He saw the world – and especially our inner world – as a kind of living midrash, a constant interpretation of the Torah and reality itself. And in his unique way, he understood the creatures described in the Torah as representing something far deeper.
Think about the creeping things, those animals that move close to the ground. Philo, in his Midrash of Philo, divides them into two categories: the venomous and the domestic. The venomous ones? Those are your snakes, creatures that move on their bellies. But the domestic ones? Those are the little critters with legs, the ones that can stand, even if they're low to the ground.
Now, Philo isn't just interested in zoology here. He's using these creatures as metaphors. The "creeping things," he says, represent our vices, our base desires. But here's the twist: even among these "creeping things," there's a distinction. Some bring death, others bring life.
He associates the "foul vices" with the venomous creatures. But what about the "clean" ones? These, Philo says, represent joy.
Think about that for a moment. Even within the realm of our desires, there's a spectrum.
He goes on to break it down further. Concupiscence, that intense longing? Connected to that, Philo says, is joy and pleasure. Desire? Linked to will and counsel. Sorrow? Connected to goading, that feeling of being pushed, and compunction, that pang of regret. And avidity, that insatiable hunger? Tied to fear.
It's a complex web, isn't it? Philo isn't saying that desire or sorrow are inherently bad. He's saying that these emotions, these "disordered perturbations of the passions," can threaten our souls with destruction. They can make us crawl, like those venomous snakes.
But the joys? They actually live. They give life to those who possess them. Philo, as he often does, uses allegory to warn us.
So, what does this mean for us today? Maybe it’s a reminder to examine our inner landscape. To recognize those "creeping things" within us – the desires, the sorrows, the fears. To discern which ones are venomous, dragging us down, and which ones, surprisingly, might be connected to something life-giving.
It's a call to awareness, a reminder that even in the depths of our emotions, there's the potential for joy, for life. And that, perhaps, is the most important thing of all.