even while you were living, just as if you were immortal, you clung to your goods; but now, after you have learned that you are mortal, at least now dismiss that opinion of yours, and as a mortal, make your arrangements regarding your property. For although that which is about to be said is grievous and full of horror, nevertheless it is necessary to speak: count the Lord among your servants. Do you grant freedom to slaves? Free Christ from hunger and need and prisons and nakedness. Did you shudder at hearing this? It is much more horrifying if you do not do it. And here, indeed, the word made you numb; but when you depart yonder, and hear things far more grievous than these, and see the most cruel punishments, what will you say? To whom will you flee? Whom will you call upon as helper and advocate? Will you call upon Abraham? But he will not listen. Or perhaps your father? Or your grandfather? Yet neither will any of these have the power, even if he be exceedingly holy, to relax that sentence. But are you inhuman, and cruel, and unmerciful? Revere the dignity of the one who asks. But is his dignity not enough to appease you? Then be swayed by his calamity. But neither does calamity move you to mercy? Give because of the ease of the petition. But if neither his dignity, nor the necessity of the matter, nor the ease of giving can persuade you, then at least give to the needy because of the greatness of the promised good things. For what pardon will there be for those who, after such exhortation, despise the needy? Let those who are initiated into the mysteries listen: when you are to be fed, He does not even spare His own flesh; when you must be given to drink, He does not spare even His own blood; and do you not impart even bread, nor a cup? And what pardon will you have, receiving such things, and yet sparing your paltry goods so exceedingly? For you will not depart taking them with you if you do not spend your money for Christ’s sake; nor, if you do not die for Christ’s sake, will you be immortal. He asks these things of you, things which you would give even if He did not ask, because you are mortal: He wishes you to do of your own free will those things which you must do by necessity. May you be willing to suffer for my sake those things which it is altogether necessary to endure: let this one intention be set forth, and I have sufficient obedience. Are these things tolerable, that God for your sake has even delivered up His own Son, but you do not share even bread with Him, who was delivered up for you, who was slain for you? For your sake the Father did not spare Him, and that when He was His true Son: but do you neglect Him as He is wasting away with famine, and that when it is your duty to expend from His own goods, and to pay out for your own sake? And what could be worse than this iniquity? He was delivered up for your sake, He goes about hungry for your sake, you give from His own goods so that you might receive the benefit, and even so you do not give? And from what stones would you not be more stupid if, with B so many things drawing you, you persist in that diabolical cruelty? For if you do not pay back to me, He says, as to one having suffered something for you, show mercy because of my indigence: if, however, you do not wish to show mercy because of indigence, then be swayed because of his sickness, be softened because of his chains: but if neither these things make you human, then at least yield because of the ease of the request; for He asks for nothing precious, but bread and shelter and the consolation of words. But if after all these things you continue to be harsh, at least be kinder for the sake of the kingdom. Yet do you not have regard even for that? Be swayed at least by nature itself, seeing me naked; and remember that nakedness with which I was stripped for you upon the cross. But if you do not wish [to remember] that, at least remember this, what I suffer in the poor. I do not say, "Take away my poverty"; nor, "Give me riches"; but I ask for bread and clothing, and a small solace for hunger. Even if I fall into prison, I do not compel you to loose the chains and strike them off; but I ask for one thing only, that you look upon me as bound for your sake, and I shall have received a grace great enough. For I am able to crown you even without these things; but I wished to be your debtor, so that the crown might bring you some fruit and confidence. Therefore it is also that, although I am able to nourish myself, I go about begging, and standing at your doors I stretch out my hand, asking to be nourished by you. And in this matter I am pleased, because in the spectacle of the whole world I proclaim you, and with all listening, I show you as my nourisher. And you, indeed, if you are nourished by someone, you are ashamed of this, and you hide it: but I, because I love you vehemently, even if you are silent, I pronounce the deed publicly with much praise; nor am I ashamed to say that you clothed me when I was naked, that you fed me when I was hungry, but I rather glory in this, so that you may be made heirs of the heavenly kingdom. Thinking these things, therefore, dearly beloved, let us zealously apply ourselves to our salvation, that we may attain also to the eternal good things, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.
