Doves

OF OUR HOLY FATHER NILUS TO AGATHIUS THE MONK PERISTERIA, OR A TREATISE ON CULTIVATING VIRTUES AND FLEEING VICES. By the example of Peristeria, a most illustrious woman of that age.

SECTION I. — PREFACE.

CHAPTER I.

Since it is my custom, O most honorable Agathius, as you know, to avoid the untimely company of troublesome men as much as possible, and to spend my time in places rather remote from the crowd of people, whenever some necessity has compelled me to go out of my little house; as I was walking yesterday before the city, enjoying the pleasing aspect of the grove—as if by a shifting to and fro among hanging delights—and the music of the birds echoing all around, and the spirit of the clear air and pure breeze, you approached me with a rather slow step; for your gait, with a hesitant knee, showed you to be walking somewhat sluggishly, like someone just rising from frequent falls. For you were reckoning from your fixed intensity of mind—which was indeed the case—that solitude was not something of no consequence, but you were arguing that rest in it had something altogether praiseworthy, and that such tranquility was not idle, unless something worthy of contemplation held the mind captive in conversation.

However, when you saw me, who was paying little attention and not heeding you, not without pleasure, you approached, ^B and greeting me, and walking with me, you inquired the cause of this meditation of mine. And learning that it was a search and a concern for a question to be written down, you took my hand and, bringing it to your own mouth, kissed it, and smiling quite cheerfully, you said that you too had arrived, bringing us another concern and a subject worthy of writing, which might be useful to many and could convert them from the luxurious custom of living that is now practiced to a more temperate one.

CHAPTER II.

Then I, although I was sufficiently and more than sufficiently occupied, ^C

^A with the Psalms, yet being somewhat eager for new opportunities for writing, I inquired of you not without concern: who is this woman? And what utility can she possess for the benefit of those who are now living, or those who may encounter this in the future? For vanity, having spread its all-catching nets everywhere, and having captured everyone, and having them held outside its snares—since, in fact, it catches each person by encasing them all around with riches, dignities, powers, and pleasures, as well as with shameful delights, and holds captive whoever it finds more inclined to these things; and it no longer makes us slaves to satisfy just the belly and other bodily needs, but compels us to amass treasures of money obtained through injustice, ^B while others waste away with hunger, and it forces us to guard diligently what has been poorly gathered—things perhaps not even used properly by those who possess them, so that it condemns the collector to a double punishment: on the one hand, because he committed injustice against the weaker ones whom he ought to have pitied, and on the other, because he gathered the material for a profligate life for others—those who could often have lived a sober life in self-sufficiency—since abundance in some way teaches one to covet things that are not proper, by fueling the luxury of forbidden things in each person through the provision of expenses, and gradually leading them to the ultimate limit of intemperance.

CHAPTER III

You, however, were studiously setting before us Peristeria, as rumor declares her to be, ^C distinguished by her rank, and as you yourself affirm, even more distinguished by the virtues of her soul, narrating many and great achievements of this noble woman: her continence, her love for the poor, her continuous meditation on the divine oracles, her incessant prayer, intense with compunction of heart, her generous distribution of money to those in need, her temperance of the eyes and even of her own thoughts, her honorable care for strangers and for the destitute among the dead, her compassion for those who were miserable for any reason whatsoever, her veneration for the worshipers of God, and her care and solicitude for those pursuing the monastic life, and her sharing of things necessary for the body, so that with those whom the yoke of marriage forbids her to live with in quiet and to work with, she might live in communion through the service ^D of things conducive to life, providing them with time free from such cares, and coming in for a share of that profit which results from serving God without being distracted by any occupations. These things, and more than these, you were saying, and you were recounting them in sequence, and you were saying that she falls into temptations and afflictions continuously, clearly hinting that the devil is struggling against her, attacking her from every side.

CHAPTER IV

But I, in the first place, certainly marveled if in this present generation such a plant could truly sprout, as you say, in an age in which the trees of fruitless and wild matter truly abound, far more than the gentle and fruit-bearing ones, and where the branches flourish with an abundant growth...

^A from deep roots, so firmly established that they cannot be torn up, while their branches are spread out to an immense breadth, and their foliage is matted together and densely shadowing, so that no ray of good thought can ever warm toward the depths of the heart, which is darkened by the depravity of habitual deeds.

In turn, judging it to be superfluous and vain to search diligently and curiously whether such a person exists or not, I approached the task of writing with a ready mind, seeing that the argument would be of great benefit, even if no one were to bring forth facts and deeds for the sake of establishing faith. For speech easily persuades when the nature of the things themselves bears witness, and the truth itself, along with [internal] consistency, appears worthy to the listener without the need for any example, bringing him to see the evidence, and not providing time for contention to those accustomed to arguing.

CHAPTER V

For just as no one doubts that the sun exists in a cloudy sky, and completes its course, and that fruit is contained within plants during the winter season—having past experience as an inviolable teacher—so too do all confess without any contradiction that the good is good, even if an evil custom seems to hold the mind fast and hindered toward evil things. For conscience is ashamed to oppose itself with brazen face to the approved truth, and considers it base and, above all, worthy of reproach, to resist a manifest thing out of a mere desire for contention.

Moreover, I was considering that what was once possible for some to do is not even now impossible for those who are willing, since nature itself maintains a similar course in all things, both then and now, and does not provide a legitimate excuse of impotence to those who, because of long-standing and protracted sloth, settle that the accomplishments of the ancient men and women—which are useful—are impossible.

And so, I did not think it at all ^B unbelievable that there might even now be someone who rouses his mind's will to emulate the religious life of those blessed men, and cultivates the fruits of virtue, since nature still possesses the power to produce new branches and joyful sprouts from the old trunk with those very same inherent strengths.

CHAPTER VI

For if Noah, in the generation that was then condemned to destruction by the flood, and with the entire human race wiped out by the inundation of waters, was found alone to be pleasing to God; and if Job, the most just and true man, sprouted like a most beautiful lily ^C among the densest thorns, in the midst of Barbarians who were brutalized by a long custom of iniquity; if the region around Sodom, having been consumed by lightning fire, possessed Lot, dear to God and a lover of hospitality; if, subsequently, different times brought forth Rahab, and Deborah, and Esther, and Judith, Phoebe, and Priscilla, and Dorcas, and Lydia, and many others; and if in every generation from then on some one person shone forth in life, who—by the vice of the times—[held] the image of native nobility, having become [corrupted by]...

having painted the image with luminous colors, so that the vitality of the ancient ^A life might not be completely extinguished, and so that the things recorded concerning those who have lived well might not be deemed unworthy of belief, since no one proves by his own works that the things related in history could have come to pass. How, then, would it be absurd, when such things have happened to others at other times, if now also (even if it might seem wonderful to some on account of the prevailing error) one were to say that a soul is found that witnesses to its kinship with those blessed ones through good works, and is adorned with these gifts which you mention, O most dear Agathius?

SECTION II. On Temperance or Abstinence.

CAPUT II. For such is the state of those who fight against pleasure and struggle against allurements; lest they be captured, they bend in the very things in which they resist, and in that in which they seem to contradict, they consent; from one side they struggle, from the other side they are dragged along; they run toward things they do not want, and are led on, compelled toward things they imagine they hate. Sometimes they flee when they have already been grasped, and sometimes they flee even being weary; now they are pushed, now they run of their own accord; they consent as if against their will, and are conquered in spirit, and they do not know that they are being lifted up and rejoicing in their own defeat. And this is perhaps what Paul says: "I delight in the law of God according

to the inner man; but I see another law in my members warring against the law of my mind, and ^A bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which is in my members." And again: "For what I will, that I do not; but what I hate, that I do." He is not introducing an innate law of sin, nor teaching a tyrannical power of the mind of the flesh as ruling with absolute authority; for in this way all men would necessarily be slaves of sin, being in no way able to shake off its yoke. But now we know those who desire it are not setting themselves free from the law through [their own] mind, but are also bringing the body into bondage and mastering the passions, and are demonstrating by their deeds the self-acting freedom of the will, and its servitude.

CAPUT III

^B For as long as food fattens the body, the sense of the flesh rises up and exercises tyranny, imposing a law upon its subjects of whatever it wishes; but when it is humbled by afflictions and the harsh treatment of the body, it submits itself like a slave and is persuaded to be subject to better laws. It no longer drags the reason toward destruction, but is rather led by it toward a salutary and saving obedience. And everyone is a witness to these things for himself, not being ignorant of what the fullness of the belly compels us to think, and what need and abstinence counsel the mind to ponder; when the former foams over into absurd lusts, but the latter even suppresses them when they are moderately stirred, and sometimes tames those that are gnashing their teeth in a beastly manner, and renders them tame, and says with a clear and ^C penetrating voice what was said by God to Job: "Behold the beasts with thee, they eat grass like oxen," signifying of course that the perturbations of the soul have been transferred from beastly ferocity to the state of beasts of burden and to subjection, and have now been rendered entirely tame, even if they still seem to breathe at all; for in some, through temperance, they are completely dead and spent.

CAPUT IV

Thus Jael took away Sisara by the jawbone, having killed the hostile sense, ^D while the jawbone no longer ambitiously supplied the materials for the passion, but frugally provided to it only what was needed for the necessary preservation of life, so that the power might seem to be present, but not in act. Thus Samson struck the aliens with the jawbone of an ass; perhaps he could not have done this otherwise, unless by holding the jawbone, which serves the throat and belly, with the active virtue of his hand, and, as it were, gripping it with a fist and circumscribing it with judgment, he had held it, lest it diffuse into luxuries and insatiable desires. For nature created the jaw as a minister and assistant to the belly, one intended to divide edibles with incisor teeth, as if with mattocks, and with molar teeth to grind [them] just as with true millstones.

smoothly, and passing it on as if through a hollow conduit of the throat to the insatiable sea of the stomach, ^A proclaiming that which was said by Solomon, where he says: “All the torrents go into the sea, and the sea shall not be filled.” For the stomach and the sea are one and the same; for both gape insatiably for the streams of those things poured into them, the one by digestion and the other by brine consuming what enters, yet again craving other nourishment, and never closing that gaping mouth, nor receiving any relief from thirst by the continuous and ceaseless flow.

CHAPTER V.

For this reason, continence is a good thing, because it suppresses the inflammation of the passions and that which is swollen with excessive tumors, ^B and humbles it toward that which is more mild; it stills their boiling and makes the storm of spirits, which arises from the violent gales of a luxurious diet, to be calm, curbing it toward serenity with the quietude of need, and soothing that which is surging. And when there is a lack of those things suitable for enjoyment, the stomach is permitted, in a way, to be quietly brought into order; for that which is absent does not provoke as that which is present does, which by its very appearance moves the appetite toward desire. But when in the abundance of all things that pertain to luxury—things that heavily crowd one from every side, and [people] surrounded ^C lavishly by those things that make for pleasure—continence gains the highest praise of philosophy, unless perhaps in its abundance one might attempt to corrupt commendable works with the suspicion of excessive parsimony, [with] parasites condemning one for narrowness of mind. For it is the same as passing through a raging and swirling sea by walking on dry land with an unmoistened foot, and to complete a straightforward course of life marked by a frugal diet, not being inundated from anywhere by desire, by the preparations of pleasures flowing around from here and there. Therefore, the wise Solomon, praising the dogma of the continent soul, says: “Thy cheeks are beautified as a turtledove’s.” For the cheek, being the instrument of nourishment, ^D is beautified by continence, rebuking the shameful glutton and gourmet who delights in rich sauces.

SECTION III.

On Vainglory.

CHAPTER I.

Then, indeed, it is also adorned like a turtledove, when it diligently compresses and hides virtue, striving to shun the praise of those who see it, as much as possible, just as the turtledove in the wilderness uses a veil for what is done, and, by its intention, remaining hidden even if all cry out the work with a loud voice. For then that which is done becomes vainglory, when the mind looks toward display; but as long as it does not look toward hunting for human glory, even if virtue shines brighter than any light (for it is necessary, since it is light itself, that it flash its own rays), the intention

^A should be remote from all ostentation and arrogance, striving only to please God alone, caring nothing for spectators, neither if they look on, nor if they offer praise; deeming everything vain and futile that contributes nothing to the eternal reward, even if the applause of those praising should go beyond the air, striking the clouds and resounding even into the ether; for those sounds fall back again, as they are like the clamorous chirping of cicadas, and they end together with the noise of the throat, bringing no benefit or gain to the soul; but rather they harm it in the greatest measure, for they inflate it toward folly, and by the pleasure of praise they empty the work of its reward. Teaching this very thing, the prophet said: “Those who call you blessed deceive you, and disturb the path of your feet,” 48 clearly bringing in a conceit that hinders progress toward good things. The Lord however in his exhortatory words says at one time: “Let not your left hand know what your right hand does,” 49 and at another time: “Let your light shine before men,” 50 both commanding one to do good and turning one away from ostentation. For if a city set upon a mountain cannot be hidden 51 and the ways of the just shine like light, why then should anyone stand publicly holding a torch to the labors of a good work, which will soon be able to shine by itself, lighting it beforehand for display and untimely persuading a pleasure greedy for glory? ^B

CHAPTER II

For if one is held by the desire for glory, which nonetheless is abhorrent to reason, let him accept that which follows the work, and not anticipate it by appearance, sounding a trumpet before he acts, and demanding the owed honor prematurely. For he who said: “Let your light shine before men,” 52 commanded the work itself to cry out, but not those who perform it to proclaim it; so that virtue may have its glory, and the intention of the mind may be free from reproach, choosing the good not for the sake of human glory, but for the sake of God’s reward: although even this falls short of the goal of perfection; since it is holy to choose the good not for the sake of another thing, but for the sake of the good itself. For this is the condition of sons, while that is the condition of mercenaries—higher indeed than that of slaves, for these do all things out of fear of punishment; yet lower than the condition of sons, ^D because they do not work out of love for the good, but out of expectation of reward. For he who has been conquered by desire for this considers the working of the desired thing to be the fruit, perceiving pleasure in the very act of laboring, and judging the labor itself as his reward, and the fatigue spent on the beloved object as an exceptional prize. Since everything that is done with love proves light and easy, even if it be very laborious, because the inclination of the one working toward it conceals the toil and smooths out the roughness into an easy operation. For zeal always overcomes the burden of labor, becoming stronger than the difficulty within the work, and dimming the perception of the toil by the accompanying

as pleasure, such that pain itself becomes joy, and what was thought to be a difficulty becomes a delight.

CHAPTER III.

SECTION IV. Of Reading and Prayer. CAPUT I.

the Seraphim do, who encompass the throne ^A entirely.

CHAPTER II.

Prayer perhaps also contains the reason for a greater utility, namely, in that it sets us to converse with God, and through long custom reconciles to us the friendship of God, inasmuch as it is apt for disposing and preserving the affections, and especially toward God, who admits even contemptible men to His love, and is not ashamed to have fellowship with them, so long as a constant desire suggests confidence to them. For if to servants who offer themselves to His dominion, and who strive to preserve fidelity to the lordly authority with a swelling pride, the accepted pledges of benevolence grant confidence: how much more will a life instituted according to His mind and will increase confidence toward God for those who live piously, who does not demand trembling so fearful and anxious from fear, as much as He rejoices in a cheerful freedom from love?

CHAPTER III.

Reading brought it about that the Ethiopian eunuch was called by the name of man, and was made worthy of apostolic meeting and discourse; and it showed him the way to the knowledge of Christ, and led him to the grace of baptism. Reading is established by the law, and that a most ancient one indeed, as Moses says: "You shall meditate sitting in your house, and walking on the way, sleeping and rising." ^B He who assigns the greatest part of his time to the assiduous contemplation of the divine word for the exercise of the health of the soul, leaving scarcely a small part of it for the necessary use of the body: otherwise serving the mistress, and otherwise treating the maidservant—extending the care of the former to a long time, while limiting the vacation of the latter to measure, as much as is convenient for sufficiency. So that in this also the soul by the confession of all takes the first place, nor does the body in any way, having been compared to it, glory in equal right, or have a vain pretext of equality. ^C The first beatitude in the Psalms is attributed to reading, because it enlarges the mind for producing the fruit of virtues. "For he who meditates in the law of the Lord by day and by night, he is both blessed, and like a tree planted by the streams of waters," both adorned with leaves, that is, with the grave composition of his character, and laden with the fruit of piety in the secret recess of the heart; since continuous meditation, like a perennial watering, affords it perpetual greenness, and increases the internal no less than the external to an equal degree of nature. ^D

CHAPTER IV.

For just as leaves are a covering and an ornament to a plant, and a safeguard for its fruits; so a life composed for piety manifests modesty in the body, and overshadows the goods of the soul which are internal with temperance, keeping the fruit for God, the cultivator of the field, and not yielding it to the

^A beasts that ravage it. For vain glory is a boar from the forest, a solitary wild beast, destroying the crops with its feet and teeth, unless the fence of humility is built around them and blocks off its entry. These, then, are the benefits of the meditation of the divine oracles, which blot out every base and harmful imagination from the mind, and impress upon it the holy forms of that tablet, fashioning the memory to hold images worthy of God, as if it were bearing statues. But prayer abstracts the mind from every sensible thought, and sets it before the God who is over all, that it may converse with Him and ask with confidence for whatever it desires. And in this way, it prepares the person to live purely in the time between prayers, as one who has encountered God and who will, before long, converse with Him again.

CHAPTER V

^B For this reason, Paul teaches that we must persevere in prayer, confirming the habit through long familiarity. And again, he commands to pray in every place, so that no one may have an excuse for sloth regarding prayer, as if they were situated far from a house of prayer. Indeed, every place is suitable for prayer for this reason: that the purity of the holy structure was of no avail to the Jews who approached ^C to pray with defiled hands, dishonoring the pure sanctuary with foul deeds. For God turns away in disgust from those who pray in such a state, even if they pray in the very holy of holies of the temple, embracing the mercy seat with zeal and tangling their hands in the wings of the Cherubim, and He says to them, treating them as unholy: "If you stretch out your hands to me, I will turn my eyes from you, and if you multiply your prayer, I will not listen to you. For your hands are full of blood." But He admits those who call upon Him with a pure heart and holy deeds, and in every way He listens to their prayer, attending to the disposition of their soul, even if the location seems indifferent.

CHAPTER VI

Thus, to Cornelius as he prayed in a house of a Gentile while the temple still retained its proper veneration, an angel appeared and said: "Your prayers and your ^D alms have ascended for a memorial before God," not utilizing for the ascent the credibility of the temple as if carried aloft, but rather carried by the wings of good purpose, or right intention, just as if sailing toward Him who received them kindly and favorably. Thus the prayer of Jonah, from the depths of the sea, having filled its sails with a favorable wind, reached heaven and arrived at divine ears and was carried into port, and was not tossed about by the many billows of water, as was that of the Pharisee, which was shipwrecked in the temple and, sunk with its entire cargo of goods, perished utterly; for it could neither struggle out of the waves, nor hold a straight course through the sea, because it was not able to ride the surf, and while it was laden to the point of foundering, it could not rise again due to the weight of an arrogant spirit, being swamped at the prow, and

covered by the waves of pride and arrogance rising up like swell. ^A Prayer accompanied the three youths in the furnace, and compelled the flame to flee, and to wander outside the furnace seeking those who had set the trap for the youths; for since it had yielded its place within to prayer, and had abandoned its coals, stripped of their burning power, it fell upon the Chaldeans who were found around the furnace and consumed them mightily, restraining its own operation within, out of reverence for the bodies which prayer had surrounded, while displaying its activity outside, as if upon ethereal and dry fuel, in their bodies. Prayer showed the lions in the pit to be restrained, even when they were famishing; and although their bellies groaned from seven days of fasting, when food was placed before them, it persuaded them to manifest a noble, philosophical spirit, preferring to endure the violence of hunger rather than to attack and harm the holy man Daniel—whom the Barbarians, trampling on justice, had condemned to that slaughter, showing themselves to be men more cruel than beasts, and more relentless than the blood-devouring wild animals; and for the correction of their own injustice, they immediately received their instruction from the justice of the animals, who by a natural decree preserved the one whom they had consigned to a wretched and most pitiable death.

CHAPTER VII

Prayer established the honor of divine dignity for Elijah, not only because he was taken up to heaven, guiding a four-horse chariot of fire, as if the earth no longer possessed a dwelling-place worthy of his company, and as one who from then on was worthy of the ether and of dwelling in heaven itself, but also because he gave orders by his word to the elements, which were brought into existence by the word of the Creator of the world. At one time he brought down ethereal fire to consume the sacrifices that were due, at another he turned the thunderbolt upon the commanders of Ahaziah; at another, having shut heaven with a command by his authority, he made the earth barren for the production of fruits for three years and six months due to drought, and prevented the customary growth of all grass, which the divine command had brought forth in cycles of time, running naturally according to the law of nature that proceeded from the first ordinance. And nothing delayed the obedience, as if indicating a sign of God's indignation, as though the prophet had madly dared what was above his own dignity; but rather, he served eagerly as a friend of the Creator, and as one who commands the affairs of a friend as if they were his own, rightfully persuaded that he was subject to every service for God and likewise for the friend of God; since, according to a certain proverb, "the things of friends are common," and they show the power that they have over one another’s affairs, because love equalizes eminences and, by the law of equality, reconciles unequal dignities as if by a legislated law.

