[LATIN COLUMN]
511 S. JOHN CHRYSOSTOM, ARCHBISHOP OF CONSTANTINOPLE. ...are yours. Do you say, "The master is wonderful"? There is much gold in the ceilings. Do you say, "The alms-giving is great"? There are many fountains, a vast magnificence. Do you say, "The magnificence of the owner is vast"? You speak everywhere of walls, everywhere of marbles, everywhere of fountains, of waters. You see again a horse gleaming with a golden bridle, and you say, "The bridle is beautiful." Therefore, this is the praise of the goldsmith. "The garment is excellent." Therefore, the praise belongs to the weaver. "The servants are showy." Therefore, this is the praise of the seller. Yet he himself remains un-crowned, while his possessions are adorned with praises. But when you see a righteous man, you say: "A righteous man, beautiful, modest, wonderful, merciful, benevolent, contrite, always occupied with prayers, always insistent in fasts, always lingering in the church, never removing himself from divine teaching." These are his praises, these are his crowns. Learn, therefore, what the riches of a man are, and what the riches of a house: *Do not be afraid.* For if you have learned to distinguish riches rightly, you will no longer be afraid. Do you see him, whom you thought to be rich, to be poor and needy? *Do not be afraid when a man has become rich.* And so that you may learn that these things are so, and if this deceives you here, look to him at the time of death. Does he take anything of all these, and thus depart? Certainly, he is dead, and lies naked, he who was clothed in silken garments. He lies naked in the tomb, and his servants depart and leave, and no one cares for him: for they were not his servants. He went away, and henceforth nothing of his own lies there. His wife laments and tortures herself, loosens her hair: all console her, but she does not hear; the children are orphans, the wife is a widow: all are cast down, the cup-bearers, the flagons, the parasites, the flatterers, the eunuchs. He cannot take any of those vessels and depart; but what? He is carried out alone. They extol him with praises. What is that to him? Yet does vain glory make him renowned? Why? Is he able to take anything from it? Nothing of those things can be with him on that day. Into the tomb 512 he departs who had seized everything; he is buried within three cubits, and nothing more; the earth covers his face and the same for the lid of the casket. The wife withdraws. Where are the riches? where are the servants? where the pomp? where the large and splendid houses? They abandon him: even the wife deserts him, whether she wills it or not: for the stench drives her away, the fountains of worms expel her. Is this the whole of it? Yes: for he departed having nothing of his own. But that you may learn that he departed having nothing of his own, the blessed martyrs, because they carry their own things with them, obtain this, that we do not depart from their sepulcher. But here, not even the wife can remain: there the Emperor casts aside his diadem, and remains at the sepulcher of the martyr, praying and beseeching that he might be delivered from evils and might conquer his enemies. Therefore, do not be afraid when a man has become rich. Having taken this verse, let us begin to sing to the Lord, and for all these things let us give thanks to Him, to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, because to Him are glory and power forever and ever. Amen.
BY THE SAME, WHEN ANOTHER HAD FINISHED HIS DISCOURSE, A SERMON DELIVERED IN CONSTANTINOPLE, IN THE GREAT CHURCH, WHEN FEW HAD GATHERED, ON THAT: "DO NOT BE AFRAID WHEN A MAN HAS BECOME RICH," AND ON ALMS-GIVING.
The fruit of him who spoke well is short, but ripe: the string is thin, but the sound is vast: words are few, but the thoughts are of great value. For he both excited the entire people with praises, and made them more diligent with his proclamations, and indicated the author of the husbandry, and having composed hymns in His praise, after he had given thanks according to the Apostle's precept, he concluded his discourse with glorification. But if he removed the table quickly, he did not do it out of poverty, but out of humility. For it was not because he could not say more that he put an end to the prayer by keeping silent, but so that he might yield the duty of teaching to us. Come, therefore, let us also, freed from the storm of the tumults which have already occurred, wash our ears with the reading of the Scriptures, as if with certain river waters. Sailors do the same: after they have escaped the storm, and having crossed the vast sea have arrived at a tranquil port, having lowered their sails, having put aside the oar, and having disembarked from the ship, they refresh the body with baths, food, drink, sleep, and delights, so that they may render it more vigorous and better suited for the remaining navigation.
A Having been delivered from the disturbance, the noise, and the waves, let us moor our soul, as if in a quiet harbor, to the reading of the Scriptures. For the fellowship of the divine Scriptures is a harbor devoid of waves, a wall unbroken, a tower unmoved, a glory which cannot be taken away, a shield invulnerable, a joy unfading, and a pleasure perpetual; it is all that one can call good. It repels dejection and preserves joy; it makes the poor man richer than the wealthy, and it bestows security upon those who are rich; it makes the sinner righteous, and it establishes the righteous in a secure custody; it pulls up the evils that exist and plants the good that were lacking; it drives away wickedness and leads back to virtue, and not only leads back but takes root and causes it to remain perpetual, being a spiritual medicine, a divine and ineffable incantation, an exterminator of passions. For it pulls up the thorns of sins and works the field clean, and it casts in the seeds of piety and leads the fruit to maturity.