HOMILY XXIV. Concerning Sin and Confession.
Has any one of you ever traveled in Palestine? I truly think so. What, then? Give your testimony, you who have seen those places. There is a great and fertile region there; or rather, it was, for now it is no longer: that region, therefore, once so flourishing, and competing with all regions, and surpassing the paradise of God in abundance, is more desolate than all solitudes. And the trees indeed still stand and have fruit, but the fruit is a certain warning of divine wrath: the pomegranates stand, and the fruit of the trees is elegant in appearance, and to one who knows nothing, it shows great hopes; but if they are taken into the hands, [they are] broken, and in those things which are hidden within, they show no fruit at all, but much dust. Of such a kind is that whole land; and the wood and the stones, the air also and the water have come under the portion of such a calamity. And it is possible to see land, but having nothing of land; trees and fruits, C yet nothing of trees and fruits, but all things ash; air and water, but nothing of true air and water. For indeed these too have been reduced to ashes by the power of Him who made them. For just as when some body is burned, the figure and form indeed remain in the sight of the fire, but the strength does not: in the same way with those things. Are these the threats of words? Are these the clamor of words?
But these things are burdensome, while those are not burdensome when you say that there is no Gehenna? You compel me to say these things, you who are faithless; you have brought me into these arguments; for if you had believed the words of Christ, I would not have been compelled to bring forward the knowledge derived from actual events. But will He who pours out such great wrath for a single sin, and feels no pity upon the intercession of Abraham, nor that of Lot, have mercy upon us, when so many sins have been committed by us? This is truly laughter, and nonsense, and diabolical deception and fraud. But if you wish to see even those who believe and pay heed to God, but whose life is not upright, being punished, hear Paul saying: *Let us not be fornicators, as some of them were fornicators, and fell in one day twenty-three thousand* (1 Cor. 10:8). And if fornication had such power, what will our own sins not do? And if you do not pay the penalty now, do not marvel. For they did not know of Gehenna, and so they were punished with penalties close at hand; but you, whatever you sin, even if you pay no penalty here, will pay for everything there. For even if we commit the same sins as them, we are worthy of greater punishment than they. For what reason? Because we have enjoyed greater grace. But when we sin in ways greater and more numerous than theirs, what punishment shall we not undergo? For if, while sinning and remaining unpunished, we did not become worse, God might have forgiven us the punishment; but He knows this clearly, that remaining unpunished while sinning harms us no less than the sins themselves. For this reason He imposes punishment, not only to exact penalty for what has passed, but also correcting us toward the future. And that this is true, hear what He says to Moses: *Leave me alone, and in my wrath I will blot them out* (Exod. 32:10). *Leave me alone*, He said, not that Moses was holding Him back; for he spoke nothing to Him, but stood by in silence; but He wished to give him a pretext for intercession on their behalf. This we also frequently do; and when servants have committed faults worthy of punishment, not wishing either to punish [them] or to release them from the fear of punishment, we command friends to tear them from our hands, so that the fear might remain vigorous in them, and yet they might escape the blows from us. A Such is the case that can be seen having happened in the matter of Jonah. For, it says, *The word of the Lord came to Jonah the prophet, saying, Arise and go to Nineveh, the great city, and preach in it: Yet three days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown* (Jon. 1:1-3). But Jonah, having heard, went down to Joppa to flee from the presence of the Lord. Where are you fleeing, O man? Are you fleeing from the Master, tell me? Wait then a little, and you shall learn through the events themselves that you will not be able to escape the hands of even the servant-sea. For he had not even stepped onto the ship, and it stood up the waves, and it rose to a great height. And just as some grateful maidservant, having found a fellow servant in flight, who has stolen some of the master's property, does not stop [her] constant B trouble-making for those who have taken him in, until she has taken him and departed; so truly also the sea, having found its fellow servant and recognized him, bestows countless troubles upon the sailors, tossing, roaring, not dragging them to a tribunal, but threatening to sink the vessel, men and crew alike, if they did not return its fellow servant to it. As these things were happening, they made, it says, *a throwing out of the baggage* (Jon. 1:5); but the