On Lazarus and the Rich Man, Sixth Homily
A for those who seem to themselves to be righteous, and treat the tables of the poor with disdain, and for the rich. For the Lord, desiring that all should be most dear to Him, lovers of brothers, full of love, and humble of heart, is the first to begin the work, so that He may teach us by His own actions. Therefore He says: *Learn of me, for I am meek and humble of heart* (Matt. 11:29). You, therefore, who are exercised in religion, if you are called by some sinner, do not refuse: even if some one should reproach you and say, "Why do you eat and drink with sinners?" answer him in turn, saying: *They that are in health need not a physician, but they that are ill* (Matt. 9:12), that I may convert the sinners. The Lord is invited to a meal, and He does not refuse, He who from five loaves fed five thousand to satiety in the desert: who dried up the impassable sea, and led Israel through the sea as if through a meadow green with grass: who rained down manna upon them from heaven, and all day long white snows from the splendor of the manna. The Lord is invited to a meal, and He does not refuse, teaching those who invite Him with the best of teachings in their meals. For He goes to the meal, not that He may be filled with the feasts of the Pharisee, but that the Pharisee may be filled with the Lord's teachings. He is invited to a meal, and enters into the house of the Pharisee, and hides His divinity with humanity, lest perchance, if he had suddenly seen the flashing splendor of His divinity, he who had invited the Lord should flee from his own house. The King of heaven enters into the house of the Pharisee to the captive, and covers His royal majesty with the leathern armor of the flesh, lest, if the captive should behold the King of heaven, he might tremble and hide himself in the recesses of the earth. The Sun of justice enters into the house of the Pharisee, veiling the sparks of His rays, which flash like gold, in the cloud of the body, lest, if man should look upon Him, he might lose his sight. The heavenly Pastor enters into the house of the Pharisee; having left the ninety and nine sheep on the B mountains, He enters to that which had perished (Matt. 18:12): He enters into His own fold, hiding the Pastor with the lamb of His body. He does not carry the staff, he does not brandish the rod to threaten because of the former error, lest the sheep, terrified and alarmed, might leap back again from His fold: but He enters the house of the Pharisee, not as God, not as King, not as the Sun of justice, but as man to man, as lamb to lamb. He eats together with him, is fed with him, sits with him, enters together, reclines with him who had already fallen into sin, so that, while reclining with him, he who had already fallen might be raised up together. And when He had entered, He was not baptized according to the custom of the Pharisees. He did this for two reasons: that He might give the sheep an occasion to address the Pastor, and that He might overturn the Jewish doctrine and establish the spiritual one. For, He says, the Pharisee saw it, and wondered why He had not first been baptized; not praising the Master, but ignorant of what had taken place: not praising, but judging. And it was possible to see, most beloved, the Creator of all living things being judged by the creature, and the potter corrected by the clay. This happened to the Pharisee because he did not behold with the eyes of his heart Him who was inwardly the prince of the angelic orders. For if he had seen Him, he would have prostrated himself at His knees, and washed His feet with tears, and said: *Be merciful to me a sinner* (Luke 18:13). For thus he would have addressed Him: C You have made all things, when they were not, that they might be: by Your word the heavens were confirmed, and by Your spirit all their powers. You gather together as in a bottle the waters of the sea, laying up the depths in storehouses (Ps. 32:6-7): before You the whole world of the earth trembles and flees. But since he had neither thought nor said any of these things, he was judging the Lord. But when the Lord had provided an occasion, as with the Samaritan woman, from the fact that He asked water from her, He gave her a handle to ask for heavenly water from Him (John 4:9). And so the Lord begins to convert the sheep little by little, and to lead him by the hand from error to the truth itself. For now you Pharisees! you cleanse what is on the outside of the cup and the platter; but what is within is full of rapine (Luke 11:39) and wickedness: that is, you indeed now adorn the body, but you deform your souls. In what way, then, will it please the eye, even if it be golden, when it contains a deadly potion within? Are not harlots such as these, who paint their faces