[GREEK COLUMN] 541 "Tell me," he says, "Father, behold the fire and the wood, where is the sheep for the burnt offering?" Once more the voice of the child stung the father’s heart; once more another fearsome test gripped him; once more another trial possessed the righteous man, no less severe, nor any more merciful. And how could Abraham not be struck with tears, as a father no longer expecting to hear his son? He does not speak a mournful word, does not utter a lament; but with untroubled soul and steady reason he received the most sweet voice of the child, and answers back, and shares words: "God will see, my child, the sheep for the sacrifice." Whether Abraham said this to encourage the child, or whether he was also prophesying the future. And upon arriving in haste at the commanded place, he builds the altar, prepares the sacrifice, readies the sword, and the father places the fire and the wood upon the child. The father lays hands upon this his son, and nature does nothing to hinder him. Isaac surrendered himself to his father, so that he might use him in whatever way he wished. Whom should I admire first, or whom should I be struck by? In what manner shall I weave a crown of praises? Him who laid hands upon his dearest one because of his love and goodwill toward God, or him who obeyed his father even unto death, and accepted the heavenly slaughter at his hands? For the one rose above nature, preferring the command of God to nature; and the other obeyed his father even unto death, knowing that to grieve one's father was worse than death. Thence, having taken the bound child, Abraham neither lets his hand grow numb, nor deviates in his mind. As often as I see depictions of this child, I have never been able to pass by without tears, the artistry bringing before my eyes a clear understanding of this history. Nearby lay Isaac [next to] the altar, having knelt on his knees before his father, and having his hands bound behind his back, pressing his heels behind Abraham. Then with one hand having drawn the child's hair back toward himself, he leans over him, and sees the face of Isaac looking piteously toward him, and awaiting the blow; having his right hand armed with the sword, he directs the slaughter, he touches the body; the point of the sword is already at the throat; he was to push the blade into his inner parts, and then truly the voice came from God, holding back the wrath and preventing the deed: "Abraham, Abraham," He says, "do not lay your hand upon Isaac, nor do anything evil to your son. For now I know truly that you fear God, and for My sake you have not spared your beloved." Behold a ram is tied in the bush of Sabeck: "Take and offer it instead of Isaac," He says, "so that you may be fully assured that I have accepted the sacrifice, the fervent purpose." The angels, B principalities and powers, thrones, lordships, and all the armies marveled; heavens, sun, moon, and the choirs of stars stood astonished at that paradoxical spectacle; but God was satisfied with only the purpose of the truly faithful and holy Abraham, and said to him: "Blessing I will bless, and multiplying I will multiply your seed upon the earth as the stars of the heaven, because you obeyed my voice eagerly, and hastened to fulfill my command." And God gave a sheep from the rock instead of the child to complete the sacrifice. For God is not pleased with a dead sacrifice brought to Him through fat and smoke, but a living sacrifice, holy, well-pleasing, the rational worship, He seeks from us, just as the Apostle exhorts all, clearly knowing this to be well-pleasing to God. For it was not that God wished to make Abraham a child-slayer that He told him to offer his son, but to show to all those who inhabit the world that Abraham loved God intensely, that he did not spare Isaac for His sake, even though he had only this one child. Wherefore also God revealed the mystery to Abraham as to a friend, [a mystery] great and paradoxical. Through the sacrifice he became a priest, and in the type he made him a prophet; and God the Most High made known to him that He Himself would also give His only-begotten Son for the sake of the world, so that God, having become man, might save the race of men from error. This is what He was signifying, having given a sheep from Sabeck to be sacrificed instead of Isaac. For since unbelieving men were about to disbelieve in the birth from the holy Virgin, as to how she could carry a son without the bed of a man, as though it were impossible, for this reason He brought forth the ram from the rock, so that He might confirm the paradox from this, that by the will of His divinity everything that is commanded immediately comes to pass. As therefore there the Word provided a sheep, here in the Virgin the Word became flesh; and just as the sheep was bound in the bush, so the Only-Begotten was nailed to the cross. For this reason Isaiah was crying out saying: "As a sheep he was led to the slaughter, voiceless." Again the Lord was saying to the Jews: "Abraham desired to see my day, and he saw it and rejoiced," namely the passion in the type of Isaac, on the holy mountain. Blessed be God who prefigured for us everything for salvation in the holy Scriptures, and came and fulfilled the words of the prophets, and ascended in glory to His own Father, so that in every place we may worship the Father with the Son and the Spirit, unto the ages. Amen.
CONCERNING THAT ONE SHOULD NOT ATTEND THE THEATERS, AND THAT IT MAKES ONE ADULTEROUS, AND THAT THIS IS A CAUSE OF DESPONDENCY AND STRIFE; AND CONCERNING ABRAHAM.