ship was not lightened; for the whole cargo still remained inside, the prophet's body, C that heavy burden, not because of the nature of the body, but because of the weight of the sin. For nothing is so heavy and burdensome as sin and disobedience. And just as in a court of law, with accusers present and witnesses standing by, and examinations taking place, judges do not deliver the verdict until the defendant himself becomes the accuser of his own sin; so truly it is possible to see this in the case of the sailors and the prophet. For they cast, it says, *a lot* (ibid. v. 7); and the lot thereafter delivered up the responsible party to the verdict. But they, even after taking him, did not sink him, but with such great noise and disturbance pressing [upon them], and the sea *permitting* them not even to breathe, but rather raging and crying out and inciting constant waves, as if enjoying great quiet, D so truly having established a court in the ship, they granted him a hearing and deemed him worthy of a defense, and examined everything with accuracy, just as if they were about to provide accounts for whatever they might vote; and not even with the sea crying out, nor the lot having testified against him, nor his having confessed the sin himself, do they bring the verdict. From where, then, did such providence come? From the economy of God. For God was allowing these things to happen, instructing the prophet through them to be humane and gentle, and all but shouting to him and saying: Imitate the sailors, men who are barbarous and senseless; for they do not despise even one soul, nor do they spare one body of yours; but you have handed over a whole city, having so many myriads, as far as it depended on you; and they, having found the person responsible for the evils that had happened to them, even so do not rush to the condemning verdict; but you, having nothing to charge against the Ninevites, have sunk and destroyed them. But most of mankind become advocates of their own sins, but accusers of the sins of others. And many frequently say that the state of affairs and of the *politeia* is in a bad way, and say that the cause comes from the imprudence of those in power; but I say that it is not the imprudence of the rulers, but our sin that has turned things upside down, that has brought in all these terrible things; from no other source has the swarm of afflictions poured over us. So that even 602 if someone like Abraham is the ruler, or Moses, or David, or Solomon the most wise, or [even if we are ruled by] the most sinful of all men, while we are poorly disposed, he holds an indifferent cause in relation to the evils. For [the fact of] receiving rulers according to our hearts is nothing other [than the fact] that we had already sinned, and for this reason we obtained such a person as is in charge. But if he is exceedingly just, and so just as to have reached the virtue of Moses, his justice alone will not be able to [remedy] the unmeasured [sins] of those under him.
Rather, if you wish, I will show you how even the sin of one man often strikes at those who are living righteously, B and does so with boldness. Jesus, the son of Nave, once approached Jericho, and while conducting that strange blockade, when the walls were already on the verge of collapsing, he said to the people: "The city shall be an anathema to the Lord Sabaoth. So beware of the anathema, lest you take anything of it, and the Lord destroys us" (Jos. 6:17-18). What, then, after this? The walls fell down, and the whole city came into the hands of the besiegers. Since, therefore, not the whole people was observing this command, the transgression of one man aroused God's wrath against the whole multitude. "For," it says, "the sons of Israel committed a great sin" (Jos. 7:1). And yet there was one who had sinned—Achar, that is. How, then, did the sons of Israel sin? "And the Lord," it says, "was angry with the sons of Israel." And Jesus sent men from Jericho to Hai. "And they went up about three thousand men; and they fled before the men of Hai, and they killed of them thirty-six men" (Jos. 7:2, 4-5). See the retribution for one sin, see the irreparable blow: one man sinned, and death and panic fell upon the whole people. What then is this, O lover of good, Master? You alone are just, and C your judgments are straight; you assign to each his judgment according to his own works: you, lover of mankind, said that each man would die in his own sin, and that one would not pay the penalty for another. What then is this just decree of yours? All your works, Lord, are good, and exceedingly good, and are ordered for our advantage; why then did you bring the punishment upon others for another's sin? "Sin," he says, "is a kind of rot; let it be purged by punishment for everyone, lest it corrupt all." Do you see how the sin of one provided punishment for the entire people? See further also [the] shameful and heavy death. "And Jesus took him," it says, "to the valley of Achor, and his sons, and his daughters, and his calves, and his beasts of burden, and his sheep, and his tent, and