Therefore, the apostle spoke concerning the Gentiles, stating, "According to the vanity of their minds" (Eph. 4:17). But is this not also an expression of their belief? Do they not prostrate themselves before wood and stone? God fashioned the sun to illuminate our lives, much like a lamp. Who then would worship a mere lamp? The sun shines from its own essence; when it falters, the lamp takes over. So why not honor the lampstand? But someone might argue that they revere the lamp itself. One cannot help but laugh at such dishonor; is there no shame in this? Moreover, why do they extinguish what they claim to honor? What do they destroy by putting their deity to death? Why not allow it to fill their entire homes with its presence? If fire is divine, then one should immerse oneself in it rather than confine their god to a pot or cauldron. Bring it into your inner chambers, to the place where your fine garments are kept. Yet, not only do you fail to welcome it, but if it should happen to enter your space, you drive it away, calling upon others to help you, crying and wailing, as if a monstrous creature has visited you. When your god approaches, you see it as a terrible misfortune. I have my God, and I strive to embrace Him; it brings me joy not only when He visits my home but also when I draw Him into my very heart. Let the fire reside there as well. This is absurdity and folly! Fire serves a purpose; it is not meant for adoration, but for utility and servitude to me, not for dominion over me. It exists for my benefit, not the other way around. If you venerate fire, why do you rest on your bed while making your cook wait upon your god? You could be a cook, a baker, or even a blacksmith; nothing should be more esteemed than these trades, for your god himself oversees them. Why honor that profession in which your god is so actively involved? Why delegate it to servants and reserve not that honor for yourself? Fire is valuable because it is created by a benevolent Creator, but it is not divine. It is a work of God, yet not God Himself. Can you not see its relentless nature? When it rages through a home, it leaves destruction in its wake until it is subdued by human hands. It knows neither ally nor foe, wreaking havoc indiscriminately. Such is the deity you worship—and are you not embarrassed? Truly, the apostle's words ring true, "According to the vanity of his mind."
Yet, they proclaim that their god is the sun. Why so, and upon what basis? Because it offers abundant light? Have you not observed how it is often veiled by clouds, enslaved by the laws of nature, eclipsed, and overshadowed by the moon? Even though clouds are less potent, they can frequently obscure the sun; this too is a marvel of God's wisdom. God's delight is in all creation, but the sun requires many elements to function; this is not true of God Himself. The sun needs air to shine, specifically thin air, as dense air prevents its rays from shining through. It also requires water and other factors to regulate its effects, ensuring it does not cause conflagration. Without springs, lakes, rivers, or seas, which provide the moisture, the sun could scorch everything in its path. Thus, do you perceive what sort of deity this is? What folly! What laughter! They would have it that if it can cause harm, it must be divine. On the contrary, if it must rely on outside assistance to be beneficial and to do harm, it cannot be a god. It is divine goodness alone that is peculiar to God, not the ability to inflict harm.
But if we must speak otherwise about the sun, how can it be divine? Consider that harmful substances can wreak destruction unaided, while goodness often relies on multiple factors. The sun is designed to be beautiful, yet it is rendered weak: beautiful to enlighten you about the Lord, weak so that you do not mistake it for your Lord. It is said to nourish plants and seeds. Should we then declare dung to be a god because it nourishes plants as well? And what about the scythe and the hands of the farmer? Show me where the sun alone could cultivate plants without the need for soil, water, and the labor of a farmer; let it sow seeds all by itself and warm them with its rays to yield harvests for you. If its effectiveness hinges not solely on itself but also on rain, then why isn’t water considered divine? But let us not dwell on this. Why is the earth not a deity? Why aren’t manure and tools regarded as gods? Why, I ask, should all these elements be worshipped? What sheer madness! Meanwhile, an ear of grain is more likely to sprout without the sun than without soil, water, and all that is necessary. Without earth, there can be no plant life. If someone fills a clay pot—like children and women do—with soil and the right amount of fertilizer, placing it under a roof, then plants will grow, albeit weakly. Hence, earth and fertilizer are essential and should be revered more than the sun. For the sun to avoid causing harm, one needs the heavens, air, and sufficient water to restrain its wild energy and prevent its rays, like a rampaging horse, from conquering all.
But let me ask again, where is the sun during the night? Where does this deity of yours vanish? It is not characteristic of the divine to be constrained or limited; this is something exclusive to created bodies. Yet, they insist that it possesses power and moves. What of this power—can it claim divinity? Why is it inadequate to control fire? I repeat the question: what is this power? Is it luminous, or does it shine through the sun without being part of it? In that case, the sun would reign superior. Yet we have waded enough through this convoluted maze. As for water, some assert it is divine too. Here’s yet another argument, truly deserving of ridicule! How can water not be deemed a deity when we rely on it for many purposes? The same is said of the earth. Observe, those who make such claims are "according to the vanity of their minds, darkened in their understanding" (Eph. 4:17).