CHAPTER VIII

The prayer of Moses parted the sea and made the heaven

^A to produce manna, and brought forth torrents of water from the dry rock; and by the stretching forth of his hands he put to flight an entire nation of warring men. By prayer, Elisha enveloped an entire army in invisibility, and led away captive those who had come against him for his destruction, not only being unable to plot against him as they had intended, but not even able to assist themselves, since the vision that assists in the body had been made to cease, along with their weapons and their hands; for nothing is more feeble than blindness, nor is it able to injure him whom it cannot see, yet it is easily subject to injury, because it does not see the one who rushes upon it so as to repel him. Whence common usage has rightly named those deprived of their eyes "impotent," as they are unable to make use of any of the members ^B of the body for the things they wish, even if they should excel in might and strength those who are carefully trained in the gymnastic contests. The prayer of Peter dissolved his chains, opened the doors of the prison, and at night swung wide the iron gate; and while Paul and Silas were praying at midnight, the prison was shaken, the chains of all were unloosed at once, a light shone suddenly in the dwelling, and it made the jailer a suppliant to the prisoner, and caused him, falling at their feet, to implore for salvation, persuading him to abandon his mad desire for gain and to care for the soul’s benefit; it changed his great cruelty, contracted from the frequent habit of torturing, instantly into great kindness. He no longer extorted his daily revenues ^C with whips, no longer taxed the wretched prisoners—that sour comfort of a tenth part provided by small collections, and adding other incurable calamities to the miserable—nor did he any longer cast collars upon their necks, or fetters upon their feet, or wrap their hands in mutual chains, or enclose them in dark, gloomy shadows, increasing for himself by the hardness of the punishment an accursed gain, which each of the indigent was forced to contribute, choosing rather to waste away with hunger than to endure the kinds of evils we have spoken of.

CHAPTER IX

^D The jailer learned all these things in brief and showed compassion to the prisoners, having become another man out of another, through the fear of the miracle regarding the earthquake. For as the apostles were praying, the foundations of the prison were shaken, and a light shone in the dwelling, and the chains of all were loosed, and all the doors were opened. The jailer, having awakened—for he alone was sleeping carefree, while the prisoners were keeping a sleepless night because of the anxious cares with which each was burdened—called for a light, rushed in, and being trembling, fell at their feet, saying, "Sirs, what must I do to be saved?" And he called them lords and addressed them as masters, whom, before the miracle, he had certainly treated with an austere countenance and a harsh voice, as wretches and criminals.

He fell at the feet of those whom he had previously stretched upon the wood; and he sought to win them over with many honors, having cast them into an inner prison and shut them up in darkness, ^A after prayer had in a wondrous way revealed on every side the dignity of those who had been oppressed by the ignominy of prison as though they were criminals. And prayer is of such great value—that I may pass over in silence many other things for the sake of those who are easily disgusted and have no appetite for long narrations, however useful they may be—that the Lord himself as a man, the Lord of all, had recourse to prayer when he was to suffer the onslaught of the Jews and the cross, and when, as he was truly man, he was engaged in the struggle of death, after he had sustained very many other human sufferings to confirm the dispensation of the incarnation, or to teach men that one must persist in prayer at every time. For not then alone, when a time of adversity pressed, did he pray, constrained by necessity, but he often did the same while free from all fear, praying alone on the mountain, so that we might learn to be occupied with prayers both before afflictions and in the afflictions themselves, that these may be capable of solving the perplexities of apparent dangers, and that, even before temptations fall upon us, we might freely and spontaneously worship and revere Him who, at the critical moments of necessity, turns away from those who are so relaxed and distracted in mind, as if they were never in need of God’s help. ^B

CHAPTER X.

For this reason, he said to the apostles: “Pray, that you may not enter into temptation,” knowing that voluntary prayer before temptation, in the moment of need, inclines God the helper to grant quickly to the suppliant that which he asks; for he has already been praying for a long time, and by the length of time he deserves to obtain what he seeks. For if the continuous importunity of the widow compelled the unjust judge, who feared neither God nor man, to grant her the redress that was hers by right, ^C and if insistence and shamelessness moved the sleeping friend, who had already shut the doors and was refusing to give the loaves because of the sloth that usually befalls those who sleep, to rise and provide what was needed; how will constant prayer not move the most merciful God to graciously give heed to any petition? For it is not kept silent that God is much more ready than men to do good. For the Lord says somewhere: “What man is there among you, who, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will he give him a serpent?” ^D And, by way of comparison, showing the excellence of the divine goodness, he adds, saying: “If you, then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him?”

^A Sometimes, however, the Savior himself, wishing to demonstrate this very thing and desiring to persuade those who doubt whether the natural warmth of affection is surpassed by God’s love, or whether human compassion is superior to it, says: “Can a woman forget her child, so that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb?” By stating the characteristic property of nature, he teaches of care and spontaneous concern. But so that the fact that this happens rarely in some cases might not, from the example itself, provide an opportunity for suspicion—and so that the weakness of the image might not damage the truth of the very principle—he adds accordingly: “And even if she were to forget, yet I will not forget you, says the Lord.” ^B He does not permit this defect of nature to pass over into himself, since the divine nature is not subject to any passion, as is the case with transient mortals, where an irrational, or perhaps even a rational, hatred has extinguished the prevailing natural affection, inducing forgetfulness in parents and alienation toward their offspring, as if they had no remnant of kinship with them. But these great and marvelous deeds, when compared with those that follow, are shown to be small and very trifling, since they remain within the single person performing them and do not pass over to all, or at least to the many. For it is fitting that man be a social and law-abiding animal, not solitary and averse to communion, ^C benefiting those he can and, as far as possible, demonstrating the care of his sympathy, imitating the mutual cooperation of members toward those who are near to them.

CHAPTER XII

For just as each of these in the body does not exercise its own concern separately, but possesses an activity for mutual and reciprocal care, and one thing serves another and each serves all by the law of nature—the hand tends the body, the feet carry it along in their gait, and the eye leads the way without stumbling by the guidance of light, providing a clear path for work; one part is useful for sitting, another for reclining, and by its own labor it comforts the fatigue of others; others behave like certain millers and grinders of grain, showing diligent and careful service. ^D The jaw breaks down the food, the throat acts as a conduit, the stomach receives it, the stomach changes it into chyme, the liver turns it into blood, and it irrigates the entire mass of the animal through the veins; and although each seems to labor for others, it truly procures its own utility and advantage, drawing sufficient food for itself from the common labor, and converts what has been taken up into its own quality, and performs that which is called by the more learned physicians *exomorgis* (digestion)—which is the conversion of different foods into blood, and thence into the body.

Each part of that which is added by nutritive and alterative and augmentative power of quality, becomes one thing in another, and a different thing in a different place; for that which comes to the eye is assimilated to it, and that which is added to the nails and hair imitates the same form of color; that which is infused into the flesh is mingled into their structure; that which passes to the bones is hardened into their solid strength; that which migrates to the internal organs is mingled with them; and the whole is simply transformed into all things, changed into those things which are appropriate, from one and the same material of foods transformed into manifold variety, in accordance with what is the art of nature, and always preserving the same form of the human image, and daily altering the concrete substance of the mass of the body like a river, rendering the stream of that which is seen both the same and different. ^B

CHAPTER XIII

Thus each one of us, being sufficient for nothing for himself, is established as needing the help of others in all things—a state which that excellent Dispenser of our life wisely ordained, so that he might lead the stubborn, whom arrogance masters, to concord through the necessity of sustenance, since the mutual habit of humanity would by no means recall them to such a covenant. For when ^C would a proud man, inflamed with the swelling of opinion on account of his riches, willingly come to conversation with an artisan working with his hands, and with one cast down on account of poverty, while he always desires to maintain his gravity and the authority of his dignity with austerity, unless necessity compelled him to share common speech with him and to exchange his tongue in equal address? Even though he might perhaps think, not without great superciliousness, that the greatest injury is being brought to the pride of his dignity by equality of speech with one whom he deems obscure and vile. But now necessity makes equal the unequal, and brings the humble to the sublime, and brings down the lofty to that which creeps on the ground, making a mixture of characters and a condition of sentiments equal by long custom. Therefore, even the house-builder, ^D and the farmer, and the sailor, and the merchant, and each one of those practicing manual arts, come into the sight of those who hold the first dignities, being summoned—and they are of use to them not on account of a bond of the same kind, but on account of their art; and those whom the law of nature has not joined, the usage of life has gathered together. How, therefore, if art and skill make the workman known and familiar to the rich man, shall not the compassion of truth, which judges, make the beggar known and familiar to him, and reconcile the needy man so that he might call him, and impart his own goods to him sometimes, or at least that he might receive from him some relief for necessary use? Since many consider the familiar conversation of these to be base and shameful, and—on account of the arrogance born of money—are ashamed to receive those whom the Lord Jesus declares He will set in His place at the judgment, saying: "What you did to these,"—but also the

you did to me." ^A Verily, we shall pass by the hungry one wasting away with famine, and the naked one stiffened by the cold; we shall leave the dead one cast aside like one of the unclean animals, not having sanctified the body by our nature, nor having covered it with earth according to custom—the common disgrace which decaying bodies, dripping with gore and putrefaction, are wont to produce. But we shall cherish ourselves beyond measure, and hasten to our own care beyond what is required, adorning this earthly statue and fussing over the composite dust, that it may shine in the marketplace, gleaming with the flower of garments, and that it may be fattened with the seasonings of cooks, reaping every pleasure from every side.

CHAPTER XIV

^B The rich man in the Gospels, whose name is suppressed, was once clothed in purple and fine linen, and long filled himself with a Sybaritic table. He passed by Lazarus, who was cast before the gate and desiring the crumbs, with total lack of sympathy; and if his glance ever inclined toward him, he would avert it with great care toward the other side, lest the reminder of those wounds should cause weariness to one who was feasting, or provoke nausea, or move him to vomit while he beheld him present. ^C Yet neither did he drive him from the doors, God so ordering it that, by the miserable man lying continually at the entrances and showing this spectacle, he might either be softened to pity over a course of time, or not have a suitable pretext for the defense of his inhumanity, as though he had not seen him. He did not pity the one lying there, showing a callous and harsh disposition, so that he was convicted of being more pitiless than the dogs, having cast away the gentleness of nature through evil habit, and disregarding him whom creatures devoid of human reason tended—perhaps judging him to be of their own kin, as he desired the crumbs of which they too are sometimes deemed worthy, and at times ^D suffer from want.

But when they passed on—the one in the imagination of radiant things, the other in that of gloomy things—they laid aside the masks of this dream of a life and of the scene here, and exchanged them for the state of true things, which is contrary and far different. For after a short-lived luxury, a furnace of fire, as is its nature, awaited the one, grieving him; but for the other, after slight distress, eternal joy was found. And again, there was between them—yet not as before—an inequality, but one contrary to that which once belonged to them; for now the rich man begged, having cried out fervently, for Lazarus—or rather for Abraham who carried him in his bosom—for perhaps he was ashamed to address the man himself on account of his previous contempt. Therefore, having left him, he entreated the patriarch, saying: "Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus that he may dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am in anguish in this flame." And, O the suffering! How the necessity of punishment made the arrogant man humble, and the haughty man shameless! How was he not ashamed to petition that a helper be sent to him in his punishment, he whom he had not even deemed worthy of a glance when he was wasting away with famine?

How did he dare to speak of a finger, he who had loathed even the sight of him when he was dripping with ichor? How did he not blush to ask for a drop of water, he who had not deemed the poor man worthy of a crumb? But from the flame he cried out with such shameless voice: “Send Lazarus,” as if he were obligated to a repayment of kindnesses he had often received. Such is the necessity that forces all things to be dared ^A shamelessly, as it devises to find a release from dire evils wherever fortune might offer it.

CHAPTER XV

And why did the great patriarch not give this response, consistent with the truth, to him? Now, O wretch, you have learned the utility of mercy, when the burning flame has surrounded you on all sides? Now you judge compassion to be a good thing, while you yourself have been placed in need of it? And why were you of such ungentle mind toward those suffering evils? Now you recognize Lazarus, whom you did not know while going in and out as he lay cast upon the ground; the film of delusion has passed away, and you look clearly toward the truth; the gloomy and dark night of life has passed, and in the light of day you see how things of nature truly are; you have abandoned the imagination of dreams upon the earth, and you behold the realities that surround you with true vision. Then you should have thought of mercy, when you had the material, namely wealth, ^B suited for doing good; when it was possible to extend a morsel to the one begging; when you could have clothed the naked one, shivering with cold on rotting planks; when it was within your power to heal the sick one; when the abundance of gathered riches offered the opportunity for doing good. For the harvest of that seed which is gathered here is mercy. But now you seek to reap what you did not sow, and to gather what you did not scatter, and to take what you did not store, begging for mercy which you did not show to the needy, and compassion which you did not grant to your neighbor, and the bowels of sympathy which you closed to the one near you; you had a physician for your ungentle hardness before your doors, and you were not healed, ^C when the disease, while still fresh, could have yielded to remedies; now time does not permit applying hands to desperate situations. For the evil has become callous; it no longer needs milder poultices, but henceforth painful surgery and burning cauteries. “Send,” he says, “Lazarus.” Shall I send him, tell me, to you across such an interval of space, when you, always being near him, never inclined yourself toward him? Shall I say to dip his finger in water and cool your burning tongue, as you say? For I did not soothe him when he was hungry for crumbs. But when you say that you are tormented, do you think that you will be persuasive in obtaining ^D mercy? That man was in pains, and you did not show mercy. You now are tormented in a furnace of fire, he was tormented in a furnace of poverty, and poverty bites the bowels with lack no less than fire.

just as fire scorches the surface of the body. If you had had mercy on him when he was pining away with hunger, you would now have been shown mercy while burning in the fire. If you had suffered with him when he was besieged by hunger and wounds, you would have found indulgence now while being punished in the flame—nay, you would not even have seen the place of the torment that holds you, but would have been living with Lazarus within our bosom, comforted as he is. For such is the benefit done to one in need, that it not only leads one out of sorrows, but also places one in the midst of joys, there to rejoice. But as it is, endure the punishment in silence, for the entreaty of the condemned avails nothing after the divine sentence has been passed. That was the time for mercy and forgiveness; this is the time for impartial and righteous judgment. That was the time for granting, this for the requital of things done well or ill. That was the time for the stadium, and the contests, and the training; this is for the reward of ^B the labors. He who conquered there receives his crowns here; he who was defeated does not wrestle again in the present to undo his falls; for the contest is concluded, and the correction of faults as ceased. There, repentance used to correct sins, and prayer used to persuade the Judge to relent, and tears used to win favor; now, mercy has no place, but severe and unsympathetic justice heartlessly thrusts the harsh into punishment, for judgment, according to the divine oracle, is without mercy to him who has showed no mercy.

CHAPTER XVI

The righteous man answered nothing of this to the suppliant, knowing well that it is superfluous to commemorate things with words when the facts themselves bear witness. But he did say one thing to him, which revealed everything: "Remember," he said, "that you in your lifetime received your good things, and likewise Lazarus bad things." He says, "The purple and the fine linen seemed to you excellent for decoration, you judged your daily splendid banquet to be good, you delighted in the enjoyment of things that are sweet in this life, and you walked about filled with luxuries at your pleasure. Why do you now think it timely to desire things you never even dreamed of? And Lazarus received the bad things, not indeed those which that man considered bad; for he was contentedly embracing them as good, but you were judging them as ^C bad. For it is necessary that he who judges those things as good should consider these as bad, while by choosing the portion of pleasures, he demonstrates that the portion of the opposite is useless and to be rejected. If you had then communicated with the man who was suffering affliction and was despised by you, now it would be the time for you to be invited to share in the relief with him. If you had offered comfort to his need then, you would have had no need of these words now; for he would have requited you for your compassion even had you been silent. And that this is true, behold, you call me father ^D honoring me only by the title, and you immediately hear 'son,' being abundantly rewarded with the fitting response for that address. If you had then honored Lazarus by your deeds, you would have surely received in deed the

^A return of timely grace, receiving back a suitable debt. But perhaps your great prosperity puffed you up, and the bulk of vain glory caused the illusion that, from such prominence, you would never be liable for judgment. Yet it does not know the value of the present state over there, nor does it speak glowingly of those who have arrived from there, receiving all equally for judgment and recognizing dignities not from accepted opinions, but from the fruits of virtue that are truly acquired from excellence. Because of these things, you were judged more cruel than wild beasts. For dogs are tame and domesticated animals; you, however, thought that you never needed to be in anyone’s service. For since the dogs, which have by nature obtained the faculty of healing, learned to treat their own wounds with their tongue, and displayed this toward the helpless one, and by licking him clean, cleared away the developing filth so that the scar might be completely pure and liberated from the uncleanness nourished within, you ought to have displayed to your fellow man such comfort as you were able, and to have relieved his poverty by the provision of necessary things, so that you might have been considered at least ^B equal in rank to these little dogs, having distributed toward him a care equal to theirs. For it seems the dogs, urging you toward piety, kept going back to the poor man, and since they could not teach you by voice what you ought to have done, they cried out by their deeds: "Since we make eager use of the remedy granted to us by nature, it is clear that we would be most ready for what is lacking, if we had the power to provide the necessary things. Since, therefore, we are unable to provide food, and we ourselves remain for the most part hungry, having to resort at times to that which is forbidden to humans by necessity, we offer whatever consolation we are capable of, displaying our sympathy, and by the modest service of our office, we reveal our readiness for all things, had we the strength."

CHAPTER XVII.

For that which is, for the time being, within the reach of our strength, when done diligently in deed, is a proof of our readiness for other things, demonstrating that it is poverty, and not our intention, that is the cause of delay in those things we do not attend to with zeal. But that man, becoming merciless and inhumane, asks for the favor of a drop, he who had not offered the favor of a crumb—not that a drop would suffice to mitigate that flame (for not even a flowing river extinguishes a fire prepared for punishment!), but so that it might be clearly shown that he who is now devoid of sympathy ^C will not be able to obtain even that tiniest bit in the future, so that, having learned the rigor and severity of the final judgment, ^D we may prepare for ourselves the reward of promised goods through the benefits we show now to the poor, and may store up there, usefully, the goods of this life which corrupt here, demanding back from the Judge as a debt those things which were lent to the poor, and not asking to receive as a charitable gift the release from punishment; for if he who has mercy on the poor, as the proverb of Solomon says, lends to God, he

[...continually] lending to those who have [need], let him lend everything with a good mind, so that he may find everything multiplied there, leaving nothing for vanity, which he would regret as having been poorly left behind. For everything not given for acts of kindness is truly vain and useless, neither following us nor going before us there. And even if someone mentions those near to him—children, brothers, and the succeeding bonds of kinship—certainly, unless one is himself needy, he will find others suitable to succeed to his belongings. ^B Wherefore it is fitting for everyone, having bid farewell to his numerous kinships and friendships, to become his own kinsman and friend, transferring or sending ahead everything to where he is migrating, so that he may depart cheerfully when called to that migration, seeing a vast heap of incorruptible wealth stored up for himself there, and not fear the transition by pitifully abandoning the material riches whose affection kept him in this life in vain.

SECTION V

That the souls of those who love wealth, being life-loving, are drawn away with difficulty at the time of death.

CHAPTER I

^A tines, so that these could anticipate the participation of those ungrateful feasting worms, consuming more reasonably that which those others were soon to consume ungratefully? Just as certain cruel and merciless matricides, devouring their own mothers for lack of other food, and after their iniquitous feast crawling out from the storehouses and appearing in the public light as spontaneous witnesses of the folly of him who guarded the grain; so too did the holy Judge decree, that not only should the ill-gotten hoards perish, but that the man himself should have no reasonable basis for complaint against Providence. Since he had claimed for himself alone the common abundance of all, carefully locking away the heavenly gift with bolts and bars, and fortifying it to ensure for himself a long and multi-year enjoyment, God justly took back what He had bestowed from the storehouses, inflicting no loss upon him of his own labors; for he left intact the storehouses which he himself had built. And with how much zeal he ^B ensured that the grain should come out into public view, carried around the streets for the mockery and derision of that man who had devised a thousand machines to ensure that the fuel for his luxury would be kept uncorrupted for a very long time—laying the floor with cut stone slabs, coating the walls with whitewash, and introducing through windows the breezes blowing from outside, so that the stored grain might be ventilated and escape the harm of rot by the continuous agitation of the air!

CHAPTER II

wealth of the ungodly, dissipating and scattering like dust, even if it be laid up for preservation by providence. For thus God himself speaks to those who are so disposed: “You have brought your produce into your treasuries, and from there I have blown it away.” But the man who is long-lived in his intent does not even know whether these things have come to pass or have not. For he is overtaken, snatched away prematurely, before their corruption, while he was in his mind revolving the enjoyment of a long life, being required to give up his soul in that very night, and not even having managed to say whom he wishes to be the master of the things he is leaving behind. For it was fitting that those things which were strictly possessed by the one who is unsharing should finally become common property because of the departure of the master, lying open to everyone for the power of use alike. ^B And since he did not propose in his own mind to share them with the poor, nor had he thought to donate them willingly, those things which he was destined to lose against his will, out of necessity, after being deprived of that dreamt-of intoxication, he receives eternal punishment.