all that was his; and all Israel stoned them with stones" (Jos. 7:24-25). Do not, therefore, let us be confident if God is insulted and bears it patiently, but for this very reason let us be the more anxious. For even among men, when someone is struck on the right cheek and offers the left, he strikes back more fiercely than if he had dealt infinite blows; and when someone is insulted, if he not only does not insult in return but even blesses, he has struck more heavily than if he had assailed the other with countless reproaches and curses. How much more, then, before God ought those who constantly sin D and suffer nothing evil to fear? For an immense punishment is being reserved for them as an evil on their own heads. For it is not an evil for the sinner to be punished, but for one who is in such a state not to be punished; just as if a sick man were to have no remedies applied to him. For if our good deeds are few and cheap, but the mass of our sins is great; then, if we should enjoy prosperity in this life and suffer nothing evil, we shall depart from here entirely empty and stripped of the reward of good things, as having received our all here; just as, if our good deeds were great and many, but our sins few and light; and then we suffered some evil, and deposited those small offenses here, we shall receive a pure and perfect repayment of good things there. Let us not, therefore, consider it a burden that we are punished for our sins, but rather if we are not punished. For even if God did not punish us, we ought ourselves to exact the penalty from ourselves, we who have been so ungrateful toward our benefactor. I will say something strange and wonderful: there is greater consolation for someone who, after having provoked such a benevolent God to anger, is punished—if he is wise and loves the Master as is fitting—than for one who is not corrected. For he who has acted injuriously toward one he loves most of all is then most refreshed if he exacts the penalty from himself and is caused some suffering. Do you not see those who have lost their children, how they lament and tear their hair for this very reason, because there is no small amount of solace in punishing oneself on behalf of those one loves? If, therefore, when we have inflicted no evil even on those we love most, it brings us solace to endure grief because of what they have suffered, how much more will it refresh us if, when we have provoked them to anger and treated them with injury, we pay the penalties and are chastened by punishment? It is manifest to anyone. For those who love, however much they love, it is by no means irksome to suffer some evil because they have irritated the one they love, but that is the thing above all else: that they have irritated the beloved. And if the other, being angry, did not punish, he would torment the lover the more; if, indeed, he demands the penalty, he will be more solaced. If someone loves Christ as one ought to love, even if he were to forgive, he would not allow himself to remain unpunished; for he who has provoked him to anger undergoes the greatest punishment. For there is no one—no one, I say, neither father nor mother nor friend, nor whoever else—who has loved us so much as God, who made us. But if you call to mind the ailments of the soul and the sorrows and miseries of life, consider how much you offend him every day, and you will no longer marvel even if more evils than these should come upon you; but if you should enjoy even some good, then both marvel and be struck with awe. But now we see indeed the calamities that are pressing upon us, but we do not see the offenses by which we offend day by day, and therefore we are basely deluded. Therefore, if we were to ponder our sins diligently even for one day, we would recognize well how many evils we were responsible for. Because of this, however, the chief evils have crept in, because the due correction is not applied to lesser ones; hence the preposterous changes and lapses; hence the continuous and premature deaths, because we are disposed in our minds as if we had already occupied heaven beforehand; and as if we were never to die, we plunder and covet the property of others, as if we would never have to render an account; and neither the word of God nor the things themselves correct us, but all is in vain, and nothing penetrates our hardness. No one despises earthly things, no one lifts his eyes to heaven; but as pigs look downward, inclined toward their bellies, and wallowing in the mire, so do most of men, burying themselves in pernicious mire, have no perception of it. For it would be better for them to be contaminated by the foulest mud than by sins. For he who is defiled by the former will be able in a short time to wash it off and become like one who never fell into that mire, but he who has fallen into the abyss of sin has received a defilement that is not cleansed by water, but requires a long time and exact repentance, and likewise tears and lamentation, and more abundant and more fervent weeping than we show for our dead, who are most dear to us. Who...
