On David and Saul (Homilies 1–3)

the rich man, however, the more he sees his substance increasing, the more he is stung by his childlessness, feeling no pleasure because of the loneliness of his heir. And the poor man's inheritance, even if he departs without children, since it is not worth contending over due to its scarcity, passes to friends and kinsmen; whereas that of the rich man, because it attracts many eyes to itself, not infrequently falls to the enemies of the deceased—and when he sees this happening to others while he is yet alive, he leads a life more burdensome than death, expecting the same to happen in his own case. But as for death, is there not the same equality here? Do not untimely deaths befall the rich and poor alike? And even after death, is the body of the one not dissolved in the same way as that of the other, becoming ashes and dust, and breeding worms? Yet the funerals are by no means similar. But what is the utility of this? For when you have provided the deceased with an abundance of precious, gold-woven garments, you have brought about nothing other than greater envy and accusation, and have opened the mouths of all against the deceased, and have prepared for him countless curses, and charges of avarice, while individuals are rent with indignation and execrate the dead man, who, even after his departure, has not ceased his madness regarding money. An additional evil is that this irritates the eyes of house-breakers. Thus, the greater the display, the greater the occasion of insult becomes. For no one cares to despoil the corpse of a poor man, which is safe by the very vileness of its garments. But for the rich, bolts and locks, doors and guards—all are employed to no avail, since those who have habituated themselves to such villainies dare everything out of greed for money. Thus, a greater honor brings the deceased greater injury; the man who receives a lowly burial lies in the integrity of his grave, while he who receives a costly one is despoiled and disgraced. Or, if he escapes this mockery, he will not even at that be any better off, except that there will be a greater state of decay and a more abundant feast for the worms. Are these, I ask, the things for which we call men blessed? And who is so wretched and miserable as to count a man worthy of envy for these reasons? Indeed, not only these, but going through other matters one by one and examining them diligently, we shall find that the poor are to be preferred to the rich. If we consider these things diligently, and relate them to others (for it is said, "Give an opportunity to a wise man, and he will be wiser" [Prov. 9:9]), and keep that thought ever in mind—that the abundance of money brings its possessors nothing more than cares, anxieties, fears, and dangers—we will not judge our condition to be worse than that of the rich. For if we are sober, we shall have the better part in both the affairs of this life and in divine matters. For you will find pleasure, security, a good reputation, health of body, philosophy of soul, good expectations, and a smaller occasion for sinning more in the poor than in the rich. Let us not, therefore, murmur like ungrateful servants, nor blame the Lord, but let us give thanks for all things, counting nothing evil save sin, and nothing good save justice. If we are so disposed, neither illness, nor poverty, nor ignominy—nothing, in short, of what is deemed painful—will afflict us; rather, harvesting a pure pleasure from all things, we shall attain the promised goods, by the grace and kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom be glory to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, for ever and ever. Amen.

NOTICE

HOMILY I. ON DAVID AND SAUL, AND REGARDING TOLERATION, AND THAT ONE OUGHT TO SPARE ONE'S ENEMIES, AND NOT SPEAK ILL OF THE ABSENT (a)

(a) Collated with the Royal Codex 1975, likewise with 1963.

regarding anger, and continue our counsel concerning it to the best of our ability. For this seems to me the best method of teaching: not to cease counseling on any subject until we see the counsel having gone forth into action. For he who discourses today on almsgiving, tomorrow on prayer, after that on gentleness, and then again on humility, will be unable to perfect any of these things in his hearers, constantly leaping from this to that, and again from that to another. Rather, it behooves him who intends to perfect what is said in those who listen, not to cease exhorting and counseling about the same things, nor to leap to something else until he sees the previous exhortation well rooted in them. Teachers do this too; they do not bring children to syllables until they have seen the knowledge of the *elements* perfected in them. ^B Having recently read to you the parable of the hundred denarii and the ten thousand talents, we showed what a great evil it is to bear a grudge. For he who did not lose the ten thousand talents was sunk by the hundred denarii, and he called back the pardon given, and repelled the gift, and having been released from his liabilities, he brought him again into the court, and from there threw him into prison, and thus delivered him to immortal punishment. Today, however, we shall guide our discourse toward another subject. For it was necessary, if it were to be just, that he who speaks about gentleness and meekness should provide the examples ^C of this fine philosophy from his own home and person, so as both to teach by words and to train by deeds. But since we are far from this virtue, by pulling one of the saints into the middle and placing him before your eyes, we shall make our exhortation clear and powerful for you, commanding both you and ourselves to imitate the virtue of the just man as a sort of archetypal image. Who then must we bring into the middle while discoursing about gentleness? Who else, but he who received testimony from on high, and was especially admired for this: *I have found*, He says, *David the son of Jesse, a man after My own heart* (1 Kings 13:14; Acts 13:22). And when God pronounces, no excuse remains for those who contradict. For that judgment is incorruptible, since God judges ^D neither out of favor nor out of spite, but judges by the naked virtue of the soul. We do not bring him into the middle only because he received this judgment from God, but because he is also of those raised under the Old Covenant. For in the time of grace, for one to appear clean of anger, and to forgive sins to enemies, and to spare those who have harmed him, is nothing strange after the death of Christ, after such a remission of sins, and after the commandments full of philosophy. But in the Old Testament, when the law permitted to gouge out an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth, and to repay the wrongdoer in kind, for one to appear having exceeded the measures of the commandments, and to have reached the apostolic philosophy—who among the listeners would this not amaze? And whom among those who do not emulate him would it not strip of all excuse and apology? But in order for us to learn his virtue more accurately, give me leave to lead the discourse a little further back, and to tell of the benefits that this blessed man deposited in Saul. For to not take revenge on an enemy who has simply harmed one is nothing strange; but for a man who has been benefited with many and great benefits, then, instead of those benefits, to repeatedly attempt to slay the benefactor—to have him in one’s hands and be lord to slay him, and to let him go, and to snatch him from the treachery of others, and these toward one who is about to set upon him again—what could be a greater height of philosophy?

2. What benefits, then, did David confer upon Saul, and when, and how? Bear with me as I narrate it briefly. For when a most grievous war once took hold of the Jews, and all were cowering and trembling, and no one dared to step forward, but with the entire city in the extremest danger, and everyone seeing death before their eyes, and all expecting to die each day, and living a life more wretched than those being led to the pit, he entered from the sheep-tending 750 to the battle line; and although his age and his craft provided him with no qualification for the hardships of war, he himself undertook the war of all, and accomplished achievements surpassing all hope. And yet, even if he had accomplished nothing, he ought to have been crowned for his readiness and purpose alone. For a soldier who is of age to do this is nothing strange; for the law of military service demanded this. But he, seeing no necessity lying upon him, but having many who were hindering him—for even his brother rebuked him, and the king, looking to his unripe age and the unbearable nature of the dangers, held him back and bade him stay, saying: *You will not be able to go, for you are a boy, and he is a man of war from his youth* (1 Kings 17:33)—yet, with no excuse drawing him on, kindled from home and from within by divine zeal and by love for his fatherland, as if seeing sheep rather than men, and as if intending to drive away dogs rather than an army of men, so he ran against the barbarians with boldness and displayed such care for the king at that time that even before the battle and the victory, he raised him up as he lay there. For he did not only assist him with deeds after this, but even before this he exhorted him with words and persuaded him to take courage, and to have good hopes regarding the future, saying thus: *Let not the heart of my lord fall upon him, for your servant will go, and will fight with this Philistine* (ibid. v. 32). Tell me, is this a small thing, for one who had no necessity...

but was compelled by his own life to expose himself, and for the benefit of those others to jump into the middle of the enemies, never having suffered any wrong from them? Was it not necessary for him, after that, to be proclaimed lord and common savior of the city, and that the order of the kingdom, and the foundation of the cities, and the life of all be preserved through him by the grace of God? For what greater benefit than this could there be? He did not lay up this favor for the sake of wealth or power, but he deposited his own soul therein, and by those very acts he recalled the king from the gates of death. And this is what it means to come as a man; and yet he enjoyed no such reward from the beginning. Yet what did he return to him after these things? If he gave him such great things from his achievements, he did not treat his head as worthy of the crown he had received from him, nor did he repay the debt, but owed him even more. For he had granted him his life and his kingdom; the other was merely to yield the kingdom to him. But let us see what the rewards were.

What then were they? From that day forward he held him in suspicion, and was afraid of him. And for what reason? It is necessary to state the cause of the suspicion. For truly, whatever anyone might say, it is not just. For toward the man who had laid down his soul and granted him his life, what just cause for suspicion could there be? But let us see the cause of the enmity itself, so that you may learn that this is not less than the victory, and why David is worthy of honor for the very things on account of which he was later suspected and plotted against.

What then was the cause of the suspicion? After he had removed the head of the barbarian and returned carrying the spoils: "The women," he says, "came out singing and saying, 'Saul has struck his thousands, and David his ten thousands.' And Saul was angry, and he held David in suspicion from that day and henceforth" (1 Reg. 18. 6-9). For what reason, I pray you? Even if these things had been said without merit, not even so should he have borne a hostile mind toward David; but after he knew of his benevolence toward him from his deeds—given that, with no one forcing or compelling him, he had undergone such danger of his own volition—he should not have suspected anything evil of him thereafter. But now the praises were justly offered; and if it is right to speak the truth, those things were said in favor of Saul rather than in favor of David; and he ought to have been satisfied that they had attributed a thousand to him. Why then was he indignant that they attributed ten thousand to David? For if the king had contributed even a little moment to the ending of the war, it would have been rightly said, "Saul in his thousands, and David in his ten thousands." But if he himself sat trembling and fearful at home, awaiting death every day, while the other performed the whole exploit, was it not absurd for him who had contributed nothing to the dispelling of the dangers to be indignant that he had not received more praise? For if anyone had reason to be indignant, it was fitting for David to be indignant, because, having performed everything himself, he had another as a participant in the praise.