1. I suppose many of those who have recently deserted us and defected to the theaters of lawlessness are present today. And I desired to know these men clearly, so as to expel them from the sacred thresholds, not that they might remain outside perpetually, but that, being corrected, they might return again. Since fathers also frequently cast their erring children out of the house, and keep them from the table, not that they may fall from these things forever, but that, having become better through this admonition, they may return to their paternal inheritance with the proper glory and honor. This also the shepherds do: they keep the sheep filled with scabies from the healthy ones, so that, putting away the sickness, they may return in safety to the healthy ones again, and not, being diseased, fill the entire flock with that sickness. For this reason we also wanted to know these men; but even if we cannot distinguish them with our physical eyes, the Word will surely recognize them, and taking hold of their conscience, will easily persuade them to depart willingly, teaching that he alone is inside who provides a mind worthy of the gathering here; since he who participates in this holy assembly with a corrupted manner of life, even if he brings his body here, has been cast out, and is driven away even more than those who are shut out and are not yet able to participate in the sacred table. For those who have been cast out according to the laws of God, and remain outside, still have good hopes; for if they wish to correct their transgressions, C they are not yet excluded from the partakers of the sacred table. For they indeed who have been expelled and remain outside, still have good hopes; for if they wish to correct their sins, they can return to the pure conscience, from which they have fallen. But those who have themselves corrupted, and just as they are about to approach, have made their contracts with filth: then they commit an impudent act, causing a grave wound, and an even greater ulcer. For it is not so grave to sin, as it is, after sinning, to act impudently, and not to yield to those supplying divine precepts. And if you ask what other sin is graver, since you have committed adultery, to leap impudently like rabid dogs upon the sacred table? And if you do not understand the measure of adultery, I will offer a word, and from it you will judge everything. "He who looks," he says, "at a woman to lust after her, has already committed adultery with her in his heart."
And if a woman should chance to meet one in the forum, however she may be dressed, if she has taken captive the man who peers at her too curiously—he who does not look simply or by chance, but with such intent that they despise the Church itself, and for that reason go up there and remain for long, and are fixed with their eyes upon those infamous women—how will they be able to say that they did not look with concupiscence, where there are lascivious words, and harlots' songs, and a voice full of great pleasure, and eye-paints, and reddened cheeks, and clothing accurately composed, and a bearing full of allurement, and many other snares composed to deceive and soften the spectators, and the slackness of the mind of those who look, and much effusion, and the persuasion to lasciviousness from the place itself, and from what is recited B before and after, and the song of flutes and pipes and similar music which softens the strength of the soul and prepares the hearts of those sitting there to be invaded by the snares of harlots, and renders them easy to be captured, and separates the members of Christ from such works? For if here, where there are psalms and prayers, and discourses of divine utterances, and the fear of God, and much piety, one often enters, so to speak, like a crafty person, secretly [with] concupiscence; how could they who sit in the theater, who see or hear nothing sound, but are full of much disgrace, much lasciviousness, and are besieged through everything, through ears, through eyes, be able to overcome that evil concupiscence? And since they cannot, how will they be able to be innocent of the crime of adultery? But those who are not free from the crime of adultery, how will they be able without penance to enter these holy thresholds, and be partakers of this illustrious gathering? And therefore I advise and pray that, after they have washed away the sin of such a spectacle by confession and penance and all other means, they should then listen to the divine utterances. For you have not committed a light sin: a thing which is clearly shown by examples. For if a servant were to cast a servant's garment, full of filth and vermin, into a chest where his master's precious and golden garments lay, would you, I ask, bear this insult with an even temper? What, indeed, if one were to pour dung and mud into a golden vessel that was accustomed to hold perfumes perpetually; would you not load the one who had perpetrated such a thing with stripes? Therefore, shall we take such great care of chests, vessels, garments, and perfumes, but judge our own soul to be viler than all those things? And where spiritual perfume is infused, shall we introduce diabolical pomps, satanic conversations, and songs full of fornication? And how, tell me, does God bear these things? Although there is not as much interval between perfume and mud, and master's and servants' garments, as there is between spiritual grace and this evil operation. Are you not afraid, O man, while with the same eyes you look at the bed in the orchestra, where C the execrable spectacles of adultery are represented, and at this holy table, where the fearful mysteries are consumed? While with the same ears you hear a harlot speaking filthy things, and a prophet and apostle teaching you mysteries; while with the same heart you receive life-bearing medicines and the tremendous sacrifice? Are not the upsettings of families, the corruption of marriages, wars, and quarrels in homes from this source? For when you have been softened by that spectacle, and have become more remiss, more lascivious, and the enemy of all continence, and returning you see your wife, you will see her quite unpleasantly, whoever she may be. For inflamed with the concupiscence of her whom you saw in the theaters, and captured by the allurements of that external spectacle, you despise your chaste, adorned [wife], the partner of your whole life, and treat her with insult, and load her with a thousand reproaches, although you have absolutely nothing to blame her for, but you are ashamed to admit the disease and to show the wound that you brought back after returning from there; you weave other causes, seeking absurd excuses for hatred, and despising all that is at home, you direct your mind to that one impure concupiscence with which you were wounded, and you carry around in your mind the sound of the voice, the bearing, the look, the movements, and all the harlot's images, and you see nothing at home with pleasure. But why do I speak of wife and house? You will also look upon the church itself more unpleasantly, and with an unwilling mind hear words about chastity. For these things will not be doctrine for you, but accusation; and gradually drawn into despair, you will at length cut yourself off entirely from this doctrine. For this reason I ask you all to flee those wicked spectacles of the theaters, and to draw away those who are free for these things. For they are not recreation, but destruction, punishment, ruin. What does that temporary pleasure profit, when perpetual pain is generated from it, and day and night you are pricked by concupiscence, and you become troublesome and harsh to all? Examine