” (IV.8.32). As the patristics scholar Michael Heintz observes, “[A]llegory, rather than being for Ambrose simply a means around the awkwardness of the literal sense, functioned catechetically as a vehicle through which his hearers saw the events recorded in the Scriptures as enacted in the present-day life of the community, particularly in its sacramental or ritual life; that is, allegory served to engage his listeners more deeply in the liturgical life of the local church.”15 For example, the Spirit sweeping across the waters at creation is a foreshadowing of the Spirit moving over the waters of baptism. Allegory, therefore, provided the link by which Ambrose joined the narrative world of the Bible with the world inhabited by those who crowded into the cathedral in Milan to hear him preach.
Basil and Ambrose’s Aesthetic Vision of Creation
Despite their differences regarding the appropriateness of offering an allegorical interpretation, Basil and Ambrose share a deep conviction that “the world is a work of art, set before all for contemplation, so that through it the wisdom of Him who created it should be known” (Basil, I.7). Both thinkers employed a variety of artistic metaphors when speaking about the relationship between God and the created order. God is the divine Artist (Ambrose, I.6.22); the artistry and order of the natural world guide us in forming an idea about God who is the source of all beauty and wisdom (Basil I, 11), and every element of the created order, depending on the preferred metaphor in that homily, lends its voice to a hymn praising God, adds its step to a dance celebrating God (Ambrose, III.4.18), or offers another chapter unfolding God’s story of salvation (Basil, 9.2). Basil’s opening comments to his congregation at the start of his sixth homily captures his sense