3. Let it be granted, however, that the women did not act rightly, and were liable to blame and accusation; what is this to David? For neither did he himself compose the song, nor did he persuade them to say what they were saying, nor had he set up that manner of praise. Therefore, even if it were necessary to be indignant, it should have been with the women, not with one who had benefited the city and was worthy of infinite crowns. But Saul, leaving them aside, was angry with David. If that blessed man, being exalted by such praise, had envied the one who held power, and had been insulting to him, and had despised his rule, perhaps there would have been some cause for envy; but if he became kinder and more modest, if he kept himself in the order of subjects, what then was the just cause for sorrow? Siquidem cum is qui honore afficitur, attollitur adversus eum a quo provectus est, nec desinit in illius contemptum honore abuti, habet dolor nonnullam excusationem: cæterum ubi persistit in honorando illum, aut potius magis obsequitur, ceditque in omnibus, quem postea potest habere prætextum invidia?

Non effertur David ob prosperum successum. Itaque etiamsi nihil aliud præclare gestum fuisset, ob hoc ipsum tamen magis erat diligendus, quod cum tantam nactus esset occasionem occupandi regni, perstiterit in sua modestia. Neque enim quæ prius gesta sunt tantum, verum nec ea quæ consequuta sunt, superioribus illis multo præclariora, sustulerunt illi animos. Quæ tandem illa? "Erat," inquit, "David prudens in omnibus viis suis, et Dominus omnipotens erat cum eo, universusque Israel et Juda diligebat David, quoniam ipse ingrediebatur et egrediebatur ante conspectum populi. Et Melchol filia Saül, et universus Israel diligebat illum. Et sapiebat supra omnes servos Saül; et honorabatur nomen illius valde" (1 Reg. 18. 14-16, 20, 30). "Et Jonathas filius Saül diligebat David vehementer" (1 Reg. 18. 2). Verumtamen cum universum populum ac regis familiam sibi conciliatam haberet, cum ubique in bellis vinceret, nec umquam frustraretur successu, cumque pro bene gestis rebus illis talem gratiam reciperet, non erexit cervicem, nec regnum affectavit, nec hostem ultus est, sed perseveravit in benefaciendo, et in bellis pro rege feliciter gerendis. Quis est tam efferatus et crudelis, cui ista non fuerint persuasura, ut inimicitiam deponeret, et invidiam abjiceret? At crudelem illum et inhumanum nihil horum flexit; sed ad hæc omnia cæcus, et invidiæ deditus, conatus est illum e medio tollere: et quid, obsecro, facientem? (nam id majus est ac stupendum) canentem cithara, et ipsius insaniam sedantem. "David," inquit, "psallebat manu sua quotidie: et hasta in manu Saül: ac sustulit Saül lanceam, dixitque, Infigam in David; et fixit in parietem: et declinavit David a facie ejus bis" (Ibid. v. 10-11). Potestne huic malitiæ quidquam adjungi? Illa forte quæ post subsequuta sunt. Qui nuper hostes abegerat, per quem civitas sibi fuerat reddita, cunctis pro victoria victimas immolantibus: Saul beneficum et servatorem, ac bonorum illorum auctorem conatus est interficere psallentem: ac ne beneficiorum quidem memoria furentem illum ac delirantem coercuit, sed semel et bis torsit in illum lanceam, volens eum interficere. Et talias ^{A B C D}

^A rewards did he store up for him in return for the dangers he had undergone. And he did this not once, but frequently. And that holy man, even after all these things, remained intent on caring for the king, risking his own life for his safety, arraying himself in all the battles, and saving his own slayer with his own perils; he neither in words nor in deeds grieved that wild beast, but offered himself to everything and obeyed. And when he did not receive the prize for the victory decreed for him, but was deprived of the reward for those dangers, he never once complained either to the soldiers or to the king; for he did not do these things for a human reward, but was awaiting the reward from above. And it is not only this that is wondrous, that he did not demand the reward, but that he even fought it off when it was being offered, out of an immense excess of humility.

For since Saul, moving and contriving everything, was unable to kill him, he wove the trap of marriage and devised a new way of dowry and bride-gifts. For he says, the king does not want bride-gifts, but to exact one hundred foreskins against the enemies of the king. And what he says is this: "Kill for me," he says, "one hundred men, and this shall stand for me in place of the dowry." He said these things wishing to throw him against the enemies under the pretext of marriage.

^D 4. But nevertheless David, judging things according to his own mildness, fought off the marriage, not because of the danger, nor because of the fear of the enemies, but because he deemed himself unworthy of kinship with him, and spoke these words to his servants: "Is it a light thing in your eyes to make affinity with the king? As for me, I am a poor man and of no value." And indeed the matter was an obligation, a reward, and a repayment of his labors; but he had his heart so crushed that, after such successes, and such a brilliant victory, and a promised agreement, he deemed himself unworthy to receive the reward owed him; and he thought these things while he was about to be in danger again.

And since he overcame the enemies and took the king's daughter, David was psalming again, and Saul sought to strike him with the spear, and he did strike; and David deflected; and the spear struck into the wall. Who, even of those who know how to live very philosophically, would not such things have driven to anger, and if nothing else, would not they have persuaded him to kill the one plotting unjustly, in order to look out for his own safety? For it would no longer have been a murder, and even so he would have been about to exceed the measure of the law. For the former commanded an eye for an eye; but this man, even if he had slain him, would have been exacting one life for three, three murders which had no reasonable pretext. But nevertheless he attempted none of these things, but chose rather to flee, to fall from his father's house, to be a wanderer, to be a fugitive, and as he struggled to procure necessary food, rather than to be the cause of slaughter for the king. For he did not look to how he might avenge himself, but to how he might release him from the passion. For this cause he removed himself from the eyes of the enemy, so as to pull out the tumor, and to quiet the inflammation, and to soothe the envy. "Better," he says, "for me to struggle and suffer ten thousand terrible things, than for this man to be judged before God for an unjust slaughter."

Let us not only hear these things, but also imitate them, and let us endure to do and suffer everything, so as to release our enemies from the ^B hatred toward us; and let us not ask this, whether they are hostile to us justly or unjustly, but only this: that they might no longer be hostile to us. For the physician looks to this, how he might release the patient from the disease, not whether he contracted the infirmity justly or unjustly. You too, then, are the physician of the one who has grieved you; seek only this: how you might remove his infirmity. Which even this blessed man did, choosing poverty instead of wealth, solitude instead of fatherland, labors and dangers instead of luxury and security, a perpetual flight instead of remaining at home, so that he might release him from the hatred and enmity toward himself.

But Saul did not gain anything even so, but kept pursuing him and going about everywhere seeking the one who had wronged him in nothing, but who had been wronged by him to the last degree, and had done him ten thousand goods in return for these things; and not knowing it, he falls at last into the very nets of David. "For there is a cave there," he says, "and Saul entered to relieve himself. And David and his men were sitting in the deepest part of the cave. And the men of David said to him: 'Behold, the day, as the Lord said: I will deliver your enemy into your hands, and you shall do to him what is pleasing in your eyes.' And David arose, and cut the skirt of Saul's cloak secretly. And after these things, David's heart struck him, because he cut the skirt of the cloak, and David said to his men: 'May it not happen to me from the Lord to do this deed to my lord, to the Lord's anointed, to lay my hand upon him, because he is the Lord's anointed.'"

You have seen the nets spread, and the prey trapped, and the hunter standing, and everyone urging him to plunge the sword into the enemy's breast? Behold for me then the philosophy, behold the wrestling, the victory, the crown. For that cave was a stadium, and a wrestling match was occurring, marvelous and paradoxical. For David was wrestling, but anger was boxing, and Saul lay there as the prize ^C and God was the judge; or rather, it was not only toward himself and his own desire that the war was for him, but also toward the soldiers who were present. For if he wanted to live philosophically and spare the one who had grieved him, it was likely that he also feared them, lest they should also cut him down in the cave, as he was a destroyer and traitor to their safety, and [as he was] the one sparing their common enemy. For it was likely that each of them, grumbling in his own mind, would say these things: "We have become wanderers and fugitives, and we have fallen from house and fatherland and all other things, and we have associated with you in all [your] hardships; and you, having taken the cause of these evils into your hands, intend to release him, so that we may never breathe from these evils, and in being eager to save the enemy, you are betraying your friends? And where are these things just? For if you despise your own safety, at least spare our life. Does not the past grieve you? Do you not remember the evils you suffered from him? Because of the..."

^A many, and with these, other matters of greater gravity were being discussed. But not even of these did that righteous man take account; rather, he looked to one thing alone: how he might be able to bind on the crown of longsuffering and exercise a certain new and admirable philosophy. For it was not quite as wonderful if he, being alone and by himself, had spared him who had wronged him, as it now appears wonderful that he did this while others were present; for the presence of those soldiers was a double obstacle to his philosophy. It frequently happens to us that even when we have decided to remit anger and forgive committed offenses, when we afterwards see some persons provoking and inciting us, we change our mind and obey their words. But this did not happen to that blessed one; even after their counsel and exhortation he remained in his own purpose. And not even this alone is worthy of admiration, that he was not swayed by the advice of others, nor that he stood in awe of them; but that he brought it about that they too should take up the same moderation of mind. For it is indeed a great thing for anyone to overcome his own passions; but it is a much greater thing to be able also to persuade others to have the same mindset: others, I say, who are not gentle and moderate men, but soldiers who had already been brought to despair by many hardships, and who desired to breathe a little, well aware that the solution of all their evils lay in the slaughter of the enemy; and not only the solution of evils, but the acquisition of many blessings, since nothing stood in the way of the kingdom passing immediately to David once he was slaughtered. Yet, although there were so many things ^B that were inciting the soldiers, that noble man was so powerful that he was superior to all these things and persuaded them to spare the enemy.

David’s disregard for the soldiers’ counsel inciting him to slaughter; why God delivers enemies into our hands.

