Nisibis 51

On the melody "O Jacob" of the Separated Ones With a small locust you struck my brothers, who were clothed in the garment of sins, that it might thresh the good seed, and the farmers were commanded: Do not take it, nor uproot it. And the farmers also delayed; the seed grew from the locusts, increased and multiplied and covered his field. O Righteous One: to you praise, all of it. The book of Bar Dayṣan struck me, and I was compelled to fill an hour. I arranged my pure hands, and made a finger a passage for a discourse full of blasphemy. I ran again, I washed my finger in a pure and clean reading of the writings of divinity. I heard from that reader, when he blasphemed against Patience and against the daughter of her spouse, Grace. For if the body does not stand, it is an evil disgrace to Grace, that her daughter is as to a scandal; and it is a blasphemy against Patience, that her daughter is as to a ruin. That reader was distressed, indeed, for soul and body equally, that he cast the loves of the beloved ones, the separation that cut off hope. From the body he stripped its feeling, and from the soul its partner, and from the orphan he cast a serpent. Bar Dayṣan called profit a reading, and where it spreads, it kills. One body guilty of death it is; where it kills its own self, all bodies of the sons of men descend to the great sea. The sea cannot mix with it, that by the power of the waters it might wash away the killing that killed its own self. How many bitter murderers were to the weak body!

He killed Cain first and gave his sword, the slayer, to the others who dwelt with him, and behold, he came in his youthfulness. All his disciples who were with him killed the teacher who taught from himself, openly with swords and also secretly with tongues. Cain killed first and the avenger after him. The bitter serpent sweetened his tongue when it killed him, and also his bitter disciples killed him with a sweet tongue. The good grace of your chosen one, O Jacob, the body for your youthfulness. Cast the serpent from Paradise and also his young from the kingdom. That one, your slayer, from life and also these from support. The serpent ran toward the beginning and his disciples toward the end. The self, however, which is clothed in the body, is very cautious in it, lest one separate from the other. In these transitory lives, how can one who is to be sustained endure in the end without them? For his debt does not allow it to be deprived of its support. See how their word is both composed and dissolved when it is hastened by the sword and also by the swift runner. Woe to the serpent's young who saw from the serpent because of the murderous body, whose life ought to have been spent as its support was spent. For the sparks of the helpers, the helpers come when they are stirred. To them is the tax collector, to them is the persecutor of the judge. Upon them the penitent falls. The body is honored in scripture; it is beloved also in lamentation. In it one is cautious also in the mind.

He also pursued the creator, the slayer of Abel, the body. The evil one began his chariot, which taught what is evil, his destruction, the image of the form of goodness, in the body of the serpent, which makes him serpentine. In his body the slayer learned to destroy the temple, the builder. And woe, the slayer is pursued, not because he killed the self, the beginning, its beginning, like their word, and woe, the creator was a slayer. Where did the son of Jesse flee, who in the school mocked his teacher and killed the body from life, which is given in fever? By his counsel he killed the first, and also the second by his teaching. That one he killed like a potter, and also these like helpers, the teachers in their youthfulness, made partners of the serpent, ready to shame the sons of the serpent, like their first father. In the limbs and senses of the body, the self learns all good things, and woe, the body is the helper, as it were. Good things are wrought by its hand, and woe, in its tears it is the deceiver, as it were, truth is learned in it, which is not given to the day. What is the tool of remembrance for its work? For the writer does not write a book with the sword of a farmer, nor does a painter paint with the saw of a carpenter, nor does a physician heal an eye with the crooked saw of a scorpion, nor does a butcher cut meat with the bone of a serpent and a hook. Everything, indeed, is properly with the tool that gives it life, and with the sense that shares in it, it is properly accomplished. Also the body, if it is sinful, there is none who can be justified in it, the righteous who were adorned in it.

He also pursued the serpent that oppressed him.