CHAPTER III

If, forsooth, those who are benevolent to the mendicant and provide for the poor receive back a hundredfold interest, and for these things inherit an endless life, certainly then those who pass by the afflicted without any consolation are, first of all, punished under that name, because he who has not been affected by any benefit has never given thanks to the unmerciful; ^C and afterwards they are delivered to punishment, being tormented more by their conscience than by their experience, because the monies which, through beneficence toward the needy, ought to have been a ransom for their own souls, they have made the cause of their condemnation through their own stinginess, justly hearing that terrible and dreadful sentence for their deeds, saying: “Go into the eternal fire which was prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry, and you did not give me to eat; I was thirsty, and you did not give me to drink.” And as it seems to me, they are to be pitied not so much for their punishment as they are to be mocked for their foolishness, in that, for the sake of ^D sparing a small expense, they chose such a great punishment; since they did not enjoy those things which they had prepared for luxury for as long a time as they imagined, and for the things left behind they endured horrible, very bitter punishments, because they did not use their own wealth to obtain comfort for themselves by sending it all on ahead through the burden-bearing poor to that place where they were to enjoy delights, instead of the punishments they now undergo; but rather, they gave space by their own labors for others to live profligately, and because of this, they deservedly endure punishment in their place.

SECTION VI. That those who indiscriminately leave their property to whomever they please are deservedly punished. CHAPTER I.

^AFor those who have succeeded to property could have abstained from sins, had a lack of funds hindered them—funds that in their abundance granted them the freedom to commit sins, as it were leveling a way for the movement of the will toward what it approves, and granting an easy power to perform the deed. And let no one, blathering some stale excuse, speak gravely to me, saying that he is saving his wealth for his children and grandchildren so that they may pass their lives in a dignified and decorous manner. For experience has stopped every mouth that offered that as a pretext, showing the vanity of such concern on the part of parents by the reality of the outcome. ^B For how many, born of destitute forebears, have advanced to such great wealth that they are thought enviable by those who are struck with admiration for vain things? And how many children, succeeding to the splendid wealth of their parents, have been reduced to extreme poverty, having either been forcibly oppressed by the more powerful and stripped of all their property at once, or having gradually devoured it through a dissolute life and shameful pursuits, until at last they could scarcely procure their necessary sustenance? Thus it is clearly demonstrated to everyone that the foresight of the one who hoards is futile; it makes them desist from this empty labor by the examples of the past, and persuades them to have regard for their own salvation, entrusting the administration of their descendants to God, who will dispose of them as He judges reasonable, either making those of low estate high, or preserving them in the dignity they received from their parents. ^C For if the stability of what is left to children is uncertain, but the profit that comes from beneficence is confessed, why is the manifest not judged preferable to the uncertain, persuading one to sow seeds there, where an abundant and undoubted harvest is hoped for? And if the possession were indeed secure and indisputable for those who inherit it, who is so much an enemy and conspirator against himself as to choose eternal punishment for himself for the sake of transmitting an abundant means of luxury to his posterity, and not deem his own salvation more important than the pleasure of others, or at least place his own affairs on an equal scale with those things which, as Truth intends, are foreign and of no profit in the world to come? ^D For no one ought to equate anything with his own soul, since each person is to stand alone for himself in judgment, having no advocacy from kinsmen or friends before the Judge. Therefore, since almsgiving and good works provide confidence at that tribunal, one should be concerned with these, and less with procuring affection toward ones' kindred, with the governance of all things being deposited in God, who disposes the life of each according to what is more conducive—unless our condition in this regard is to be set as worse than that of the unreasoning animals, which, as it is said, is to misappropriate the providence of God through an apparently caring attitude toward one's children—an attitude that frequently misses its mark, as many are left destitute and homeless after a great inheritance. For it is necessary that [one], with a sober mind, [ought] to…

[we have been instructed, this we must also learn from animals, just as we learn many other things. For with wild beasts, creeping things, birds, and all cattle, nature serves as a teacher, schooling them in how much care they should expend upon their offspring—the care of whelps, ^A of foals, and of nestlings—until such time as the power to procure food for themselves is present to them from their own resources. Once this is gained, nature puts an end to the care that proceeded from kinship, and entrusts to each the power of independent sustenance. This happens perhaps to shame those who have been honored with reason, yet behave more senseless than the irrational beasts; for they offend against God himself, as if He were not sufficient to provide for His own works, because they draw all solicitude for their offspring onto themselves, and through excessive care for them, they take no thought at all for their own salvation, as if they were not more closely related to themselves than to those others, and more suited to the task of caring for what benefits themselves.

CAPUT II.

For kinship is a familiarity of bodies rooted in blood, ^B dragging with it the bond of relationship only as long as the line of bodies is woven together, linking one suspended from another in ordered succession. But when death has severed the chain of this connection, the rights of this kinship are dissolved, as each is dragged to trial concerning his own deeds, and then recognizes the destitution he has fashioned for himself, when it is impossible to conceive of help from any quarter, both the means and the time for assistance having departed together. A brother does not ransom ^C a brother from that necessity; a father does not release his son from punishment; a mother does not intercede for her punished son; a child does not release those who gave him birth. These relationships fall idle, and cease, conquered by the fear of judgment. In that tribunal, a man does not know the woman whom perhaps he lost while longing for her; a woman does not reckon with the man whom she once pursued with vehement and ardent love, because the agonizing distress that exceeds all else dissolves the recollections inclined toward carnal affections.

And often, he who succeeded to the substance left by his progenitors, having well-distributed it to the needy, stands before the judge, praised for his good deeds, and receives the promises with a cheerful countenance. But he who abandoned it is dragged headlong to punishments, since he showed nothing good from it to the needy, having left his own labors as a means of salvation for another, while the wretch himself profited nothing for his own sake. Well does the wise Solomon say in Proverbs: 89 "He who gathers his wealth with usury and unjust gain, gathers it for him who has pity on the poor," becoming to himself the author of punishment through greed, and to others the cause of good rewards through benevolence. Since these things are so, what is the madness of those who always...]

^A desipiunt, et neque in tempore mortis timendum illud tribunal cogitant?

SECTION VII.

CHAPTER I.

CHAPTER II.

...not only without a dwelling, but even while seeing others enjoying themselves, he sustains the greatest affliction. For while poverty mildly afflicts him who is not provoked by the luxury of others—since his desire remains at rest, there being no external reminder to inflame it—yet when festivities are before his eyes, and when guests are cheerfully pledging one another, desire creates a terrible torment, stirring up his longing at the sight of pleasant things, and, by the very desire to partake of them, afflicting him most severely. Whenever he considers that what was possible has, through his own lack of judgment, become impossible, and that because of his own folly he is deprived of the delights that are now in the power of others, the affliction becomes all the more harsh, since repentance is unable to rectify the error committed, and finds no way through which the opportunity might be granted to seize the time to reform what was once poorly arranged. ^B

SECTION VIII

CHAPTER I

SECTION IX

CHAPTER I

^A ...prefaces! "For my part," they say, "let me have life and the mastery of my goods before they are bestowed." By declaring that they do not do this of their own volition before they confer a benefit, they indicate that they yield to necessity, not to their own will; they pray to live and to remain masters of their own affairs, but since this is not granted to them, they pass them on to whomever they can, to those who would also like to receive them but cannot hold onto them. "Let me have life." But the truth might well say to such a person: "Let you have life, O man! For what utility have you provided for life by living up to this point? Whom have you fed who was dying of hunger? Whom did you gather in who lacked shelter? Whom have you freed from the crushing debts of an exhausted debtor? Whom have you released from the harsh servitude of masters whose cruelty he was lamenting? Whose poverty, among those who have been frustrated by wealth, have you consoled? Have you alleviated, even in some ^B small part, the miseries of his mendicancy? Why do you say that you want to live, when no one else says this about you? Indeed, many would certainly say so if you had shown yourself to be good in the time that has passed, for each would be persuaded that they would experience you as the same person you had been to them in the past. Let you have life; but why? So that you may distribute your substance to the poor? So that you may now do what you did not do before? So that from here on you may satisfy the requirement of each person from that which is superfluous to you? It is permitted to you to do this even when dying, and to have many praying for your remission; or rather, even if no one prays or asks God, the very work itself will commend you to the Judge and will lead you to the kingdom prepared together with those who fed the hungry poor. Or is it so that you may acquire others ^C and, while you yourself enjoy the pleasant things lavishly for as long as possible, you may leave your goods to more successors, and again be master of them? And why do you seek to possess again those of which you were a bad master until the present, having helped no one with such great riches? And how do you call them 'yours,' the things which were granted for the use of the present life and for the common distribution to those in need? From where did you bring them, that you call them 'yours,' things that are older than your own birth? You did not bring them from elsewhere when you entered life; they did not exist born with you; you did not come forth from your mother's womb possessing them, so that you could say they are 'yours' and coeval with you, in the same way as the body born with you. You found them, you used them, you leave them behind. By what reasoning do you call those things yours which, before you and after ^D you, are equally set out for the use of all? They would have been yours if you had acquired them by giving them away; they would have firmly been yours if you had stored them away in heaven like treasure through almsgiving. Since death dissolves the distribution of your mastery, you distribute in vain from then on those things whose time and power are taken from you even against your will. Now, therefore, depart without turning aside, and migrate as quickly as possible, about to undergo, in justice, punishments long in duration in exchange for the few years of a life spent in a short time. Why do you prepare for yourself a more lasting and heavier punishment, desiring to extend to the very end of old age a life full of sins for yourself, so that for a long sojourn there you may receive a long and extended torment?

^A Subjoining later: "I will, and I greatly will," adding ^B mandates—and in matters which are no longer their own henceforth, displaying profuse liberality toward their kin, and mostly with the end in view that, if they should perhaps survive, they might commend themselves to patrons and friends—and confirming what seemed good to them with a seal, namely, to prevent fraud, they die with countenances turned away; seeing those things which are here, as they say who are accustomed to conduct themselves gravely, as a fallacy of things, just as they truly are, because they shudder at the terrifying and grim places, which all appear to them at once. A smile, indeed, is a sign of mockery, which ought to have been seen on the faces of the dying, if they had been deriding as worthy of laughter the things that were being let go; but now, just as those who have tasted bitter medicines contract their faces out of aversion, the soul, expressing the affection which it had from those cruel things it saw there, manifests its hidden inner distress through the figure of the face and the manifest appearance. For nature has fashioned the face as a mirror of the soul, shadowing forth upon itself such forms as the soul moves within, until it reveals its passions by clear and evident proofs. Thus, grief is convicted by sadness; thus, joy is known by effusiveness; thus, anger is shown by harshness; and no other aspect of the mouth can be formed except that which the occupation invading the mind commands.

CHAPTER III.

^A to overcome and stirs up a conflict, had they avoided the passion, they would have fallen there, where the will completes the proposed resolution without labor, and they darkened the brightness of their virginity with the gloom of avarice. Therefore, they ran about the marketplaces in confusion, seeking oil everywhere, when the sellers had already shut the doors. For what business remains after the conclusion, when no one is in need of anything, nor is anyone making a timely exchange for him who is in want of oil, since the festival has ceased and the supplier of what is necessary for each has made the trade impossible? If, for virgins, such great labor of chastity, when mercy was absent, became useless, and they stood excluded from the bridal chamber of the Bridegroom, crying out with miserable voices: ^B “Lord, Lord, open to us,” and heard from within the Bridegroom as if growling with a wrathful voice, saying: “Amen I say to you, I know you not, whence you are”—what is it fitting to hear, and with what wrathful and harsh voice, for those who, besides being destitute of mercy, are held fast by a thousand other vices? Is it not entirely, and so horribly, that which was spoken to those like them: “Depart into the eternal fire which is prepared for the devil and his angels; for I was hungry, and you did not give me to eat”? For those [virgins], it was sufficient, and more than enough by way of punishment, to be excluded from the bridal chamber of the Bridegroom, and to be punished by this alone—that they were not inside with the wise virgins—while their very thought tormented them, as they considered what the enjoyment inside the canopy might be. But these others, besides the fact that they are destitute of every good consolation, will pay an inevitable and most bitter penalty, being punished by a double torture: one which will afflict them with the torment of unquenchable fire, and the other, which the enjoyment of others is accustomed to produce in those capable of being in it, yet who are not there due to their own negligence; it flogs the soul with the sorrow of repentance no less than the punishment from the fire externally crucifies the body.

CHAPTER IV

^A forum, a man of the same race as yourself, homeless, hearthless, unfed, having no rags underneath him to stand between him and the earth and his rotting sides, and no covering above him capable of ridding him of cold or heat; exposed equally to the falling of snows and the rays of the sun, laying bare the secrets of nature to the eyes of all, no longer even able to use his voice for prayers because of his starvation, and using only the movement of his hand or the nodding of his eyelids—which are now barely flexible—as a symbol of entreaty; panting upwards, and at the point of death from need, you hurry past him, perhaps even spurred on by the time of your own meal. And neither does that suffering of yours move you to compassion, nor does your own hunger act as a teacher to you, making you sympathize with the one who is hungry, by your suffering the evils of others; and yet, the necessity is not the same. For you, perhaps, have not yet digested yesterday’s drunkenness, nor has the excessive fullness of your insatiable belly been breathed out; but you are still belching forth foul-smelling fumes—deriving this benefit alone from the pleasure you previously enjoyed, that you yourself partake of the unpleasantness of the vapors you send up. For so has the Creator ordered matters of nature, that the sense of smell should receive from nearby the odors issuing through the mouth, so that even before others, one is filled with the nauseating stench of oneself. But to him, his need is of many days, and his appetite rages uncontrollably for any chance morsel, for it is directed toward a single, small piece of bread; for he has forgotten over time what abundance is, having acquired—unwillingly—a habit of little need through the necessity of his destitution. ^B Do you then not consider that this man is Lazarus for you, since you do not see him being judged in the bosom of the patriarch? But you shall see, do not doubt it; for they obtain the same places who have struggled in the same ways, and those who have committed the same transgressions are condemned to the same punishment. You, however, are even more impious than the rich man; for he at least allowed him the space to lie down securely before his own gates, not driving him away, and, enduring to see him constantly, he suffered the unpleasant sight of a body covered in sores and stinking, presenting a foul spectacle on account of the stream of pus flowing constantly, to which the dogs ran for the pleasure of their sense of taste, making his passage when entering and leaving more difficult—yet he never drove them away, nor those because of whom they gathered and crowded the path. For it would have been written, had he done so, just as the other things were; but ^C since it was not done, it is passed over in silence, in order to show that even in those who are utterly base there exists some spark of natural nobility, shining with its own light, even if it is smoldering, and even if the darkness of evil habits casts a shadow over it, it is not in its nature to be extinguished entirely. But your rod-bearing servants do not even permit one covered in rags to approach your gates, much less do they allow him a place to sit or to recline, considering the poor man to be a portent of a turning toward the worst things, and deeming his pleading voices to be ill-omened cries. ^D

CHAPTER V.

^A And why do I mention Lazarus when speaking of diminishing the dignity of a poor man? Christ said that He is in him, and that what is done for him is claimed by Himself as His own. "For in that you did it to one of these," He says, "you did it to Me." [40, 45] And what does each one expect to suffer who drives away and dishonors the poor man, and in him, Christ? He spits upon the rags wrapped indecorously on the outside, and does not see the hidden purple which signifies the King who is within; he mocks the meanness of the appearance, and does not perceive the dignity of the image; he considers the filth of the body, and does not take into account the purity of the soul. For Christ would not have said that He is this man, unless He knew that there was great inner dignity. But if you were to see a king wearing common clothes, and for the sake of procuring some good, hiding his dignity under a humble appearance, you would attempt to accomplish everything, and would employ all possible diligence from every side to become known to him through gifts and many attentions, even if it were necessary to spend all your resources upon him and to stand stripped of all your wealth, knowing full well that the benefits you had provided him in his need would be copiously rewarded in their own time. Why, then, do you not win over your Judge to yourself by benefits toward the needy, when He wishes ^B now to be bribed by gifts, so that He may then judge with indulgence, intending to bestow open salvation in return for secret giving—just as a magistrate, having taken money in court to grant a favor, indulges him who is litigating, as he had hoped? Of this, the Lord is the infallible witness, saying to the one who prays and the one who grants alms: "Do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do; but do it in secret, and in what is hidden, your good work; and your Father, who sees in what is hidden, will reward you in the open." [2-5] He does not wrap these clandestine gifts in silence, but proclaims them before the entire creation, and He Himself confesses that He has received whatever the poor mediator has received, as a domestic and a familiar acquaintance. "For in that you did it to one of these, you did it to Me," the Judge Himself said plainly. And this does not happen according to human law, but rather ^C the opposite of the order that prevails among us; for among men here, if a magistrate accepts a gift in a time of need, he denies it, fearing danger; because this is theft and brings condemnation, and because by confessing that he dared to do it, he is held guilty and becomes liable to punishment; for the one who judges is a slave, and the law is likewise servile. But where the one who judges judges from absolute authority, and, being Lord, is not forbidden to absolve from the punishments that have been established for crimes, it is good to confess the sin, since indulgence follows the confession and punishment does not follow; and the gift is not hidden from the Judge, since no one, on account of the preeminence of the throne, can slander His philanthropy as having been done improperly; nor can one judge the gift as theft, given for an act of beneficence, and ^D given by the needy acting as mediator and by the provider as one under indictment; so that

the ^A necessity of the body of the one may be managed, and the transgression of the soul of the other may be healed, so that he not be condemned, for lack of compassion, to everlasting punishment without mercy. Or are you perhaps laughing at the threat of the judgment to come as a figment of a fable? But you will not laugh at the experience of it, even if you now mock what you hear. For the punishments that have been prepared will find you at that time, and the punishment will seize you inexorably, when, being excluded from all help for your foolishness, you will benefit nothing, seeing the things foretold to be true, and seeing no way of help from anywhere, just like those who in this life applaud themselves over the whole earth, with free rein for their luxury at will, and who say: "Let not the flower of spring pass us by: let us crown ourselves with rosebuds; let us be filled with expensive wine and ointments; everywhere let us leave behind signs of gladness."

CHAPTER VI.

into your house; if you see the naked, cover him, ^A and do not despise those of your own seed." Others say: "Let us not grow weary in doing good; for in due season we shall reap." Another says: "Redeem your sins with alms." And another: "He who pities the poor lends to God." And the Lord: "Make for yourselves friends by means of the mammon of unrighteousness." And again: "Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." But this is neglected, as if no one had ever said anything about it, and it is consigned to deep oblivion, many perhaps supposing that they are neither entangled in any sins, nor in need of mercy, as if they had done everything well. But if this were true, these very imaginers of their own impeccability ought still to imitate the kindness of God, and to bestow mercy upon any man unhappy for whatever reason, as being a part of the human race, if not for the hope of remuneration, then by the impulse of an excellent disposition. For God, since He is in need of nothing, yet provides care for the sake of benefit without any retribution, pitying with natural compassion everyone in need of mercy, "making His sun rise on the evil and the good, and sending rain on the just and the unjust." ^B Teaching by this that one should show mercy indiscriminately to all who are in need, whoever they may be, whether they happen to be evil or good. For he who is in need of a benefit ought to be relieved with the help he lacks, and not be judged as to whether he is righteous or unrighteous, so as to deserve it. Just as the unjust man, along with the just, enjoys the lavish gift of benign providence through the sun and rain, so he must also be helped by the grace of men, since even these (the human beings) have something divine implanted in their constitution, and they show that they have learned to exhibit goodness similar to the Creator’s.

CAPUT VII.