It is worthwhile, indeed, to hear the counsel of the soldiers themselves, because the craftiness of the counsel shows the firm and solid mind of the righteous man. For they did not speak thus: "Behold, he who has plotted many evils against you, who has desired your death, who has surrounded us with incurable difficulties." But when they perceived that David disregarded all these things and did not care much for what had been committed against him, they allege a divine author: "God," they say, "has delivered him into your hands," so that, naturally, revering a judgment proceeded from God, he might move more promptly to homicide. What, they say, are you avenging your own turn? To God you serve and minister, you approve His sentence. But the more they said these things, so much the more did he spare the enemy. For he understood that God had delivered him for this reason, that He might provide him with greater occasions to prove his virtue. Therefore, you too, if ever your enemy falls into your hands, take care not to think that an occasion of taking vengeance has been given, but an occasion of saving an enemy. And at that time enemies are especially to be spared when they have perchance come into our power. But here perhaps someone will say: "And what is great or what is wonderful in sparing one whom you have in your power?" For many other kings, elevated to the principate, deemed themselves unworthy, at so great a height of royalty, to exact punishments from those by whom they had once been offended: the very sublimity of power brought ^C about reconciliation. But in this matter you can say nothing of the sort. For David was not elevated to the principate, nor had he attained the kingdom and had Saul in his hands, such that he spared him lest anyone might argue that anger had been removed by the magnitude of the kingdom; but although he knew that it would be that he being saved would return again to the same things, and that he himself would be cast into more grievous dangers, not even for that reason did he kill him. Let us not, therefore, compare this man with those. Since they, because they have a certain and safe pledge of future security, deservedly spare; this man, however, knowing that he was dismissing an enemy to his own destruction and giving safety to the foe, yet did not kill him, and this when he had many things inciting him to that slaughter. For the solitude of the king, stripped of aid, the exhortation of the soldiers, the memory of past things, the fear of future things; in addition to this, that if he had killed the enemy, he could not be condemned for murder, and that after the slaughter was completed he would seem to overcome the law itself ^D by his mildness: these and many other things urged and compelled him to run him through with the sword. Yet he yielded to none of these, but stood firm in the manner of an invincible adamant, keeping the inviolate law of philosophy. Otherwise, do not say that he perceived nothing of those affections which it was right to perceive, but that what happened was not philosophy, but apathy: consider how vehemently he, being exasperated, tempered himself. For the waves of anger had swollen in his soul, and a great storm of thoughts had been stirred up, but that he restrained that tempest by the fear of God, and repressed his spirits, one may perceive from those things that were done. "He arose," it says, "and took the hem of Saul’s mantle secretly." Do you see how great a tempest of anger had arisen? But it did not proceed further, nor did he make shipwreck, in that the pilot, straightway perceiving the danger—that is to say, pious reason—turned the tempest into tranquility. For it says, "David’s heart smote him," and like a jumping and ferocious horse, he revoked his anger. They fall, they rise, before they reach sin, they are restrained, because they are sober and always watch. And yet how great was the interval between the body and the garment? Yet he restrained himself so that he might not proceed further, and above all, on account of this very thing, he gravely condemned himself. "For it smote him," it says, "his heart," because he had taken away the extremity of the mantle, and he said to the men: "Nequaquam, may this not be to me from the Lord" (1 Kings 24:6). What is that, "Nequaquam, may this not be to me from the Lord"? Propitious, he says, may He be to me if I should have wished this: may God never permit that I do this, nor allow me to arrive at so great a crime. Because he saw this philosophy overcome almost

all human nature, and standing in need of grace from above, and having almost slipped into the slaughter, he prays then that God might preserve his hand pure. What could be more gentle than this soul? Shall we still call this man a human being, who displayed an angelic life within a human nature? But divine laws would not endure it. For who, tell me, would quickly choose to offer such a prayer to God? What do I say, such a prayer? Who would easily endure NOT to pray against the one who has grieved him? For to such a state of beastliness have many men been driven, that, whenever they are weak and can do no harm to the one who has grieved them, they call upon God himself for retribution, and beseech him to grant them the power to strike back at those who have injured them. But this man, as if from a diametrically opposite position, and making a prayer in direct contradiction to all those, entreats Him even not to grant him the power to strike back, saying this: "May it not happen to me from the Lord to lay my hand upon him" (1 Kings 24:6), speaking as if about the son of an enemy, or rather, as about his own true-born child. And not only did he spare him, but he also composes a defense on his behalf. And see how wisely and sagely. For since, while searching through his life, he found no good in him, nor could he say, "I have not been wronged by him, nor have I suffered evil" (for the soldiers who were present, having learned of his wickedness by experience, were about to contradict these things), he turns elsewhere, seeking to find an honorable excuse. Then, not being able to do this from his life, nor from his deeds, he takes refuge in his honor, saying, "Because he is the Lord’s anointed." What are you saying, he says? That he is a polluted and utterly defiled man, full of countless evils, and has treated us in the most extreme way? But he is a king, he is a ruler, he was entrusted with our guidance. And he did not say, "king," but what? "Because he is the Lord’s anointed," making him worthy of respect, not from any dignity below, but from the decree from above. Do you despise your fellow-servant, he says? Respect the Master. Do you spit upon the one who has been ordained? Fear the One who ordained him. For if we fear and tremble before these rulers who have been ordained by a king—even if they are wicked, even if they are thieves, even if they are extortioners, even if they are unjust, or anything else—not despising them because of their wickedness, but showing respect because of the dignity of the one who ordained them; how much more ought we to do this in the case of God? He has not yet removed him, he says, from his authority, nor made him a private citizen. Let us not, therefore, overthrow the order, nor war against God, showing forth that apostolic saying through our deeds: "Everyone who resists the authority resists the ordinance of God; and those who have resisted shall receive judgment to themselves" (Rom. 13:2). ^A And he not only called him christos—anointed—but also his own lord. It is no common philosophy to call an enemy by names of honor and service. And one could see, again, from what others suffer, how great this is. Many, at any rate, cannot endure to call their own enemies even by bare and plain names, but by others that carry much accusation—"the defiled," "the madman," "one beside himself," "the demented," "the destroyer," and many other such things they string together, and thus address their enemies. ^B And that this is true, I will bring you the example not from far away, but from near at hand, from this very Saul. For this holy man, because of his great hatred, he could not endure to call by his own name, but when a public festival was being held, inquiring, he said: "Where is the son of Jesse?" ^C And thus he called him, at once hating his name, and at the same time thinking to insult the glory of the just man by the lowliness of his progenitor; not knowing that it is not the splendor of ancestors, but the virtue of the soul that is accustomed to make a man brilliant and illustrious. But the blessed David was not so. For he called him neither by his father—although he too was very lowly and despised—nor by his bare and plain name, but by that of honor, by that of lordliness. So pure of all hatred was his soul. ^D And you, therefore, beloved, emulate him, and be trained in this first: never to call an enemy by defamatory names, but by honorable ones. For if the mouth practices calling the one who has grieved it by an honorable and respectful name, the soul, hearing this from the tongue and being trained and accustomed, will accept reconciliation with him. For these very words will be the best medicine for the inflammation in the heart.

7. David is to be emulated by us.

HOMILY II. That it is a great good not only to practice virtue, but also to praise it: that David erected a greater trophy by sparing Saul than by prostrating Goliath; and that in doing this he profited himself more than Saul: and concerning his defense before Saul.

^A You recently praised David for his endurance of evils; I, in turn, was admiring your goodwill and affectionate love toward David. For it is necessary not only to pursue and emulate virtue, but also to extol with praises those who embrace virtue, and to proclaim them as worthy of admiration, which brings us no small fruit—just as, conversely, not only failing to emulate wickedness but even praising those who live in it brings us no small punishment; and if it is right to say something new and admirable, it brings a heavier punishment upon them than upon those who live wickedly. Demonstrating this, Paul, after having enumerated every form of wickedness and having accused all who trample upon the laws of God, adds concerning those very people: *Who knowing the justice of God, that they who do such things are worthy of death, not only do them, but also consent to those who do them* (Rom. 1, 32); ^B indicating that this is more serious. For to praise those who do wrong, as far as punishment is concerned, is far greater than doing wrong; and justly so, because this suffrage proceeds from an utterly corrupt mind suffering from an incurable disease. For he who, while sinning, condemns his own sin, might at some time in the progress of time be able to return to himself; but he who praises wickedness has deprived himself of the cure which repentance brings. Therefore, Paul rightly pronounced this to be heavier than that. And so, just as not only those who do base things, but also those who praise and proclaim such people, endure the same or even a heavier penalty; so those who praise and proclaim the good become participants in the crowns laid up for them. And that this is so, one may see from Scripture. For God speaks thus to Abraham: *I will bless them that bless thee, and curse them that curse thee* (Gen. XII, 3). ^C Anyone will see that the same thing happens in the Olympic games. For not only does the athlete who wears the crown, and he who has endured the labor and sweat, receive it, but he who praises the victor also reaps no small enjoyment from that praise. Therefore I, too, not only proclaim that noble and magnanimous man blessed for his philosophy of soul, but also you for your benevolent spirit toward him. For he struggled and won, and took the crown; but you, because you praised the victory, took for yourselves no small portion of the crown. Therefore, that your enjoyment may be richer and the fruit more abundant, come, let us pay out to you the remaining parts of this story. For when the author of the history had mentioned the words by which David forbade the slaughter, he added: *He did not permit them to arise and kill Saul* (I Reg. XXIV, 8); ^D wishing to demonstrate both the minds of those who were prompt for slaughter and the fortitude of this man. But many who seem to practice philosophy, even if they do not themselves accept murder, yet do not wish to restrain others who are preparing for slaughter. But David was not like that; rather, as if he had received some deposit for which he was to render an account, so he not only did not touch the enemy himself, but also restrained others who were willing to kill, having become an excellent bodyguard and a protector instead of an enemy. Therefore, he would not wander from the truth who says that David at that time fell into a more serious danger than Saul himself. For he was enduring no light struggle or peril while he was trying by all means to rescue him from the ambushes which the soldiers were preparing for him; nor did he fear so much lest he himself be killed, as he feared lest any of the soldiers, obeying their anger, should kill the man: and for this reason he contrived that kind of defense. And they indeed were accusing, but Saul was being accused while sleeping; the enemy defended him, but God was the judge, and He confirmed the sentence of David. For not without the protection of God would he have been able to overcome those who were raging; but this was the grace of God residing on the lips of the prophet, which added a kind of persuasion to his words. Although David also brought no small momentum to this, who, because he had disciplined them in the previous time, therefore found them ready and obedient in the moment of trial. For he had presided over them not as a general over soldiers, but as a priest, and that cave was already a church.

