The Outward Senses

The Outward Senses

The nature of man is bound up with the faculties through which he perceives, acts, and understands. Among these, the outward senses hold a central place, for they are the means by which the body engages with the Natural World. Yet these same senses, though necessary, are also capable of overpowering the higher operations of the mind. The ancient writings set forth a profound distinction between the activity of the outward senses and the awakening of the mind, showing that the two do not operate in harmony when either is brought to excess.

Philo of Alexandria presents this relationship with striking clarity, demonstrating that the outward senses and the mind exist in a kind of opposition. When one is active, the other is diminished. He writes:

“And again, when the mind is awake the outward sense is extinguished; and the proof of this is, that when we desire to form an accurate conception of anything, we retreat to a desert place, we shut our eyes, we stop up our ears, we discard the exercise of our senses; and so, when the mind rises up again and awakens, the outward sense is put an end to.”

This observation reveals a fundamental truth: the mind requires withdrawal from sensory stimulation in order to function with clarity. The outward senses—sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch—continually present impressions that occupy attention. When these impressions dominate, the mind is unable to concentrate on higher reasoning. Therefore, anyone seeking understanding instinctively withdraws from noise, light, and distraction.

This is not merely a philosophical idea but an observable reality. When a man attempts to think deeply, he closes his eyes, seeks silence, and removes himself from disturbance. In doing so, he reduces the influence of the outward senses so that the mind may rise into full activity.

Philo continues by describing the opposite condition, where the outward senses are active and the mind becomes dormant:

“Let us now consider another point, namely, how the mind goes to sleep: for when the outward sense is awakened and has become excited, when the sight beholds any works of painting or of sculpture beautifully wrought, is not the mind then without anything on which to exercise its functions, contemplating nothing which is a proper subject for the intellect?”

Here, the attraction of visual beauty is shown to capture attention in such a way that the mind ceases to operate in its proper domain. The eye delights in form, colour, and symmetry, but this delight can become absorbing. When this occurs, the mind does not ascend to understanding but remains fixed upon the sensory object.

He continues:

“What more? When the faculty of hearing is attending to some melodious combination of sound, can the mind turn itself to the contemplation of its proper objects? by no means.”

Sound, like sight, has the power to occupy and even overwhelm. Music, speech, and noise draw the attention outward. The mind, instead of reasoning, becomes a passive receiver of sensation.

The same principle extends to taste:

“And it is much more destitute of occupation, when taste rises up and eagerly devotes itself to the pleasures of the belly;”

Taste is even more binding, because it is connected with bodily appetite. When a man is given over to indulgence, his attention is not merely distracted but enslaved to pleasure. The mind, in such a state, becomes inactive, unable to govern or direct.

This leads to a deeper warning concerning the condition of the mind when it yields to the senses. Philo explains that this is not merely a temporary distraction but can become a state of moral and intellectual decline:

“on which account Moses, being alarmed lest some day or other the mind might not merely go to sleep, but might become absolutely dead…”

The danger is progression. First, the mind sleeps; then, if the condition continues, it becomes dead—unable to perceive truth or exercise reason. This death is not a physical extinction but a loss of function, where the mind no longer governs the man.

Philo then introduces a symbolic teaching:

“And it shall be to you a peg in your girdle; and it shall be, that when you sit down you shall dig in it, and, heaping up earth, shall cover your Shame.”

He explains:

“Speaking symbolically, and giving the name of peg to reason which digs up secret affairs; and he bids him to bear it upon the affection with which he ought to be birded, and not to allow it to slacken and become loosened…”

Here, reason is described as a tool—something firm and fixed, like a peg. It is meant to uncover hidden things, to examine and correct. This implies that reason must be actively maintained. If it becomes loose or neglected, the passions take control.

This transition occurs when the mind descends from intellectual contemplation to bodily desire:

“and this must be done when the mind, departing from the intense consideration of objects perceptible by the intellect, is brought down to the passions, and sits down, yielding to, and being guided by, the necessities of the body:”

When the mind yields, it no longer leads but follows. The outward senses, combined with bodily desires, become the ruling force.

Philo describes the result:

“and this is the case when the mind, being absorbed in luxurious associations, forgets itself, being subdued by the things which conduct it to pleasure, and so we become enslaved, and yield ourselves up to unconcealed impurity.”

