The ladder repeats
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ⲁⲩⲱ ⲉⲓ̈ϣⲁⲛϫⲓⲧⲏⲩⲧⲛ̅ ⲉⲡⲙⲛ̅ⲧⲥⲛⲟⲟⲩⲥ ⲛ̅ⲁⲓⲱⲛ ⲧⲉⲧⲛ̅ⲛⲁⲛⲁⲩ ⲉⲡⲉⲟⲟⲩ ⲉⲧⲟⲩϣⲟⲟⲡ ⲛ̅ϩⲏⲧϥ̅ ⲁⲩⲱ ⲉⲃⲟⲗ ⲙ̅ⲡⲛⲟϭ ⲛ̅ⲉⲟⲟⲩ· ⲡⲧⲟⲡⲟⲥ ⲛ̅ⲛ̅ⲁⲣⲭⲱⲛ ⲛ̅ⲑⲓⲙⲁⲣⲙⲉⲛⲏ ⲛⲁⲱⲡ ⲛ̅ⲛⲁϩⲣⲏⲧⲛ̅ ⲛ̅ⲑⲉ ⲙ̅ⲡⲕⲁⲕⲉ ⲛ̅ⲛ̅ⲕⲁⲕⲉ· ⲁⲩⲱ ϥⲛⲁⲣ̅ⲧϭⲟⲧ ⲛ̅ⲟⲩⲛⲁⲡⲛⲉ ⲛ̅ϣⲟⲓ̈ϣ ⲛ̅ⲛⲁϩⲣ̅ⲛ̅ⲧⲏⲛⲟⲩ ⲉⲃⲟⲗ ⲙ̅ⲡⲛⲟϭ ⲛ̅ⲟⲩⲉ ⲉⲧϥ̅ⲟⲩⲏⲩ ⲉⲃⲟⲗ ⲙ̅ⲙⲟϥ ⲉⲙⲁⲧⲉ· ⲙⲛ̅ⲧⲛⲟϭ ⲛ̅ϭⲟⲧ. ⲉⲧϥ̅ⲛⲁⲁⲁϥ ⲉⲣⲟϥ ⲉⲙⲁϣⲟ ⲕⲁⲧⲁⲑⲉ ⲛ̅ⲧⲁⲓ̈ⲟⲩⲱ ⲉⲓ̈ϫⲱ ⲙ̅ⲙⲟⲥ ⲉⲣⲱⲧⲛ̅ ⲛ̅ⲕⲉⲥⲟⲡ· ⲁⲩⲱ ⲟⲛ ⲉⲓ̈ϣⲁⲛϫⲓⲧⲏⲩⲧⲛ̅ ⲉⲡⲙⲉϩⲙⲛ̅ⲧϣⲟⲙⲧⲉ ⲛ̅ⲁⲓⲱⲛ· ⲁⲩⲱ ⲧⲉⲧⲛ̅ⲛⲁⲛⲁⲩ ⲉⲡⲉⲟⲟⲩ ⲉⲧⲟⲩϣⲟⲟⲡ ⲛ̅ϩⲏⲧϥ̅·
And if I take you to the twelve aeons, you will see the glory in which they are; and because of the great glory, the region of the rulers of the Fate will count for you as the darkness of darknesses, and it will have the condition of a speck of dust for you, because of the great distance it is distant away from it, exceedingly, and the greatness of quality by which it exceeds it, exceedingly, according as I have already said it to you at another time. And moreover, if I take you to the thirteenth aeon, then you will see the glory in which they are.
Now the formula shows what it is for: repetition. From the twelve aeons — one rung higher — the region of the rulers of the Fate, which a moment ago was the vantage that reduced our whole world to dust, is itself reduced by exactly the same words: it will count for you as darkness of darknesses, it will have the condition of a speck of dust, because of the great distance and the greatness of quality by which the higher exceeds it. The measurer becomes the measured. And the climb does not pause: the passage ends stepping into the thirteenth aeon — the region a reader of this book knows as Sophia’s homeland, the place she fell from.
The second application of the formula is where its real force arrives. The region of the rulers of the Fate was, one passage ago, the vantage point — the height from which our whole world shrank to a dust-grain. Now, seen from the twelve aeons, it is the thing measured: darkness of darknesses, the condition of a speck of dust, in exactly the words it had just inflicted on us. Nothing on the ladder gets to keep its glory; every "great glory" is the next rung’s darkness. The repetition is not padding — the incantatory sameness of the clauses IS the argument, a recursion of humiliations in which the measurer always becomes the measured. A reader can feel the vertigo the disciples are being prepared for: there is no rung on which one may stand and say "here is greatness," except the last.
And the passage ends with one foot on a rung the reader already knows intimately. The thirteenth aeon is Sophia’s homeland — the region above the twelve from which she fell in ch. 29, the place her whole repentance cycle begs to be restored to. Chapters of this book have measured her exile in songs; now the same region appears as one more stop on a sight-seeing itinerary, glorious from below, and — the next passage will say it — dust from above. Even the homeland the myth’s heroine wept for is relative.
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