David offers a sacrifice to God, immolating his anger.

Thus, just as someone having obtained the office of bishop held an exhortation to them; and after the exhortation was finished, he offered a sacrifice, and that a certain admirable and incredible one to tell: not by slaughtering a calf or killing a lamb, but—which was much more honorable than these—offering to God meekness and humanity, and having slaughtered his irrational impulse of soul, and killed his anger, and mortified his members which are upon the earth. And he became both the victim, and the one sacrificed, and the altar. And the one offering the meekness and the humanity, and the humanity and the meekness itself, and finally the heart in which these were offered, were all of the same man.

^B When he had offered this good sacrifice, and had secured the victory, and left nothing undone which pertained to the trophy, at last the occasion of these struggles, Saul, arose and went out of the cave, ignorant of all things which had been done. But David also went out after him (I Reg. XXIV, 9), henceforth looking toward heaven with free eyes, and rejoicing more at that time than when he had prostrated Goliath and cut off the barbarian’s head. For this was the more magnificent victory, these were the more magnificent spoils, this booty was more illustrious, this trophy was more glorious. For there he had need of a sling, and stones, and battle; here, however, all things were accomplished by prudence and reason, and the victory happened without arms, and an unbloody trophy was erected. Therefore, he returned not bearing the head of that barbarian, but an agitation of soul stilled, but anger enervated; nor did he place these spoils in Jerusalem, but in heaven, and in that city which is above. Now, women were not coming out to meet him, dancing with praises

receiving him, but the choir of angels from above presided, admiring his philosophy and clemency. For he returned having dealt his enemy countless wounds—having saved Saul, but having pierced the true enemy, the devil, with many wounds. ^A For just as when we are angry and inflamed and clashing with one another, that one rejoices and exults; so when we are peaceful and in concord, and holding back our anger, he shrinks again and is humbled, being an enemy of peace, and an adversary of concord, and the father of envy. Therefore David went forth, having the right hand worthy of the world, along with his head crowned. For just as with those who are the best pugilists, emperors often crowned the right hand of the boxer or the pancratiast before the head; so indeed did God crown that hand, which had the strength to bring forth the sword to remain clean, and to show the blade to God with no blood on it, and to withstand such a force of anger. He did not go forth wearing the diadem of Saul, but he went forth wearing the crown of righteousness; he did not go forth wearing a royal purple robe, but he went forth having put on a clemency that transcends human nature, a cloak more brilliant than any robe. ^B

He went forth from the cave with as much splendor as the three children from the furnace. For just as the fire did not consume them, so this fire of anger did not burn him. For them, the fire that moved outside did nothing; but this man, having coals burning within, and seeing the devil outside inciting the furnace—from the sight of the enemy, from the exhortation of the soldiers, from the ease of the slaughter, from the loneliness of those who would help, from the memory of what had passed, from the agony of future things (for this brought up a flame brighter than vine-twigs, and pitch, and tow, and all the things that ignited the Babylonian furnace)—was not burnt, nor did he suffer anything of that kind which was expected, but he went forth pure, and having seen the face of the enemy, he philosophized most therein. For having seen him sleeping and remaining motionless, and being able to do nothing, he said to himself: "Where now is that anger? Where is the wickedness? Where are all those machinations and plots?" All those things are gone and perished by the small onset of sleep, and the king lies bound, though we did not deliberate or act at all regarding these things. He saw him sleeping, and he philosophized about the death common to all. For sleep is nothing other than a temporary death and an ephemeral end. One would not be out of place even to remember Daniel here. ^C For just as he went up from the den, having overcome the beasts; so this man from the cave, having mastered other, more severe beasts. For just as for that righteous man lions sat on either side, so for this man, lions more savage than any, the passions, pressed upon him—anger over what had passed on this side, fear of what was to come on that side; but nevertheless, this man quelled and muzzled both beasts, teaching by his deeds that there is nothing safer than to spare one's enemies, nor more perilous than to wish to exact vengeance and to defend oneself. ^D

t to David than the spared enemy. For he was not of the common type of mind, not puffed up by benefits toward his neighbors, nor afflicted as is usual with most people and the mob. ^A For those who act like masters, with knitted brows they despise those whom they have helped. But blessed David was not like this; rather, after having conferred benefits, he appeared more modest. The reason was that he did not attribute any of these accomplished deeds to his own industry, but ascribed the whole to divine grace. ^B Therefore, he who had saved was the same who worshipped the one saved, and again called himself king, naming himself a servant, restraining the swelling of his spirit because of the dignity of the other, mitigating his anger, and removing envy. Let us also hear his own excuse: "Why do you listen to the words of the people saying, 'Behold, David seeks your soul'?" (1 Kings 24:10). And yet he who wrote this history said earlier that the whole people were with David, and that he was gracious in the eyes of the servants of the king, and that the prince’s son and the whole army were of one mind with David (2 Kings 18:5). How then does he say here that there were those who slandered him and intrigued against him, and incited Saul against him? By saying: "Why listen to others who incite you?" For he did not do this because he was persuaded by others, but rather, having himself given birth to this wickedness from within, he waged war against the righteous man. The one who wrote the book declared this, saying that envy was born from the praises of David, and as it progressed, it grew each day (1 Sam 18:9, 29). Why, then, does he shift the blame onto others, saying: "Why do you listen to the words of your people who say, 'Behold, David seeks your soul'?" He does so precisely to give him an opportunity to cast off his malice. ^C This is how parents often act toward their children; when someone censures his own child for having been corrupted and having done many evils, even though he is persuaded that the child has fallen into depraved ways out of his own malice, he frequently shifts the blame onto others, speaking thus: "I know it was not your own fault, but others corrupted and seduced you; this whole sin is theirs." For hearing this, the son can gradually return to virtue, repenting of his malice, while he is ashamed and blushes to appear unworthy of such praise. Paul did the same when writing to the Galatians. After those many and long discourses, and after the unspeakable accusations with which he had accused them, toward the end of the epistle, wanting to remove the blame from them so that, being refreshed a little from the crimes, they might be able to come to an excuse, he speaks in this way: "I have confidence in you, that you will think nothing else; but he who troubles you will bear the judgment, whoever he may be" (Gal 5:10). David did the same thing here: for when he says "Why do you listen to the words of the people saying, 'Behold, David seeks your soul'?" he indicates that there are others inciting him, others poisoning his mind, striving in every way to provide him with an opportunity for an excuse. ^D Soon, pleading his own cause, he says: "And behold, your eyes have seen today that the Lord delivered you into my hands in the cave, and I would not kill you, but spared you, and said: 'I will not stretch out my hand against my lord, for he is the Lord’s anointed'" (1 Sam 24:11). They, he says, slander me with words, but I clear myself by my actions, and by the very deeds I dispel the accusation. I have no need of words, when the very result of the events is more capable than any speech of teaching you who are those who have falsely accused me, and how the slanderous and deceitful charge has been made against me. For these things, I invoke as witness not another, but yourself—yourself, I say, who were saved by my benefit. ^A Witness, who, when these things were happening, was sleeping, and neither heard a word nor saw David then present, nor speaking with the soldiers? How, then, shall we respond, so that a clear demonstration may be made? For if he had cited witnesses, Saul would have held their testimony in suspicion, and would have thought they were saying these things because they favored the righteous one. But if he had attempted to excuse himself by reasoning and probable arguments, it would have been likely that he would be less believed, since the judge’s mind was already corrupted. For how could he who, after having been treated with so many benefits, nonetheless pursued with war one who had done no wrong, have suspected that someone who had been treated with injustice, having caught the one who did the injustice in his hands, would have spared him? For the common crowd of people usually judges others by their own spirit: as an inveterate drunkard cannot easily believe that there is anyone living soberly; ^B or he who is given to harlots considers even those who live temperately to be incontinent; again, he who steals the goods of others will not easily be persuaded that there are men who give away their own. Similarly, this man, having once been occupied by anger, would not easily have believed that there was a man so superior to his own passions that he not only did no harm, but even saved the one who had harmed him. Since, therefore, the judge’s mind was corrupted, and the witnesses, if produced, would have been under suspicion, he found by a prudent counsel a certain proof that could stop the mouths even of the most shameless. What is this? The skirt of the mantle, which, extending it, he said: "Behold, the skirt of your mantle in my hand, which I took, and did not kill you" (1 Sam 24:12). ^C A silent witness, indeed, but more evident than all those who have voices. For, he says, if I had not been nearby and stood close to your body, I could not have cut off a part of your garment. Do you see how much good arose from the fact that David had been moved at the beginning? For if he had not been moved to anger, we would not have learned of the man’s philosophy (for to most it would have seemed that he spared him not out of philosophy, but out of stupidity), nor would he have cut off the part of the mantle; if he had not cut it off, he could not have generated faith in his enemy by other arguments. But now, since he was both moved and cut it [the garment], he provided the most certain proof of his providence. Since, therefore, he presented such a true and indubitable testimony, he soon makes the enemy himself both judge and witness of his own reverence toward him, saying in this way: "Know and see today that1 there is no iniquity in my hand, nor any contempt for you, and yet you treat my soul as if you would seize it" (Ibidem). ^D There, most of all, one should admire his magnanimity, that he does not take his excuse except from those things which had happened on that day. For he implies this when he says: "Know and see today." For I speak not of past things: for me, this present day is sufficient for proof. And yet he could have enumerated many great benefits which previously he had performed.