yourself, therefore, what kind of person you are when you leave the church, and what kind when [you leave] the theaters; and compare the days of each with one another, and you will have no need of our discourse. For the comparison of both will be enough for it to be shown what great [evil] and what profit comes from here, and how much detriment from there. I have already said these things to your charity, and I will never make an end of speaking. For thus we shall remedy those sick with the disease, and we shall confirm those who enjoy health. For such a discourse is useful for both; for the former, that they may depart; for the latter, that they may not fall. But because it is fitting for those who reprove to do so with moderation, here we shall end the admonition, and return what remained from the previous argument, and we shall return to our father Abraham. For it is a custom for painters, when they wish to paint an accurate image, to set those whom they wish to paint sitting before them for one, two, or three days, so that from frequent inspection they may express the form more accurately. Since, therefore, it is already our purpose to paint not a bodily form, but the beauty of the soul, an intelligible form, the virtue blooming in the just man, his gentleness, greatness of soul, and all his other virtues, it is right to linger on these things for a long time, so that through the frequent inspection of the discourse we may not stray from the likeness of the archetype. For if bodily images afford some consolation to the viewers, much more [do] the images of the soul. Moreover, we cannot see the former everywhere; it is necessary indeed that they be set in one place; but this one you can carry around wherever you wish. For if you conceal it in the repository of your mind, wherever you may be, you will be able to look at it frequently, and derive great profit from it. And just as those who labor with their eyes, if they hold sponges and cloths of a sky-blue color, and look into them frequently, derive some consolation from such color, so too, if you have the image of the patriarch Abraham before your eyes, and look into it frequently, even if you are six hundred times stirred up or troubled in the eye of your mind by anger or any other wicked affection, by looking at that exemplar of virtue, you will receive perfect health and pure philosophy. Finally, if it pleases, let us bring the discourse back to the proposed subject. [He] was familiar, who was deemed worthy of peculiar conversations with the Creator beyond all the prophets who were after him, inasmuch as God spoke to him face to face in a visible form, not through enigmas; who by divine fire, having the power only of illuminating, not of burning, was instructed for the contemplation of God; who by divine counsel was called the friend of God, and was adorned with the association of a venerable appellation, beyond all those who were then; who was constituted a most terrible minister of the plagues divinely sent upon the Egyptians, and appeared a most swift servant of the operative power of God; who was enlightened by the lamp of the Holy Spirit, according to the spiritual eye of the mind, and was, though late, the narrator of the ancient works of the omnipotent Artificer. This blessed man, after having narrated that beautiful and well-ordered creation of the world, came to the history of those ancient men, partly of the good, partly of the wicked, and he described the most happy end of the good, but the execrable end of the bad, so that from the creation of the world we may be instructed in the worship of God, but from the life of the ancients we may be taught to hate wickedness and to cultivate virtue, and thus easily lead a religious and blessed life. Certainly many
A deeds of virtue and goodness of the ancients he recorded, setting them before those who would come after as a bright model for imitation.
He teaches us, therefore, through Abel, to offer to God the first-fruits of the abundant gifts from God before we make use of them, and not to prefer the irrational passion of the belly to the honor of God. For to the oldest of all beings, this blessed Abel sacrificed the firstlings of his sheep, offering nothing of the last for the worship of the First, but glorifying the first Progenitor with the first-fruits of what came into being. B After him, the admirable Noah teaches us justice, he who alone, while the whole world was transgressing, kept the scales of justice steady in his good deeds. Great is the training in temperance set before the young in the blessed Joseph, who in a youthful body blossomed with the white-haired purity of chastity, and in a slave’s habit appeared bravely as the master of the pleasures of the flesh. But are these blessed ones perhaps only partial images of good deeds? Yet he has made mention of one man, Abraham the forefather, in whose person alone he has erected an all-virtuous monument for the whole world to imitate. Therefore, all the righteous, all the holy ones, praise the faithful Abraham as father, and account their intimacy with him a most venerable glory. For to the faithful, the zeal for the faith exists through him; to those who show hospitality, he is the teacher of hospitality, showing what must be done by deeds, not words; those who are athletes of piety win their crowns by imitating his courage; all the great-souled are likenesses resembling this archetype; the struggle for him has brought forth a multitude of such righteous ones; from this God-loving root all who love Christ have sprung. And why should I count them up one by one? For, to speak generally, all whose light shines before men were kindled from the faithful lamp of the forefather; such good children did his manner of piety bear to him. For He is truthful who said, *I have made you a father of many nations* (Gen. 17. 5). O blessed soul, that contained such a multitude of righteous deeds! You are truly a land bearing all fruits, a field rich in all the fruits of pious works, a meadow blooming with all kinds of flowers of justice, you are even a beautiful crown, holding in your midst the pearl of faith shining forth. God commanded: *Go out of your land* (Gen. 12. 1); and you did not hesitate, but held to the way before the command was fully completed. He added to, *Go out of your land*, the, *and from your kindred*; yet you did not become effeminate with affection for your family, preferring the Creator of the family. God said, *Go out of your land and from your kindred*, and that which was heavier than these: *and from the house of your father*; but you considered nothing of what God commands to be heavy. Neither the honor of a father, nor the longing for a mother, nor the affection of relatives held back the zeal of your soul. You did not consider what a mother, aged and gray, would lament over you, what an elder father would weep for you. For you did not think it fitting to be more philanthropic than the One who was bringing forth the calling. Your father was venerable to you, but not as the Father of all; you longed for your mother, but for piety even more. You despised your father’s house and the ancestral wealth. For you knew that the only wealth suitable for the soul is the wealth through faith, the immortal possession, the secure treasure. O what a star, brighter than the day-star, you C shone forth from the East into Palestine, in a dark age of idolatry! You, a good God, cast as the sweetness of piety into the bitter civic life and customs of the Canaanites. You, like the salt of philanthropy, became an accessory to a wicked life. You emerged as a calm harbor of hospitality in the midst of a storm—amidst the inhumanity of the foreigners.