A For as it is of no benefit to a king to be clothed in the purple and to possess arms, while yet he has no subject, but is exposed to all who wish to insult and treat him with injury; so also for a Christian there will be no gain, if he possesses faith and the gift from baptism, but makes himself a plaything for all the passions: but just as that man not only will gain nothing from that robe for his own honor, but will even bring reproach upon it through his own shame; so also the believer, living a corrupted life, will not only not be respected for it, but will be even more ridiculous. Let us not, therefore, bring shame upon our life, nor live a life worthy of B mockery; nor let us defile our body with fornication. For how will you be able to enter the church after your association with harlots? How will you lift up your hands to heaven, with which you embraced the harlot? How will you move your tongue, and with that mouth pray, with which you kissed the harlot? With what eyes will you behold the more respectable of your friends who look upon this? And why do I speak of friends? Even if there is no one who is cognizant of this, you will be compelled to blush and be ashamed before all, and to loathe your own body more than anyone else. For if this were not so, why do you run to the bath after that sin? Is it not because you think you are more unclean than any mire? What kind of sentence, therefore, do you expect God to pass, when you yourself, having erred, have such an opinion concerning what has been done? C If indeed the defilement were bodily, you would rightly cleanse yourself in the baths; but since you have defiled your soul and made it altogether unclean, seek such a cleansing as will be able to wipe away its stain: for if we do not do this, even if we walk through all the springs of the rivers, we shall be able to remove no small portion of this sin. If any servant had deposited into a chest, where the master's garments were laid up, a servant's garment full of filth and many lice, tell me, would you have borne his grace lightly? And what if, into a vessel of gold which was accustomed to contain perfumes, one had poured dung and mire, would you not have even laid stripes upon the one who had so erred? Then do we take such great care of chests, and vessels, and garments, D and yet think our soul to be of less value than all these? And where the spiritual perfume has been poured out, shall we cast in diabolic processions, and satanic utterances and songs full of fornication? And how will God bear these things, tell me? For when you are dissipated by the spectacle there, and become an enemy to all temperance, and returning you see your wife, you will surely look upon her in a more hateful way, whatever she may be; for having been captured by the wanton spectacle, you dishonor the temperate and modest woman who is your partner in all of life, you envelop her in ten thousand reproaches; while you are agape for that foul and unclean desire, from which you received the wound, and having the echo of the voice settled in your soul, and the form, and the gaze, and the movements, and all the idols of fornication, nothing henceforth of those in your house gives you pleasure. For just as those who are possessed by heaviness of head and drunkenness are carried about simply and at random, and even if there is a chasm and a precipice, or whatever else may be lying in the way, they fall down unguarded; so also those who have rushed into sin, being possessed like a terrible drunkenness by the desire for sin, do not know what they are doing, nor do they foresee anything ofpresent or future things. For such is the nature of sin: after it is done and completely finished, then it arouses pains in the soul that gave birth to it, contrary to the laws of our own birth. For we, as soon as we are born, put an end to the birth-pangs, but sin, as soon as it is born, tears with pains the reason which brought it to birth. For in the doing of the sin we are drunk with pleasure and do not perceive it in this way; but when it has been completed and has reached its end, then indeed, when all the pleasure has been extinguished, the bitter sting of repentance enters: and in the happening of the sin, and before it happens, and after it has happened, our conscience stands over us as a vehement accuser. Such is the habit of those who sin: they suspect everything, they tremble at shadows, they fear every sound, and they think every one is walking toward them; for they have often seen many running on some other business, and thought they were coming against them. And when others are talking to one another, those who are