with flowery colors, but destroy their souls? For do they not, while they redden their faces with rouge, fashion with their own fingers an image of the flame that is to receive them? When it would behoove them rather to sprinkle their hearts with the blood of Jesus, or rather to tinge them with a rosy color, and to whiten their hearts with the Spirit: so that the flowery species of the soul, shining as if a rose mixed with lilies, might appear. But now they inflame their faces, so that they might kindle the minds of the young to madness. Now you, Pharisees, cleanse what is on the outside of the cup and the platter; but what is within you is full of rapine and iniquity: as if He said: Why do you wash the body indeed with water, but do not cleanse your offenses through the Spirit? For I would dare to say, most beloved, that it will profit a man nothing, even if he cleanses his body, unless he has the Spirit as a helper and almsgiving as a companion. For just as a cup, even if it be cleaned inside and out, if it contains no potion, cannot satisfy the longing of one who is thirsty; in the same way, the platter: so also a man, even if he has been cleaned inside and out, will not please the Lord, unless he has fed his fellow-servant. For this reason the Lord adds, and says: *But yet that which remaineth*, He says, *give alms; and behold, all things are clean unto you* (Luke 11:41). That which remaineth, He says: for He is not so much pleased by the gifts of the opulent, and by the sincere and in no way feigned offering of the simple. Do not lament, you poor man, because you do not have gold, or so many ships laden with silver: cast into the treasury that which you have, even two mites justify. Remember that widow, who was justified beyond the opulent. For God truly knows not how to weigh money, but He tests the conscience. Almsgiving wipes away the stains of souls, and stores up the rewards of good things: almsgiving is the vital provision of the soul, almsgiving whitens souls, almsgiving is the soul's confidence, a renowned warfare. Cast out gold, and receive the Lord: give silver, and receive that which is holy: scatter copper, and together with these the rust of sin will depart: irrigate the furnace, and give garments, that you may receive healings in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory and power for ages of ages. Amen.
Admonition regarding the following homily
That this is not Chrysostom's, all those who are not strangers to the writings of the holy doctor admit. He himself, however, ascribes it to Severianus, who attributes so many things liberally to the Bishop of Gabala. But this writer, whoever he is, is not so full of obstacles as Severianus, even if of the rest it is not of great value.On Lazarus and the Rich Man, Sixth Homily
A The greatest gymnasium of the Church, the workshop of the wealthy, the refuge of the needy. Come therefore, most beloved, since we have descended into the arena of doctrine, let us water the documents of the preceding Gospel with the dew of the Word. We have read the lives of the rich man and the poor man—of the rich man, a life consumed by luxury; of the poor man, a life wasted by poverty. There was a certain man, a rich man, and he was clothed in purple and fine linen, taking his fill every day in luxury. But there was a certain poor man named Lazarus, who was...A cast at the gate of the rich man, full of sores, and desiring to be fed with the crumbs which fell from the rich man’s table; and no one gave to him, but the dogs also came and licked his sores.
It is necessary, therefore, to recount, beloved, the details, so that, like sailors who have learned from the experience of those who have sailed before us, we might avoid the sunken rocks of shipwreck; that the rich might discipline themselves from the punishment of the aforementioned rich man, and that the poor might look upon their own hopes already shining forth in Lazarus and run their race of affliction with eagerness.
“There was a certain man, a rich man.” “A certain man.” He is not honored with the dignity of a name, as was the righteous Job. “There was a certain man in the land of Uz, whose name was Job.” But this man’s name is passed over in silence; for he who is barren is deprived even of his name (for the names of the righteous are in the book of life, but those of the sinners shall be blotted out), having only the name common to nature, “man”; for this name is common to all. But though his name was common, he possessed a distinct cruelty of wickedness.
“There was a certain man, a rich man.” A kinsman of the poor Lazarus according to the nature of their bodies, but a stranger to the inheritance in Christ because of the depravity of his choice. “There was a certain man.” A man in form, but in his mindset a man-eating beast.