3. How, O blessed one, shall I describe your philanthropic tabernacle? How shall I not admire the oak called Mamre, which you cultivated together with your good habits? The tent was a common dwelling-place for travelers, one abundant hearth for all guests, an unsalaried inn for the whole world, not situated in some hidden corner so that the reward of the rest might remain unnoticed, but in the wilderness, yet in the middle of the road, and almost at the common turning-point of all Palestine. You would stay there all day under the oak, appearing to those traveling as a good angel of rest. Christ was seen by you, O admirable one, being escorted by two angels, and you became, through hospitality, a fellow-dweller with both God and angels. O blessed tent, which received God with angels on account of the economy of salvation! Christ was seen by you in the form of a man, showing you the mysteries of his divine and saving arrival; yet the glory of the One present did not escape you because of the servile form. For you had other eyes, by which the Master is recognized. You recognized, therefore, the Mediator of God, the Son who was about to be seen in the midst of two living creatures. I admire, indeed, your zeal concerning those who appeared; for though it was permitted to order a servant and fulfill the need by a command, you yourself ran to the oxen, an old man, supporting your aged body with a flourishing longing. Your wife joined you readily in the works, and crowned the table with a quantity of unleavened bread; for the zeal of hospitality did not wait for the leavening. All that was being done was of fear and reverence, not as one giving hospitality to men, but as one offering a sacrifice to God. Good, O blessed one, is your fruit of hospitality because of these things, good also is the reward of your love of God. For the womb that was barren is loosened against all expectations, and the dead limbs of the old man bloom for the seed of a genuine child, and you receive from the only-begotten God tidings regarding an only-begotten son. *For at this time*, He says, *I will come, and Sarah shall have a son* (Gen. 18. 10). How shall I praise your faith worthily, O most blessed one? For you did not waver toward the promise, nor did you limp concerning the pledge, nor did you consider your own body, which was already dead, being as it was some hundred years old, nor did you look at the barrenness of Sarah’s womb, but you were strengthened by faith, knowing that what God has promised, He is also able to fulfill. For the Creator of nature is not a slave to the passions of nature, because God is not subject to the necessity of nature in the things He works, being the Creator of all nature; but nature follows in every kind of change the free will of the One who made it. Therefore, you were not deceived in your hopes, O blessed one, but you are called father at the appointed time, in a dead age. And first you see the fruit from Sarah, and you marvel at how the fountains of milk flow, contrary to expectation, to her who has grown old, and shortly after you prattle with the child, teaching your offspring to call you father, asking for that name from the child which grace, having anticipated through the promise, had already ratified. How shall I recount your subsequent righteous deeds, O admirable one? How shall I proclaim your lofty and celebrated faith? Your faith is beyond faith, your devotion to God is beyond all hearing. For who would ever believe that a father offered his own child as a sacrifice to God in such a genuine way? Perhaps only we believe who have not become fathers, who have not been taught the affection for children by nature. But let the divine Scripture come as a witness of the things said, like a high herald, crying out the God-loving intention of the blessed one. *After these things*, he says, *God tested Abraham* (Gen. 22. 1). He tested him, not that He might learn through trial what was unknown—using the results as witnesses to the intention of the man; for God was ignorant of nothing, He who always suffices for the knowledge of all things by His own vision; but so that what He clearly foreknew, men might learn through trial, and have a good model of piety for imitation. And what were the words of the trial, let us consider. *Abraham, Abraham*, He says. And he said, *Behold, I am here*. He said to him: *Take your beloved son, whom you loved, Isaac, and go into the high land, and offer him* (ibid. v. 2). O what a thing for God to say to the progenitor according to the trial! It had been enough to say, "Offer Isaac, and offer him as a burnt offering," without mentioning the son, nor moving the father’s compassion with the name of the beloved one. But with the good things abounding, a sudden incursion of worse things brings heavier pain, therefore, *Take your son*, and he adds, *the beloved, whom you love*, in order that by these appellations, he might lift the old man, who was a lover of offspring, through the hope promised in the good things.