To others, there is not even a shard with which they might bring water to their mouths when thirsty. For some, garments of immense value and barbaric folly are rotting away, while to others even a rough rag is lacking as a covering for their shame. To some it is permitted to set a table with all manner of foods—from the earth, the air, and the waters; for there is nothing of which pleasure does not taste, having spread the all-catching nets everywhere, with which it has swept up even the depths of the sea and the things moving near the heavens, preparing them for the ambitious enjoyment of those who love pleasure; ^A while the satiety of the wretched belly complains, no longer able to serve the greed of an insatiable desire, which the fullness of the vessels does not check from its ungovernable impulse, not considering self-sufficiency to be the limit of need, but rather leaving nothing of what has been prepared. Thus, therefore, with the vessels bursting—and sometimes not even bearing the burden of the satiety—the belly is empty, and yet this abundance is painful to the gluttony of what is left behind, and it complains at the measure of the belly, that it is not capable of holding as much as it, raging, desires for all those things toward which it gapes, yearning with ungovernable impulses. To others, on the other hand, the desire is fixed upon a single loaf, which they consider a luxury and a consolation for their need in part; for satiety causes one to innovate with many other inventions of pleasure, not sticking even for a little while to those things which are in custom, unless the successions of those things which delight are continuous and follow one another in turn, cheering the restlessness of the appetite by lying in ambush with novelties, and soothing the sense of taste with one quality of food after another. Thus, need and necessity persuade one to consider the desirable as something to be cherished, filling the void, not commanding one to delight the desiring part. ^B How, then, would one of those men who are now thus disposed, merciless and passing by the sick lying at the crossroads, those wandering in the narrow lanes, and those forced to annoy people shamelessly at the doors, and those ashamed to make public their own changed lot because they are unaccustomed to begging, choosing rather to starve indoors than to endure appearing unseemly to those who know them—how, I say, would he who has remained unsympathetic and harsh and ungentle at all times to the entreaties of those in need, and who has a conscience judging himself before the Judge for his past inhumanity, say that the judgment of the Master is just, seeing those who have passed from such suffering into rest, while he himself has passed from such profligacy into punishment? And how will he even receive a thought to offer up suppliant voices to the Judge, ^C those who are being wasted in mines and in prisons by the misery of bonds and the necessity of stone-cutting, those who are consumed by the sacred disease in tombs and upon high mountain crags—of whom some, due to the offensiveness of the illness, do not dare to approach cities and villages, fearing that no one will deign to minister to them, and that they might even be stoned due to the careful attention paid to avoiding their infirmity; while others, deprived of feet for walking and creeping with their hands, and all sitting idly at home, like trees stripped of their branches, having had those limbs necessary for every movement removed—he, I say, will not call the Master's judgment just, seeing those who have passed from such suffering into rest, while he himself has passed from such profligacy into punishment? ^D Moreover, he who is violent and tyrannical, plundering...

absorbing, despoiling, driving away, exterminating, slandering, seizing, carrying off, and leading into slavery—in short, disturbing the life of all men in every way, omitting no species of malice—as far as power and strength allow him to do so, he plunges entirely and of his own accord into the deepest abyss of Tartarus, judging the reproof for such great crimes to be more burdensome than the pain from the torments. For this is indeed the fitting end for those who use power not for beneficence, but for the maltreatment of their neighbor; such men leave behind what they have hoarded for the abuse of an ambitious life by others, but for themselves they reap eternal punishment as their fruit. ^A

CHAPTER VIII.

O madness! O insanity! What more does avarice provide, beyond brilliant enjoyment—not to mention the necessary use for those who wish to grant something graciously to relieve the weakness of the body and to satisfy desire—that we should traverse the whole earth in a longing for acquisition of every kind, going among the Britons, the Hesperians, and the Moors, and further to the East, reaching Thebes and the region of the Indians, bringing together from all sides things suitable for the luxury of our own use, and piling up immense treasures of money for the purchase of such things? For one must prepare the table in varied ways, both from those things which grow on one's own estates and from those which are sold in the market, ^B making it magnificent and full, so that the belly may be satisfied like some immense chasm, very similar to a small measure. For truly, to many it is indeed insatiable and vast, not by the amplitude of the vessel, but by the insatiability of the appetite and the ever-empty desire which is never filled, but longs to seize whatever the sight indicates. For this reason there are slanders and tyrannies; for this reason, assaults and robberies; for this reason, one man immediately forces him or that one by a more subtle violence, as one proceeds by degrees toward those who always rule more by tyranny, and as the situation prepares those who now do injury to the weaker to shortly afterward be injured by those who are more powerful, and devises pretexts for robbery that appear not dishonorable. For avarice is itself an ingenious advisor in discovering colors for its deceits, and, ^C rendering laws, it suggests counsels that seem persuasive and fit for robbery. Thus, when Jezebel heard that her husband Ahab greatly desired the vineyard of Naboth the neighbor, she prepared to arrange this goal of robbery in a way that was at once cruel and cunning, so that both the desired object might be taken and there would be no one to complain of the robbery. For she slandered him who possessed the vineyard by saying that he had spoken blasphemy against God and the king, and so she killed him and thus received the masterless vineyard, ^D while there was no one to expose the injustice—they are ignorant of it, as there is no one who can cry it out...

^A from those who have been swept away. But now, even more grievous things are dared against men, because the time has exercised us in the experience of injustice, and through habit it has advanced to a more technical level. For sons, while still alive, are deprived of their paternal property; brothers are alienated from the inheritances of their brothers; and wives are cast out from the possessions of their deceased husbands—crying out about the illegality, yet not heard. For to each of those who are oppressing them, a royal gift seems to be a defense for the injury; a gift which might perhaps reasonably have been granted ^B to those who requested the ownerless goods, but it is not just to bestow the goods of others, pouring them out to strangers at the expense of those who rightfully approach the inheritance, and who ought, in accordance with the law, to succeed to the goods of the departed by the right of kinship.

CAPUT IX.

But avarice contrives everything most desperately and persuasively, and it deceives kings with easily manipulated petitions, and ^C it takes the liberty to act against whomever it wishes under a pretense of legitimacy, making what is below become above, and again, what is above become below, becoming the cause for many of unbearable calamities. Because of this, many of those who have been wronged shamelessly stand there asking for support, and since they have been despoiled of their splendid possessions, they have been reduced to needing the kindness of others, recounting their calamities, acting out their sufferings tragically, and confirming their necessity with floods of tears, yet barely persuading anyone to offer them the price of bread in their destitution—for they say it is standard for beggars to fabricate such things and to boast of many things for the sake of deception: pretending to a nobility they do not possess, mourning a loss of money they never suffered, fashing ^D stories of shipwrecks, inventing incursions of robbers, feigning the flight of servants who have plundered them, and having left them so indecently arranged that they display that miserable garment that cries out for tears; such vociferations are emitted by those with a cunning plan to catch larger alms. They have been cast out from their land, their household, their possessions, and their money, deprived of honest sustenance and the service of household staff, and no one anywhere deems them worthy of consolation; nay, they are even mocked comically, while they are judged to be trying in vain to weep over their unhappy, false fortunes with tragic speech. For that which declares former happiness through an appearance of credibility is always truly suspected of being false, and even if what is said seems to be true, since it has no certain sign to prove the words, as the facts nowhere agree with the speech. Whence they are forced to bear in silence the hardships of poverty, judging it untimely to reveal their state to those unwilling to believe, since their words provide an opportunity for mockery rather than for compassion; and some of them, indeed, wander...

^A from one fatherland to another, which they have hitherto unknown, perhaps seeking those suitable for the maintenance of life with an intent mind; others, however, remain in those places in which calamity overtook them, while they are loath to migrate, both out of weakness of strength and because of the uncertainty of the future, preferring that which is present and which they have experienced—however it might be, whether worse or better—over the ambiguous, and consoling themselves with the thought that although they have been cast out from other goods of fortune by tyranny, they nevertheless have the faculty of enjoying the free elements in no way prohibited, and have an equal use of them with those who carry themselves haughtily on account of their power. They have obtained this inviolable possession from their Creator, so that they might not fall into dejection of spirit and succumb to grief, just as if they had no part in the universal created things whatsoever. ^B Therefore, they breathe the air wherever they wish, a thing in no way forbidden; they draw water from fountains, rivers, and ponds, using it as abundantly as they please and bathing themselves with great freedom—and this even if not in cities and villages (for perhaps in those places water is distributed for irrigation and not assigned to them, as though they possessed nothing), at least in deserts and uncultivated places, where they enjoy these things with security and to whatever extent they wish, with no one hindering them. They receive the sun's brightness both with their eyes and with their whole body, since no one, however much he might wish, can hold back a ray emitted from it, nor can [a man] eminent in wealth claim for himself any greater share than the poor man, on account of [the latter's] humility. For where the underlying material is such that its nature permits distribution, ^C the greedy rich seize the greater portion, not permitting others to possess what they themselves desire to have; but as for indivisible things, the use of them is granted as common to all equally, and one person possesses no more of a share than another, since nature has wrought the distribution for all and provides no occasions for strife even to those who wish to seize more for themselves.

CHAPTER X.

For who, by his own preeminent power, could cut off a segment of the air—just as [men do] with land or money—and keep it separated for himself from that which is universally diffused among all individual creatures? And who, like money or precious things, could store up within himself the solar light or heat as a private treasure, ^D enjoying it alone, … when night or a cloud gathered together hides the moving pole? Although water, when drawn in buckets, may seem to be divided into many parts, with each of those drawing it claiming for himself as his own what he has taken, yet the exceedingly rich abundance of the spring does not allow its use to be litigious among many; but it quiets the desire for possessing exactly as if they were indivisible things, entirely judging as superfluous—to one who possesses reason—the wish to claim as one's own that which nature has bestowed as common to all, providing an equal power of using while equally taking away ownership from all; and to think of hoarding up that whose use is perpetually set forth for all in abundance, and is at hand, waiting for the ready power of enjoyment, makes the desire for ownership idle. For, in a way, that which is rare inflames the appetite by being difficult to obtain, lest it be anticipated by another...

producing a prompt effort toward the desire of possessing [what is] ^A given. Since that which is rare and difficult to obtain stirs up desire, inciting a struggle so that it might not be forestalled by another; yet that which is always there in abundance is despised.

SECTION X. Regarding the conversation of the blessed and the malice of the devil. CHAPTER I.

Cum igitur (o amice) eo modo se res habeant, quo dictum fuit, et tanta iniquitas in saeculo dominetur, ut piscium cuncti vitam imitantes deglutiant minores, et a potentioribus devorentur: inveniendus est aliquis, qui aut magni Moysis exemplo, modo percutiat Aegyptium, qui percusserat Israelitam; modo vero populares contribules inter se pugnantes cohortetur ad concordiam, et dicat: Fratres estis, utquid invicem vobis injurias infertis? Aut secundum Habacuc, opem quidem laborantibus afflictisque ferat, sed cum redarguendi puniendique facultatem non habeat, Deum conveniat precibus adversus iniquitatem tunc grassantem, et zelum ^B orationis ad eum libertate ostendat; ait enim: Usquequo, Domine, clamabo, et non exaudies; vociferabor ad te injuriam patiens, et non salvabis me? Non ipse in semetipso passus injuriam (propheta enim erat, et omni noxa superior exstitit), sed malitiam exosus aliorum injuriam vindicari rogabat. Quocirca infert subinde dicens: Quare ostendisti mihi labores et dolores, videre miseriam et impietatem? Quia impius praevalet adversus justum: et facies homines quasi pisces maris et quasi reptilia non habentia ducem. Quantum erat bonum, et quantum solamen afferebat oppressis, cum in doloribus sublevabantur condolentis compassione? Caeterum sicut iniquitas est alios tyrannide opprimere, et damnis contumeliisque ut luti aspersione offendere; ita et rebus necessariis privare indigentes illis. Etenim tot unusquisque homines injuria afficit, quot, cum possit, beneficiis non juvat. Atque hoc ipsum Dominus verum esse ostendens, non eos qui affecerunt injuria, non eos qui fraude circumvenerunt, sed ^C eos qui non cibarunt esurientem pauperem, qui non domi exceperunt peregrinum, qui non visitarunt decumbentem, qui ad inclusum carcere non accesserunt, et vinculis compeditum neque re, neque verbo ullo modo sunt consolati, addixit igni aeterno: maximam hanc injuriam judicans et rem omnino duram, non uti facultate ad benefaciendum his qui egent. Nam etiamsi lex divina nihil disertis verbis de misericordia exercenda praecepisset; ipsa tamen natura magistra hanc legem tacita voce constituisse videtur, dum mutuum homini affectum indidit e compassione. Quandoquidem vero et lex sacris Libris expressa commonefacit insitam natura facultatem filii sui, exstimulans et excitans animi propensionem ad beneficentiam erga egentem: nonne ^D

^A deserves a more serious punishment, who is moved by neither of these toward a sense of humanity; and although external testimonies refute his sloth, and his internal conscience reproaches him, he himself, however, remains always sluggish through either parsimony or lack of mercy, and idle toward doing good? But truly, if he brings guests into his house after the example of Abraham, and, like Lot, draws travelers to himself from the street, and receives orphans for a meal, and supplies necessities to needy widows, and is made in every way that habit for every needy person, which supplies that which is lacking, adapted to the needs of each one, as far as his means allow, according to the great Job; if he composes the corpses of the cast-out dead (as that just Tobias is said to have done) in a tomb, and offers a roof, a bed, and a table to wandering worshippers of God with the Shunammite, and, according to Obadiah, fosters those who have withdrawn and lead their lives in huts and caves by supplying them with food; if, when necessity demands, he even prefers the just needy to his own children, thinking that nature should be postponed to virtue, just as the widow of Zarephath, who possessed a single handful of flour, and offered it to the prophet Elijah while her most illustrious sons were wasting away with hunger in the famine; if he persists in the meditation of the divine word, after the example of the eunuch reading in his chariot, and showing how much effort he devoted to this study at home, to which he was also devoted with solicitude while on a journey; if he is occupied with prayers and alms with Cornelius, to whom the ^C angel standing by said: "Your prayers and alms have ascended into memory in the sight of God"; and by his announcing favorably, he understood that he had earned the sight of God by his works; if he gives effort to fasts, emulating Paul, who, placing these in a part of his boasting, says: "In fastings often, in hunger and thirst," adorning himself beautifully with the tolerance of this double, most violent, tyrannical affection, namely hunger and thirst, for the sake of those who are more negligently disposed toward temperance, enslaved to the belly as if to an exactor by the habit of delicacies, so that even if the desire for philosophy does not lead them there, they may at least be moved by the desire for praise: for that of which one can deservedly boast is certainly not devoid of commendation: why will he not be judged equal in weight to all those who obtains the peculiar prerogative of each one, and is alone that which all these were together, having embraced in his own life, as if by heads, ^D the illustrious gifts of individual ages, and demonstrating the truth of the ancients, not by a probable apparatus of arguments, but by the clear testimony of works, brilliantly? For a thing which, while being narrated, often seems incredible because it is contrary to opinion, if it is confirmed by the deed itself, becomes indubitable, and offers no further occasion for doubting whether it can be done or not.

CHAPTER II

And how would you wish a woman (Peristeria) so shining in the conversation of her life to escape the devil, the hater of honesty, and her not exercised by temptations, so-

^A if everyone who has successfully performed one or another good deed has a powerful adversary breathing against him, how could she who is laden with many struggles, and who stands fighting simultaneously against everyone, sit idle? To be in the stadium yet have no adversary, to be anointed with oil yet not join in the struggle, to be covered in dust in the pit yet not stir up any wrestler against herself, to provoke him—nor to challenge him to a fight, to perform virtue yet not cause pain to the author of evil, to please God yet not rouse the serpent to the envy he is accustomed to bear toward those progressing toward the honor from which he fell through his own lack of attention! For this reason, all the saints have been warred upon by him, and there is no one who has intended or performed something pleasing to God who has not had one opposing him ^B and plotting against him for this very effort; he is an enemy for no reason other than that they act righteously, because they strive to extend friendship to Christ the Savior, and wish to leave him alone—or with only very few—to be condemned to eternal punishment, while he desires to drag many, or indeed all, along with him.

For perhaps the thoroughly accursed one fancies that he might obtain some relief along with everyone else if the whole human race were found liable to punishment. He has not been persuaded—even by the example of the Flood—of the severity of the divine sentence, which was not inclined to mercy due to the multitude of those judged and condemned to punishment for sin. Even if he considers it a consolation to be punished together with many, believing as it were that ^C the torture is lightened by the sharing of the multitude, he is deceived in this, just as he is in all things; for what benefit is it to the sufferer that a number of others suffer the same things, when each individual’s pain is infinite and not partitioned among others? But perhaps for the envious one, the mere destruction of the many is sufficient for the comfort of his own suffering, even if he himself gains nothing else from it at all. For it is the property of envy to desire the calamity of those who are envied, and their change from a state of well-being to a more dishonorable one, with the one who is suffering (the envier) finding no other comfort than merely—if it happens that he attains what he desires—to be gladdened by the change in the good fortune of the envied one, over which he had previously grieved and wasted away. ^D

CAPUT III

Thus, when Adam was still newly fashioned and had just recently been deemed worthy of the divine image, and had received dominion over the whole of creation, the enemy approached him with deception and guile. Since he had no manifest cause through which he might attain his goal of envy—for Adam still remembered the commandment and the honor that had been bestowed upon him only recently—he deceived him with tricks, promising him equality with God, so that he might also deprive him of the honor that had been given. For he had no weapon at that time with which he might subdue him, as he was still inexperienced in battle; there was no fornication, for he was not yet tickled by lust, nor was there any look of the eyes, nor passion, nor covetousness; for there was not yet…

^A desire for acquisition was at work, no envy, no vainglory, no hatred, no deceit—for there was no one against whom these could be stirred up. Yet, as soon as these passions began to flutter in Cain like wings, having been stirred up by the approval of Abel to the point of jealousy, the only thing he knew to be conducive to the construction of his scheme was the love and desire for greater honor. For this passion is ancient and coeval with human beings, yet it was not granted for the insult of the one who honored them, but for reverence and honor. For he who first uttered the name of a plurality of gods, and who clouded the purity of the sole sovereignty with the appellation of gods, had promised it as an honor equal to God; it was a matter that could be acquired by man through the pursuit of virtue, but it could not be seized through the transgression of a command—since the nature of sin is such that it can take away honor, but cannot bestow it. ^B Therefore, that man, on account of the insult to the One who had adorned him with honor, was immediately after the transgression of the command stripped of his dignity, deprived of his dominion, laid aside the honor of the image, and returned to the baseness he had shortly before; he is again called earth and dust, without mention of the divine image that had been added to the material frame as its companion. Consequently, he thereafter fears the anger of wild beasts, the venom of serpents, and the strength of the fiercest animals—those whom, because of his rule, he had shortly before been feared by—becoming their subject; and as soon as he disobeyed God, he fell in an instant from all those over whom he had until then presided by reason of his obedience. For the Creator, in place of a law, had proposed this abstinence from one plant, as there was (as has been said) no other material to train him in obedience; ^C and it was necessary that he who was to be bound by law, and who necessarily had to command all others, should have some precept signifying to him the yoke of servitude, so that whenever he might be tempted by pride to think that he was superior to created things and ruling over so many and such great animals, he might restrain the mind that was confused by power, by reflecting that he was subject to the law and bound by the command. For the fear of a higher authority usually tutors those who are lesser into modesty, so that they do not swell with pride; and it restrains the mind that is puffing up over those who are ruled, and, by the thought of the overriding authority, it prunes it toward moderation, and at times checks an arrogance that is becoming insolent to the point of doing injury, through the reminder of a punishing, higher authority.

CHAPTER IV.

^D But Adam did not see what he should do with his mind in this way, being more earthly than God-like; having become entirely the possession of his counselor for the sake of obtaining greater honor, and having neglected the command—which it would have been better to observe, so as to retain the honor appropriate to his nature, rather than to look for the expectation of a higher, uncertain one, and in the process lose even the one he had, choosing to lose the present for the sake of the hope for things that would in no way come to pass. But those who have heard the Lord saying: "Be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect...

(Matt. 5:48), and who, by imitating the perfect Father through individual virtues, have consistently studied to arrive at this state—becoming first merciful, and humane, and sympathetic, and generous with alms (for these things lead to the Father's perfection)—rightfully and deservedly recover their former ^A dignity along with the image, receiving that much-longed-for title, not from him who once deceived the first author of the human race, but from God, who knows how to maintain the truth at all times, concerning whom He says: "I said: You are gods, and all of you are sons of the Most High" (Ps. 81:6; Jn. 10:34). And so, while man was fashioned for this very purpose, yet lacking precise knowledge of who the author of such a gift was, he quite naturally fell from his hope, having placed his faith in the lawless one who urged him to attain that dignity; for he did not discern the craftsman of deceit, ^B that when he was contriving that man should not arrive at the honor he had promised, he was counseling him to seek it in a way that was impossible, arranging for him the failure of what was possible through an impossible means, so that what reason had conceded, he might lose through an irrational act, having been cleverly deceived by him who is perpetually plotting everything for the ruin of those who obey him.

CHAPTER V

That the marks of the divine image were such as to strike reverence for obedience—as even then in the case of the beasts—time and the very experience of events subsequently demonstrated ^C; for whatever now tends toward the destruction of sinners acts, in the case of the just, to restrain its corrupting power out of reverence for them. Thus, the fire of the Babylonian furnace did not even touch the skin of the bodies of the holy ones, but bursting forth with the greatest impetus upon the lawless, it poured out a flame blazing to forty-nine cubits to consume the Chaldeans who were standing around the furnace, devouring them like dry stubble and withered brushwood; yet it left the very pile of coals burning beneath, weaker and less powerful than mud or gravel, so that it could not even ^D injure the feet of those walking upon it; for they emerged with their garments having colors that were bright, and free even from the smell of smoke, surmounting the all-devouring power of fire with their weak and corruptible bodies. In the same way, the lions, wasted away in the pit (for they were kept without food for seven days), when the Barbarians, thinking that the cruelty ingrained in them by nature would be excited by the lack of nourishment, did not even dare to approach Daniel, lest they should afflict the just man with the appearance of a terrible onslaught; and while he was eating the food brought by Habakkuk, they remained restrained, not being provoked even then to illicit fodder; for He who had sustained Moses and Elijah for40 days without need of food did not command the just man to come to the famished food, but brought the meal through the air from Judea to the region of the Babylonians, an angel carrying Habakkuk who was bearing the lunch, which...

and who have desired to secure to themselves the divine likeness, are rendered worthy of reverence in all things, and it makes them formidable to others, even as it enabled the lions ^B to observe a fast, though they were accustomed by necessity to take food. Yet, in order to manifest a great and truly paradoxical miracle, even while a man was eating in their sight, they did not break their long-standing hunger, though the habitual and welcome fare of human bodies was laid out for them as if on a table; for this was their usual food, since two bodies of those condemned to death were offered to them each day to be consumed. Thus, the continuous expanse of the Red Sea was divided from one shore to the other; its fluid and slippery nature imitated a solid body, rising on either side to a most lofty height like a wall, providing a royal road for the people to cross, which Moses, through faith worthy of trust, had laid out at that moment through the midst of the sea, contrary to all expectation. To such an extent does the divine image everywhere inspire reverence in those who serve God, and renders them objects of awe to all.