He could have reminded him of the single combat which he had undertaken against the barbarian, and said: "When the war against the barbarian was about to sweep away the entire city like some deluge, and you were all panic-stricken and terrified, and expecting to die every day, I came forward—prompted by no one, but even with you holding me back and detaining me, saying, 'You cannot go, for you are a child, and he is a man of war from his youth' (1 Kings 17:33): I did not shrink, but leaped forth before everyone else, and received the enemy, and cut off his head, and checked the onrush of those barbarians like the force of a torrent, and restored the city that was tottering. And because of me, you possess the kingdom and your life, and all the rest possess their city, their homes, their children, and their wives." And again after that trophy, he could have mentioned other wars which he had brought to a successful conclusion, which were no less than that one; and that even when Saul had made attempt after attempt to slay him, and ^B had cast his spear at his head, he had harbored no grudge; and that later, when he was bound to pay the wages of the former battle, he demanded not gold or silver, but slaughter and utter destruction—and not even then did he refuse. For all these things, and many more and greater than these, he could have mentioned; but he said none of them. For he did not wish to reproach him with benefits, but only to persuade him that he was one of those who loved and cared for him, not of those who plotted against and waged war upon him. Therefore, leaving all those things aside, he brought forward only what occurred on that very day as an argument for his defense. So devoid of vanity was he, and pure from all vainglory, and looking only to that to which he was bound to look: the judgment of God. Then he says: "The Lord judge between me and thee" (ibid. v. 15). He said this word, not desiring the man to be punished, nor to exact vengeance from him, but to cause him fear by the memory of the coming judgment; and not only to cause him fear, but also to defend his own actions. For "Most of all," he says, "I have proofs from the deeds themselves; but if you disbelieve, I call God himself as witness, who knows the secrets of every man's mind and is able to search the conscience."

5. He spoke these things, showing that he would never have dared to call upon the unerring Judge, and to bring the case before Him, if he had not been thoroughly persuaded that he was free from every plot. And that these statements were not conjecture, but that, while wishing to defend his own actions and desiring to chasten the other, he reminded him of that judgment—these things already passed are enough to declare; but the things which happened afterwards are also able to certify this no less than the former. For again, having him in his hands, after that salvation, when Saul had again set upon him and wished to slay him, and he was able to cut him and his entire army to pieces, he let him go, having suffered none of the things he might have expected to suffer. Wherefore, ^C also, seeing that he was suffering from an incurable malady and would never cease from his enmity toward him, he removed himself from his sight and lived among the barbarians, serving, deprived of honor, put to shame, and procuring his necessary food by labor and hardship. And this is not the only amazing thing, that he let him go sound and whole, but that, having heard of his fall in the order of battle, he tore his tunic, cast ashes upon himself, and lamented with a lamentation such as one would lament having lost an only-begotten and beloved son, continuously calling his name along with the child's, and composing encomia, sending forth a bitter cry, and remaining without food until evening, and cursing the very places that received the blood of Saul: "For O mountains of Gilboa," he says, "let not dew nor rain fall upon you: mountains of death, because there the shield of the mighty was cast away" (2 Kings 1. 21). Just as parents often do, both turning away from the house and looking with sadness upon the narrow way through which they sent their son, so did this man also, and he cursed the mountains that received the slaughter. "I also hate the place itself," he says, "because of the dead who fell there." Be no longer watered by the rain from above; for you were once ^D badly watered by the blood of my friends; and he continuously revolves their names, saying thus: "Saul and Jonathan, the beloved and beautiful, were not separated in their life, and in their death they were not divided" (ibid. v. 21). For since he could not embrace their bodies if they were not present, he embraces them with their names, soothing his own pain, as much as he was able, with these words, and comforting the magnitude of the calamity. For because it seemed to many that for both to fall in one day was an incurable evil, he took this very thing as the subject for comfort. For to say, "In their life they were not separated, and in their death they were not divided," meant nothing else but the preparation of this. For it is not possible, he says, to say that the son mourned for the orphanhood, nor that the father lamented the loss of his child, but that which has never happened to anyone, has happened, he says, to them; for they were cut off from life together and on one day, and neither was left behind. For he would have thought life unlivable by being separated from the other. Are you now inflamed, have you wept, has your reasoning been confounded, and have your eyes become ready for the shedding of tears? Now let each one remind me of an enemy and one who has caused him pain, while the mind is still boiling with grief, and let him keep this person alive, and mourn for him who has gone, not for show, but from the heart and a sincere soul; and if it be necessary to suffer something, so as not to grieve the one who has done the wrong, let him do everything and suffer everything, awaiting great rewards from God. Look, at least, at how this man both took the kingdom and did not soil his hand, but having kept his right hand pure, thus he bound on the crown and ascended the throne, having an argument for praise more brilliant than the purple and the diadem: the sparing of the enemy, the mourning for him upon his fall. For this reason, he is remembered not only living, but also when he has departed. So if you also wish, O man, to obtain unending glory here, and to enjoy the unshakable goods there, imitate the virtue of the just man, emulate his philosophy, show through your deeds—

^A that you have surpassed every kind of patience. May it be our lot to attain this, by the grace and loving-kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, power, and honor, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

Homily III

That it is dangerous to go to the theaters, and that this makes men complete adulterers, and that sorrow and contention arise from this; and that David surpassed every kind of patience in the things he did toward Saul; and finally, that to bear rapine with a calm mind is no less a virtue than to give alms

^B 1. I believe that many of those who recently deserted us and departed for the spectacles of iniquity are present today. I would have wished to know who these are, that I might bar them from the sacred vestibules, not so that they might remain outside forever, but that, having been corrected, they might return again; for even fathers often drive delinquent sons from the house and remove them from the table, not that they should be forever exiled, but that, having been rendered better by this correction, they might return to the paternal inheritance with due praise and honor. The same, indeed, do the pastors, while they separate the sheep covered with scabies from the healthy ones, so that, relieved of their wretched disease, they may safely return later to the healthy ones, lest the sick sheep infect the entire flock with that disease. For this reason we desired to know them; but although we cannot distinguish them with our bodily eyes, the word will nonetheless recognize them, and having rebuked their conscience, it will easily persuade them to depart of their own accord and willingly, teaching that he alone is inside who has a mind worthy of this exercise; just as, on the other hand, the one who lives corruptly and is a participant in this holy congregation, even if he stands here in body, is rejected and more truly removed than those who are cast outside, to whom it is not yet permitted to be participants of the holy table. For those, having been expelled according to the divine laws and remaining outside, are still in good hope; for if they only wish to correct their faults for which they have been cast out by the Church, they will be able to return again with a clear conscience. But those who have defiled themselves, and having been warned not to enter beforehand until they have purged the stain contracted from their crimes, then conduct themselves impudently, make the wound and ulcer ^C of their soul more bitter and greater. For it is not so grave a thing to sin as it is to conduct oneself impudently after the sin, and not to obey the priests who command such things. And what, they say, have these men committed of such great wickedness that they must be barred from these sacred rails? Nay, what greater sin do you seek, O men, than that of those who, when they have clearly defiled themselves with adultery, impudently and after the manner of rabid dogs, rush toward this holy table? But if you wish to learn the mode of adultery, I will not report my own words to you, but those of Him who is about to judge the entire life of man: "For he who has looked," He says, "at a woman to lust after her, has already committed adultery with her in his heart" (Matt. V, 28). But if a woman happens to be met in the forum, and being somewhat carelessly attired, has often caught one who is looking too curiously at her, even by the mere aspect of her face; those who do not simply, nor by chance, but with study—and with such study that they even despise the Church, and for this reason proceed there, and sitting there the whole day have their eyes fixed upon the faces of those abandoned women—with what face will they be able to say that they did not see them to lust after them? Where the words also are added, broken and lascivious, where the meretricious affectations, where the voice powerfully composed for pleasure, where the eyes painted with antimony, where the cheeks stained with colors, where the dress more curiously arranged, where the entire habit of the body is full of artifice, and many other solicitations designed to deceive and snare those who look; where the listlessness of the spectators, and much confusion, from here the very place inviting to lasciviousness, both from those performances which preceded, and from those which followed? ^D There are added irritants through pipes and flutes, and other modulation of that kind, enticing into fraud, and softening the strength of the mind, and preparing the souls of those sitting there through the snares and delight of harlots, and causing them to be more easily captured. For if here, where there are psalms, where there are prayers, where the explanation of the divine oracles, where the fear of God, and much piety, frequently, like any wily thief, concupiscence creeps in secretly: how can those who are sitting in the theater, who hear and see nothing healthy, but are dissolved in much turpitude, and much wickedness, who suffer siege from all sides, through the ears, through the eyes, be able to overcome evil concupiscence? And again, if they cannot, how will they ever be able to be absolved from the crime of adultery? Then, those who are not free from the crime of adultery, how will they be able to approach these sacred vestibules without repentance, and be partakers of this noble assembly?