A For if, before saying *Offer him as a burnt offering*, through these first words which herald good news, he causes many auspicious things to be imagined by the righteous man. For having heard God calling him and saying, "Abraham, Abraham," the lover of God immediately rejoiced at that call, and was poured out into gladness at that voice, thinking to himself, as was fitting: "Does God again deem me worthy of that marvelous conversation? Does He wish to sanctify me again with divine words? Or does He wish to transfer me again to a better region? Or does He, wishing to destroy the wicked Canaanites, as He did the Sodomites, not wish to keep His servant ignorant, as happened concerning Sodom, of the decree of His judgment? Or does He desire to bring me the joyful news of a second son after Isaac, wishing to bestow upon my old age, which sees by the eyes of two sons, a conspicuous light?" But as he heard "Take," before he heard "your son," he was thinking that God was about to speak to him of sacrifices, and would ask of him as a return for the given son the honor of blessings. But as he heard "your son," he for a time was thinking of Ishmael, imagining that the jealousy of Sarah was resolved, and that for this reason he was to be brought back by the benevolent God into the ancestral home. But when he clearly heard, *the beloved, whom you love, Isaac*, he immediately burned in his heart, he rejoiced in his spirit, thinking that he was about to receive a commandment from God regarding the betrothal of his son, and that He was concerned that a fruitful wife might be given to the young man for the propagation of the race. But God summons him to a high mountain. Why? Clearly so that from a lofty and prominent place He might show him the whole land, as to the heir of the promise; or surely, he says, He wishes to anoint me, while I am still alive, as patriarch, or to speak to me face-to-face and deliver to me by living voice the laws of the religious life, in which he who walks B will please the Creator. Such was the hope of that blessed man. But what did God do? "Offer," He said, "him as a burnt offering." An onerous command for anyone at all, let alone for a father, and one who was a lover of offspring. But, O incomparable faith! O religious soul! God had not yet finished speaking and calling, and Abraham was prepared for obedience, making the end of the commandment the beginning of the journey to be undertaken. Who among other fathers would have borne such a voice, and not suddenly fallen to the ground, his limbs loosened by grief? Or perhaps would not have died from such a commandment, consumed by paternal affection? For hear how the commandment is devoid of any consolation. God did not ask for the youth for slaughtering only; so that a corpse might remain for the old man, which he might deposit in a tomb for the consolation of his grief; but for a burnt offering, for a conflagration, for total consumption, so that I could pour out the grief of my soul with tears shed over the body. Yet, although the commandment was intolerable, which could strike even a person with the mere sound of the word, it did not move the man from the divine sense. For he believed that whatever God commands is useful and good. Therefore, he bore the commandment eagerly, and with ineffable delight offers the sacrifice, thinking, as one might believe, to himself: "Now bereft of children, I escape God's anger through obedience: I lose the heir, but I receive the things to come into inheritance; I will not see my son, but I will see God; I will not be nourished in my old age by my son, but my old age will be nourished by God; I will be reproached by the foolish, but I will be approved by the Most Wise; I will cause grief to Sarah, but I will please the Creator; I enjoy much consolation; his death causes me pain, but it makes me the priest of the Most High; it constitutes me bereft of children, but the father of the first martyr. Does Isaac perish? The body is purified by fire, it is liberated from the pleasures of the flesh, he will migrate from life, but he will migrate to the Lord." Strengthening the affections of nature with such reasonings, he hastens to the sacrifice; he saddled the ass, he sharpened the sword, he prepared the wood and the fire, leading the son as a lamb, and he announced the divine voice to no one: he did not communicate with friends, nor with the wife herself, who was his fellow parent: not that he held his wife in hatred, but because he feared the serpent, lest by pretense of love for his offspring, he might slacken his zeal for piety. C O highest faith! O incomparable wisdom! The patriarch thought to himself what great evils were about to occur if the divine command were made known; what great mourning, what lamentation, what tears. Therefore he is silent, extinguishing the great flame of lamentation with silence. For what do you think Sarah would have done if she had heard of the slaughter of her son? Would she not have immediately embraced Isaac, intending to enclose him again in her womb, if she could, saying, "My child, my very dear son, are we held hostage by sacrifices?" Sooner, I think, would she have lost her own life than handed over her son; and one or the other would have been necessary: that either the sacrifice would not take place, or the mother would be slaughtered with the son. And perhaps she would have shared these words with Abraham: "Return to your senses, O man, return to your senses, interpreter of the merciful God. The divine voice commands nothing against a human being; a malignant demon envies you for your happy offspring, and wishes to overturn divine grace, introducing the curse of the slaughter of sons under the guise of piety. Do you not know that marvelous Melchizedek, the priest of the Most High God? Learn from him the laws of sacrifices. Learn in which victims God delights: even though He long ago established you for the priesthood, when you returned from the slaughter of the five kings. Was the offering of bread and wine, the holy offerings and the unbloody and pure sacrifices, his? Or a calf? Or a sheep? Or a son? For he did not at all think that God is delighted by blood. Will God eat the flesh of bulls or drink the blood of goats? Sacrifice to God a sacrifice of praise, and pay your vows to the Most High (Ps. XLIX, 13, 14). But if the God who appeared there is the true God, understand, my husband, His counsel. God wishes to test your affection toward your son, He wishes to know with what affection you are toward your son: whether you love the son, if you have paternal affection, or whether you are overcome by the viscera of nature, if you prefer to die instead of your son. He wishes you to be a good example to the Canaanites regarding love for offspring, and He does not wish you to obey, nay, rather He wishes you to oppose the slaughter of the son; He wishes to see you tearing your gray hairs, shedding bitter tears, and by these things having your love for your son proven. I fear lest you incur the reproach of the slaughter of your son before the merciful God, even for the mere consent. My husband, obey me, *Do not be too righteous* (Eccl. VII, 17). God will praise this your disobedience. But if God truly wishes Isaac to be sacrificed, groan bitterly, entreat, prostrate yourself, mix tears with your prayer. He is good, He who asks for the sacrifice, far more merciful than a father; He will change His counsel, He will change His judgment. Never would the race of men have perished in the flood if those wicked ones had washed away their crimes with tears. Sodom would still stand if they had placated the Judge with the groaning of their heart. If, therefore, He has mercy on the wicked, He does so much more on you, a righteous man. You saved before Lot from the fire sent divinely, having entreated the Judge; save now your son from the fire of propitiation, with prayers offered to God. You have supplicated for the Sodomites, wicked men, who often deserved the ultimate ruin, and for your guiltless son will you not supplicate? Use your boldness again; say, *Far be it from You: who judges all the earth, will You not do judgment?