“There was a certain man, a rich man.” Rich in possessions, rich in crime, rich in copper, rich in the rust of sin; shining with silver, but darkened by sins; rich in gold, but poor in Christ; having much clothing, but having a naked soul; keeping expensive clothing, and breeding many moths.
“There was a certain man, a rich man.” Abounding in wealth, yet having no flower of justice; an autumnal tree, fruitless, dead twice over.
“There was a certain man, a rich man, and he was clothed in purple and fine linen.” He had purple for his garment, yet he was cast out from the kingdom of God; he had purple, not dyed with the blood of Christ, but stained with the blood of a sea shell, not promised to him for the kingdom of heaven, but shining forth to him as the fearful flame of Gehenna.
“There was a certain man, a rich man, and he was clothed in fine linen and purple, taking his fill every day in luxury.” Taking his fill, not as the righteous in the Lord (for the joy of the righteous is the remembrance of God, as David bears witness to me, saying: “I remembered God, and was comforted”), but he was taking his fill in drunkenness, in debauchery, in carousing, in disorder, in no way differing from swine wallowing in the mire.
“But there was a certain poor man named Lazarus.” He mentioned the poor man’s name, honoring the poor man through the naming of his name. “But there was a certain poor man named Lazarus, who was cast at his gate, being tossed severely by the storm of poverty, but not long after, escorted by angels into the peaceful bosom of Abraham.”
“But there was a certain poor man named Lazarus, who was cast at the gate of the rich man, full of sores.” To how many evils was the poor man subjected! He was battered by most heavy poverty as if by a violent hail; he was eaten away by festering blisters as by sparks of coals; from every side torrents of affliction lashed against him, dissolving his body, crushing his heart; no relief or calm was found for him. “Outside were fightings, inside were fears.” For outside, his body was subdued by blisters, and inside, his heart was eaten away by unrelenting cares.
No grain-bearing land offered him its bread-seed, no vine brought him a sweet-flowing cluster, no fruit-tree tilled for him its sweetest produce, nor was there any other earthly thing for the comfort of his poverty. For how could there be, for one who had not even a span of arable land, nor a foot of ground for a dwelling, but was cast out under the open sky upon the dung-heap? Dung was his covering both by night and by day, warming him in the winter in part, but in the summer burning him severely. He had his body marked with wounds, useless for farming, useless for travel and trade, and unsuited for other needs. From every side he had need, from every side he had constriction; sighs grew upon his heart like thorns before tears; streams of tears were borne upon his cheeks, furrowing them by the continuous current of weeping; he practiced death in his sleep, he looked about for death after waking, and found it nowhere. For as a release from long labors and cares he sought after death, in no way differing from the much-enduring Job. For even that man, having lost his money, his herds, his possessions, and finally being naked in body and covered with worms, was cast upon a dung-heap and desired death. For what did he say? “Why is light given to those in bitterness, and life to souls in pain? Who long for death, and do not attain it, digging for it as a treasure; and they become exceedingly glad if they should find it; for death is rest to a man.”
But he also desired, he says, to be satisfied with the crumbs falling from the rich man’s table, and no one gave to him. O strange life! The one man was drunk, being irrigated in the heavily-laden stream of luxury, while the poor man, having no drop of abundance, was withered by the scorching heat of poverty. For why did the stream of life not become well-tempered for them in their fellowship with one another? Why? So that the poor man might receive the bright crowns of endurance, and the rich man might chew the sour grapes of his bestialized soul with his own teeth.
But also the dogs, he says, came and licked his sores. The dogs were more noble than the rich man, kinder than his inhumanity. While he never allowed a drop of oil to refresh the poor man, the dogs, softening the sharpness of their teeth with kindness, treated him with a gentle tongue, as if wiping away all the filth and all the ichor of his wounds; and by the smoothness of their tongues they tamed the savage sores, and quietly stole away the pains of his wounds. But the rich man never once bestowed a kindly look upon the poor man, nor even a word, however barren, he did not throw a rag to him, not a remainder of food, not a single coin already worn, not bread, not a fragment of bread corrupted by mold, but he threw everything into his own belly, as if into an inn, through the funnel of his throat.