Therefore, let us not neglect such great goods, nor let us be absent from the assemblies, but let us run here constantly, that we may be continuously healed, and neither let any man be struck with envy when he sees one who is rich, nor let anyone be crushed by poverty; but having learned the true nature of things, let him pass by the shadows, but lay hold of the truth. For a shadow, even if it appears larger than the body, is nonetheless a shadow; or rather, it is not larger, but it seems so, and then it seems so when we are further from the ray of light; thus indeed, when around the steady midday the ray standing overhead is gathered from all sides, and it is contracted, and it becomes shorter; this indeed is also possible to see in human affairs. For as long as one places himself further from virtue, the things of the present life appear great; but B when he places himself in the very brightest light of the divine Scriptures, then he sees both the cheapness, and the shortness, and the nothingness of these ephemeral things, and he learns clearly that these things are disposed in no better condition than river waters, which are at once appearing and flowing past.
For this cause the Prophet, philosophizing and correcting those who were narrow-minded, and miserable, and dragging themselves on the ground, and gaping at the fantasy of wealth, and fearing and trembling before those who abound in these things, and leading us away from such anxiety and persuading us to despise them as being nothing, said: "Be not afraid when a man is made rich, or when the glory of his house is multiplied. For he shall take nothing when he dies" (Ps. 48. 16-17). Do you see the precision of the word and the most clear distinction? For he did not say, "When his glory is multiplied," but, "The glory of his house," showing that the glory of a man is one thing, and the glory of a house is another. What, then, is the glory of a man, and what is the glory of a house? For it is necessary to know these things clearly, so as not to embrace dreams before the truth. The glory of a house, then, is porches, promenades, a golden ceiling, a floor adorned with mosaics, meadows, gardens, herds of slaves, the expensive furnishings, none of which belong to the man. The glory of a man is sound faith, zeal according to God, charity, gentleness, C reasonableness, the intensity in prayer, the philosophy of almsgiving, moderation, decorum, and all the other members of virtue. And that you may learn that these take this manner, he who possesses those things does not reap the glory from them, nor would anyone be called good because he has a good house, or garden, or meadow, or a multitude of slaves, or the expense of garments. For all the wonder stands about the possession, not passing over to the one who has it. For we admire the house, and the garden, and the meadow, and the beauty of the garments, which are a eulogy of those who worked the craft, not of the virtue of the possessors; but it is even, on the contrary, proof of all wickedness.
D 2. The nature of these possessions is so far from clothing the possessors with glory that it even harms it with excess. For as if they were raw, and inhuman, and boorish, and foreign to philosophy, so everyone mocks those who display their wealth in these things; for these things are not the glory of a man, as I said, but of the house; those, however, who live in moderation, in decorum, in gentleness, who are reasonable, and who are dedicated to God with precision—them we admire, we praise, we proclaim, since this is most especially the glory of a man. Knowing these things, therefore, do not consider any of those who are clothed in those things, which have nothing in common with him, to be enviable. And if you see someone sitting on a vehicle, pulling up his eyebrows, haughty, touching the clouds themselves, not by the nature of the matter (for it is not possible), but by the arrogance of the soul, or rather by the stupidity, do not think that this man is glorious, nor lofty and great. For it is not mules pulling him that make him lofty, but the summit of virtue leading up 521 to the vaults of the heavens.
And if you see another sitting on a horse, having many of those who carry rods, and making a commotion in the marketplace, do not bless even this man for these things, but unfold his soul, and then pass judgment concerning him, things which the sight of that one suggests. For as for the things now being done, they are ridiculous. For why do you make a commotion in the marketplace, tell me; and why do you drive away those who meet you, and chase them away, being a man, a man? What is the pride? What is the arrogance? For have you become a wolf, or a lion, so as to turn everyone to flight upon entering a city? Rather, indeed, a wolf would never chase a wolf, nor a lion a lion, but they congregate together, revering the communion of nature; but you, who along with nature have many other rights of gentleness, of humility, of equal law, why do you become more bestial than the beasts, and because of the irrational, despise the rational? And your Master led man up into heaven, but you do not even share an alleyway with him? And what do I say "into heaven"? He sat him upon a royal throne, but you also drive him out of the city? And what does the golden bridle desire to be for you, the one adorning the horse? And of what defense will you obtain enjoyment, or of what pardon, by adorning the irrational creature—which does not even perceive the ambition—beyond the need (for gold and lead are the same to him), while seeing Christ wasting away with hunger, and not even making (him) enjoy the necessary food? And why do you not endure, being a man, to mingle with men, seeking solitude in the midst of the cities, and do not perceive that your Master even ate with tax collectors,
and spoke with a harlot, and was crucified with robbers, and mingled with men; but being puffed up with arrogance and pride, you lose the very nature of man? A Hence arises in us a great contempt for mercy, hence the passion for avarice, hence cruelty and inhumanity. For when you apply a golden bridle to a horse, and a golden bracelet to a servant, and golden plates to a stone, and you have golden skins, golden garments, a golden belt, and likewise shoes, and you impose upon yourself so great a necessity of this wickedness, wishing to satisfy an insatiate desire, and to feed the most savage beast of all, I mean avarice: then you both plunder the orphans, and lay the widows bare, and walk as the common enemy of all, having engaged in a vain labor, reaching a course B which will be closed by no good end. For what does this mean, that you adorn your barbarian servant with gold? What gain, what usefulness to the soul arises, what benefit to the body, what return to the house? Nay, rather, it is the exact opposite: an untimely expenditure, expenses alien to reason, material for luxury, proofs of malice, an occasion for a prodigal and dissolute life, a corruption of the soul, a path which leads to countless evils. And beds joined with silver and shining with gold, stools and basins fashioned from them, and much laughter—what can they contribute to the amendment of life? Or what have they helped you to become better, or your wife, or any other of your domestics? Does not this rather produce thieves and many wall-perforators? C Does not this make fugitive servants? For when, wherever they turn their eyes, they see silver shining, the disease of theft is nourished in them. For if, in you, a free man who thinks magnificently of yourself on account of your nobility, the silver that shines in the market lures you to desire: much more so in the servant. And I do not say these things to absolve fugitive servants of their crime, nor those who perpetrate such evils, but to exhort you not to furnish them the food of such diseases. "But," they say, "where shall we deposit these riches? Are we to bury them in the earth?" Far from it; but if you are willing to acquiesce in my counsels, I will teach you the manner by which you will be able to make this fugitive servant honest and faithful.