* (Gen. XVIII, 25). You will not destroy the righteous with the impious. Remember with what love for offspring you were held, when you did not have a son. Before you conceived Isaac, these D were the splendid promises made to you by the Lord: the possession of fertile land, an abundance of money and resources, and an augmentation of the race so great that it might be compared to those natural things which are innumerable, the sand of the sea, and the stars of heaven; yet although the promised goods were so great, you thought them to be a game, and you cried out with boldness, fleeing the state of childlessness and saying, "What will You give me, Lord? I am dying without children" (Gen. XV, 2). Having uttered this voice, you received a son. Be a father, utter this now, in order to save your son. Say again: "What will You give me, Lord, if You kill my heir? Woe to me." Then perhaps you were a lover of offspring, when you were not yet a father. Clearly, having interrupted God's commandment, you had a conversation about piety toward God, and to persuade Sarah, if God takes this one, He will give one better than him. And
how could he persuade a woman intoxicated by her feelings? Yet he did persuade her. For the woman was pious, and the wife of a most faithful man; it was in any case A a natural consequence that, once persuaded, she would send forth the son going to the sacrifice, perhaps holding back the grief she was forced to endure because of what seemed good to God, but being led involuntarily toward laments by her very nature. How many servants were there, stung by longing for the youth? How many handmaidens suffering along with their mistress? How many Canaanites, acquaintances and neighbors, marveling at what had happened to him? A great uproar from these, and wailing, and mourning, and tears, as if at a funeral procession. And the mother, having stayed her voice, would have said: “Give me, child, a final embrace. I was hoping, child, to be led by you, and that my death would be adorned by your tears; but since the decision of the Creator has overcome my hopes, and I am mourning B the one by whom I expected to be mourned, I ask this of you alone: upon stepping onto the fire of the sacrifice, intercede with God on my behalf, that I may leave this life before the priest returns from the sacrifice. For I cannot see the right hand of a father stained with the blood of a child.” So much for the mother. But who could have endured the insults of the Canaanites, who had rushed together at the sight? For one would have said: “See, to what kind of bridal chamber does the father, the fool, lead his son!” Another: “From what flock, then, is the victim for him?” Another: “Well does God wish to multiply his race for him, like the stars of the sky.” Another: “Oh, how many old men mourn their own son as if he were a wretch, and this foolish old man does not even weep over his own child!” These things the Canaanites; C but of the servants one, breaking into groans, said: “O wretched child, born so late, and perishing so prematurely! Strange is both your birth and your end. Unique among all from a barren womb, unique among all to hear the lament over your burial. Oh, when the master himself erases the image of life!” These things the individuals; but all of them returning home together would have said as if from one mouth: “Be mindful, O elder, of this alone: that if you sacrifice this one, you will have no other son from Sarah.” Abraham, foreseeing these things with sober reason, and having considered these things, the blessed one hid the command, being disposed in such a way as one having heard unspeakable words, which it is not lawful for a man to speak. O treasure of the hidden commands of the Master! D O repository of mysteries, repository of the holy words of God! These mysteries proclaimed you throughout the whole world. For these reasons the father travels in silence with Isaac, taking only two servants along, and these not knowing the manner of the sacrifice; and he travels for three days' journey. But you, learn the probation of the forefather's will, and this from the distance of the journey. For God does not show the altar near to him, so that he might not, in the fervor of his faith, steal away his natural affection; but so that, walking a long way, and beholding his son for a very long time as he played about as usual, and ran into his arms, being tried for a long time by the desire for what must be done, like gold in the fire, he might show his purpose of obedience to be more brilliant. Oh, how often in this three-day distance did the father by himself represent the slaughter of his son! How often did he place the corpse of his child upon the pyre, wounded in heart as many times as he pondered the sacrifice! For that which is done is immediately directed toward forgetfulness, but that which is in hope brings grief as many times as it is hoped for. So the blessed one sees the place of the ritual from afar, the unspeakable voice having pointed it out to him, and the father takes only his son, leaving the servants behind with the ass; henceforth he travels alone with Isaac alone, not as a father with a child, but as a priest with a victim. He also lays the wood of the sacrifice upon Isaac, himself carrying the knife and the fire. He burdens the youth with the load, so that the boy, sweating from the toil, and cleansed by the baths of nature, might be a more holy offering to God. And here, where the discourse has arrived, seeing the type, I was reminded of the truth. For seeing how Isaac carries for himself the wood of the sacrifice, I glorify Christ, who for the salvation of men willed to carry His own cross, seeing here the shadow of the whole economy concerning Christ having preceded it. As a sheep to the slaughter, Christ was led; of this Isaac was the type, being led to sacrifice. The slaughter is before his eyes, and Isaac does not disobey his progenitor; for he was a type of Christ, who was obedient to the Father even unto death, even the death of the cross. Isaac was at once both child and victim. Likewise also Christ is the Son of God, and the Lamb who takes away the sin of the world. The father does not spare Isaac, but neither does God spare Christ. For He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all. Three days after the sacrifice the mother sees Isaac living; three days and the Church sees the Savior incorruptible. And these things concerning types, as if in passing. But Abraham is already standing at the place of the ritual, having by now entered the contest, in which nature and purpose strive, and the mind is crowned against nature, and love of God justly carries off the victory over love of children. The father came with the child, the priest alone with the victim alone. And the boy was everything to the father, both minister for the service, and victim for the priesthood. 