On Providence

-St. Basil the Great

In the ordinances of the Lord there is contained as abundant wisdom as the creatures are manifold or alike among themselves. To enumerate them all in detail would be as impossible as attempting to count the waves of the sea or measure its waters with the hollow of one’s hand. For who could describe exhaustively even the properties that pertain only to the life of birds? How the storks all arrive in our lands at one and the same time, and depart again under a single leader—an action that almost resembles rational understanding. How our crows surround them (in my judgment, escorting them and in some manner aiding them against hostile birds). Proof of this is, first, that at this season not a single crow is to be seen; second, that they return wounded, bearing clear marks of the battles and defence they have undertaken. Who has established among them the laws of hospitality? Who has threatened them with condemnation for deserting military duty, so that not one remains behind without escorting them?

The cranes keep watch by turns: some sleep while others walk the circuit and provide perfect safety for those sleeping. When their time of watching is ended, the watcher utters a cry and falls asleep; another takes his place and renders the same security he himself enjoyed. This same orderly discipline may be observed in their flight: the one who has led the way for the appointed time returns to the rear of the flock and hands over the guidance to another who takes his place.

But you who disbelieve the transformation that shall come after the resurrection, call to mind that horned worm of India and clearly understand the resurrection. And you who mock our mystery as though it were impossible and contrary to nature that a Virgin should give birth and yet remain inviolate, consider that God, for our instruction, that we might believe His wonders, has beforehand set forth countless proofs drawn from nature itself. For example, He gave vultures the ability to bear young without any mingling of sexes—young that are moreover long-lived, their life extending even to a hundred years. Thus in all things He has given us clear foreshadowings of His miracles.

Even among the fish there is a certain rational and well-ordered system. Each kind has its way of life appointed by nature, and they dwell in the regions of the sea assigned to them as though in cities or villages or ancient fatherlands. Some fish even undertake migrations: as though sent out by common counsel, they all depart together under a single law. For as soon as the appointed season for spawning arrives, various fishes from various bays, impelled by a common law of nature, hasten toward the northern sea. At the very time of their passage, when they gather and stream through the Propontis into the Euxine, you may behold them like a river. Who urges them on? What royal authority? What edicts proclaimed in the marketplace announce to them the pre-established time? Who escorts them? Do you see the divine ordinance that fills all things and extends even to the least of creatures? The fish does not disobey the law of God; yet we men do not keep His saving teachings.

Do not despise fish because they are voiceless and wholly without reason; rather fear lest you prove yourself more senseless than they when you resist God’s ordinance. No kind of fish is furnished with teeth only on the lower jaw, as the ox and sheep are with us, nor does any of them chew the cud—except the scarus, as some report. Yet all fish are equipped with frequent and sharp teeth so that food may not be dissolved by the water through prolonged chewing. For if it were not swallowed quickly after being broken up, it would dissolve in the water while still being chewed. Hear, then, what the fish almost proclaim by their actions: “We are sent on this far journey that our kind may be preserved forever.” They have no reason, yet they possess a natural law deeply imprinted in them, showing what they must do. “Let us go,” they declare, “to the northern sea. Its water is far sweeter than others, for the sun, lingering but little over it, does not draw out all its pleasantness with its rays. Sweet waters are agreeable to sea creatures as well.” For this reason they often swim up into rivers and go far from the sea. For this very cause they prefer the Pontus to other gulfs, since it is suited to the bearing and rearing of their young. And when their desire is fully accomplished, they all return together to their own places.

But what, let us hear from the voiceless, is the reason for this return? “The northern sea,” say the fish, “is shallow, exposed to strong winds, and has few shores or refuges; therefore winds easily disturb it even to its depths, so that the waves stir up the very sand from the bottom. Moreover, it grows cold in winter, being filled by many great rivers. For this cause, having moderately enjoyed its waters in summer, we hasten again for winter to the warm places that are in the depths of the sea and to regions warmed by the sun.” Thus escaping the stormy blast of the north wind, they make for bays less disturbed, as though to havens.

I myself have seen this and marvelled at the wisdom of God that is in all things. If irrational creatures provide for their life, if the fish knows what it must do and what avoid, what shall we say—we who are endowed with reason, instructed by the law, assured by promises—yet order our affairs more senselessly than the fish? For they in a manner foreknow the future; we, having no faith concerning things to come, pass our life in bestial pleasures.

When we consider how much care irrational creatures, without any teaching but moved only by nature, devote to preserving their life, should we not ourselves be stirred to guard our own lives and to care for the salvation of our souls? Or shall we desire all the more to be condemned when we are found incapable even of imitating the very beasts?

The she-bear, often sorely wounded by deep gashes, heals herself with great cunning by applying to the wounds herbs of a drying nature. Behold how the fox cures itself with pine-resin. The tortoise, having over-eaten of viper’s flesh, rids itself of the poison by eating marjoram, which has the contrary property. The serpent itself heals its dimmed eyes by eating fennel. Oxen, long confined through winter, when spring approaches know by natural instinct the change and look out from their stalls toward the exit, all altering their appearance as though at some given signal. Sheep, when winter draws near, eat their fodder greedily, as though laying up food against future want.

What does this teach us men? That there is in irrational creatures a certain foreknowledge of the future, that we too may not cling to the present life but direct all our care toward the age to come. Why else does the lamb, leaping out of the fold among countless sheep, recognise its mother’s voice, run to her, and seek the milk of its own source? Though it find its mother’s teats exhausted, it is content with them and passes by many others, even though they be laden with milk. Why also does the ewe recognise her own among thousands of lambs? The voice is the same, the wool alike, the smell—to our sense of smell—identical in all. Assuredly they possess some sense keener than our understanding, by which each recognises its own.

The young puppy has no teeth yet, but already defends itself with its snout against an aggressor. The calf has no horns yet, but already knows where its future defence will grow. This is because God their Creator has compensated their lack of reason with greater power of sensation.

We must not blame the Creator because He has made venomous creatures that are deadly and harmful to our life. Can one reproach a guardian of youths because, in training their inclinations to constancy, he corrects their intemperance with blows and wounds? When you put your trust in the Lord, by faith you have power to tread on serpents and scorpions (Luke 10:19). Did you not see how the viper that fastened on Paul’s hand as he gathered dry sticks did him no harm, because that holy man was filled with faith (Acts 28:3–6)? But if you are faithless, fear your own unbelief more than the beast, for through it you have made yourself vulnerable to every destruction.

Whatever calamity we suffer, we suffer by God’s appointment. God will assuredly not deliver us into the power of evil forces to torment us. He Himself determines the measure of chastisements, proportioning them to the strength of those punished. Therefore we call all things sent down to us for our good from the divine authority “the working of all-accomplishing grace.” For there is nothing that God does not foresee or leave uncared for: His watchful eye looks upon all things, He is present everywhere, bestowing health.

It is therefore most fitting for us now to cry out with the prophet: “How magnificent are Thy works, O Lord! In wisdom hast Thou made them all” (Ps 103/104:24).

To Thee belong glory, honour, and majesty, O Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, now and ever and unto the ages of ages. Amen.