D 7. For riches are also a fugitive, today passing to this one, tomorrow to another; and they are not only themselves fugitives, but they even make others fugitives, while they cause those to whom they have been entrusted for safekeeping often to take flight. By what means, finally, can this fugitive be held? By a way completely contrary to other fugitives. For others, while they are held, remain, but this one, if he is held, will flee; if he is dispersed, he will remain. But if by chance what I say seems new to you, learn this from the farmers. For when they bury wheat inside their houses, they expose it to be gnawed and destroyed by moths and worms; but if they disperse it in the fields, they not only preserve it, but even multiply it. So also riches, while they remain in chests, and under doors and bars or buried in the earth, they quickly flee; but if, as farmers do with wheat in the fields, you disperse them into the bellies of the poor, not only do they not flee, but they become more plentiful from it. Knowing these things, therefore, do not hand them over to servants, but entrust them to be held by countless hands, namely, of widows, of orphans, of the maimed, and of those who are shut up in prison. For they will not be able to flee when held by so many hands, but will be held firmly, and will become greater. "But what shall I leave behind for my children?" he says. Truly, you must not pour out everything; although if you poured out everything, in this way you would enrich your children more, while for the money you would leave God as their propitiator, and riches gained by alms, and countless helpers and benefactors among men. For just as we pursue thieves with hatred, even though we have suffered no injury, so do we revere and love those who know how to show mercy and succor the needy, even though nothing has flowed to us from their liberality; and we love not only them, but their children as well. Consider, therefore, how great a thing that honor is, that your sons should be seen to be loved by countless men, when all pronounce these words, if wealth be spent for the sustenance of the needy: "This is the son of a benevolent man, this is the son of a merciful man." But you adorn a thing that is void of sense; for a stone is devoid of sense, however many countless talents of gold you may cover it with; yet to him who is endowed with sense, and is being killed by hunger, you do not impart even necessary food. When, therefore, that dreaded tribunal shall appear, and the rivers of fire, when we shall be required to give the accounts of the things we have done, with what defense will you protect such sloth and such stupidity and inhumanity? What legitimate excuse will you bring? For just as each one of the others has a proposed goal and a reason by which he directs his actions—and the farmer, if you should demand an account from him, will say for what cause he joined the oxen, drew the furrow, drove the plow, and the merchant why he launched his ship into the sea and hired workmen and deposited money, and the architect and the shoemaker, the copper-smith, the baker, and the individual craftsmen of any arts whatsoever render an account and a cause—so you also, while you so cover a bed with silver, while you gild a horse and a stone, and prepare skins of such a kind, if an account be demanded of you, what cause will you say? What means? Does a sweeter sleep come over you from such a bed? But this you can by no means say; nay rather, if something must be said contrary to opinion, it is even more unpleasant: for the worry is greater, and the anxiety greater. Or is the structure firmer on account of the gold? Not even this is true. Or is the horse better on account of such a bridle? Or the servant? Clearly, the opposite is seen here also. Why, therefore, do you show yourselves so inept in all these things? You will surely say that you acquire for yourselves a more illustrious glory from them. What? Have you not already heard from the very beginning of the sermon, that these are not the glory of a man, but the exact opposite, ignominy and disgrace, and contempt—and from this is born envy and malice, those terrible things; and the more permanent the possessions, the more permanent the accusation of greed, and these great houses stand uttering a voice, and after the death of those who acquired them, as most bitter accusers; and the body itself is delivered to the earth, but the house does not permit the greed to be buried with the flesh, but every passerby, and those looking up to the height and the greatness of the magnificent house, either in regard to himself, or in regard to his neighbor,