6. But I am amazed at the wisdom of the youth, how reverently he approaches his father, and says: “Father, behold the fire and the wood; but where is the sheep?” He does not mock the forgetfulness of the father; for he saw the Canaanites enslaved through the laughter of Ham; but he asks, “Where?” in the guise of a question correcting the error of forgetfulness. “Father,” he says, “behold the wood and the fire; but where is the sheep?” What word will suffice for the representation of the man's greatness of soul? The voice of the boy did not relax him toward tears, he did not lament the age of the youth, unperceiving of his own slaughter, but he remained throughout unswerving and adamantine, oblivious to fatherly disposition. He says therefore to him steadfastly: “God will provide for Himself a sheep, my child.” He does not announce in advance to the youth the will of God concerning him, so that the youth, having lamented for himself with a gentle mind, might not stain the victim with tears. How to you, brothers, shall I recount what follows without tears? I have suffered something regarding the telling of the deeds, as a father. For it was for the tongue of Abraham alone, as I suppose, to recount what was happening without tears, and to show such greatness of soul in words, as he showed firmness in the deeds. For the marvelous and precious thing about the man is that what he did steadfastly, this we cannot endure even to speak of in our words dispassionately. But nevertheless we must attempt it, even if we do not yet reach the virtue of the forefather, by the law of the love of God, having vanquished our passions, to share in his sacrifice, as in the recounting of the portion. Therefore, having kindled a bright fire upon the altar, the father forms the son, the beloved, the only-begotten, according to the law of the victim for the sacrifice, and having placed him as if for worship on his knees, he winds his arms around his back, imposing the opposite posture upon the child; then having supported him from behind with his own knees, and having pulled back his hair toward himself, having raised his right hand, he dares to bring the slaughter from on high against the throat. O tone of love of God, O invincible courage of the soul! He bound the son for sacrifice, and the joints of nature were not loosened. The sword is in his hands, and the right hand did not falter. Who could have endured being present at these things? Who would not have turned away? Who would not have fled, having become more compassionate than the father? For this reason the wise elder does not take the servants with him, but orders them to wait at a distance, so that, not having shown compassion at the slaughter of the master, they might not hinder the deed of the love-of-God mind. For what thought do you think the servants would have formed about the master, seeing him so simply rushing toward the slaughter of the beloved child? What words would they not have said? “O this terrible and abhorrent calamity! Our master perhaps is mad, and does not recognize his beloved son, but imagines that he is holding some one of the things for sacrifice, a calf or a sheep. Let us approach, therefore, with all speed; for the matter does not brook delay; let us restrain the sword for the moment, let us stop the right hand, lest the blow outstrip the exhortation. For is it not dangerous to approach? How will he spare the servants, he who does not spare his most beloved son? Yet let us risk it nevertheless. Glorious will be our death, if it happens; for it will be on behalf of the master's new son.” Let us say something beyond what is proper,
A that he may come to despise child-murder, a pattern for our own fathers. Cut down also you the hospitable oak, the kindly tent; burn it as you have burned the son. For no traveler will dare to approach you, being suspicious, as one who did not spare even his own son. How then will wretched Sarah, our mistress, your wife, the mother of this boy, look upon you, she who was expecting a son more holy from the sacrifice? What do you think she will suffer when she sees the father bereft of his son? Will she not fall to the ground, undone by grief? Will she not collapse and perish immediately? Will you destroy the wife along with the son? How will you raise another Isaac, our master, when, upon his passing, the land will be turned to stone? Would that Sarah’s barrenness had never been resolved, so that you would be called neither father nor murderer of a son. What age will be so long that it can erase such a deed from memory? The passing of time could not erase the hatred of the fratricide; but even now Cain is vilified as one who did not recognize nature, B and his entire race perished utterly through the flood, yet the memory of the fratricide was not washed away even by the abundance of those waters. But the murderer of a son is far worse than a fratricide, and as much closer as a father is than a brother. Why, therefore, master, do you bring an undying infamy upon a pious and admirable life, which can be erased neither by time nor by the overflowing of waters? Come now, listen to us, and loosen the child’s bonds, cast aside the sword, let us extinguish the fire, let us destroy the altar itself; let not even a trace of this incredible deed remain on earth. But if after so much warning you do not obey, and strive to serve the wicked demon, this alone we ask: kill us first; let us willingly suffer the slaughter. For it is better for us to fall here than to be called slaves of a son-murderer. How, therefore, would the progenitor of the Lord have followed the command when slaves were speaking and acting in such a mad fashion? How would the glorious work of divine love have shone forth in the whole world? C How would the pillar of sublime faith have been erected? How would the world have learned by the very deeds that the fear of God is more precious than love of a child? Therefore, he alone approaches the sacrifice, one offering the only-begotten through the Only-Begotten to the one God. You have learned, beloved, through the things mentioned, the progenitor's love toward God; learn through the following things God's ineffable clemency: learn how those who despise the present and make progress in virtue do not lose things of time. Isaac was lying therefore, bound, offering his bare throat to his father for the slaughter, and the priest’s hand was raised, hastening to inflict the wound, D and immediately a voice of mercy is sent from heaven, just like a hand that would restrain the hand, and with a most swift command would restrain the priest's eagerness. “Do not,” he says, “lay your hand upon the boy (Gen. 22:12). Your ready will is sufficient for me, even if the work be absent. I knew your son was about to be slaughtered, but I wished your faith to be declared in the whole world. Because you did not spare your beloved son for my sake, but as far as it depended on you, Isaac perished, Sarah was bereaved of her son, and you are called father no more: from this time on, for your love toward me, receive back your son safe, who will be of fair age, and will live for a long time. For the work toward me is now performed, I who look upon the disposition of the soul. I will grant you a reward for these things, O servant, I will adorn you with a fitting gift and a fruitful title; whoever is a saint will call you father. This work of yours will produce no righteous sons, you will be called father of all who believe in me; I will raise up for you sons from the stones by my prerogative. You despised one son, from this time you will have countless sons: for I have made you a father of many nations.” And these things, indeed, God said. But let us all, beloved, using the progenitor Abraham as a pattern of divine love, deem no earthly good more precious than faith in God—not race, not country, not riches, not glory, not a beloved son, even if he be an only-begotten: so that
rest in his splendid bosom with Isaac, by the grace and kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom with the holy Spirit be glory, now and always, and for ever and ever. Amen.