Chapter VI

Why, then, does the exercise of struggling distress the athletes, teaching them the science of the contest, ^C not permitting them to be endangered, enticing them with brief labor into the endurance of toils, and not allowing the snares to arrive at the point of destruction? Perhaps it does not distress those who know the gain from the apostolic admonition, which says: "Affliction produces patience, and patience probation, and probation hope, and hope does not confound," (Rom. v, 3) bringing with it in all certainty the things that are hoped for, and not making the expectation in vain. But it is distressing to those who are more remiss in their disposition toward the athletic labor, and who, out of their own sloth and cowardice, fail in their hearts at the sight of the struggles of others, just as the ^D account records that the wife of the great Job said to her husband as he contended with his miseries: "How long will you endure things patiently?" (Job ii, 9) perhaps not able to bear the sight of what he was enduring. For the phrase, "How long will you endure things patiently?" showed that she herself was afflicted by observing the things in which he, being tempted, was enduring patiently. For she did not say, "How long do you suffer, or feel pain, and toil?" but instead, "How long will you endure things patiently?" It was not because she was suffering with him in his disease, or admiring his nobility, or chiding his patience as vain, or not hearing him; she was advising him to lament the prolongation of his suffering, not sympathizing with the one who was suffering. For such are those who are effeminate and womanish, and who have collapsed in the face of arduous things; they not only fail to anoint those who are struggling toward masculine courage with words that often strengthen a fainting spirit, but they even strip away its present strength and break it, showing indignation as if the evils were intolerable, and instead of justly pronouncing blessed those who should be proclaimed as such, they lament and weep over them as if they were miserable. Have you heard the divine voice saying: "A man who does not endure temptation is unapproved by God"? And why do you marvel if those who are well-pleasing to God are tempted? Have you not been persuaded by the examples of the righteous who have gone before, teeming with struggles and athletic sweat? Have you not learned of the piety of Job, and the

and who perceive the malice of the enemy? ^A He himself narrated it, not out of boastfulness, nor looking to vainglory for his own accomplishments, but calling his hearers to a zeal for imitation. He spoke of his diligence toward strangers: "Outwardly," he says, "the stranger did not lodge, and my door was open to everyone who came." ^B He spoke of his care for widows and orphans: "If I have ever eaten my morsel alone, and have not shared it with the orphan, and the widow has not gone from my door with an empty bosom." He spoke of his protection of the oppressed: "Judgment, which I did not know, I investigated, and I shattered the molars of the unjust, and out of the midst of their teeth I snatched away the plunder." He spoke of his compassion toward his household, whom power had enslaved—severing nature and subjecting the weaker to the stronger in ability: "And if I despised the judgment of my manservant or my maidservant when they argued with me." ^C He did not utterly cast aside their rights through contempt for their lowliness but provided place for their arguments, offering the opportunity for freedom of speech in his exhortation, so that the subordinate would not be defrauded of the power of words, keeping silence through fear. And he adds the persuasive cause, saying: "Did not they also come to be in the womb just as I did?" We were made in the same womb. Appropriately taking equal status in birth for an equality of worth, he admonishes those who are puffed up by madness not to wear out those endowed with the same nature like beasts of burden with commands beyond their strength, but to take account of their power from their own. For the weakness of nature is equal in all, ^D and quickly destroys the living creature with excessive labors. There must be work commensurate with strength, and again, enough rest must follow to recover the strength that has been spent, so that one may bring it fresh and flourishing to the next tasks. And lest perhaps the words of the righteous man might be suspected of human vanity and display, God Himself, the truthful witness, is present to confirm the things said, marking his words with His own voice, and says: "That man was blameless, just, truthful, God-fearing, abstaining from every evil deed."

CHAPTER VII

But since it is not right for the proven boxer ^D to be exercised only by throwing his hands about, but [it is necessary] to give the proof of the trial of bodily exercise upon the works for the demonstration of bravery, the opponent approaches the judge of the contest, someone stronger and broader in stature; he disparages the athlete with words, calling the fight without grappling, and the skirmish carried on in solitude, mere mockery and an imaginary opinion of bravery, but not truly bravery; he requests—

^A he asserts that his fortitude is perfect; he demands that he be brought into the struggle, summons him to the stadium, and before the trial, imitating Goliath, he boasts that the victory is undeniably his. For he is a student of the adversary's boastful discipline, and the latter is his teacher, and both are inferior in their deeds to their promises, glorious and arrogant in their challenges, but in the actual encounter weak and impotent against the truly strong. He mocks and scorns him as one already conquered; in prosperity he says he shows gratitude, but he predicts that he will be proven a blasphemer if he were to be stripped of those things that make him appear splendid; he slanders him, accusing him of being one thing in appearance but another in the reality of his being. He mocks his piety as a fabrication and his modesty as a feigned mask, calling his performance of righteous acts a feigned justice for the sake of the rewards he receives; and he does everything to tear the holy man apart, while he thinks he has found an opportunity for slander before God. Thus, at another time, he slandered God to man as if He were begrudging him the knowledge of good and evil, and for that reason forbade the eating of the fruit that provided it, so that he might not become like God, knowing good and evil. But by lying to God he achieved nothing; for he did not have, as he once had with man, a suitable opportunity for deception. He apprehended the combatant, as he had requested, led him into the stadium, placed him in the arena, and began the battle, deploying his ultimate efforts. He stripped him of his possessions and found him richer than his wealth; he took away his choir of children and learned that he was superior to nature; he cast him out of royal dignity and saw that he was higher in glory; he caused his body to rot with wounds and learned that he had philosophy regarding the corruptions of the flesh; he spent the devices of his craft, and he did not bend the man whom he could in no way grasp in his embrace; he applied every stratagem of fraud, and he could not dislodge from his post him who could not be removed. He was wearied by the darts of his temptations, and he left not a trace of a blow; he exhausted his quiver and did not wound the noble man; his passions failed before the alacrity of the sufferer, and he who applied them was henceforth unable to devise a plan, doubtful and at a loss for a way by which he could approach the Olympic victor appropriately and honorably, suffused with deserved shame, after he had been defeated. Looking at him as he sat with crowns and prizes, superior in endurance and endowed with a fortitude that never flagged in his suffering—the very place where he stood against those who were competing for crowns and prizes—the victor cried out with a clear voice: "Behold, I draw near to my judgment. I know that I shall appear righteous. For who is he who will go to law with me, that I should now be silent?" As if to say: The adversary has fallen; the enemy is vanquished; the foe is cast down; he lies there, hiding himself for shame. Who is he who would go to law with me, that I should now be silent, when victory provides me the occasion ^D to call out, when the deed confirms the truth of the words, making the promise, after the trial, beyond suspicion? For that arrogance of his, before we joined in battle, now triumphs over his easy-going folly, having become an irrefutable proof of his vanity.

loquendi, quando verbis veritatem attestatur opus, post experimentum minime suspectam reddens promissionem? Et illum quidem magniloquentia, qua, priusquam simul confligeremus invicem, usus est, traducit velut in triumpho, nunc levitatis et temeritatis effecta irrefragabilis redargutio; me vero, qui nunc observavi silentium, nunc ad eas enarrandas res oculata fide perspicuas lacessant sermones, qui non exhibent incertis promissionibus dubium et anceps quidquid pollicentur. ^A

SECTION XI. On Joseph, and on Susanna, and that the struggle of Joseph was greater than that which was undertaken against the blessed Susanna.

CHAPTER I.

What, then, cast Joseph, who shone with the beauty both of body and soul, into prison, and caused him to endure those sufferings therein? Did not the zeal for continence become the cause of all these things for him, ^B when that woman, not having obtained what she was sedulously striving for, and with anger conceived on account of the frustrated adultery, preparing herself for complaints before her foolish husband, had changed the sweetness of love into inhuman fury? For the garment, which she brought forward as if violence had been offered to her, was an accusation of violence, not which she had herself suffered, but which she had inflicted upon the youth who was abandoning her, so that, fleeing, he might escape the insult of sin, and might deprive the clothes, ^C through which she had drawn him, of the honor bestowed upon himself. For after she felt that she had been frustrated, though burning with desire and raging with anger, she was doing that one thing—to remove from the midst him who, as it seemed to her, had acted foolishly and indecorously, lest he should ridicule her everywhere among all men, as though she were a play, on account of his own madness, goaded by a gadfly. ^D Susanna, too, a deceived sentence led to a similar danger of death through false accusations; because here also the unjust lovers, and the judges, deservedly thought it would be grave for them if they should see living before their eyes a witness of such a crime which they themselves had dared, for which they would be held in great mockery, because they had attempted things unworthy both of their age and their dignity; seeing that, in extreme old age, in which the heat of desires fades and withers away, and naturally and of their own accord they subside, they had then fallen into a shameful frenzy, and although worn out and destitute of vigor, they acted as unchaste suitors to a chaste woman. But to me, looking at the difference of that which seems to be identity to most, it occurs to explain more distinctly that which, on account of the apparent similarity, is the cause that the same thing perhaps seems to be; not that women do not have as much to glory in as men, but lest anyone of those who peruse the holy Scriptures should rashly pass over the hidden diversities of things which seem to be similar, when one can scarcely at length discover the truth by diligent observation and attentive consideration. Who, therefore, of those who do not strictly direct their mind, and do not accurately search out the causes, would not say that Susanna was engaged in the same struggle as Joseph, when yet, with an unequal

^A struggle it might be thought to be lessened in the estimation of greater [achievements], though it might have also possessed the power of more perfect accomplishments, even if the one set before her was considered to be fulfilled, in comparison with that which was achieved by Joseph. For where is the equality when old men molest a young woman, and a young woman is forced to fall by a young man? When they are venerable for their gray hair, and she is flourishing in the bloom of her youth? When they are such as inspire shame and reverence by their very appearance, and [the sight of her] sparks desire? When they were unaccustomed, yet through familiar conversation thoroughly known? When they were attacking unexpectedly, even daily, with discourse and harlot-like gestures, threatening death and promising freedom? Eos who could inflict fear into [the] struggle; and she, who was apt to bewitch with flatteries and to soothe with obsequies, was able to do this also—that which she for so long refused by the nod of her will? By frightening her with tumult and fear, and by blunting, rather than provoking to soften, a soul most prone to the fury of lust, from which they were impelled; and by prayers breaking down a mind that was entirely unbroken toward affection? But that which, above all others, is assigned as the most powerful [factor] for conciliating or averting love, is the equality or inequality of age: the one, indeed, does not consent to old men, in whom there was nothing that could delight; [while] that youth rejected the young woman, who was suitable to receive that to which she was being driven.

CAPUT II.

For nothing conciliates (as it seems) such consents as does equality of age and familiar habit: for the former persuaded the equal in age to act confidently with the equal, while the latter, by long usage, even makes smooth very harsh manners and provokes those who are alienated to friendship. But that age which has laid aside the vigor ^C and grace of the flower of youth does not delight that which still shines with beauty, even if it itself is delighted by it, since it has no enticement [or lure] by which it can entrap what is disapproved. You will find, moreover, many others who have been tested by a thousand calamities for the sake of virtue; some, indeed, caring to live piously and to worship the divine Being; others cultivating religious prudence, fairness, and the state of other moral virtues; others, who teach those who are deceived by the error of ignorance in judging good and honest things [those things] which were hidden from them, and exhort them to useful things, so that their life may be led back to that which is conducive: "for all who desire to live piously in Christ Jesus, according to the holy Paul, shall suffer persecution," ^D because by acting justly they are burdensome to the wicked, and perhaps troublesome even by their mere appearance, and for that reason are vexed by persecution, because even when silent they refute wickedness, by the comparison of their own life exposing the malice of the wicked to each one. But the Lord also, foretelling to the apostles what was to come, says: "As they have persecuted me, they will also persecute you." And: "They will put you out of the synagogues." And: "They will cast out your name as evil," so that, being prepared for what was to come

they might bear these troubles lightly, with an eagerness of mind ^A exercised in the contemplation of suffering, making the testing of danger easy for themselves. Hence, the assembly of the Pharisees, bonds, prisons, slanders, insults, injuries, scourges, dangers of death—none of these troubled them, nor did any of these cause them to slacken their boldness of speech. Truly, they had considered that they would experience sufferings even greater than those with which they were being threatened, and their minds, prepared beforehand, made it easy for them to despise all such cruelty. Therefore, though they were but twelve in number, they preached most freely to the entire fuming nation; sometimes saying: "We cannot but speak the things which we have seen and heard," and at other times: "Whether it be right in the sight of God to hearken unto you more than unto God, judge ye." ^B Indeed, they sometimes rightly turned to rebukes when speaking to those who opposed the truth, and though few against many, and apparently weaker than those having power, they said: "Ye stiff-necked and uncircumcised in heart and ears, ye do always resist the Holy Ghost: as your fathers did, so do ye." For such is just zeal: it does not look upon the multitude of those who can inflict injury; it does not count the anger nor the power of the adversaries; it knows not threats, and is ignorant of danger. It is directed toward one thing with eagerness: to speak the truth and to make the falsehood known, lest, lying hidden, it might destroy some of the more simple-minded.

CHAPTER III.

What then do afflictions, surrounding on all sides and rising up with great terror, ^C inflict upon a man acting rightly and justly? They perish easily; they rush in with a vehement impulse, but pass on with an equally great impulse; they strike violently ^D and are repelled more violently; they dash against the shallows and make no shipwreck; they examine the gold with fire, but show it to be more proven. Thus, in the Canticle, the perfect soul, practiced in enduring temptations, full of confidence, summons the winds: "Arise," it says, "O north wind, and come, O south; blow upon my garden, and let the spices thereof flow out"; then, convinced that the fragrance of virtue becomes greater when a crowd of temptations fans it—temptations that stir into action the good habit that had long been idle, and by bringing it to light, make it famous and renowned. In this way the virtue of each of the saints shone forth, which might have lain hidden had it not been exercised by trial, and might have been concealed under a bushel had it not been placed upon a lampstand, its brilliant light of purpose flashing forth through its works. For who would have known the piety of the great Abraham, had not his obedience in the commanded slaughter of his son proclaimed his noble spirit? For he so armed his fatherly hand against his only-begotten and beloved son, extending it promptly, nor expressing any sad passion of the soul by the dejection of his countenance, remaining in his resolve as cheerful as though he were preparing to sacrifice a kid, or a calf, or...

an lamb in auspicious prayers to God? And who would have known the mind of Job, fortified by philosophy against such a manifold slaughter of his own kin, had not his thanksgiving for each individual thing clearly testified to the greatness of his soul? For the wily adversary did not destroy everything at one blow, lest by making the injury of the calamity one, he might render his grief brief and compressed—a grief which could be extended by pieces of news arriving one after another, making the pain felt by the listener more bitter. He did not, for instance, at the first moment collapse the house upon his dearest children while they were feasting, turning by that subversion the home into a tomb, and mingling blood with their food, and crushing flesh and stones together, lest the mind, becoming dull from a greater evil and stunned, might be rendered unfeeling toward lesser ones. Instead, he advanced ^B gradually, piece by piece, traversing everything, rising from the trivial to things of greater moment; and he arranged for each succeeding messenger to be more grievous than the last, in both the number and the quality of the damages inflicted, so that the calamity, exaggerated through increments, might strike a great, heavy, and harsh wound of despair into his soul. For he progressed in order from lighter starting points until he reached the final blow, which also most clearly declared the wisdom of the man. For as soon as he learned of the destruction of the house and the loss of his children, having already heard of the ruin of all his other possessions, he rent his garments and shorn the hair of his head, voluntarily granting what he had; and, as he could not withhold the rest, by doing so he anticipated with natural wisdom the exhortation of the Gospels: "If any man," he says, "should take your tunic, let him have your cloak also." He performed this by anticipation, of his own free will, professing that he did not grieve over the losses which seemed to have happened to him against his will, and indicating by an evident proof the feeling of his mind which had remained hidden until then.

CHAPTER IV.

For he who, to one taking something by force, gives even that which he is not taking, surely shows by that later magnanimity that he had not conceded the first things under necessity, even if they were taken by necessity; nor was his mind compelled by force, even if those who used force seemed to have acted tyrannically. For by having received that which he had the power not to grant, he granted it by choice, providing with authority that which, though he might have seemed to have had it taken from him against his will, he had intended to give. ^C And Joseph, and Susanna, and Jephthah would have remained hidden—the former celebrated for their chastity, and the latter for his truthfulness. For he, that he might fare well in war if he should defeat the enemies—who were superior in numbers and military skill—promised to offer as a whole burnt offering whatever of his own kin should first happen to meet him. When his only daughter, who was dear to him in a wondrous way, happened to meet him, he did not break his promise, preferring piety to nature, preferring to give up his own vitals rather than make his vow to God and his confession void, even though the suffering at the slaying of his child was unbearable. And while the virtuous deeds of the others remain bare and manifest in their actions, and clearly—

^A obtain praise. But for Joseph and for Susanna, along with their labor and bravery and excellence, a subsequent condemnation followed, which not only hid the wonder of their virtue, but also involved them in the blame of intemperance. This provides much labor for one who is philosophizing, in that he should be praised for these things, yet is defamed for them. However, it procures great and ^B inestimable glory and reverence before God, because he undertook great labor for a good work, and he endured the evil opinion about himself, which was not true, as moderately as if it had been true. Therefore, the Lord, in order to comfort the difficulty of such magnanimity, said: "Blessed are you when they shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you," and so forth, establishing double rewards for a double virtue, and providing a recompense corresponding to the labor to alleviate the heaviness of the grief undergone in the toil. For ^C when the humble person is accused of pride, the open-handed person of robbery, the chaste person of luxury and gluttony, the sober person of intemperance, the meek person of forwardness, the solemn person of buffoonery, or the contrite person of hypocrisy: then in justice and merit a double reward is owed, of which the one crowns the contestant for the work, the other for the slander.

CHAPTER V

Such was the great Job, both conscious of his own virtues, and not contending by wrangling against the friends who reproached him with the contrary vices, in order to wash away the false and untimely slanders; but he even assented to them, and readily gave his own vote against himself. For he says: "In truth I know that it is so," and he strives to show that it is truly so, adding: ^D "For how shall a mortal be just before the Lord, or can a man be blameless from his works?" He made common the crime that seemed to belong to nature, making it his own, so that he might not be thought to be exempted by himself from the depravity which they imputed to him. Whence he also justly received double for everything; some things as if despoiled by a robber, others as a reward for the wisdom of the constancy he displayed in the things he had lost. Thus, afflictions not only bring no injury, but they also bring the greatest profit, and render the one who is oppressed glorious, if he endures them bravely. But the Moderator of our life allows neither the sorrows of life to persist until they reach the danger of our existence, nor does He allow the struggle to become beyond the strength of the one contending. But if He should ever allow something unexpected by way of stewardship, He himself performs a greater miracle, filling up by the cooperation of grace what is lacking to the weakness of nature, just as those who teach the unskilled how to swim, by swimming alongside, support those who have become weak, holding them up with one hand, until their exhausted strength can find rest, and they teach them the art, and do not allow them 178 to sink in their time of need. For so Paul says at one time: "God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted beyond what you can bear, but will make साथ the temptation also

the way to be able to bear it." At another time: "I would not have you ignorant, brethren, of the tribulation which happened in Asia; that we were burdened beyond measure, above our strength, so that we were weary even of living." ^B By these words, in saying "according to our strength" and "above our strength," he means that divine cooperation furnished the power, so that the outcome of the temptations might turn out bearable, and safety in desperate dangers might surpass not only expectation, but almost faith itself.

CHAPTER VI

For how was Sarah, when she had fallen into the hands of a lustful king—a stranger and an immigrant, with no other help to be hoped for from anywhere except the divine help from above (for her husband, who was present and bound to bring aid, was so powerless to provide it that he concealed the marriage, and pretended a kinship, calling his spouse his sister, and the partner of his bed his blood-relation, for fear of death, knowing that those who were driven to madness by the beauty of a foreign woman remained implacable enemies to all who gave rise to the suspicion of rivalry, and were ready to go even to the point of murder, so that they might have no one to draw away the mind of the beloved woman towards himself, and be able to disturb the security of their cohabitation with the care of jealousy),—when everything from every side had failed, even those things which were likely and most reasonable for her protection, was she then snatched from the very bed unharmed, when the spasms of the tyrant’s entrails prevented the adulterous intercourse, and the severe pains dampened his maddened desire? What, after he had lain down and embraced her, was to be expected further, other than disgrace, when on account of the Barbarian's great intemperance the passion could not be restrained, when her beauty incited concupiscence, when lust stirred up the goad of madness toward illicit pleasure, when the material which lights and inflames all things was readily at hand; and while she indeed wished to flee the violent oppression, she was not capable of restraining the ^C onrush of the one doing violence, neither by the strength of her body nor by the exhortation of her words? For the passion in pleasure-seekers, once ignited, yields to nothing, since, being devoid of reason, it neither pays attention to what is said nor can be persuaded. But the virtue of the woman found, even in such straits, a way of ingenuity by which she ought to have kept herself undefiled, while she forced the lustful lover to be occupied with his own torments, and by the pains of secret afflictions extinguished the deep fire of burning lust.