conscious of sin in themselves imagine that they are talking about them. For such is sin: it betrays the conscience to no one else, it condemns without anyone accusing, and makes the one who has sinned fearful and cowardly; just as justice, on the contrary, does. Hear also the cowardice of this one, and the boldness of the just: *The ungodly fleeth*, he says, *when no one is pursuing* (Prov. 28:1). How does he flee when no one is pursuing? He has the one driving him within, the accuser of the conscience, and he carries this about everywhere; and just as he could not flee from himself, so neither can he from the one who is chastening him within. But not so the just man, but how? *The just man is confident as a lion.* Such was Elias: he saw the king coming toward him, and when he said, *Why do you divert Israel?* *I will not divert*, he says, *but you and the house of your father* (3 Reg. 18:17). Truly, the just man is confident as a lion. For just as a lion stands up against some wretched little dog, so he stood up against the king. And yet that man had a purple robe; but this man had a sheepskin more venerable than that purple robe. For that purple robe brought forth the grievous famine; but this sheepskin dissolved the dire things, this split the Jordan, this made Elisha a double Elias (4 Reg. 2). That, therefore, they think themselves to be unclean who are wallowing in fornication, I greatly praise and approve; but that they do not come to the proper way of cleansing, for this I accuse and blame them. The better way, therefore, is not even to take a test of this foul sin; but if by chance anyone should be tripped up at any time, let him apply such remedies beforehand, so as not to fall into the desire again, which have the power to wash away sin: for if we condemn those who have already committed sins, and then again cast our soul into the same, no expiations will benefit us. For he who is washed, and again wallows in the same mire; he who again destroys what...
he has built, and builds it again only to destroy it, gains nothing beyond useless labor and affliction. A For if we sin every day and strike our soul, and yet never perceive it—like those who receive continuous wounds and then despise them, bringing upon themselves fevers and death—in this way we also, through this constant insensibility, bring upon ourselves unavoidable punishment. For nothing so destroys a man as having abandoned the fear of God, just as nothing so preserves him as to look continuously toward Him. For if, when we see a man before our eyes, we become more hesitant to commit sins, and feel more respect for our servants, and do nothing absurd, imagine how much security we shall enjoy if we have God before our eyes.
It is better, therefore, not to sin at all; but after that, it is better that those who do sin take notice and be corrected. But if we do not even have this, how shall we implore God for the remission of sins, when we have no accounting for these things? For if you, when you have transgressed, do not wish to acknowledge this very fact—that you have sinned—for what sins will you pray to God? Or for those you do not know? And how will you recognize the magnitude of the benefit? It is indeed a grave evil to do base things, but to be ashamed while doing them is half an evil; yet if one even boasts in this, it is extreme madness. For he who, after he has sinned, condemns his own sin, will be able to recover at some time; but he who pursues wickedness with praises has deprived himself of the remedy of repentance. B Just as, therefore, not only those who do evil, but also those who praise them, have the C same penalty as them, or even a heavier one, so also those who praise and admire the good are partakers of the crowns laid up for them.
Do not, therefore, despise sin because you do not feel pain when you sin, but rather lament for this very reason: that you do not feel the pain of your sins. For this does not happen because sin does not sting, but because the soul that sins has become stupid and devoid of feeling. But if he who does not grieve for the sins of others is worthy of reproach, what pardon shall he be worthy of who is not even touched by any grief for his own? If Paul neglects his own advantage in order to find that of others, how much punishment shall we be worthy of if we are not even willing to retreat from our own ruin to secure an advantage for others, but instead gladly destroy ourselves along with others, when it is possible to save others along with ourselves? For this reason, birds have wings, that they may flee the snare; for this reason, reason has been given to men, that they may avoid sins.