NOTICE CONCERNING THE FOLLOWING HOMILY
Savile offers this judgment regarding this homily: "The concise style and thorny argumentation do not savor of the free flow of Chrysostom’s eloquence. However, it is certainly a learned work, and it smacks of antiquity." Dupin thinks it belongs to Severian, bishop of Gabala: if there is anything that could suggest this, it is the frequent skirmishes against the Anomoeans and Arians. But since those disputes raged both at Antioch and at Constantinople, it was as possible for another as for Severian to undertake these arguments. A
ON THE SAYING OF ABRAHAM, "PUT THY HAND UNDER MY THIGH" (Gen. 24.2), AND ON VARIOUS MARTYRS.
1. I marveled with you, O lovers of Christ, at the new mysteries of evangelical grace being preached through the Old Testament; I was enlightened with you in my mind, as I contemplated the apostolic character shining forth in the prophetic utterances. I acknowledge the gain, that I might receive the reward. I saw stupendous mysteries of the Old Testament being preached: Abraham swearing by his thigh, and proposing the thigh, but testifying to the Creator of heaven and earth by his word. For he says, "Put thy hand under my thigh, and swear unto me by the Lord, the God of heaven and the earth." For a question arises. For if it is spoken of on account of the seed that was to bloom from the loins of Jacob, according to that which says, "A ruler shall not depart from Judah, nor a leader from his loins," how then shall the oath be found against the Savior? B Since Isaac had already been born, and the seed had gone forth, and when the oath was made, there was no hope of the seed being in the thigh of Abraham. For Abraham had within himself the saving seed, of which Paul says: "To Abraham and to his seed were the promises made." And considering the letter and interpreting it, he says in the Epistle to the Galatians: "He does not say, 'And to seeds,' as of many; but as of one: 'And to thy seed,' which is Christ" (Gal. 3.16). It is proven, therefore, that Christ is the seed of Abraham according to the flesh; and reasonably the oath was made by the seed. But the question is, how did he swear by the thigh, as if the saving blossom had already gone forth? But since that member had once been an instrument, and the divine seed had once dwelt there, he swears as if by a temple. C But he who swears by the temple, swears by Him who dwelt therein. Who bears witness to this word? The Savior Himself says to the Pharisees: "Woe unto you, Pharisees, fools and blind, that you say, 'Whoever shall swear by the temple, it is nothing; but whoever shall swear by the gold of the temple, he is a debtor.' And what immediately? Fools and blind: for which is greater, the gold, or the temple that sanctifieth the gold? Therefore I say unto you: he that sweareth by the temple, sweareth by Him that dwelleth therein" (Matt. 23.16, 17, 21). For just as a royal house, once it has received a king, even if the king should depart to a second or third place, the place is once for all consecrated by having received a king; so too the members of the patriarch, by having once become instruments of the coming dispensation, were a temple of the promised blessing. And the oath is not unjust, but the testimony is true. He swears, therefore, by the seed, and explains what the seed is: "For put thy hand," he says, "under my thigh, and swear by the Lord, the God of heaven and of the earth." Therefore our Savior is the God of heaven and of the earth. D For this reason also in the prophet Zechariah, when various visions were sent and appeared to the holy man, this one thing became a part of a vision: "And I lifted up my eyes," he says, "and looked; and behold a candlestick all of gold, and seven lamps upon the top of it, and seven pipes to the lamps, and seven lamps, and two olive branches, one on the right side of the candlestick, and one on the left." And I said to the angel that spoke to me: "Lord, what are these?" (Zech. 4.2-4). Since it was a vision, showing one thing and producing another for interpretation, and the things appearing were not meaningful of themselves, but indicative of other things, the Prophet asks: "Lord, what are these?" If he were asking about the appearance, he was asking badly. Do you not know what a candlestick is, and what an olive tree is? But the Prophet seeks not the things appearing, but the things contemplated. "What are these?" And the angel [says], "Knowest thou not what these are? No, my Lord." He ingenuously confesses his ignorance, and is instructed by the Truth. He is also a brother to the eunuch who heard from Philip: "Understandest thou what thou readest?" And he, ingenuously: "How can I, except some man should guide me?" (Acts 8.30, 31). "Knowest thou not what these are?" And he says, "No, my Lord." "Who are these two olive branches, which are on the right and on the left of the lampstand?" "These," he says, interpreting the olive trees; he interprets also the candlestick along with the olive trees, what it is. Attend carefully. The candlestick stood, the branches stood by the candlestick; but the angel, interpreting, does not show the olive trees standing by the candlestick, but by God, so that the candlestick is a type of God, or rather of our Savior, and of His incarnate dispensation. "Knowest thou not what these are? No, my Lord." He says: "These are the two sons of fatness, which stand by the Lord of the whole earth," not by the candlestick, according to the appearance, but by the Lord of the whole earth. He introduces a seven-branched candlestick on account of the Lord's incarnate dispensation. For the flesh of the Master was a true candlestick, which showed the illuminations of the holy Spirit with sevenfold grace. For "there shall come forth," says Isaiah, "a rod out of the root of Jesse, and a flower shall rise out of it; and the Spirit of God shall rest upon him" (Isa. 11.1, 2). Which? That which is manifold in its operations, and great in its nature. "The Spirit of God shall rest." Here he interprets the substance, the Spirit himself