that this includes the silence of the soul, which is the opposite of that wandering mind, which so often accompanies mere silence of speech (11–13). But that the wise have a right to boldness of speech is shewn emphatically in the story of Moses, and here Philo quotes several of his pathetic appeals to God and concludes that such appeals are the mark of the “friend of God” (14–21). Yet in Abraham’s words there is a sense of pious awe or caution (εὐλάβεια) as well as boldness. Philo notes the term “Master” connoting a greater degree of fear than “Lord,” and thence passes on into an impassioned meditation expressing the combination of awe and gratitude, which the words “Master what wilt thou give me?” (which he takes in the sense of “what more canst thou give, who hast given all?”) call up in the mind of the devout worshipper (15–22). And in the same way he treats the verse, “Shall I depart childless?” Shall I, that is, be denied the spiritual offspring of higher thought? Shall I have no heir but the son of Masek (34–39).
Thus we are necessarily led to the interpretation of Masek the “homeborn” and her son. The name means “from a kiss” and kiss (φίλημα) differs from love (φιλεῖν) as marking a lower and less genuine kind of affection (40–41). Thus it may stand for the life of sense, which the wise will regard as a servant, but not love (42). Philo then gives two examples where “kiss” (καταφιλεῖν) signifies the kiss of insincerity, while φιλεῖν shews true affection, and then introduces somewhat inappropriately his favourite parable of the Hated and the Beloved Wife (Deut. xxi. 15–17), the latter of whom he identifies with Masek (45–49) and touches on the analogy
between the two wives and Leah and Rachel (50). Masek’s son Damascus represents all of us who honour Sense. The name means “Blood of sackcloth” and thus symbolizes the animal or “blood”-life as opposed to the life of mind and reason (52–57). Damascus is also called Eliezer (God is my help) which signifies the inability of the blood-life to maintain itself without God’s help. And again his inferiority is marked by the absence of any named father (58–62).
Abraham’s question then means “can this blood-life be the heir of higher things?” and the profound inward conviction symbolized by the voice of God answers—No, not that, but he that shall come out of thee shall be thy heir (63–68). These words Philo audaciously understands to mean that the “heir” must come out of, or leave, that is surrender and dedicate to God, not only body, sense and speech,a but his whole self (69–74). What the inheritance is is shewn by the next words, “He led him forth outside and said, ‘Look (or ‘See’) up into heaven,’” for heaven is another name for the treasure-house of divine blessings, as it is called in Deuteronomy (75–76), and to be able to “see” up to this is the privilege of the true Israel which does not like its unworthy representatives in the wilderness refuse to “look to the Manna,” preferring the onions and fishes of Egypt (76–80). As for the phrase “He led him up out outside,” there is no tautology, for since we may well be called both outside and inside, if our inward feelings are not in accord with our outward actions, so the phrase shews that the Abraham-mind