2. How alien it is to Christian morals to be present at theatrical spectacles. Wherefore, indeed, I exhort and beseech you, that through confession and repentance and all other remedies they purge themselves first from the sin contracted at the theatrical spectacles, and thus hear the divine sermons. For we do not sin in any mediocre way; which it is permitted to any one to see clearly from examples. For if a servant should put a servant's tunic, filled with filth and many lice, into a casket where the precious and golden garments of his master are stored, tell me, would you bear that insult with a calm mind? What, moreover, if someone should pour dung and mire into a golden vessel in which it has been the custom to keep ointments, would you not inflict stripes upon one who had committed this wicked act? Are we, therefore, to be solicitous for such great care of caskets and vessels, garments and ointments, yet think our soul to be more vile than all of these? And where the ointment of the Spirit has been poured in, shall we introduce diabolical pomps? Shall we introduce the myths of Satan, and meretricious songs full of turpitude? Tell me, with what mind will God bear these things? And yet there is not so great a difference between ointment and mire, between masterly and servile garments, as there is between the grace of the Spirit and this perverse action. Do you not fear, O man, while with the same eyes with which you there look at the bed that is in the orchestra, where the detestable myths of adultery are performed, with those same eyes—

arments, is not as great as the difference between spiritual grace and these evil operations. Do not fear, man, to see with your own eyes what is on the bed of the orchestra, where ^A the abominable dramas of adultery are enacted; and [will you compare] this holy table, where the fearful mysteries are performed? With the same ears will you listen to a harlot speaking obscenely, and to a prophet or apostle leading you into the mysteries? With the same heart will you receive deadly poisons, and the fearful and holy sacrifice? Is it not from there that the subversion of lives, the corruption of marriages, and wars and fights in homes arise? For whenever you are poured out by the spectacle there, and become more relaxed and more licentious and an enemy to all temperance, upon returning [home] you will surely look upon your wife the more unpleasantly, whoever she may be. For having been inflamed by that desire in the theaters, and having been captured by that strange and bewitched spectacle, you despise your chaste and modest wife, the companion of your whole life; you insult her, you heap ten thousand reproaches upon her, though you have nothing at all with which to charge her. But being ashamed to speak of your passion and to show the wound which you received and brought back from there, you contrive other pretexts, seeking occasions for unreasonable enmity, and, neglecting all things at home, you gape after that abominable and impure desire from which you received the wound. And having the echo of that voice lodged as a melody in your soul, and the form and the look and the movements and all the images of the harlot, you view nothing of what is in your house with pleasure. And why do I speak of your wife and your home? You will view the church itself more unpleasantly, and you will listen with aversion to words about temperance and modesty. No longer will the things said to you be a teaching for you, but an accusation, and being gradually dragged down to despair, you will completely sever yourself from this profitable teaching. Therefore I exhort all of you both to flee these evil pastimes in the theaters and to pull away those who are engaged in them from there. For it is not a recreation, but destruction and punishment and torment, all that happens there. For what profit is there in this present pleasure, when constant pain is born from it, and by day and by night you are goaded by desire, troublesome and burdensome to all? Examine yourself, therefore, what you become when you depart from the church, and what [when you depart] from the theaters, and compare both days, and you will have no need of our words. For the comparison of each day will suffice to show the magnitude of the benefit from the one, and the hurt from the other. These things I have already said to your charity, and I will never cease saying them. For we shall comfort those who are suffering from such maladies, and we shall make those who are healthy more secure: for the discourse about these things is useful for both—for the former, that they might depart [from them], for the latter, that they might not fall into them. But since the one who rebukes must do so with measure, having brought this admonition to a halt here, we shall render to you the things left over from the former subject, turning back to David. For it is the custom of painters, when they are about to execute a likeness, ^B to make those who are to be painted sit by them for one, two, or three days, so that by the constancy of the observation they might exactly express the form. Since, therefore, it is proposed to us to paint now, not a type of bodily form, but the beauty of the soul and the intelligible comeliness, we wish David also to sit by you today, so that looking toward him, all of you may imprint in your own souls the comeliness of the righteous man, and his meekness and gentleness and greatness of soul, and all his other virtue. For if bodily images bring some consolation to those who see them, much more [do] the images of the soul. And it is not possible to see those everywhere, but they must be planted in one place, whereas there is nothing to stop you from taking this one with you wherever you wish. For having deposited it in the storerooms of your mind, wherever you may be, you will be able to look at it constantly and reap much profit from it. And just as those who suffer from their eyes, by holding sponges and rags of cloth that are bluish in color ^C and looking at them constantly, reap some consolation for their malady from that color, so also you, if you keep the image of David before your own eyes and gaze upon it constantly, even if anger ten thousand times troubles and confuses the eye of your mind, by looking at that character of virtue you will receive perfect health and pure philosophy.

3. That no one is worse than Saul.

^A by him, and that the city would be saved—he did not desist from his concern for him, but did everything, feeding such an enemy against himself. Who could recount a tolerance greater than this?

Furthermore, so that from what is happening now you may learn that it is possible, if we will it, to be reconciled with any man who harbors hostility toward us—what is more savage than a lion? And yet men make this creature tame and gentle, overcoming nature; it becomes more mild than any sheep, the most savage and proud of all beasts, to the extent that it walks through the marketplace, fearing no one. What excuse, then, shall we find, what pardon shall we receive, if, while we tame wild beasts, we say that men can never be pacified and rendered well-disposed toward us? And yet, for beasts, it is contrary to nature to be tame, whereas for man, it is contrary to nature to be savage. When, therefore, we overcome nature in them, what excuse shall we have, if we say that the intent of the soul in man cannot be corrected? But if you still argue, I would say this: even if a man is suffering from an incurable disease, the greater your toil, the greater will be your reward; if you sit by him, attending to one suffering from an incurable illness.

David’s hatred by Saul harmed him in nothing; how the merit of patience is equated to almsgiving. Let us therefore look at this one thing: not how we might suffer no harm from our enemies, but how we might do them no harm. For thus we shall suffer no harm, even if we endure countless evils—just as David, though being chased, though being driven into exile, and even being hunted by plots up to the danger of his very life, suffered nothing bitter; nay, rather, he became more illustrious and honorable than his enemy, and more beloved by all others, and not only by men, but even by God Himself. For what loss did that holy man receive when suffering so many things from Saul? Is he not sung of until this very day as illustrious on earth, and more illustrious in heaven? Do not the ineffable goods and the kingdom of heaven await him? Again, what profit did that unhappy and miserable man receive, having devised so many plots? Did he not fall from the kingdom? Did he not perish with his son by a miserable death, and is he not reviled by everyone, and—which is graver than these—does he not pay eternal punishments? Finally, what is it that you complain about, for which you do not wish to be reconciled with him? He took your money? But if you bravely endure the theft, you will receive as much reward as if you had placed it in the hands of the poor. For indeed, both he who gives to the needy and he who, toward the one who has usurped his property, neither lays plots nor curses him, both do these things for the sake of God. Since, therefore, the expense is the same for the cause, it is clear that there will be one and the same crown. But he plotted against your life and attempted to kill you? This matter will be imputed to you as a martyrdom, if you treat the one plotting against you and having reached such great enmity among those who are well-deserving, not ceasing to pray for him, beseeching God to be propitious to him.

^B For let us not think of this, that God caused David to be slaughtered, but consider this, that he was wreathed with a triple and quadruple crown of martyrdom from Saul’s plotting. For the one who, for the sake of God, saved his enemy—the one who had vibrated a lance at his head once, twice, nay, frequently, and having the power to kill him, nevertheless spared him, while knowing that it would happen later that he would be attacked by him again—it is clear that he was killed a thousand times in the resolve of his soul; and having been killed a thousand times for the sake of God, he bore many crowns of martyrdom. For just as Paul also says, "I die daily for the sake of God" (Rom. 8:26), he, too, suffered the same thing for the sake of God. For when he could have removed the enemy plotting against him, for the sake of God he did not wish to, and preferred to be in danger daily, rather than be freed from such deaths by a just slaughter. And if it is not lawful to avenge and hate the one who plots against you even to the danger of life itself, much less is it permitted to avenge him who has harmed you in a common way.

^C To be insulted, is it unbearable? Enemies are more useful than friends. To be affected by the reproaches of enemies, or to be brought into suspicion, seems to many to be more intolerable than all deaths. Come, therefore, let us examine this too. Has someone cursed you, or called you an adulterer and fornicator? If he is speaking the truth, correct yourself; if falsely, laugh at it. If you are yourself conscious of what is being objected against you, return to your senses; if it is not so, despise it. Nay, rather, not only do not mock or neglect it, but even rejoice and exult, according to the word of the Lord, who bids us do so. "When," he says, "they have reproached you, and said every evil word against you falsely, rejoice and exult, for your reward is great in the heavens" (Matt. 5:11-12). And again, "Rejoice and exult when they cast out your name as evil, falsely" (Luke 6:22). But when the reviler says such things, and you endure those words with modesty, not returning the insult, nor answering with reproaches, but bitterly groaning and condemning your own transgressions, you will bear no less a reward than the former. And I shall try to demonstrate this to you from the Scriptures, so that you may know that friends do not offer as much utility when they praise and speak for gratification, as much as enemies offer by reviling—even if they speak the truth—if only we are willing to use their accusations for what is necessary. For friends frequently flatter for gratification; on the contrary, enemies bring sins out into the middle. Since we do not see our own sins because of the love of self implanted within us, they, because of hatred, perceive them better than we do; and by reviling, they incite us to the necessity of correction. And so their enmity contributes to our greatest utility, not only because, being admonished by them, we understand our errors, but because we also lay them aside. For if an enemy has reproached you for a crime of which you are conscious, and you, hearing it, do not revile him in turn, but with a bitter groan implore God, you have straightway laid aside the whole fault. What, I ask, could be happier than this? ^D What is easier for the abolition of crimes? But lest we seem to be urging you on by human words, we shall bring forth testimony from the divine Scriptures regarding this matter, so that you may doubt nothing further. There were the Pharisee and the publican; the one reached the utmost...

wickedness, while the other practiced the highest degree of justice; for the former had squandered his possessions, was constant in fasting, and was pure from greed, while the latter had consumed his entire life in robberies and violence. Both went up into the temple to pray. Then the former, standing, said: *I thank you, O Lord, that I am not as the rest of men, extortioners, covetous, or even as this publican* (Luc. 18, 11. 12). But the publican, standing afar off, did not revile in return, did not rail in return, did not utter those words common among the multitude: "Do you dare to mention my life, and to grasp at the things I have done? Am I not better than you? Shall I tell you of your own offenses, and bring it about that you never again set foot on these holy thresholds?" He said none of these cold words, which we use daily as we wash one another with mutual reproaches; but sighing bitterly and striking his breast, he said only this: *Be merciful to me the sinner* (Ibid. v. 13), and he went down justified. Do you see the swiftness? He accepted the reproach, and washed away the reproach; he acknowledged his sins, and laid aside his sins; and the accusation of sin became the destruction of sin, and the enemy, in spite of himself, was established as a benefactor. For how much labor would the publican have needed—fasting, sleeping on the ground, keeping watch, providing his possessions to those in need, sitting in sackcloth and ashes for a long time—in order to be able to lay aside those sins? And now, having done none of these things, by a mere word he laid aside all his wickedness; and the insults and railings of the one who thought he was insulting him brought him a crown of righteousness, without sweat, without toils, and without a long interval of time. Do you see that even if someone speaks the truth about us, or even things we ourselves are conscious of, if we do not revile the speaker, but sigh bitterly and call upon God on behalf of our sins, we shall be able to lay aside all our transgressions? In this way, at any rate, this man was justified: because he did not revile the other in return, but sighed for his own sins, this man went down justified more than the other.

