Commentary on the First Part of Psalm 1. Basil the Great

-St. Basil the Great “All Scripture is inspired by God and profitable” (2 Tim. 3:16), written by the Holy Spirit so that in it, as in a common infirmary for souls, all we humans might find healing—each for our own affliction. For it is said: “Healing shall cover great sins” (Eccl. 10:4). Yet the Prophets teach one thing, the historians another; the law instructs in one way, while another offers admonition through parables. The book of Psalms, however, encompasses the benefits of all books. It prophesies the future, recalls past events, provides laws for life, and sets forth rules for action. In short, it is a universal treasury of good teachings, carefully seeking what is beneficial for each person. It heals the ancient wounds of the soul, swiftly restores the recently afflicted, revives the ailing, and sustains the unharmed; in general, as far as possible, it subdues the passions that, under various forms, dominate human souls. And in doing so, it produces a quiet delight and pleasure in a person, rendering the mind chaste. The Holy Spirit knew that leading humanity to virtue is difficult and that, due to our inclination toward pleasure, we neglect the right path. So what does He do? He blends the sweetness of melody with teachings, so that, along with the delightful and harmonious sound, we might imperceptibly receive what is profitable in the word. Just as wise physicians, when giving bitter medicine to those who resist it, often coat the cup with honey, so too these harmonious psalmic hymns were devised for us. Children in age, or those immature in character, may seem merely to sing them, but in truth, they train their souls. Hardly any common person, especially the careless, leaves here easily retaining an apostolic or prophetic commandment in memory, but psalm verses are sung in homes and proclaimed in marketplaces. Even if someone, like a beast, rages with anger, as soon as their ear is soothed by a psalm, they depart, their soul’s ferocity immediately tamed by the sweet melody. A psalm is the calm of souls, the dispenser of peace; it quiets rebellious and turbulent thoughts, softens the soul’s irritability, and chastens intemperance. A psalm is a mediator of friendship, a bond between the distant, a reconciler of enemies. For who can still regard as an enemy one with whom they have raised a single voice to God? Thus, psalmody grants us one of the greatest blessings—love—by devising communal singing as a bond of unity, bringing people together into one harmonious choir. A psalm is a refuge from demons, an entry under the protection of angels, a weapon against nightly terrors, a rest from daily toils, safety for infants, an ornament in youth, a comfort for the elderly, and the most fitting adornment for women. It populates deserts and brings sobriety to marketplaces. For beginners, it is the foundation of learning; for the progressing, an increase in knowledge; for the perfected, a confirmation. It is the voice of the Church. It brightens festivals and produces “godly sorrow” (2 Cor. 7:10). For a psalm draws tears even from a heart of stone. It is the work of angels, a heavenly fellowship, a spiritual incense. This is the wise invention of the Teacher, who arranged that we might sing and learn what is profitable at the same time. Thus, lessons are better imprinted in our souls. What is learned under compulsion does not endure long, but what is received with pleasure and delight takes root more firmly in the soul. What can you not learn from the Psalms? Will you not discover the grandeur of courage, the rigor of justice, the integrity of chastity, the perfection of prudence, the form of repentance, the measure of patience, and every good thing you might name? Here is perfect theology, a prophecy of Christ’s coming in the flesh, a warning of judgment, the hope of resurrection, the fear of punishment, promises of glory, and revelations of mysteries. All, as if in a great and universal treasury, is gathered in the book of Psalms, which the Prophet adapted to the so-called psaltery, signifying, as it seems to me, that it resounds with the grace bestowed from above by the Spirit. For in this one musical instrument alone, the source of sound is at the top. In the lyre and timbrel, the bronze resonates below under the bow, but the psaltery has the source of its harmonic modes above, so that we too might seek the things above, not drawn by the pleasure of singing into fleshly passions. Moreover, the prophetic word, I believe, profoundly and wisely shows through the very structure of this instrument that those with beautiful and well-tuned souls can readily ascend to the things above. Let us now consider the beginning of the Psalms. “Blessed is the man, which went not unto the counsel of the ungodly.” Builders of houses, raising great structures to the sky, lay foundations proportionate to the height. Shipwrights, preparing a vessel to carry heavy loads, strengthen its hull in accordance with the weight of the cargo. In the birth of animals, the heart, naturally formed first, is fashioned by nature to suit the future creature, so the bodily tissue forms around the heart in proportion to its own principles, resulting in the varying sizes of animals. What the foundation is to a house, the hull to a ship, or the heart to an animal’s body, such power, it seems to me, this brief preface holds for the entire composition of the Psalms. Since the psalmist, as the discourse continues, intends to exhort us to many things that are difficult and filled with countless struggles and efforts, he first points the devout to the blessed end, so that, in hope of the blessings prepared for us, we might bear the sorrows of this life with ease. So too, for travelers on rough and impassable roads, their labor is lightened by the expectation of a comfortable haven; merchants are emboldened to venture into the sea by the desire for goods; and for farmers, the hope of a fruitful harvest makes their toils bearable. Thus, our common Guide in life, the Great Teacher, the Spirit of Truth, wisely and skillfully sets forth rewards in advance, so that, looking beyond the labors at hand, we might hasten in thought to enjoy eternal blessings. Such is life: it has neither constant pleasures nor enduring sorrows. This path is not your possession, nor is the present yours. Among travelers, it is the custom that as soon as one takes a step, another follows, and then the next. See, is life not like this? Today you cultivate the land, tomorrow another will, and after them yet another. Do you see these fields and magnificent buildings? How many times since their existence have they changed names! Once called the property of one, then renamed after another, passing to a new owner, and now bearing the name of yet another. Is not our life, then, a path on which some enter, then others, all following one after another? Therefore, “blessed is the man… that stood not on the path of sinners.” What does it mean to “not stand”? A person in their early years is neither vicious nor virtuous, for that age is incapable of