CHAPTER VII

Concerning David and Gideon.

In what way, indeed, did the most meek and innocent David, often falling into the hands of the bloodthirsty Saul, escape beyond all hope from his clutches, unharmed, ^D at one time in one way, and at another in another

^A way, and was unable to provide a reasonable account of his salvation, since every miracle surpassed all considerations of reason and discourse? How again did He convict the parricide Absalom of tyranny, even though he was captured by no human hands? For an oak tree seized him by the hair and snatched him up as he was fleeing, and suspended him in a conspicuous place on high, exposing him, ready and prepared for slaughter, to all who wished to avenge the injury done to his most affectionate father; and, deprived of his own defense, it compelled him to pay this penalty worthy of his senseless undertaking, so that he was betrayed to his death by an inanimate and brute plant. ^B By what strategy did Gideon, with only three hundred foot soldiers, destroy the entire nation of the Midianites, which was likened to the sand because of its multitude, from youth upward, when no opportunity presented itself from any quarter for attacking them? For, when the matter was considered in general, it did not even permit the undertaking of such a deed in one’s thoughts, due to the sheer size of the opposing forces, nor had the narration of the dream yet rendered him more confident. Did not God Himself command him, as he was trembling and sluggish to obey, to go down into the camp of the enemies, thereby imparting to him the boldness which faith—since he had not yet experienced divine aid—denied him as if it were a partner? For he heard someone recounting his dream: “A ^C kneading-trough of barley loaves rolled down and overturned the camp of the Midianites.” And when another, interpreting that comparison quite aptly, said that this was the sword of Gideon and the army with him, he was built up into good hope upon hearing that narrative, prudently inferring that the insignificance of his own army was signified by those barley loaves, which, since they were rolling, would dissipate the camp of the enemies without any labor, not by them engaging the adversary with their own hand, but through the instinct of divine power, which rolls and rotates them. For that which rolls seems to strike and shatter everything in its path: but the cause of that event consists in the strength of Him who rolls and thrusts it intensely.

CHAPTER VIII. Concerning Samson and Hezekiah.

^A flight and terror? Who ^B was the stone of hail, which instead of missiles he flung from the clouds skillfully upon the enemy, and threw some into confusion against one another, so that they, having unexpectedly been struck by their opponents, wrought slaughter upon their own kind, appearing to be slaying the adversary, thus granting an unconquerable victory to the pious people of that time without a battle?

CAPUT XI. Of Elisha, and the Israelites.

How did the prophet Elisha lie hidden from the enemies who sought him, when he was surrounded on all sides by their forces, and yet was not perceived; and leading them to his own land, was not recognized—being that he offered himself as a guide ^C to those most wicked men, when he could more easily do them injury than receive it, their eyes having been blinded by a mist, and they wandering plainly in their search? How, when the Egyptians were pursuing them, did the Israelites not fall into their hands, when they had them camped at their rear, with the sea spread out far and wide before them, and on this side and that, inaccessible wildernesses and high, craggy mountains, being hemmed in on every side by the difficulty of escape, like a haul of fish enclosed in a net in the hands of their adversaries? By what reasoning did the sea withdraw? How did the water, extended from one continent to the other, stand still, leaving the sandy, barren floor as a road for horses and chariots to pass over? How did the waves, like forged bronze, harden and solidify? By what reasoning did the nature of water, which is prone to flow downward headlong, rise up like a wall to such a height, and in a miraculous manner carve out a path for those pressed by persecution, while at the same time swallowing up the segments of the sea without any obstacle on either side, so that they passed through, and then, with a reflowing surge, covered them over, burying at once all the beasts and men in an extemporaneous tomb? How, in the wilderness, did heaven rain down upon them food produced without the cultivation of the earth, sometimes showering down manna from above, and at other times the quail, providing a table ^D devoid of labor and the art of seasoning? How did the hard rock, and one that had no share of moisture, open up conduits of water from the parched hollows of the earth to relieve their long-endured thirst, paying a tax which it had never before paid? By what reasoning did the Jordan, imitating the sea for those who were crossing on foot, divide the opposing current—on the one hand allowing the part of the flow to descend towards the sea, and on the other hand holding it back, then afterwards causing it to return in a backward course, and then even commanding it to rest and settle quietly as far as its very springs? It is difficult to explain. For no one is sufficient to interpret a divine miracle, which of itself has the power to exceed the order of all nature, and is accustomed to overcome the persuasions of those who seek the wisdom of sophists. How did the hornets, manifesting the powers of the unseen, fight for the people, destroying the seven nations occupying the land, and handing over the earth, lying ready for those who were led by God, without leaving even a reasonable cause for the conquered to plead for their defeat, as if they had been overcome by the multitude of a hand and a heavy force, and those who were inheriting the...

^A gift of their lot gratuitously, without any labor, did not receive the things of the fugitives as a reward for virtue and good deeds, as cities are wont to be sought in war.

CHAPTER X. Of the three children, and Daniel, Jonah, and Aaron.

How did the fire-devouring power of the flame, ^B in the case of the three children, repress its burning operation, not allowing the heat to approach their bodies vulnerable to corruption, displaying its own force outside the furnace, and becoming quiet inside in a miraculous way? How did the lions, in the case of Daniel, overcome their ferocity and hunger—natural passions at once—becoming more tame than men in point of philosophy, and enduring a seven-day abstinence from the food placed before them, whereas rational men do not sustain even a one-day fast when the material for food is present and free faculty of taking it is provided, with no one hindering them? How did the belly of the whale, which consumed even stones by digestion ^C and dissolved the things thrown into it faster than a word [could be spoken], keep Jonah preserved incorrupt for three days and as many nights in such a wet and hot place, proving the land-animal to be an inhabitant of the sea, and rendering that which is easily consumed to be unconsumable, and transforming the nature—accustomed to living by the respiration of air—into the nature of fish, drawing water by the nostrils in an unusual manner, instead of the customary and native element of air? How did Aaron’s rod, without bark, without sap, dry, and having long ago laid aside the power to sprout, when the need for a sign for the sake of his disputed priesthood called it forth, suddenly ^D and miraculously recover all things—bark, blossom, sprouts, leaves, fruit—and the vital power that had been broken up into each of these things, [doing so] faster than a moment, showing a blooming shoot and a rod laden with fruit, which a little while before was seen in the hands of the one who was leaning on it?

CHAPTER XI. Of the apostles, and of the Theotokos.

How did the prisons, zealously bolted with lattices against the apostles, provide an unimpeded exit, having thrown open the doors and shaken off the bars of the bolts? How did the chains of the manacles give way, and become so widened, that they granted an easy exit to hands and feet? And the miracle which is indeed greater than all, and surpasses every discourse: how did God the Word, whom the universe does not contain, and who circumscribes all things by the magnitude of His power, will to be contained under a virginal womb? And how did the womb construct a [?]

^A fetus conceived by no seed, and yet preserve the signs of virginity safe and unharmed, passing through the portals of the womb, as Job says, and showing no trace of its departure? For just as at another time He entered to His disciples while the doors were shut, so He then departed, leaving the workshop of nature just as He found it, and bringing no corruption to the hidden bonds of those portals, so that by these signs the birth might be shown to be truly wondrous and divine. These things, and more than these, have indeed taken place and have been received by faith. But the demonstration of them rests upon the infallible certainty of God, their author, and they cannot be explained by speech, which is unequal to the narration of stupendous works and is blinded before the inscrutable magnitude of the miracles.

CHAPTER XII

^BTherefore, if virtue is indeed fought against, but wins an easy victory without anxiety—since angels, other divine powers, and the Lord Himself guard the just man: "For the angel of the Lord," He says, "shall encamp round about them that fear Him, and shall deliver them." And God Himself says to Abraham: "Fear not, Abraham; I am your protector." And to Jeremiah: "Behold, I have made you as a fortified city, and as a brazen wall, a defense to all the kings of Judah, and to their princes; and they shall fight against you, and shall not prevail against you; for I am with you to deliver you"—why, moved by the weakness of your spirit, are you dismayed at the labors of those who struggle, grudgingly, as if ignorant of the crowns ^C for the event? Looking at the labors and not considering the rewards, do you succumb to the toils, and are you not at all uplifted by the hope of recompenses? Do you lament present afflictions, rather than rejoicing over future retributions? For the blessings which are expected are always accustomed to lighten present labors, and the thought of gain makes the hardship to be endured in the work itself light, by not considering the difficulty of the lesser in view of the greater advantage. Have you not heard Paul, the master of patience for those who struggle with present afflictions, exclaiming—while he stirred up the alacrity of mind that was failing under the multitude of calamities by the confidence of things hoped for—when he said: "The sufferings ^D of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory to come that shall be revealed in us"? Have you not heard him narrating his own afflictions for the consolation of those who suffer, so that those who seem to be exercised by adversities may not faint and flag, as if enduring most grievous things which no one else could suffer? For it is not caught by the desire for glory that he recounts his struggles, he who says: "If I still pleased men, I would not be a servant of Christ." Nor does he, like those who suffer from an itching tongue, delight to speak of what he is unable to hide in silence. But because he knew it was a consolation to the afflicted to hear that others have already suffered the same things, having learned that what now happens to them has happened to others in the past, and being taught to bear it patiently from the fact that they have heard others have borne the same things bravely, he deigns to make these things public, for which he might otherwise have remained hidden.

looking only to the utility of the many, and working at this to incite all to the doing of good by a spirit of emulation, and to commit one to another a noble ambition in the dangers endured for piety. ^A

CHAPTER XIII

For this reason, just as someone elegant and glory-loving, with great boldness he recounts his own struggles, as he boasts: "In labors more abundantly, in deaths often, in hunger and thirst, in cold and nakedness, in dangers often; thrice was I beaten with rods, once was I stoned, thrice I suffered shipwreck, a night and a day I have been in the deep." ^B With a love for the truth, he struggles mightily to demonstrate the magnitude of his own achievements, so that those who are hard-working may have a zeal for imitation, and, because they do not reach his level, they may be moderate in their disposition, remaining far from his virtue. For if he himself says concerning those of that time who shared with him the task of striving for good things, that he "labored more abundantly than all," who in our own age would dare to boast that he is comparable in merits and glory to him, when these things are not only difficult to perform, but even difficult for many to believe that they ever occurred? "What things," he says again, "happened to me in ^C Antioch, at Iconium; what persecutions I endured; and out of them all the Lord delivered me." He set forth the expression "delivered me" as a bait, so to speak, for entering into dangers with confidence, so that everyone, having the encouragement that no evil will harm them in trials, may approach them stout-heartedly and not shrink from the task, seeing in the one who had already been delivered from dangers a sufficient pledge that the same will happen to himself. And again, against those who reject the resurrection and consider the hardship endured here to be in vain, as there is no time after death in which the athletes might enjoy the fruits of their labors, he contends, using these words: "If after the manner of men I have fought with beasts at Ephesus, what advantageth it me, if the dead ^D rise not?" By the mention of the resurrection of the dead, he showed that he did not struggle in vain nor endure such great tribulations without purpose, but that with hope and expectation of the reward after the resurrection, he reasonably endured the trials, expecting a joy that would never cease from the passing afflictions.

CHAPTER XIV

Whence he also gives excellent instructions to all his followers, saying: "And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not." He consoles the labor expended on sowing with the hope of the sheaves. And everywhere he does not cease to restrain the disease of vainglory, so that both the good may be performed, and...

^A vainglory may not play the parasite to the good by attaching itself to successes, which it always loves to accompany, unless those who are diligent in good works are vigilant. For as if coerced by necessity to recount his own virtues, so as to exhort his hearers to imitation through this artifice, he called such boasting folly, and by showing that the works themselves were to be emulated, he forbade the boasting and puffing up of oneself because of the works, accusing this boasting under the name of folly. In the same way also he says again that he forgets those things which are behind and extends himself to those things which are before, ^B establishing the same thing by another reason and path. For one who looks at works already accomplished is accustomed to be puffed up in a way that leads to madness; but one who contemplates how far he is from perfection must necessarily be humble and modest, since he has the greatest opportunity for humility in the fact that he does not have a clear view of whether he will reach that toward which he is hastening. Therefore, in order that those who are progressing in the good may always have a rightly composed and uninflated mind, he advises them to look not at what they have accomplished, but at how much remains for them to attain the goal they have set before them. For the mind, intent upon this and anxious with the concern for the things desired, will not have time to think about past works, nor to conceive the madness that follows from them. For to those whose mind is thus disposed, angels remain as ministers to keep them unharmed, and the Lord God Himself, the provider of their need, is present for them throughout, as if He were making their struggle prosperous, so that they may run without hindrance toward the prize of the upper calling, not being impeded by the distraction of the body's necessity.

CHAPTER XV. On Jacob.

^C This is what the great Jacob, taught by much experience, said: "God, who feeds me from my youth; the Angel who delivers me from all evils." [Gen. xlviii, 16.] Having experienced the aid of both in Mesopotamia—setting out on his journey with only a staff, and returning home with many possessions, and, as he himself says, rescued from all evils—when he had taken flight fearing the threats of Esau, and was returning while his fear of his inhumane brother had not yet been laid aside, God did not exhort him to confidence with words of praise, as He seems to have addressed Abraham and Jeremiah; but by the very thing and act He persuades him that he would be stronger in power than all those who were prepared to lay snares for him. And through a vision divinely presented, He sets one in the form of a man to struggle with him, ^D who, as he watched toward dawn, seemed to yield in the struggle and concede victory in the fight, so that, having conceived confidence against men from the fact that he had prevailed over the strength of the angel appearing and struggling with him, he might depart with a good heart, persuaded that he would overcome all snares. And so that he might receive the mystery of this vision, He says to him as he was departing: "You were strong against God, and against men you will prevail." [Gen. xxxii, 28.] As if saying: "Go, trusting in this strength. For who"

^A of men will stand against a strength that has been able to wrestle with God?" Hence, also, the noble David, full of hope, while Absalom was pursuing him with the picked men of all the people, was confidently saying: "I will not be afraid of ten thousands of the people that have set themselves against me round about," knowing the guard of divine power to be stronger than the surrounding enemies. And again: "In peace will I both lay me down and sleep; for thou, Lord, only hast made me dwell in hope." For he was so fortified by the hope of the Better One, that being alone, he did not fear such a multitude of enemies, and at the same time as he lay down he slept without care, while they meanwhile were watching with anxiety and wasting away from the concern of how the many would gain the mastery over the one. And very reasonably indeed.

CHAPTER XVI

For if, as it has been said, "The angel of the Lord shall encamp round about them that fear him," why do those who encircle the just man from the outside trouble themselves in vain, when a safer guard is already encircling him from within, and warding off the incursions from without? And how does poverty harm the philosopher and the man who disciplines himself—a man who has neither care for the keeping of vain things, nor is poor in any of his needs when he so wishes, since the whole of creation serves him as if he were the Lord of all, and readily brings him gifts of his desires—especially when even those who boast of wealth lack the very things necessary for sustenance? For what wealth in the famines recorded by the divine Scripture was not exhausted? What storehouses of produce were not emptied? When the prophetic tongue locked up at once the heaven, and the clouds, and the whole earth, when the veins of the springs themselves were dried up in their very deeps. Not a drop nor dew fell from above upon the earth, but the plains were hardened into stony stiffness by the long-lasting drought, producing neither grass, nor hay, nor spring flower anywhere. When the mountains and valleys were filled with the dead carcasses of cattle, and wild beasts, and birds; and there was a pitiable lamentation of young and old men, and a miserable death as they wasted away little by little. And the sight of the dead was loathsome and unbearable, with bodies putrefying along the marketplaces and dripping with bloody drops, and making life more bitter for the living than death itself. ^D They beheld not only these things, but also the evils of those still gasping for breath: mothers weeping over their dearest children as they breathed their last in their bosoms; children sitting by their fathers, and fathers by their children as they breathed their last from want of food; friends gazing fixedly upon friends present in the act of expiring, and helping them in no way, though perhaps a single mouthful of bread could have revived the spirit already failing. For such is the necessity of famine, that it compels everyone to be more concerned for himself than for others. And at the pitiable nature of the affliction, it shows to the one who still lacks a little food the miserable destruction of the one who is dying, and to that one as well, with sympathy

for the human condition, he groans, reflecting upon his own inevitable necessity, and considering his own preservation more important than that of his neighbor. What, then, did the rich treasuries of money profit them, when there was nowhere to buy grain? And what use were the heavy silver platters, which, because of the scarcity of food, lay abandoned? For nothing of this sort satisfies hunger, nor is it able to cure destitution. The arts of the cooks ceased; the skill of the cupbearers ceased; the bustle of the rest of the servants ceased; the grain merchants and the preparers of food were idle; the confectioners were idle; the choirs of those singing to the lyre were idle. For one single gloom of necessity held them all together, and all groaned at the lack of food. But what harm did the voluntary lack of precious things bring to the just ones at that time, who found a ready and effortless table wherever they wished? ^A

CHAPTER XVII.

King Ahab was reigning at that time, and Elias and Elissaeus were prophets; ^B the former possessed many acres of land and rich treasuries of wealth, as befitted a king; but the latter were utterly destitute, homeless, and without money. The one was dressed in purple and surrounded himself with all the pomp of royal state; the others were girded with a sheepskin and sheep’s hide, and devoid of the service of attendants. Yet the one wandered through mountains and valleys, seeking herbs to soothe his stomach: but the others, whenever the time of eating arrived, there they abounded in an abundance of appropriate food. They commanded the widow to bring them a feast; and when she had only a handful of flour at home, disregarding the crowd of her hungering children, she baked the handful into an ash-cake and brought it to them. No harvest had appeared; yet for them the pitcher served as a threshing floor; the fields had not been sown; yet flour rained down upon them; the land was unfruitful, yet from the pitcher the crop grew; the storerooms packed with grain had failed, yet the handful did not diminish. Weary from their journey, they would sleep, and after sleep, upon waking, they received necessary sustenance—bread and water—from angels; or rather, while they were sleeping, they were awakened by the holy powers, just as masters are called by servants who attend to such needs, to a table already prepared. They lived in the desert solitude, and ravens brought them bread in the morning from the world around, and meat in the evening. And whence did they receive it? For food of this kind was not easy to procure, and indeed in a time of famine, from birds accustomed to linger over the devouring of corpses, and which can hardly return from them satisfied. And what is most wonderful of all at that time—even in such a lack of necessary things, they were generous in inviting other guests, not only caring for themselves at such a time, as if, a little later, finding food would be difficult or altogether impossible for them, if others consumed what was currently on hand; but they extended the gift lavishly to many others, being trusted that the riches of grace would never fail, as long as they remained just, suc- [D, C]

succoring the needs of the body, as if it were a mandatory tax or tribute for the worthy. ^A “For do not be anxious about this,” says the Lord, teaching and saying: “What shall we eat, or what shall we drink, or what shall we wear? For your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things,” and that to him who works righteousness, He gives these things as a debt, and not as a free gift.

CHAPTER XVIII

He adds to what has been said, that “the laborer is worthy of his food.” For a hundred men were once fed by those who had only ten loaves—few in proportion to the task of satisfying the multitude, yet they did satisfy them, and they were guaranteed by the leftovers that the satisfaction would remain. For when the minister ^B heard, “Set it before the people, and they will eat,” he looked more to probability than to the authority of the one commanding, and said, “What shall I set before so many men?” The masters of the feast, however, fortified by faith, said: “Set them before them, that they may eat and have some left over.” And they ate, and they had some left over, according to the word of the Lord, so that a servant’s miracle might go before and pave the way for the reception of the Lord’s miracle. For types always run before the truth, stopping the mouths of the ungrateful Jews, so that when they attempt to slander the Lord’s miracles as unbelievable or impossible, ^C they might be confounded by the examples that have already occurred, and might be forced to cease from their untimely contention, and, suffused with shame at their lack of shame, might blush to oppose the Lord’s miracle, the types of which they were able to accept in the servants without contention.

CHAPTER XIX

Of the Son of the ever-Virgin.

Thus, those who are ready to contradict the birth from the Virgin, and weave arguments that seem plausible, as if nature cannot accomplish the formation of a fetus without the discharge of prolific seeds, are refuted by the earth, which in the beginning brought forth ^D all kinds of fruits without any seed. For the divine Word was seed for both. To the one [the earth] it was said: “Let the earth bring forth the grass of the field, yielding seed according to its kind,” and the command turned into nature, and immediately it brought forth various fruits, not from any other preceding cause, but only from the word. But she [the Virgin] heard: “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you,” after she had said: “How shall this be, since I do not know a man?” And without delay the Word fashioned flesh for Himself, and the voice constructed a divine temple. “Thus, after three days, Jonas coming forth from the whale incorrupt” silences those who wish to [deny] the resurrection after three days.

by persuading them through a similar event to believe a similar one, and does not allow those wishing to cavil to evade the new miracle impudently, while it forbids them from rushing into manifest shamelessness by the old miracle.