5. ^A Do you see how much profit there is in the insults of enemies, if we bear them philosophically? Since they benefit us both when they are lying and when they are speaking the truth, why do we suffer? Why are we stung? Unless you harm yourself, man, neither friend, nor enemy, nor the devil himself will be able to harm you. Since those who insult, who confiscate, who plot even against life itself, benefit us—some by weaving for us a crown of martyrdom, as we have shown, others by stripping away our sins and making us righteous, as happened in the case of the publican—for what reason do we become bestial toward them? Let us not, therefore, say: "So-and-so provoked me, and so-and-so led me to speak shameful words"; we are everywhere the cause of these things. For if we are willing to practice philosophy, not even a demon will be able to move us to anger; and this is clear from many other examples, and from this very history before us concerning David, which it is worthwhile to bring into the middle today, having first reminded you of love, where we broke off the discourse previously.

Where, then, did we break it off? ^B At the apology of David. It is necessary, therefore, today to repeat the words of Saul, and to see what this man answered to the defense of the other. For we shall learn the virtue of David not only from the words David uttered, but also from the words Saul says; for if he appears to be speaking even something mild and gentle, we shall attribute the cause of these things to Him who transformed the man, who trained and regulated his soul. What, then, does Saul say? Having heard David say, *Behold the skirt of your mantle in my hand* (1 Reg. 24, 12), and the other things he pleaded along with these, he said: *Is this your voice, my son David?* (Ibid. v. 17). O, how sudden was the change! For he who could not even bear to call him by his mere name at any time, but even loathed the very mention of him, led him into kinship, by calling him "son." What is more blessed than David, who made the murderer a father, the wolf a sheep, and filled the furnace of anger with much dew, and turned the waves into calm, and quenched the entire inflammation of his rage? For those words of David, entering the mind of this beastly man, worked this entire transformation, which it is possible to see from these words. For he did not say, "Are these your words, son David?" but what? *Is this your voice, my son David?* For he was already warmed even by the sound itself. And just as a father, upon hearing the voice of a child returned from somewhere after a long time, is stirred not only at the sight, but at the voice itself; so also Saul, since the words of David, entering in, cast out the enmity, recognized the holy man at last, and laying aside one passion, received another. ^C For having cast aside rage, he received cheerfulness and sympathy. And just as when night is present we often do not recognize a friend even when he is present, but when it becomes day we recognize him even from afar; so also it is accustomed to happen in the case of enmity. As long as we are unpleasantly disposed toward each other, we hear voices differently, and we look upon the face with a corrupted mind; but when we have laid aside our anger, the voice that was formerly hostile and hateful appears to us pleasant and sweetest, and the hostile and unpleasant face becomes desirable and charming.

6. This happens also in the case of winter. The beauty of the heavens does not cease to exist because of the gathering of clouds; but even if we have eyes ^D ten thousand times more keen, we are not able to perceive the brightness above. But when the heat of the ray has spent its time and broken the cloud, and shows the sun, it shows again the beauty of the sky. Thus also it happens in our case when we are angry; and just as enmity, standing as a thick cloud before the eyes and before the ears, makes both the voices and the faces appear different. But when someone, having practiced philosophy, lays aside the enmity and breaks the cloud of grief, then with an impartial judgment he will see everything, and hear everything; and he will recognize that the words of David were [alt-version omitted] *Is this your voice, my son David?*

^A What is this voice? It is the voice that brought down Goliath, the voice that rescued the city from dangers, the voice that restored to security and liberty all those who were in peril of slavery and death, the voice that quelled the mania of Saul, the voice that had bestowed upon him many great benefits. For this voice had struck down that barbarian, because before casting the stone, it had assailed him with the power of prayer. For he did not simply cast the stone, but having first said, *You come to me with your gods, but I come to you in the name of the Lord of Sabaoth, whom you have reviled this day* (1 Kings 17:45), he cast the stone. This voice guided the stone as if by hand into Goliath, this voice struck terror into the barbarian, this voice broke the pride of the enemy. And what is to be wondered at, if the voice of a just man both mitigates rage and casts down enemies, when it also expels evil spirits? The apostles would merely speak, and all opposing powers would take flight. The voice of righteous men has often halted the elements and altered their operations. For Joshua the son of Nun merely said, *Let the sun and moon stand still*, and they stood; just so, Moses entered the sea, and it gave way. The three children in the furnace extinguished the fire with those hymns of theirs and with their voice. For this reason Saul, being stirred by the same voice, said, *Is this your voice, my son David?* What then did David say? *Your servant, my lord king.* After this, a contest and rivalry arises: who shall overtake whom with the greater honor. Saul indeed calls him a kinsman; but David calls him his master. What he means is this: "I seek but one thing," he says, "your salvation and the advancement of virtue. You have called me son, but for me it is enough if you consider me a servant, provided only that you put aside your anger, provided only that you suspect no evil from me, and do not think me an enemy or a plotter." Thus he fulfilled that apostolic law which commands that we *outdo one another in showing honor* (Rom. 12:10), ^B and not according to the custom of most men, who are in a worse state than the very beasts, who do not even endure to greet their neighbor first, thinking themselves treated with contempt and debased if they should address someone with a simple greeting. What is more ridiculous than this arrogance? What is more foul than this conceit and pride? For then, yes then, you are debased from your dignity, O man; then you are truly treated with injury and contempt, as often as you wait for your neighbor to address you first. For what is worse than arrogance? What is more ridiculous than vanity and empty glory? For if you address him first, God Himself will praise you—which is the greatest thing of all—and men will, furthermore, approve of you, and you will receive the entire reward for your greeting. But if you have waited to be honored first, and only then offer honor to your neighbor, you have done nothing great. For he from whom the beginning of honor took its start, the same one is going to receive the entire reward of the honor returned by you. Let us not, therefore, wait for others to be the first to show us honor, but let us hasten to show honor to our neighbor, and let the beginning of the greeting always originate from us; nor let us deem this duty to be something negligible and common, if we greet others with willingness and love. For the omission of this has shattered many friendships and bred many enmities, just as, conversely, the diligent performance of the same has dissolved old and long-standing rivalries and confirmed friendships. Do not, therefore, my dearest, neglect your zeal in these matters; but if it is possible, be the first to anticipate those you happen to meet, both in greeting and in all other things. ^C But if another should forestall you, repay him greater honor. For this is what Paul also advised, thus speaking: *But in humility count others better than yourselves* (Phil. 2:3). David did this, who both offered honor first and, having been honored, returned even greater honor, saying, *Your servant, my lord king.* See, truly, how much profit David gained by saying this. Saul could no longer endure to hear this voice without tears, but he wept bitterly, declaring by his tears the sanity of soul and the wisdom which David had instilled. In such a brief moment of time he thus composed his enemy from frenzy to sobriety, and brought a mind thirsting for blood and slaughter suddenly to lamentations and wails. I do not wonder as much at Moses, that from a sheer rock he drew forth fountains of water, as I wonder at David, that from stony eyes he drew forth fountains of tears. For the former conquered nature, but the latter conquered the mind's intent; the former struck the rock with a rod, the latter struck the heart with his word, not to sadden it, but to render it pure and gentle—which he even accomplished, bestowing a greater benefit upon the king than he had done before. It is indeed worthy of praise and the highest admiration that he did not dye his sword with blood, nor sever that hostile head, but it was worthy of a far greater crown that he changed the very intent of his enemy and rendered him better, and turned him toward his own humanity. This benefit is more excellent than that. For it is not the same thing to grant forgiveness as it is to lead a person to the wisdom of the soul; it is not the same thing to save from murder one who is breathing forth unjust slaughter, to snatch from slaughter, and to snatch from a frenzy that is hastening to such great evil. For while David restrained his own attendants from killing Saul, he profited his life for the present; ^D but when he drove the malice from his soul with a thousand words, he bestowed upon him the future life and eternal goods, as far as it was in his power. As often, therefore, as you praise David for his own gentleness, praise him even more for having changed Saul. For it is much less to temper one's own desires than to conquer another's frenzy, than to curb a heart swelling with wrath and to create such great tranquility from such a storm, and to cause eyes that were bearing homicide within them to be filled with warm tears. And this is full of wonder and miracle. For if Saul had been a man of moderation and equity, it would not have been a task of very great difficulty to recall him to his accustomed virtue; but to take one who was brutalized, driven to the extremity of malice, and already hastening to slaughter, and in a brief moment of time to prepare...

