Clement of Alexandria · a new plain-English translation from the original language
Now we must say what remains, so that from this point we may proceed to the topic of sleep, still keeping in mind the precepts of self-control. For after the feast, having blessed God for the sharing of the enjoyments and for the day's passing, reason must guide us to sleep, dismissing the extravagance of the bedding spread beneath us — the gold-strewn carpets, the rugs richly embroidered with gold, the purple robes, the costly furs, the poetic coverlets of purple, the thick woolen mantles laid over all, and the couches "softer than sleep" itself. For besides being reprehensible for its self-indulgence, sleeping amid downy feathers is actually harmful, since the body, through the softness of the bedding, sinks as if into a bottomless pit. For [the text is corrupt] it does not hold firm for those who turn over as they lie in it, because of the uneven rising of the bedding on either side of the body; rather it lets the food be digested and even burns it up more, which in fact ruins the nourishment. [Rolling about on level beds, being as it were a natural exercise during sleep, helps toward the proper disposition of one's food —] and those who are able to roll about on level beds, having this as a kind of natural exercise, digest their food more easily and render themselves better prepared for whatever circumstances arise. Further, silver-footed couches are witnesses to a great deal of pretension, and the ivory worked into bedsteads — "it is not sanctified for a soul that has left the body" — is a foolish contrivance of repose for holy people.
One ought not, then, be zealous about such things. Possessing them, one is not barred from making use of them, yet chasing after them eagerly is off-limits; for happiness is not found in such possessions. On the other hand, it is also a kind of Cynic vainglory to make a practice, like Diomedes, of sleeping "with the hide of a field-ox spread beneath him," unless indeed circumstance should compel it. Odysseus, for his part, propped up the wobbling leg of his bridal bed with a stone. Such frugality and self-sufficiency was practiced not only among ordinary people but also among the leaders of the ancient Greeks. But why bring up such examples? Recall instead how Jacob rested his head against bare earth, taking a stone for his pillow; and it was then that he was deemed worthy to see the vision that surpasses man. We, then, ought to use, in keeping with reason, a simple and plain bed, having only what is fitting for comfort — in summer, something to give shade; in cold, something to give warmth. Let the bed be unadorned and have smooth feet; for elaborately carved turnings sometimes become the runs of creeping creatures, which wind themselves about the incised patterns of the craftsman's work without slipping off. Above all, the softness of the couch should be moderated in a manly way. For sleep ought not to be a complete slackening of the body, but a relaxation. Wherefore I say it must be taken up not for the sake of idleness, but as a rest from one's activities. We should therefore drowse off in a manner ready to rouse ourselves. For it says, "Keep your waists bound tight and your lamps kept lit; be like servants awaiting their master's return from the wedding feast, so that when he arrives and knocks they can open the door for him without delay. Blessed are those servants whom the master finds awake when he comes." For a sleeping man is of no more use than a dead one. Wherefore we must often rise from bed even in the night and bless God; for blessed are those who are awake unto him, likening themselves to angels, whom we call "the watchers." "But a man who is asleep is worth nothing at all, no more than one who is not alive"; whereas he who has the light is awake, and darkness does not overtake him, nor indeed does sleep, since it is not darkness. He who has been enlightened is therefore awake toward God, and such a one lives; for "what came to be in him was life." "Blessed is the man," says Wisdom, "who will listen to me, and the man who keeps my ways, watching daily at my gates, guarding the posts of my doorways." "Let us not, then, sleep as the rest do, but let us watch," says Scripture, "and be sober. For those who sleep, sleep at night, and those who are drunk are drunk at night" — that is, amid the murk of unknowing — "whereas we, belonging to the day, must stay sober. All of you are children of light and of day; none of us belongs to night or to gloom." "But he who is our foremost guardian of true living and of genuine understanding stays awake for as long a time as possible, guarding only what is useful here for his health; and this is not much, if it becomes a good habit." The practice of discipline, through its labors, produces an enduring wakefulness. Let not our food, then, weigh us down, but rather lighten us, so that we may as far as possible avoid being harmed by sleep — like swimmers who have weights attached to them, except that in the opposite way, sobriety may lift us up, as if from an abyss below, to the surface of wakefulness. For the descent of sleep resembles death, being carried down through thoughtlessness into numbness, as the eyelids fall shut and shut out the light. We, then, as children born of the genuine light, must not banish that light beyond ourselves but redirect it inward, illuminating the eyes of the hidden man, and beholding truth itself, and partaking of its streams, so that we may be shown, clearly and wisely, the true dreams. But the belchings of those heavy with wine, and the wheezings of those stuffed with food, and the snoring wrapped up in the bedclothes, and the rumblings of bellies constricted, bury the discerning eye of the soul, while the mind is filled with countless phantoms. The cause is excessive food, which drags the reasoning faculty down into insensibility. "For much sleep brings benefit neither to our bodies nor to our souls, nor is it suited to actions concerned with truth, even though it is according to nature." As for Lot the righteous man (for I pass over now the exposition of the economy of his regeneration), he would not have been led into that unlawful union had he not been made drunk by his daughters and stupefied with sleep. If, then, we cut away the causes of excessive falling into sleep, we shall sleep more soberly; for "it is not fitting" for those who have reason as an indwelling, wakeful guest "to sleep the whole night through"; rather one must rouse oneself in the night, especially when the days grow short; and the one should occupy himself with study, another should attend to his craft, women should take up their spinning, and all of us, so to speak, must struggle against sleep, gently and by gradual habituation accustoming ourselves to it, so that through wakefulness we may partake of a greater span of life (for sleep, like a toll-collector, divides off from us half our lifetime); far from it that we should allow those who cut off most of the night for wakefulness to sleep by day as well. Restlessness, and drowsy nodding, and stretching, and yawning are the discontents of an unsteady soul.
One must also know this above all: that it is not the soul that has need of sleep, for it is ever in motion, but the body, borne along by its labors, grows weary and slackens, while the soul no longer acts through the body but reflects by itself; and it is for this reason that true dreams, rightly reckoned, are the reasonings of a sober soul that is at that time undistracted by the body's affections and is counseling itself in what is best. But it is the ruin of the soul for it to lie utterly inert; wherefore the soul that is always mindful of God, through its unceasing communion with him, enrolling wakefulness alongside the body, makes man equal to angelic grace, gaining the eternity of life from the practice of staying awake.
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