But you say that you do not know your sins? D And how is this consonant with reason? For if you both write laws and pass sentences, and are a diligent judge regarding the sins of others, what excuse could you have if, in the matters in which you yourself transgress, you say you do not know what ought to be done? You committed adultery, and so did that other man; why, therefore, do you chastise him, and yet deem yourself worthy of pardon? For if you knew that adultery was evil, it was not right even to punish the other man; but if you punish another who is guilty of the same, yet think yourself entitled to escape punishment, how would it be consonant with reason that one should not pay the same penalties for the same sins? For when you pass judgment upon another, it says, God will judge you by the same. And hear Paul saying: "Do you think this, O man, who judges those who do evil, and do the same, that you will escape the judgment of God?" (Rom. ii, 3). You have not escaped your own judgment, and will you escape the judgment of God? And how could this be consonant with reason? For it is not the same for someone merely to sin, and for another to have sinned and at the same time to have acted as an avenger, and to have fallen into the same state again.
For if you chastise him who has committed lesser transgressions, although you ought to correct yourself, how will God—who is himself the judge of your own conscience—not more severely accuse and condemn you, who have committed greater sins? But if you say that you know you are worthy of punishment, and yet in the meantime, because of God’s gentleness, you pay no penalty, and because you are not immediately punished, you are confident: you ought rather to fear and tremble for this reason. For the fact that you have not yet paid the penalty does not happen so that you might pay no penalty at all, but so that you might pay heavier ones if you persist without amendment. And indeed, if someone has sinned vehemently, but has done so in secret, and has not been an offense to anyone, he will be chastised with lighter punishments than he who has committed the same, but openly and with offense to many. For a lowly and abject man, even if he is tripped up and falls, does not bring such great harm to the community. But he who stands at the pinnacle of virtue, as if in a high place, with great splendor, and is known and manifest to all, and is in admiration before everyone, if he is tempted by evil and falls, he causes a massive ruin and loss—not only because he has fallen from a height, but also because he has rendered many who look to him more sluggish. As in a body, if one member is diseased, the damage is not as great; but if the eyes are blinded or the head is injured, the whole body becomes useless: so also must it be said of those who have accomplished many things excellently and with praise; if they are obscured, if they incur some stain, they bring general and intolerable harm to the rest of the body. Do not, therefore, fear the snares of a judge, but abhor the power of sin. Another man does not harm you if you do not harm yourself. And if you are immune to sin, even if infinite swords hang over you, God will nevertheless snatch you away; but if you are conscious of sin, even if you were in paradise, you would be expelled. Adam was in paradise, and was cast out; Job was on a dunghill, and was crowned. What did paradise profit the former? What harm did the dunghill bring to the latter? No one laid snares for the former, and he was tripped up; the devil laid snares for the latter, and he was crowned. Did he not take away his wealth? Yet he did not tear away his piety toward God. Did he not shatter his body? Yet he did not find his treasure. Did he not take away his children? Yet he did not shake his faith. Observe this law for me, I beseech you, and I would embrace your knees, if not with my hand, yet with my soul, and pour forth tears: observe this law for me, and no one will ever be able to harm you. You have seen that prophet, I mean David, fighting, falling,
arising, and conquering? You have seen sin lying upon him, and being slaughtered by repentance? Behold him even after the grace of the Spirit, after his boldness toward God, after a multitude of achievements, after so many trophies, proclaiming and saying: *Have mercy on me, O God, according to Thy great mercy* (Ps. LI, 1). You said "great," tell me its measure: for I know it is great, but I cannot measure or grasp it; I have spread myself out on the ocean of my Master's lovingkindness. And what are you saying? Tell me. You have heard the prophet saying, *The Lord also has put away your sin* (2 Reg. XII, 13). What more do you seek? B "I do not seek this alone," he says, "but I seek my beauty, I seek my boldness: *Wash me more from my iniquity* (Ps. LI, 2)." Do you see what he seeks? And he seeks yet greater splendor and greater purity. And what do you offer, O David, since you seek these things? "What do I offer? Because I know my iniquity." Is this what you offer? And who is the man who does not know his own sin? "Yes," he says, "how many are there who sin and are brazen? How