CAPUT XX.

^B In the same way, lest they say that the miracle of the five loaves, from which five thousand men were satisfied, could not have happened, his servants entertained one hundred men with ten loaves; by that small miracle, as if by a pledge, they promised a greater one, and showed that what could happen once in a smaller miracle was also possible in a greater one. And the matter, whether it was necessary to nourish few with more or many with less, responded in the same way to the grace that multiplies and makes its own operation known to all not by quantity, but by virtue. But let this suffice for refuting the Jews. Yet those who at that time entertained the hundred men with ten loaves, at another time, while hunger still prevailed, ordered the servants to cook a pot full of many herbs. When, after cooking, they found them too bitter to the taste on account of a harmful herb mixed entirely into the broth (for the one saying it indicated this: “Death is in the pot, O man of God”), they ordered a handful of meal to be thrown into the whole stew, which a little before, because of the bitterness, seemed unfit for the weary to eat; they rendered it fit for consumption and most useful for relieving the hunger of the starving.

^C To these things the singer of psalms, David, sings most excellently: “The rich,” he says, “have become poor, and were hungry; but those who seek the Lord will not be deprived of any good thing,” having the aforementioned for the testimony of the truth of the word, certain and indubitable, to which faith is entirely due. The Lord also, as if sealing these things, said: “Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow, nor reap, nor gather into barns, and your heavenly Father feeds them. And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they do not labor, nor do they spin. But I say to you, that not even Solomon in all his glory was clothed like one of these.” He suggests from these things which we see at every hour that men can lead a life with little effort and without any trouble: “For seek,” he says, “the kingdom, and all these things shall be added to you.” ^D For that he might not seem to have said something for empty boasting, and something suspected of idle talk—namely, “Do not be anxious, what you shall eat, or what you shall drink, or what you shall put on”—he confirms his exhortation by the example of the lilies and the birds, the former receiving the beauty of their garments, and the latter their food, without labor and without care from Divine Providence; at the same time he calls back to our minds the manner of life that Adam practiced before his disobedience, so that [no one might have reason to disbelieve the power of the promise that he was going to have food not by farming as now, not by toiling.]

[Beginning with the tail of the previous page's ending, yet to be provided by the prompt's established chain. As this is the first page of the project, I begin with the content provided in the image:]

^A no one could doubt the effect of the promise, that without tilling the earth or laboring, as is the case now, he would have food without hardship. And as he looks to the present difficulties of providing necessities, [he considers] how wild beasts, reptiles, and birds feed without labor; creatures which teach us the infallibility of Him who was the legislator and author of that life. For this same reason, too, the plants which are cultivated by human hands and sown every year are weaker than the woodland herbs; for while the former are irrigated by cultivators and attain with great difficulty and care the desired perfection, these latter, having once sprouted according to the divine command upon their primitive roots, grow lush, and ever produce leafy and flowering branches—an irrefragable argument ^B that our affairs also, so long as we do not depart from divine obedience, can in the same way flourish and provide spontaneous fruit without any impediment.

CHAPTER XXI.

^C To this life, then, free from care, the Lord invites those who wish it, exhorting them to do what is good and not to be anxious about the material needs of the body, saying: "For your Father knows that you have need of all these things." And: "The worker is worthy of his food." In this, He leaves no suspicion of unbelief that one who does the work of God will be in need of any of the things that are fitting. Just as an athlete who has enrolled for the contest of piety and has been inscribed, and who competes daily according to the rules, receives food and his daily allowance for this present age from the distributor of prizes to sustain his life in the flesh, but expects to receive in the future age—after the courses have been run—not a crown of olive, parsley, or laurel leaves to adorn his head, but a diadem of beauty and a crown of glory and honor exquisitely woven, as David says: "You have crowned him with glory and honor." And beyond all these things, receiving the prize of eternal life, he enjoys the delight of paradise, which, according to the Apostle, the eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor has it ascended into the heart of man. For such things has God prepared for those who love Him, which, by reason of the excellence of their splendor, can neither be expressed in words, nor seen by eyes, nor conceived by the mind. For whatever great and wonderful thing anyone might strive to imagine for his enjoyment ^D will be, in any case, less and far inferior to those things which are fittingly prepared for the delights of the saints. Since it is the nature of the intellect to form within itself images of things known through the senses; but as for those of which it has received no types from these senses, when it wishes to fashion likenesses, it fashions for itself indefinite phantoms, proceeding through a void and imagining things that have no subsistence. One form succeeds another and obliterates the preceding one, because there is no clear species subsisting that can sustain that wandering imagination.

CHAPTER XXII.

^A If, then, that manna granted in the desert—which could be handled and seen—remained an object of doubt as to what it might be, since it could be compared in appearance and quality to none of the things we experience, and possessed a taste strange and different from common things: who could express by probable conjecture those things which surpass that manna in an incomparable degree of excellence, and which exceed every comprehension of the senses, which shall then be known to those who now long for them, when experience itself shall teach us the excellence of their enjoyment, and the magnitude of the rewards shall show that the labors endured were petty, when the happiness that meets us shall exceed the hope of our rewards? ^B And let no one among those who have hitherto neglected to do well pretend to me that the matter is too late to undertake, and be loath to set his hand to the work, as if he had begun too late and could scarcely or in no way attain to the perfection of virtue. For it is truly a great interval, and a long length of the way that leads to it. I myself admit that this is so; but by intent zeal one may traverse it more quickly, and even outstrip those who have proceeded at a slow pace from their first youth, and leave them as far behind as the spirit is impelled forward by a greater desire; so that they indeed advance little or nothing at all from the place whence they began, because of the very sluggish and slothful movement of their feet; while he, running with a course equal to the winged, of necessity either arrives closely at the proposed goal or even reaches ^C right into it. It is just as when a ship, from its very anchorage, is carried on a straight course to the harbor and enters with full sails, while others, through the negligence of their pilots, wander across the sea and continually empty the folds of their linen sails with oblique turnings to this side and that. For unless the pilot, when a favorable wind blows from the stern at the merchant ship, keeps the sails always swelling and full, and directs the course straight on toward the wind that carries it with its own breath, the ship must necessarily proceed more slowly, as it always flees and turns aside from the impulse of the propelling wind.

CHAPTER XXIII.

For this reason, Paul, well aware of these things, ^D cried out to those running in the stadium of this course, saying: "So run, that you may apprehend." By saying "so," he orders us to increase our speed and to seize the narrowness of the time with a most intense impulse, as if by force, so that we may quickly complete by strenuous zeal and persistent running the way that would require a long span of time. Having seen this length of the way, that swiftest of runners, David, who says: "I have run the way of your commandments," offered supplication, and besought God, the caller, that he might know how much time of life remained for him, and whether it was sufficient for him to attain the object of his striving. For he says: "Make known to me, O Lord, my end, and what is the number of my days, that I may know what is wanting to me." Then, when persuaded that he was far removed by a great measure, and not...

longissimus, as if he were still missing the interval by a great distance, and as if that which remained of time could not possibly be proportioned to that which had already elapsed; ^A even though he were carried flying through the air from the starting-gate to the goal with a spirit running like a bird: giving up on the speed of his feet, he challenges the winged and sublime natures to the contest, and says: "Who will give me wings like a dove, and I will fly, and be at rest?" (Ps. LIV, 7). Thus, having finally recognized that he will attain this only by estimating how he might measure the time with the distance, if he should be lifted up on high by the excellence of his conduct, and winged, might fly through the midst with eagerness, and thus arrive at the desired limit of perfection.

SECTION XII. Concerning the parable of the vineyard, and the laborers hired at different hours. CHAPTER I.

The parable of the vineyard, also, in which those who were to work it entered at different hours of the day, having been hired from early morning until evening, as the opportunity offered ^B at different times for different people, seems to agree with these things. For they all received the same wage, and were deemed worthy of the same honor by the master; or rather, the last were preferred to the first, and although they had worked from early morning, others carried off the silver coin before them—a bounty, if one were to suspect it, enjoyed by the one who provided it, but as the truth stands, a just honor that they received. For if, when they were called along with those who murmured, they had not obeyed, but after that, being led by repentance, they had arrived last at the work, they would have been worthy of the wage for the time in which they ^C had worked; but if, when they were hired, they showed a most ready mind, why do you unjustly accuse them of an involuntary idleness? For from the diligence shown later, it was clear that they would have been no less zealous had they been at the work earlier.

For the Master of the house, indicating this to those complaining—who were not so much rejoicing in their own honor as they were pained that others were being compared to them—said in his defense: "Friend, I do you no wrong. Did you not agree with me for a denarius for the day? Take what is yours, and go. But I want to give to this last one, as also to you. Or is it not permitted for me to do what I wish with my own? Or is your eye evil because ^D I am good?" (Matt. XX, 13–15). By which he both refutes the unjust jealousy of those men and shows his own goodness to be a fulfilled justice, because the misfortune of idleness, which occurred contrary to their will, he did not allow to be a cause of loss to them, looking at the intention and not at the outcome of the event. For that idleness of theirs came not from sloth, but from circumstance. For the statement, "No one has hired us" (ibid. 7), frees them from the suspicion of sloth, by showing them standing ready to do the work. But it attributes the idleness to a lack of those hiring. Therefore He who renders to each according to his works, rightly gave the reward to those who worked for a part of the day, as to those who had spent the whole day at the work, having revealed it in deed, and not simply in words.

^A And this was a measure of the goodness, and perhaps also of the justice, of the master of the house: not to penalize those whom the circumstance had penalized, nor to permit them to suffer an injustice when they were not lacking in preparedness for the work from the very crack of dawn; rather, perhaps, having come in during a few hours of the whole day, fresh and eager, they finished the work having exercised much diligence. And this was judged just, that those who had performed work worthy of a denarius should not receive less than a denarius, even if they had not worked for the entire day. For he who, in hiring them, said, “Go you also into my vineyard, and work, and whatever is just, I will give you,” since he is not at all a liar, in giving them the denarius, gave what was just; and he was not bestowing it in vain, for he was justly providing the reward corresponding to the labor, not to the time. For this reason, he even preferred them to the others, judging them worthy, as equals, to be honored with an equal reward for their labor; but because they had anticipated them in a narrow space of time, while the long duration of the day had given those others a sense of security to work more sluggishly, he summoned them first ^B to receive their rewards. It was as if to signal them as diligent, so that by the honor given to these, and by the shame incurred by those others, he might stir up the zeal of the lazier ones for the pursuit of good work. For the honor of some is known to rouse others to toil, as they are stirred by a love of glory to take on even labors beyond their strength. But, O the absurd passion of envy! They are jealous of those who are benefited, though they suffer no injustice themselves; they reckon the gain of others to be their own loss; they grumble, though they are deprived of nothing; they are stung by the prosperity of others; they pine away and are consumed when they see others faring well. “These,” he says, “who are last, you have made equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.” They put forth the length of time as an excuse, not having, it seems, any just argument to claim that they had gained an advantage in the work; they seem to pride themselves on that for which they deserve condemnation, measuring time, ^C and not considering that their work did not correspond to that time.

CHAPTER II

For what did they profit the master of the house by enduring the heat, if they worked meanwhile negligently and sluggishly? He requires work, not empty trouble; he requires care for the vineyard, not the vain expenditure of all the hours of the day within it. For that change in the order of the workers, by which the first become last and the last first, was nothing else than to demonstrate the diligence of the former and the negligence of the latter. For if each one had shown the same zeal, and had performed work corresponding to the time, what ^D reasonable excuse could they have had

^A for murmuring, they who received the wage agreed upon in the contract, even if it were given to others in much larger measure, if only envy—which pains so many others, who are differently tormented by the honors of their fellows—did not afflict them? For I do not think they would have murmured, if they had labored without those last-comers, and had received only the wage they had agreed upon, having no one against whom to exercise jealousy. But now, the honor shown to their rivals has stirred up the passion of envy, which would not have been stirred had they not thought that others were preferred, making their own share look small by comparison with that of their neighbors, even though they were about to welcome the agreed-upon wage for the work they were receiving, with nothing stinging them into envy. They receive this wage while murmuring, pained only by the fact that they were deemed inferior to others; they found not only that they themselves had been admitted to a share of the same wage, but also, seeing that others, while laboring for a shorter time, had obtained the same rewards equally, they felt pained. You have received, my good man, what is your own; why does it trouble you that another has received the same? Your wage has not been diminished. Why does it grieve you that another has received, as you suppose, more than you? Unless you had known that another had received as much as you had received, you would surely have been content with the accustomed wage; but because another received it along with you, your own share seems small to you. Did you receive nothing more? But you neither agreed upon it, nor did you expect to receive it. Why then, having suffered no wrong, do you murmur with the voices of those who have been wronged? Why do you lament as a loss that in which you have been deprived of nothing? Why do you traduce the munificence of the master of the house as unjust? Why do you call the gracious sympathy shown to those in need an unequal distribution? If, by taking away from what was agreed upon with you, he had added it to another, he would indeed have been unjust, having given the property of one to another, and having displayed a costless magnanimity using another's goods. But if he paid you your full debt, and offered others a favor or benefit from his own resources, why do you complain of both the benefactor and the recipient of the benefit, calumniating through the perversity of your mind those who have given you no reasonable occasion for complaint, and converting your own passion into a crime of others, and at the same time condemning both the one who bestows the benefit and the one who also receives it? Why do you not chastise a passion that is abhorrent to reason, seeing ^B that it is a holy thing not to envy the good things of others, nor to grieve for those things in which others rejoice? For envy of this kind derives sorrow from the joy of those who rejoice; it is itself always dwelling in pains, since it does not cast upon those it envies the evils in which it would like them to dwell. But you would even wish the laborer to stand completely idle outside the vineyard, and the athlete to remain altogether without an opponent and unexercised, remaining hidden so that no one might know, among those who ought to learn, what strength he possesses. And you would wish the soldier, who is able to distinguish himself in battles against ^C enemies, to be sheltered and pampered like a delicate woman, not willing that his habitual bravery should shine forth in deeds, and out of a sparing of toils, you begrudge him his crowns. But I, for my part, exhort the Olympic victor to be prepared for every kind of contest, for I call bravery that which struggles among men, not looking at the weakness of the body. ^D

^A

CHAPTER III.

I esteem, however, a generous disposition of soul, which meets the enemy, who lies in wait and tempts in various ways, and who deceives in manifold and diverse paths, and is skilled at skillfully receiving his every assault. For Paul, knowing that he knows how to devise various things and all instruments for subverting, wishes that all who behave themselves against him be ready to resist his assaults. At one time he arms them with the shield of faith, the breastplate of justice, the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the spirit; at other times, he anoints them as athletes for the struggles, saying: "For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the world-rulers of the darkness of this age, against the spiritual forces of wickedness." ^B This is so that, both learning the multitude of the enemies, and that they fight in darkness, and that they are by nature invisible, they may be sober and ever watchful, and have their hands always ready for defense to resist them fully. For since, according to the wise Solomon, sleep has been banished from the enemies, and they do not sleep, nor will they take sleep unless they have done some evil—"Let them have," he says, "a sleepless eye, and soldiers [who] watch the impulses of the enemies, that they may not suffer anything undesired through negligence"—and he advises one to run quickly toward the prize of the upward calling, and to guard against him who runs with one, lest he trip him who runs with him and knock him over. ^C And to fight by waving the hands as if by a certain rule, indeed, when adversaries are not present, for the sake of the exercise by which skill is taught; but when they are present and fighting at close quarters, not to swing the weapon around the hands into empty air, but to pierce their very head and tear them with the nails. Whence the Lord, since the adversaries are world-rulers of darkness, who shoot arrows in the dark at those who are upright in heart, and attempt every machination in the darkness—practicing what is hard to see or invisible to themselves, in order to do harm and lay snares while unseen—says: "Let your loins be girded and your lamps burning," wishing us to be well-girded for the race by the belt, and to be guarded by the burning lamp from the harm of those who run with us. For this is what Paul said: "So I run, not as if in uncertainty," having used the light as a guide toward the unerring of the beautiful race. ^D And David says: "Thy law is a lamp to my feet, and a light to my paths," to the way of thy commandments, then running blamelessly, and the scandals placed by them, clinging to the path, partly avoiding them prudently, partly jumping over them with an very swift speed of the race

and thenceforth looking around securely on all sides at the obstacles that lie in the way.

CAPUT IV

^A For just as the sight of a snake-bitten man is troubled even by a rope lying in a coil, because fear shapes his vision toward suspicion and sends his thought down into experience; so too, after the sin had been committed, the uses of desirable things, even those not forbidden, used to strike him with fear, lest perhaps some snare of the enemy were hidden within them, presenting a bait of deception and maneuvering to drag the permitted things toward something forbidden. Just as he ^B had long ago dragged the sight of the woman toward the ambush of forbidden adultery—and this is manifest from the fact that when he had desired the water of Bethlehem in war, he did not endure to drink it when it was brought, but confessed his thirst along with his desire, and demonstrated his self-control; for he reasoned that if he did not chasten the freedom of his desire, he would open an easy path for it to every pleasure.

Another of the divine apostles also calls the enemy a lion, having achieved nothing with the more decent disguises which he ^C was eager to use for his ambush; he thus naturally mimics the form of wild beasts in order to frighten, assuming the appearance of those whose cruelty he possesses, so that he may strike terror like a phantom. For he says: "Your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walks about seeking whom he may devour; whom resist, standing firm in the faith" (1 Pet. v, 8). By the roaring, he signified the enemy’s destructive madness; by "resist, standing firm," he signified the strength which ^D those who slay wild beasts must possess from training, strengthening their natural power day by day with constant exercises. For he did not say to flee or to turn away from the roaring beast, but commanded to resist it and to move against it with great tension, knowing that each person has the power to fight for his own safety, and that the weapons for defense are innate and inseparable for all.

CAPUT V

Again, Paul instructs, saying: "Present your members as weapons of righteousness to God" (Rom. vi, 19). By these he teaches the intelligent how to strike the enemy, with which the senseless are struck by him; so that the eye might fight against everything that can deceive by sight, and the hearing might fight against evil conversations [which are known] to corrupt good morals (1 Cor. xv, 33). Let the smell also turn away eagerly from the vapors accustomed to slacken and dissolve the firmness of the soul. Let the taste reject flavors exquisitely seasoned for their excessive sweetness; let the touch not give heed to bodies that enchant toward pleasure by their softness and smoothness; let the bountiful hand be stretched out for distribution; and the feet, according to Solomon (Prov. i, 16), which are swift to do evil, run...

^A speedily, and the tongue, which once uttered blasphemies, now speaks words of thanksgiving. For thus the weapons of sin become weapons of righteousness, turned in the opposite direction and cast aside, whereas formerly, through the abuse of their possessors, they brought destruction upon them. For this reason the tyrant arises, rough and breathing with wrath, against those who have revolted from him and cleaved to God, hastening to drag back what has fled as though it were a slave acquired by long habit, and he sets out to subject them once again to various temptations, stirring up afflictions and calamities from every side. He does this so that the life which, because it is free from turmoil, is judged to be tolerable in its wickedness, may be forced to run back—as if seeking a calm harbor—to a life of pleasure and dissipation, for one who is being tossed by temptations as if by storms at sea, who says altogether what those who were suffering hardships in the desert said: "It were better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in this wilderness." ^B For he who loves sloth and obedience to his desires judges it more desirable to yield to these than to wage war upon them, especially when he sees that the way of virtue is rough and difficult, and beset on all sides by many afflictions, and that those who were once friends have finally become enemies, pursuing him from behind and wishing to lead him back into slavery, while true and unknown foes confront him and block his progress toward the good. Thus, many nations, hitherto unknown, hindered the Israelites in their passage as much as they were able, saying: "Thou shalt not pass through us" (Num. xx, 18), being envious of the progress which led them toward their destination. ^C But Pharaoh, still having them near him while they were planning their flight, said to those who were cooperating with him in these matters: "Let the works of these men be made heavier" (Exod. v, 9), thinking that respite from their labors would lead to stubborn arrogance. When they had departed, however, he zealously pursued them, not permitting them to live freely, as they wished and were born to do, but hastening to lead them back into slavery again and to possess those who were noble and free—men who were and could always remain so. Yet, while those who with a tenacious resolve of purpose fled his servitude patiently endured all the malignity that came upon them until they reached the desired felicity, these others, who had not very judiciously forsaken him, nor ^D endured the difficult beginnings of virtue—for the beginnings of any work are harsh and unpleasant, especially of those that are laborious before the habit is acquired—discussed a return to Egypt, choosing again the master whom they had once thoroughly tested and experienced as cruel and highly deserving of hatred. For they said: "Let us appoint a leader and return to Egypt" (Num. xiv, 4), deeming the return over the journey accomplished with such great labor to be easy. And again: "Because there were no graves in Egypt, we have come out to die in the desert," speaking in this way out of sloth; for he who has not yet turned away from evil is in the boundary between virtue and vice, not yet being confessedly in the good; he is temporarily guarded between the two, until, having been completely delivered from the one, he firmly plants both knees in the other, no longer staggering as before, nor looking now this way, now swaying that way.