This is the full consequence of unchecked sensory domination: enslavement. The outward senses, originally given as instruments, become masters. The mind, which should govern, becomes subject.

However, this condition is not inevitable. Philo offers a corrective:

“But if reason be able to purify the passion, then neither when we drink do we become intoxicated, nor when we eat do we become indolent through satiety, but we feast soberly without indulging in folly.”

Here, the proper order is restored. The outward senses are not destroyed but regulated. Eating, drinking, seeing, and hearing remain, but they are governed by reason. This is balance—not the elimination of the senses, but their subordination.

He concludes with a powerful analogy:

“Therefore, the awakening of the outward senses is the sleep of the mind; and the awakening of the mind is the discharge of the outward senses from all occupation. Just as when the sun arises the brightness of all the rest of the stars becomes invisible; but when the sun sets, they are seen. And so, like the sun, the mind, when it is awakened, overshadows the outward senses, but when it goes to sleep it permits them to shine.”

This comparison captures the entire relationship. The mind is like the sun, and the senses are like stars. When the sun rises, the stars do not cease to exist, but they are no longer visible. Likewise, when the mind is active, the senses do not disappear, but they no longer dominate.

This teaching is reinforced by the account in the Testament of Reuben, which describes the faculties of man in terms of spirits. These are not abstract ideas but structured capacities within human nature:

“For seven spirits are established against man, and they are the sources of the deeds of youth. And seven other spirits are given to man at creation, so that by them every human deed is done.”

Among these, several correspond directly to the outward senses:

“The second is the spirit of sight, with which comes desire. The third is the spirit of hearing, with which comes instruction. The fourth is the spirit of smell, with which is given tastes for drawing air and breath.”

These descriptions show that the senses are not neutral. Each one carries with it an inclination. Sight brings desire; hearing brings instruction; smell connects to appetite and respiration. They are active forces shaping behaviour.

The text continues:

“The sixth is the spirit of taste, for consuming food and drink; by it comes strength, because in food is the substance of strength.”

Taste is again linked to bodily sustenance and power. It is necessary, but it also opens the way to excess.

The most striking is the seventh:

“The seventh is the spirit of procreation and intercourse, with which comes sin through fondness for pleasure.”

This shows that the strongest of the outward impulses is connected with reproduction and pleasure. It is both natural and dangerous, especially in youth:

“For this reason, it is the last in order of creation, and the first in that of youth, because it is filled with ignorance, and leads the youth as a blind man into a ditch, and like an animal over a cliff.”

Here the lack of guidance from the mind leads to destruction. Without reason, the senses act blindly.

The text then introduces an eighth condition:

“In addition to all these there is an eighth spirit of sleep, with which is brought about the trance of nature and the image of death.”

This “sleep” corresponds closely to Philo’s description of the mind being inactive. It is a state where awareness is diminished, and the senses operate without proper oversight.

Further, the senses become the dwelling place of destructive tendencies:

“First, the spirit of fornication resides in the nature and in the senses; the second, the spirit of insatiableness, in the stomach…”

This shows that the senses are not merely passive receivers but locations where impulses reside and operate.

The result is the darkening of the mind:

“And so every young man is destroyed, darkening his mind from the truth, and not understanding the Law of God, nor obeying the admonitions of his fathers…”

This aligns exactly with Philo’s warning. When the outward senses dominate, the mind loses its ability to perceive truth.

Yet the conclusion offers a remedy:

“And now, my children, love the truth, and it will preserve you: hear you the words of Reuben your father.”

Truth restores order. It awakens the mind and brings the senses back under control.

Taken together, these teachings present a unified view: the outward senses are essential but dangerous when unrestrained. They provide access to the Natural World, but they also draw the mind outward, away from its proper function. The mind, when awake, governs and orders; when asleep, it yields and is overcome.

The proper condition of man, therefore, is not the rejection of the senses but their regulation. Sight, hearing, taste, smell, and the impulses connected with them must be guided by reason. When this order is maintained, the man remains whole—his mind active, his senses disciplined, and his actions directed.

But when the order is reversed, and the outward senses take precedence, the result is confusion, enslavement, and ultimately the darkening of understanding.

Thus, the outward senses stand as both instruments and tests. They reveal the world, but they also reveal the condition of the man. Whether they serve or rule depends entirely on whether the mind is awake.