to extinguish all that bitterness, who would not praise him among all who have ever been renowned for their teaching of philosophy? ^A And you, therefore, when you take hold of your enemy, do not consider how you might punish him and wash him with a thousand insults and send him away; but consider how you might heal him, how you might lead him back to kindness; and do not cease before you have done and said everything, until you overcome his cruelty with gentleness. For nothing is more powerful than kindness. And someone declaring this very thing said: *A soft word will break bones* (Prov. 25:15). And yet what is harder than bone? But nevertheless, even if someone is so hard and unbending, he will easily be overcome by one who uses kindness toward him. And again: *An answer turned away turns back wrath* (Prov. 15:1). Whence it is clear that for your enemy to be moved, and for him to be reconciled, you are more responsible than he. For it lies with us, not with those who are angry, both to be extinguished and for their wrath to be inflamed to a greater flame. And the same speaker who said the former things clarified this very thing again through a simple example. For, he says, just as if you breathe upon a spark of fire, you kindle the flame, but if you spit upon it, you have extinguished it—and you are master of both (for *both*, he says, *flow from your mouth* [Eccl. 28:14])—so also with the enmity of your neighbor: if you bring forward puffed up and desperate words, you kindle his fire, you burn up the coals; but if you bring forward gentle and restrained words, before the kiln is raised, you have extinguished all the wrath. ^B Do not, therefore, say that "I suffered such and such things, I heard such and such things"; for you are master of all these. For just as it is in you both to extinguish and to light a spark, so too it is in you to kindle and to compose wrath again. When you see an enemy, or even if you call to mind how many grievous things you heard and suffered, forget all these; but if you even remember, attribute these to the devil. Collect, if he ever said or did anything good for you. And if you dwell upon the memory of these, you will quickly dissolve the enmity. And if you are about to complain and to converse, first cast out the passion and have extinguished the wrath, and in this way demand an accounting, in this way rebuke him, and you will be able to prevail easily. For while angry, we will never be able to say or hear anything sound; but having been freed from the passion, we will neither emit a harsh word ourselves, nor will we hear it as spoken by others. For it is not the nature of the things being said, but the forethought of enmity that makes us savage outwardly. Often, therefore, when we hear the same insults from friends who are playing, or joking, or even from small children, not only did we not suffer anything unpleasant, nor were we made savage, but we even laughed and were relaxed. For we did not hear it with a corrupted mind, nor with a soul anticipated by wrath. So also with enemies, if you extinguish the wrath, if you cast out the enmity, none of the things being said will be able to grieve you.

8. ^C More worthy of tears is he who does the injury. — But what do I say of words? Nothing of those things that are happening ^D offends this blessed man; but seeing the enemy arming himself against his own salvation, and moving everything for this sake, not only was he not enraged, but he even came to greater compassion; that he was plotting greater things, by so much the more he wept for him. For he knew, he knew clearly, that it is not the one suffering harm, but the one doing it, who is worthy of tears and lamentations, harming himself. For this reason he composed a long apology to him, and did not cease until he had prepared him to apologize with tears and lamentations. For since he wailed and let out a bitter cry, and lamented loudly, hear what he says: *You are more righteous than I, for you have rendered me good, and I have rendered you evil* (1 Kings 24:18). Do you see how he both convicts his own wickedness and praises the virtue of the righteous man, and with no one compelling him, he apologizes? You do the same. When you take your enemy, do not accuse, but apologize, so that you may prepare him to accuse himself. For if we accuse, he becomes hardened; but if we apologize, respecting our kindness, he will henceforth accuse himself. And thus also the rebuke becomes above suspicion, and he is delivered from all wickedness. Which, therefore, happened here as well; and the one who did the wrong accuses with much vehemence, while the one who was wronged is silent. For he did not say simply, "You wrought good towards me," but, *You have rendered me good*; that is, "In return for the plotting, in return for the slaughter, in return for those ten thousand evils, you have repaid us with great favors." "But I did not even so become the better, but even after those favors I persisted in wickedness; and you did not even so change, but remained preserving your own character and again doing good to us as we were plotting." Of how many crowns would David be worthy for each of these words? For even if the mouth of Saul uttered them, yet the wisdom and the skill of David planted them into that man's soul. *And you reported to me today what you did to me in good, how the Lord shut me up today into your hands, and you did not kill me* (1 Kings 24:19). And he bears witness to another virtue in him again, that having done good, he did not keep silent, nor did he overlook it, but having come, he spoke, not doing this for show, but wishing to show, and to teach through the deeds themselves, that he is of those who care and provide, not of those who plot and do wickedly. For it is possible to speak of one's own favors, where one has the greatest profit. For when someone offers them and proclaims them when there is no subject, he will be no better than those who insult; but when he does this wishing to persuade the corrupted one, and the one holding a wicked forethought about him, he is a caregiver and a benefactor; which, therefore, David also did, not craving the glory from him, but wishing to pull out the wrath rooted in him. And for this reason, therefore, he praised him, that he both did good, and spoke of the favor. Then, seeking a reward, and having none equal to be found for the things that had happened, he gives God himself to him as a debtor, saying thus: *For if one finds his enemy in distress, and sends him off on a good path, the Lord will repay him with good, as you have done today.* For what did he have worthy to repay the favors, if even the kingdom

^A had been given with all its cities? For he had bestowed upon David not only cities and the kingdom, but even his own soul; and since David had no other soul to give in return, he refers him to God and honors him ^B with rewards from Him, both by praising him and by instructing all that we receive greater rewards from God when we receive the contrary in exchange for the countless good things we have done for our enemies. Then he says: ^C “Behold, I know that you shall surely reign, and the kingdom of Israel shall be established in your hand. And now swear to me by the Lord that you will not destroy my seed after me, and that you will not wipe out my name from the house of my father.” But tell me, I ask you, ^D whence do you know this? You have the armies, you have the money, the weapons, the cities, the horses, the soldiers, in short the entire power of the royal apparatus; whereas this man here is a destitute and naked fugitive, having neither city, nor house, nor family. Whence then, I ask, do you say these things? Truly from the very character of David. For he would not have overcome me—armed and surrounded by such power—if he had not had God as his helper; for he who has God as his ally is more powerful than everyone. Do you see to what philosophy Saul was led after his stalking? Do you see how it is possible for an enemy to spit out all wickedness, and, by being changed, to return to better things?

For even if we have been carried down to the very pits of wickedness, it is possible for us to recover ourselves and put aside all wickedness. David left his enemy’s children to be cared for; David was benevolent toward the children of his enemy.

Next what does he say? “Swear to me by God that you will not destroy my seed after me, and that you will not wipe out my name from the house of my father.” A king asks of a private citizen: he who is crowned with the diadem acts as a suppliant, pleading with an exile on behalf of his children. And this very thing proves the virtue of David, that his enemy dared to ask these things of an enemy. For in demanding that oath, he did not do so because he distrusted the character of David, but because he reflected upon the many evils he had visited upon him. “Swear to me that you will not destroy my seed after me.” He left [David] as a guardian to his children, and places his own offspring into his hands, while taking hold of the hands of David and his children with these words, bringing in God as a witness. What then did David do? Did he use even a little dissimulation or irony toward these things? Not at all: but he immediately gave his assent, and granted what was asked; and when Saul had died, not only did he not kill his descendants, but he performed even more than he had promised. For he brought his son, who was lame and weak in his legs, into his own house, and made him a participant of his own table, honoring him with the highest honor, and he was not ashamed, nor did he hide it, nor did he consider the royal table dishonored by the boy’s lameness, but rather adorned and made more magnificent. For all who reclined with him departed having obtained a great lesson in philosophy. For when they saw the son of Saul—of him who had wrought such evils against David—being held in such honor by him, even if they had been more savage than all wild beasts, they nevertheless returned to friendship with all their enemies, moved by shame and blushing. For if he had even ordered bread to be given to him from elsewhere, and had arranged a certain measure of food, it would have been very great; but to receive him at his own table is of exceptional philosophy. You know, to be sure, that it is not easy to love the children of enemies. What did I say, to love? Not to hate, not to persecute, is a great thing. And so many, when their enemies have passed away, poured out the wrath they held for them upon their children. But not so this noble and magnanimous man, for he watched over his living enemy, and when he had died, he showed to his children the benevolence he had held for him. What was more holy than that table, which the children of his enemy surrounded—the enemy, I say, who had attempted to kill him? What was more spiritual than that banquet, in which so many blessings abounded? It was more that of an angel than of a man inviting them. For to embrace and love the children of an enemy, and his son—the one who had so often tried to remove him from the midst, and who, attempting that, had departed from this life—makes him to be numbered in that choir. Do you also do this, dearest one, fostering the children of both the living and the dead: of the living, indeed, so that you may reconcile their parents to yourself in this way; of the departed, truly, by caring for the children, so that you may prepare for yourself much favor from God and be adorned with many crowns, and may obtain countless wishes and prayers from all, not only from those who have been helped by your benefits, but also from those who have seen them. This will stand for you on that day, and those who were enemies helped by your benefit will be great patrons for you at the time of judgment; you will expiate many sins and you will demand back your reward. Even if you have committed countless sins, if you proffer that prayer which says, “Forgive your enemies, and your Father will forgive you your sins,” you will obtain with great confidence the remission of all things you have committed, and will live here in the meantime with good hope, being destined to have everyone affectionately disposed toward you. For when they see you so loving your enemies and the children of your enemies, how could it be that they would not desire to become your friends and be zealous for you, and both do and suffer everything for your sake? Furthermore, when you prepare for yourself such favor with God, when you have everyone wishing you all good things, what distress will you feel, or who will live a happier life than you? Let us not only praise these things in this life, but let us also keep them when we depart from here, and, walking about to explore our enemies, let us reconcile them to ourselves and render them sincere friends from out of enemies. But if there is even need for an excuse, and if it is necessary to ask for pardon from them, let us not refuse, even if we ourselves have been the ones affected by the injury. By this pact the reward for us will be more abundant, by this pact there will be greater confidence, by this pact we will undoubtedly obtain the kingdom of heaven, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father and the Holy Spirit be glory, power, and honor now and always, and to the ages of ages. Amen.