CAPUT VI.

^A Such, in truth, is he who withdraws from an evil habit; for the most part does he drag himself backward, even if he strives toward the front, advancing little in that matter to which he is devoted, and by fickle inclinations often swaying hither and thither, until by much exercise and long time, he teaches himself to unlearn the former things, and is prepared to hold the latter as habitual; just as one who has moved from boyhood to manhood, and from the present state to the next, is no longer able—not even if he wishes—to do otherwise. For it is preposterous that the body, following the law of nature, should change its ages, passing from childishness to the gravity of old age, shining with a grey head in a worthy manner, and becoming radiant and venerable in its state, while the soul does not advance its own progress in the good, nor complete its legal stages in virtue by transitioning from one to another—and thus arriving at the desirable perfection—but remains in the foolish childish state, or in that which follows it, delighting in youthful desires, and in a body that has gone beyond its youth still being young and flourishing in these shameful things, taking delight throughout in ways that even sober and temperate youths would not be pleased by for an instant.

^B That the ages change, and that the soul itself also proceeds from infancy toward perfection, Paul teaches, sometimes saying: "As to infants in Christ, I gave you milk to drink, not meat" (I Cor. III, 2); and at other times: "Until we all come to a perfect man, unto the measure of the age of the fullness of Christ" (Ephes. IV, 13). And again: "When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away the things of a child" (I Cor. XIII, 11). He also knows those who, once born, require yet another birth, returning from light into the womb, to whom he says: "My little children, of whom I am in labor again, until Christ be formed in you" (Gal. IV, 19). For he makes those who bear the good-willed marks of Christ's character into embryos once again, so that, if they might not have been well-formed according to the image, by putting off that which is of a monstrous form, they might change toward that which is complete and perfect, having been made similar to Him who begat them, being recognized as His own true children, and not as supposititious or bastard ones.

^C Yet it was fitting that the soul should cross its states more easily than the body its ages, forasmuch as the latter is enslaved to necessities and subject to the laws of nature, ^D having no power to pass to that toward which time does not lead it, nor being able to overleap the approaching age and leap into the one after it with an unordered movement; since each age provides a defined time for it, and does not permit it to hurry past before the hour, or to migrate to the neighboring one. But the soul, by free choice, waiting in the present state as long as it wishes, and transitioning to the other when it wishes, has an unhindered passage whenever it desires, even if it determines to overleap those that are in between.

It is permitted to it to leap nimbly from one extremity to another ^A, and as soon as it is introduced, to attain to the perfection of its introduction, advancing with purpose and zeal from whatever it deems fit, to whatever it proposes to itself with a firm and immovable reason, having also condemned those things which it has previously thought to reject.

Chapter VII. Of those who have followed the purpose of Moses.

Thus, those who burned with such a desire for that freedom ^B which Moses possessed, strengthening their purpose with the immutable power of constancy, became superior to all the adverse events that befell them. They did not fear the multitude of the enemy, which is too vast to be surveyed by the eyes, and they temperately endured hunger and thirst, which exercise dominion over the body; since an undoubted faith in the hoped-for enjoyment lightened the imminent labors, consoling with a good expectation the miseries which they were undergoing in the present, ^C and tempering the bitterness of the pain that was at hand with the delight of future blessings. For indeed, the mind that is occupied with splendid reasonings does not perceive much sensation from the afflictions that perturb it, and it suppresses current grievances by the meditation of the good things which it is to enjoy after these. For this reason, creation was aptly transformed for their uses: the sea became a solid path for them when the fleeing Egyptians pursued them, providing a dry way as the sea was divided, and raising the segments of water on either side on high like walls, stopping the flow of the tide abruptly and congealing it like ice until the saved had passed through; but hard rock, devoid of moisture, became a lake and a sea around itself, gushing forth from its depth in abundant streams for drinking, and with pleasant laticess—nay, heaven, in place of the earth, brought forth the manna, raining down fruit not planted, and suddenly preparing for the hungry a table without labor, not only filling the need of the belly, but also satisfying the desire of each one through the transformation of its quality. ^D For whatever food anyone had caught a desire for in his memory, he found its taste in that manna, judging that he was eating what he had eagerly coveted, as one substance served the appetites of all in manifold ways and imitated in the taste the sensation of every quality. Bitter water was made sweet, and instantly was transformed from one quality to another, becoming a pleasant drink in place of that which a little before was troublesome and unpleasant to the taste; the air, not knowing how to bring forth eggs, in truth brought forth the quail, and driving it with a violent wind, heaped it up by the very tents of those who were in need of food, presenting to them a catch without nets, delivering birds into their hands; the night was changed into day, illuminated by a column of fire; by day the solar flame was held back by a cloud which, hovering over

^A the multitude, interposed itself, so that while they went on foot in the open air, they would not be scorched by the excessive heat, but, as if under a spreading roof, they were overshadowed, conveniently performing their journey on foot and living together like messmates, not as wanderers through a solitude that was bare on all sides and nowhere shaded. Their clothing did not grow old, nor did their footwear, lasting continuously for the space of forty years. No beast of burden died, to which nature had not given to survive for so long. Neither disease, nor burden, nor fever, nor the rigor of cold, nor anything else that is wont to happen to bodies, resulted in any infirmity for them: «For there was not one feeble among their tribes.» By the grace of God they conquered nature, having become stronger than the weakness which springs from it, and having rejected the ills coupled with the body. Formidable legions of enemies fell into the fray, one upon another, struck down without a wound—a sign of the hand that protected and defended them. Walls, without any engine of human hands pushing them, fell down, cast away by the divine will alone. Many nations and populous peoples were reduced by a hidden power, leaving the land vacant and secure for them to inhabit.

^B

CHAPTER VIII.

And this was what the writer of the hymns, David, said later: «Thy hand destroyed the nations, and thou didst transplant them; for they inherited not the land by their own sword, and their own arm did not save them, but thy right hand, and thine arm, and the light of thy countenance, because thou wast well pleased in them.» Describing the security of those who are well-pleasing to God in all things, how each of the things useful to them is accomplished for them by the divine Providence, which they enjoy through the protection from above, and through hope in Him who saves, they possess an unshakable firmness on every side. For these are they who say: «We will not fear when the earth is troubled, and the mountains are removed into the heart of the seas.» Even if the whole world were shaken, troubled, and disturbed, surrounded by a mutual series of evils, we will not fear, nor will we tremble, as do those who, astonished by the expectation of some grave evil at every noise, accommodate and fashion even the sounds that occur according to the suspicion they have. For there is nothing weaker than ^C a conscience pricked by the memory of an evil deed, which deems all things hostile and inimical, and ready for revenge, through which it inwardly nourishes a constant expectation of punishment for the evils it has perpetrated, even if no one is able to convict it, troubled as it is by the inner reproof, and thinking that all are privy to its hidden secrets. But not so does the one that is pure of wickedness; for this one possesses great confidence, seeing nowhere any reasonable cause for condemnation, and trusting that it will always be unconquered by all, having the provision of boldness, the state of being blameless, saying sometimes: «If a camp should array ^D against me, my heart shall not fear»; and at other times: «I will not fear ten thousands of the people who compass me round about.»

^A That such is the man who reposes his hope in God, both in words and in works, is manifest from the same David declaring what was said above: who, emboldened by this confidence, though naked of weapons of war, yet as a youth went boldly to meet the giant, the famous Goliath, against him who was encased in armor, taking only a staff and stones as if against dogs; and having cast him down like a dog with a single blow of a stone, he did so not by strength of body, but by the power of the fortification—in which he said he had confidence—namely, the venerable name of God. For, trusting in this armor, he went forth, and by his words made his intention manifest. For he says: «Thou comest to me with a sword, and with a spear, and with a shield; but I come to thee in the name of the Lord God of Hosts, the array of Israel.» With this one weapon he set himself against such great equipment. For relying upon this, he directed the cast of the stone ^B towards the target of the challenger, and shattered the brass-clad head, and struck the shameless forehead, and cast the arrogant one down to the ground, prostrating him who was lifted up in the pride of his mind.

CHAPTER IX

For since these were the works of a youthful hand, which was able to do such things as a stone-throwing engine, having discharged a manually-vibrated stone, and flung it with much force, would scarcely have achieved; even while he suffered persecutions from his enemies, ^C he was found to be the same in experience as he was in faith, suffering nothing of those things which his pursuers strove to inflict upon him, since he always emerged superior to all ambuscades and, escaping from dangers that outstripped all contrivances and crafts, remained safe, caring for nothing. Thus, a rock once sheltered him when he was driven and harassed by Saul, casting shade on either side, and dividing the seeker and the sought, so that he who was in danger of being harmed by the multitude might be kept uninjured. Thus, when he was caught in the forest by his hostile son Absalom, since he did not have an army corresponding to the attacking force (for he was forced to engage with the nation with ^D only a few soldiers, being reduced to a small number of men), he used the very trees of the grove as allies against those who were waging unlawful war upon him; arming every tree for the defense of the struggling force, and accomplishing through them what a multitude of experienced warrior-hands would scarcely have achieved; for, it says, the forest devoured and consumed more than the sword devoured. For one oak, after the turning of the battle, caught the fleeing parricide, seizing his hair and throwing him from the mule upon which he was being carried, detained the youth captive as a leader in a token of victory, triumphing conspicuously over the harmful one of insane audacity.

^A He slept without care, a sign of not worrying about those who surrounded him, displaying to those desiring to learn the confidence of hope the fearlessness of his sleep as an irrefutable proof. Hence, he would sometimes say, glorifying: "I laid me down and slept; I awaked; for the Lord sustained me" (Ps. III, 6); having placed his trust in the Sustainer while the body was sleeping, and having learned the power of that sustenance immediately by the result; for when he awoke, he found himself securely guarded by his Protector, as if by God himself. At other times he says: "All nations compassed me about, but in the name of the Lord I warded them off" (Ps. CXVII, 11). He used this again against those who were laying snares for him, just as he had formerly used it against Goliath. Having received a practical trial of [God’s] power, he easily slung the stone at the same time, and struck the adversary with a powerful blow. ^B Those who emulated him after him rightly said to God: "In thy name will we beat down them that rise up against us" (Ps. XLIII, 6), setting them at naught as laughter and scorn, with His help present, and preparing to spit upon them; but as for those who are worthy of being engaged in hand-to-hand combat because of their worthlessness, he demonstrates it again, saying: "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me" (Ps. XXII, 4). For deadly dangers then submerge us when we are far from God, being truly unworthy of His help; but when we are near and close in faith and works, we emerge superior to all snares and harm, a high hand lifting us on high and snatching us from these lower dangers, [dangers which are] indeed powerful, but not able to touch those who by their life transcend such harms. ^C This God said to those who approached such a state: "When you pass through the waters, the rivers shall not overflow you; and when you walk through the fire, the flame shall not consume you, because I am the Lord thy God" (Isa. XLIII, 2). Because a living animal was in no way harmed by the elements that quickly corrupt—the one causing the bowels to burn through the breath, the other being drawn in through that very breath and extinguishing the spirit—He showed the power of His own might, such that even nature shifts its boundaries, and makes deadly things salutary when some who are worthy of blessings travel through them. ^D

CHAPTER X

^A He who says to those in need of help, and who are far off from God the Helper because of the perversity of their ways: "Is my hand not able to save? Or is my ear become heavy, so that it cannot hear? But your iniquities have separated between you and me," ^B by these words he indeed declared the inclination of his mind—that he is prepared to provide aid; yet he added the cause that forbids him from doing so, saying: "Your sins have set a division between you and me." Thus, when he did not come to bring aid, he would be free of complaint, since the condition required to receive that aid was not present in those who approached God, for it is not the custom of God to come to those who have separated themselves far from Him. This is what the patriarch Abraham also said to the rich man in need of help: "A great chasm is established between us and you." ^C In this, he shows clearly and elegantly that not only are the unjust separated from God, but they are separated by a long interval even from righteous men, and they can derive no benefit from mercy because they are removed far away by their manners from this proximity to mercy. But David teaches us who the state is that approaches God, when he says: "The Lord is near to those who are of a contrite heart, and He will save those who are humble in spirit." For God is delighted by nothing so much as a moderate mind, especially when the subject matter of rightly performed deeds is present, which can easily inflate the mind to madness, and the thought remains repressed in moderate self-control, not being puffed up in vain by the breezes of memories that are accustomed to loftiness on account of deeds brilliantly performed, nor elevating the conscience in the good deeds that it remembers having performed in accordance with the soul. Such is he who, according to the command of the law, celebrates the Passover by night; and such is he who eats unleavened bread, that is, non-fermented bread. The one, indeed, like one hidden in darkness, while striving in what he does, merits praise and, according to the Lord’s admonition, keeps hidden in the inner chamber things that would bring him the glory of veneration; the other restrains himself and, remaining without pride after the work, is as he was before the work was accomplished. For such is the unleavened bread, which does not rise to a swelling or pride as the leavened does, and, when it needs to be brought to the fire, even then it remains in a humble form, signifying him who thinks modestly of himself in the pursuit of virtue. ^D For just as fire, unless it is combined or compacted with unleavened bread, raises the leaven on high and causes it to swell into whatever shape it may be, so virtue provokes the soul toward haughtiness, unless a firm judgment ensures that the gift is kept unshakeable.

CHAPTER XI

Such indeed is that to which the sacred discourse says: "Your neck is like necklaces." This is a store of virtues, and among all these virtues it bears witness to humility; by the neck, it signifies the uprightness and loftiness of the instituted manner of life, and by the necklaces...

^A it indicates prudence. For just as he calls the neck of the proud man an iron sinew, because it is inflexible and stretches itself toward the heights in arrogant estimation of itself, and hardens through vainglory; so he calls the necklace of one endowed with virtue and who thinks modestly of himself "golden," hinting by the form at his steady state, and by the material at his tested quality; for indeed, a necklace bends from a straight shape into a circle, and he who lives a righteous life inclines toward that which is more humble. For in that way, he who now says to her, "Your neck is like a necklace," says a little later: ^B "Your neck is as the tower of David." 63 And again: "Your neck is as a tower of ivory." 64 Sometimes, indeed, he indicates the elevation of virtue and the exercise of a sublime life; at other times, humility in thinking of oneself; and at other times, he signifies a state inaccessible to the thoughts of vain estimation. For nothing can ascend into the ivory tower or creep up, unless it has something to lay hold of; rather, it slips off immediately upon approaching because of the smoothness. Likewise, no proud thought can attach itself to a plain mind that is polished on all sides of the roughnesses of vainglory. For this [pride] cuts up into steps the heights in the soul, according to the habit of pleasing men, ^C and provides an easy ascent for insanity, producing conceit and swelling in those in whom someone has seemed to himself to have acted rightly. For this reason the Lord says sometimes: "Blessed are the humble in heart." 65 But at other times: "When you have done the things commanded you, then say, We are unprofitable servants; we have done that which we ought to have done." 66 By the lamp of the beatitude, He urges us toward what is useful through such virtue, and by the meditation of humble words, He instructs us to moderate the elation of the soul. For he who always calls himself an unprofitable servant, and considers that he has performed the things commanded by the owner as a necessary debt, will never imagine anything great about himself, nor ever dare to number himself among the sons, having paid ^D a debt of commanded ministry, and not having displayed what he did as a voluntary ambition. This virtue is a hedge; it is a wall of other virtues, keeping the treasures of the soul inviolate. Because of this, all the saints are afflicted and warred against, and those who now similarly emulate their life are compelled to be wakeful and always sober because of the enemies warring against the wall, lest they break through the wall and, entering, plunder the wealth acquired over a long period. But they are not harmed while sitting wakefully on the ramparts and repelling the thoughts of insipidity that approach them, as if with arrows, by these sayings: "We are unprofitable servants; we have done that which we ought to have done." For truly they do not allow the passion of pride to enter within, for it plunders all that has been acquired and leads the mind that has labored much on its acquisition captive to its own will. For it is not the custom of robbers to dig into ruins that have nothing hidden in the earth, nor is it customary for pirates to attack ships that are not laden with treasures of money, but only those who are busy, not those who waste their time over storehouses empty of riches, but those who are carrying [wealth].

^A For neither is it the custom of robbers to dig up ruins in which nothing is buried underground, nor for pirates to load ships that are not yet equipped to carry treasures of money, but rather [to leave] those who are laboring in vain; for they do not foolishly set out to search for chests empty of riches and to endure useless labor. Therefore, regard him who is attacked and troubled by such enemies as being all the more enriched in good works, the more he has those jostling him and causing him molestation. And for this reason, rejoice rather than be ashamed that your beloved ones, having acquired for themselves many things, are about to depart from this sojourn to their fatherland, and are to stand before God crowned—not only because they strove generously and return from the struggle overflowing with wealth, but also because, while they were fighting, they sought to hide their struggles from those who were spectators here, preserving for themselves an entire and solid applause for the future, and not diminishing that ineffable glory with human praises.

CHAPTER XII.

On the glory prepared for those who bestow alms.

O, what great [rewards] will the pauper, fed at the appropriate time, then provide! What great and what kind of recompenses will other good works yield, with nature itself applauding; when he who was covered with a garment in the cold, and religiously laid in a tomb after death; and the sick person healed in a long illness; and the stranger gathered into the home; and the prisoner in jail relieved by consolation and support, are seen before the throne by Him who knows what they have suffered, recognizing their benefactor, and recognized by Him! When the Judge, terrible to all, attributing the grace bestowed upon the benefited to Himself, shall say: “What you did to these, you did to me.” ^B What riches, tell me, do you consider equal to this sweetness and this gentle voice? What praises do you weigh against that illustrious acclamation, as the whole creation looks upon him who is proclaimed as though by the voice of a herald, and not envying (for then there will be no time given for envy), but rather admiring and declaring him blessed in the good things with which he is adorned? What delight, do you say, of the dear things that are in this world is such and so able to excite the soul to joy? What joy is equal and sufficient to be matched to this joy? What pleasure that carries a trace of this pleasure? What glory, even if contending somewhat for this excellent splendor, even if you speak of a kingdom: and with that [kingdom] appearing dazzling, this one in no way imitates that into which this man is introduced, which the word of Scripture has signified; since a kingdom brings afflictions ^C to its possessor, and has turmoils and fears, whereas that glory brings much peace, and a truce, and a cessation from war. This is to use riches excellently. This is to possess money, and not to act as a guardian of a treasury kept for others. This is truly to make one’s own those things which hitherto had been considered as [merely] "one’s own." This is to make oneself the heir and successor of those labors, and not to yield what has been acquired ^D to those who are of no use in the necessity of the judgment. This is to transfer the things of the earth to heaven. This is to transform temporal things into eternal enjoyment.

This is to dispense mammon truly, and from it to acquire friends who, after death, may receive us into eternal tabernacles; being here without a home, but there receiving [us] into lodgings; being homeless in the present age, and in wonderful cells embracing him at that time who comforted his own destitution here, and lightened the heavy burden of necessity by the sharing of those things which pertained to the use of the body. ^B

CHAPTER XIII.

This is to be a prudent steward of the possessions given by God, and to purchase with money, which would otherwise be consumed by rust, a kingdom that shall never cease, [to purchase] future things with present ones; to distribute to these [poor] the things that exist, for the possession of which the Lord God of all things is Himself the most faithful guarantor and suitable surety, who will repay the debt in its proper time—not with interest of one percent, but a hundredfold—when the recovery of those things which were lent is useful, and the use [of them] is opportune for the long-lasting enjoyment of infinite time. This is to lay up treasure in heaven, and to prepare for oneself much consolation there; to do good in secret, and then to receive glory manifest before all creation; to cover the treasure of money with humility, and not to make it readily accessible to those who would plunder it through vainglory. For what storehouses, doors, and bolts are to money for security, that is modest prudence to good works, concealing them and providing no occasion for plunder to those who would burrow through walls. ^C This virtue both guards what has been acquired and provides an impetus for acquiring those things which have not yet been acquired. This [virtue] teaches one to give thanks to God in all things, and consoles the misfortunes that happen to be at hand by the expectation of future good things. This keeps in check the anger that impels one to the vengeance of enemies, restraining it with a fair-minded reason like a dog that is snapping. This considers the obscure and the unknown to be of equal value to the perpetual dignity of the soul, not the prosperous, muddy fortune that parades itself for a short time. This persuades the man to be considered head and lord, and instructs [the woman] to be subject as a member under his guidance in all things. ^D For thus also the Creator says to Eve: *“He shall rule over you.”* And Paul: *“that the woman may reverence the man.”* And convinced of this, Sarah called Abraham lord, honoring him, whom the legislator had commanded to be honored. This [virtue] counsels one to treat a servant with kindness, and to cherish him as one's own kin, freeing him from the toil that is subjected to the power [of the master] for the work of service by exhortations that lead to confidence; and it commands one to raise that which is always fearful of conscience to a moderate boldness, so that he may not remain in a completely dejected and base mind, and on account of the misfortune which has befallen him, accuse God who permitted this inequality to come to pass. This suggests [that one should] help with sympathy those who are suffering in poverty, and as a soldier to a king toward the virtues...