either state. But when reason matures within us, then is fulfilled what is written: “When the commandment came, sin revived, and I died” (Rom. 7:9–10). For then arise wicked thoughts, born in our souls from fleshly passions. Indeed, the commandment comes—that is, the knowledge of good is acquired—and if it does not overcome evil thoughts but allows reason to be enslaved by passions, then sin revives, and the mind dies, made dead through transgression. Therefore, blessed is the one who has not lingered “on the path of sinners” but, through good understanding, has ascended to a godly life. There are two paths, opposed to one another: the broad and spacious path, and the narrow and sorrowful path. There are also two guides, each striving to draw us to themselves. On the smooth and downward path, the guide is deceitful—a wicked demon who, through pleasures, leads those who follow him to destruction. On the rough and steep path, the guide is a good angel who, through the toils of virtue, leads those who follow to a blessed end. While each of us is a child, chasing what delights in the present, we care little for the future. But having become mature, when understanding is perfected, one sees, as it were, that life divides before them, leading either to virtue or to vice; and often, turning the soul’s eye upon them, one discerns what pertains to virtue and what to vice. The life of sinners displays all the pleasures of this present age. The life of the righteous reveals only the blessings of the age to come. The path of the saved promises as many future blessings as it presents present toils. But a life of sensuality and intemperance offers not what is hoped for later but pleasure already at hand. Thus, every soul is caught in a whirl and cannot remain steadfast amid its thoughts. When it considers the eternal, it chooses virtue; when it turns its gaze to the present, it prefers pleasure. Here it sees ease for the flesh, there its subjection; here drunkenness, there fasting; here unrestrained laughter, there abundant tears; here dancing, there prayer; here flutes, there sighs; here fornication, there virginity. Since true goodness is grasped by reason only through faith (for it is far from us—neither eye has seen it, nor ear heard it), while the sweetness of sin is at hand, and pleasure enters through every sense, blessed is the one who is not drawn to destruction by the allurements of pleasure but with patience awaits the hope of salvation and, when choosing between paths, does not tread the one leading to evil. “And sat not in the seat of the pestilent.” Does this refer to the seats on which we rest our bodies? What relation does wood have to sin, such that I should avoid a seat previously occupied by a sinner as something harmful? Or should we understand the “seat” as a steadfast and persistent lingering in the approval of sin? This we must guard against, for zealous persistence in sin produces in souls a certain incorrigible habit. A long-standing passion of the soul or a thought of sin confirmed by time is healed with difficulty or becomes entirely incurable when habits, as often happens, turn into nature. Therefore, we should desire not even to touch evil. The other path is to flee from temptation at once, as from an archer’s arrow, as Solomon writes of the evil woman: “But leap back, tarry not… neither set thine eye upon her” (Prov. 9:18). I know some who, in youth, stumbled into fleshly passions and, even to gray hairs, remain in sin through habit. Like swine wallowing in mire, continually covering themselves with more filth, so these, through sensuality, heap new shame upon themselves daily. Thus, it is a blessed thing not even to think of evil. But if, ensnared by the enemy, you have admitted ungodly counsels into your soul, do not stand in sin. And if you have fallen into that, do not establish yourself in evil. Therefore, sit not “in the seat of the pestilent.” If you understand what Scripture means by “seat”—namely, prolonged abiding in evil—then consider whom it calls “pestilent.” Of a plague, those knowledgeable say that if it touches one person or beast, it spreads through contact to all who draw near. Such is the nature of this disease that all are infected with the same affliction from one another. So it is with deeds of iniquity. By transmitting the disease to one another, all suffer the same malady and perish together. Have you not seen fornicators sitting in marketplaces, mocking the chaste, recounting their shameful deeds, their pursuits worthy of darkness, and listing their instances of dishonor as if they were exploits or virtues? These are the scornful, who strive to pass their own vice to all and endeavor to make many like themselves, so as to escape reproach when vices become common. Fire, touching flammable material, cannot but consume it all, especially if a strong wind carries the flame from one place to another. So too, sin, touching one person, cannot but spread to all who draw near when wicked spirits fan it. Thus, the spirit of fornication does not stop at dishonoring one but soon draws in companions: feasts, drunkenness, shameful tales, and an indecent woman who drinks with them, smiles at one, seduces another, and inflames all to the same sin. Is this contagion small, or the spread of such evil trivial? And one who imitates a usurer or a person who, through some other vice, has gained significant power in society—becoming a ruler of peoples or a military leader and then indulging in the most shameful passions—does not the one who imitates him take ruin into their soul by adopting the vice of the one they emulate? A prominent position in society displays, alongside itself, the life of those in view. Soldiers often imitate their commanders, citizens take examples from their leaders; and generally, when many deem a single person’s vice worthy of imitation, it is fitting to say that a certain ruin of souls spreads through them. For sin in a prominent figure draws many susceptible people to follow suit. Since one borrows corruption from another, such people are said to destroy souls. Therefore, sit not “in the seat of the pestilent,” do not partake in the gatherings of those who corrupt morality and bring ruin, do not remain in the company of those who counsel evil! But my discourse has lingered thus far on this single preface, and I observe that its abundance has exceeded due measure, such that it would be difficult for you to retain in memory if more were said, and for me, due to my inherent weakness, it is hard to continue this service of words, for my voice fails me. Yet, though what we have discussed remains unfinished, though I have shown what evil must be fled but have not spoken of how to grow perfect through good deeds, nevertheless, submitting what has been said to your gracious attention, I promise, with God’s help, to complete what is lacking, provided no complete silence is imposed upon me. May the Lord grant us a reward for what has been spoken and you the fruit of what you have heard, through the grace of His Christ, for to Him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen. source