many afflict their neighbors and do not mourn? But I know my iniquity, and my sin is before me continually" (Ibid, v. 3). O nobility of soul! He did not consign the memory of his sin to oblivion, but even when it was forgiven, he inscribed it as if on an image in his conscience. And see what happens. If you remember it, God does not remember it; if you yourself forget it, God remembers it. Have you done some evil? Remember it, so that your Master may forget it. Have you done some good? Keep it hidden, so that your Master may speak of it; for you do not recount your achievements as He does. And how? Listen. C If you give to a poor man, when asked you say, "I saw a poor man hungry, and I fed him." But your Master does not say so, but how? *I was hungry and you fed me* (Matt. XXV, 35). Therefore, when you sin, do not wait for accusation from another, but before you are accused, condemn your own actions; for if another reproves you, henceforth the achievement is no longer yours through confession, but the correction belongs to that person's reproof. For to confess is not to accuse oneself after being reproved, but to accuse oneself first, and not to await reproof from others. For even Peter, after that grievous denial, because he quickly reminded himself of his sin, and with no one accusing him, he both spoke of the transgression and wept bitterly; thus he washed away the denial, so that he even became the first of the apostles and was entrusted with the entire world. For if the priest has received the authority to release sins committed against God, he will be much more able to remove and wipe away those committed against a man. He is a ruler, and a ruler more venerable than the king. D For the holy laws have made even the royal head subject to these hands; and whenever it is necessary for something to be done from above, the king is accustomed to take refuge with the priest, not the priest with the king. For this reason, God did not bring down angels from heaven to be teachers of the human race, so that they might not, by reason of their nature’s superiority and their ignorance of human weakness, deal more harshly with our faults; but He gave mortal men as teachers and priests, men encompassed by weakness, so that this very thing might be a bridle for the teacher’s tongue, not permitting him to make criticisms beyond measure. But for what reason have I said these things? So that you might not say: "Because you are pure of sins, and exempted from the pain of rebuke, you inflict upon us with great authority a heavier incision." For I feel the pain first, since I myself am liable to sins; for we are all in need of correction, and no one will boast of having a pure heart. Therefore, I do not engage in philosophy about the ills of others, nor out of any inhumanity, but I make these reproofs from much care. For in the case of doctors of the body, the one who inflicts the wound feels no sensation of the wound, but the one being cut is the only one who is torn apart by the pains; but in the case of those who heal souls, it is not so—unless I am erring in judging the affairs of others by my own—but the speaker himself is pained first, whenever he corrects others. For we are not so pained when we are reproved by others, as when we reprove others for sins for which we are liable. Do you wish to learn how great an achievement it is to remember one’s own? When you rise from your bed, before going to the marketplace, before undertaking any private or public matter, call your servant and demand an account of expenditures, so that we may see what has been spent poorly, what has been spent as needed, and how much has been left over: and if we see that what is left over is small, we devise ways of income in every way, so that we may not unknowingly perish from famine. Let us therefore do this also with our own actions: let us punish our conscience, let us make an account to it of our words, our deeds, our thoughts, let us examine what has been spent as needed and what for our own harm: what word was spent poorly, for insults, for foul language, for abuse; what thought moved the eye to licentiousness; what word ended in action to our harm, either through the hands, or through the eyes themselves; and let us strive to refrain from the untimely expenditure, and instead of what has been spent poorly once, to store up another source of income; instead of words spoken at random, prayers; instead of sights allowed licentiously, alms, fastings. For if we intend to spend untimely, and to store up or treasure nothing good for ourselves, sinking into extreme poverty, we will unknowingly be consigning ourselves to the eternal punishment of fire. How much better, therefore, to exchange the brief time of pleasures that have no end, for penance and mourning, rather than laughing here and departing to be punished eternally! For if Paul, who was so great and such as he was, who like a winged creature ran through the sphere of the entire world, and became superior to bodily needs, and is worthy to hear the arcane words which no one has heard until now, wrote saying: "I chastise my body, and in slavery..."