D 2. But what followed? As are the wages of each, such are the recompenses. And it happened, he says, that the poor man died, and was carried by the angels into the bosom of Abraham. With difficulty, at last, the poor man, being freed from his stormy poverty, sailed into the peaceful harbor of Abraham. “For it happened,” he says, “that Lazarus died, and was carried by the angels into the bosom of Abraham.” Do you see how poverty, after the departure from here, has angels as its escort?
And it happened also that the rich man died and was buried. Immediately, at the mention of the rich man, the burial is set down, according to what is said by David: “And their graves are their houses forever.” Therefore it is said to you: “O poor man, fear not when a man becomes rich, because in his dying he shall not take everything, nor shall his glory descend with him.” For here he leaves everything behind: the servants, the shield-bearers, the attendants, the parasites, the flatterers, the carriages, the gold-bridled horses, the baths, the estates, the gold-ceilinged houses, the mosaic floors, the kingdom, the authority, the lordship—he leaves everything here, and departs naked.
“And being in Hades, lifting up his eyes.” Consider into what a depth the rich man was, and into what a height the poor man was. “And lifting up,” he says, “his eyes, the rich man saw Abraham and Lazarus in his bosom.” For why did Lazarus not see the rich man? Because he who is in the light does not see him who is in the dark, but he who is in the dark sees him who is in the light. And he said: “Father Abraham, have mercy on me.” Now you say, “Have mercy,” when it is not a time for mercy. Have you not heard the one saying: “Judgment is merciless to him who has showed no mercy”? Now you repent, because there is no confession. Have you not heard of the…
David saying: “In Hades, however, who will confess to you?” Have mercy on me, and send Lazarus (Ps. VI, 6). Now you know Lazarus? Now you recognize him who used to lie in the dung, whom you once refused to honor even as much as the dogs? While you were spending your life in wealth, you closed your bowels to him; now I too close the bosom of refreshment in this time of punishment. Have you not heard God proclaimed through all your prophets, saying: “Keep mercy and judgment, and draw near to your God” (Osee XII, 6); because “I desire mercy rather than sacrifice” (Id. VI, 6); and, “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy” (Matth. V, 7); and again, “He who has mercy on the poor lends to God” (Prov. XIX, 17). Where you have sown, there strive to reap; where you have lent, there strive to collect. But you never at any time sowed the seed of alms, nor did you lend to God through mercy toward the poor, but you stored all your treasures for your own belly. Where you have your treasure, there have also your heart. A “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 grievously tormented in this flame.” He is punished in the tongue, by whose ministry he fed on food; he asked for a drop of water, because he had never imparted even a cup of cold water in the name of a hungry disciple. If, while you lived, you had taken Lazarus as a partner in your goods, you would now be a partaker of the kingdom with him: if you had shown understanding for the poor, you would now have been freed from evil judgment. “Blessed is he who understands concerning the needy and the poor: in the evil day the Lord will deliver him” (Ps. XL, 2). Smooth out that burning chaos with a copious distribution of money to the poor: sprinkle mercy now, and you have extinguished the furnace; feed the orphans, and you have slain the restless worms; stop the widow’s tears, and you have wiped away from your soul the grief of your sins. For this reason indeed these things were read to you, that you might not, by walking in the footsteps of the same unmerciful rich man, fall into the same punishment of Gehenna. B But you, poor man, do not be broken in mind, nor despond in spirit, while you are tossed by the storm of poverty. Behold that most glorious Lazarus; let your eyes be fixed there night and day so that, governing your life with the rudder of patience, you may be carried to that same harbor of rest, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.
MONITION
Although by the consent of all the learned this sermon is judged not to be Chrysostom’s, whether for the diversity of style or the use of certain words which are never used by Chrysostom, it is nevertheless of a somewhat better quality than those preceding. In it is cited a focus [a passage] from the Prayer of King Manasses, which always held a place among the apocrypha. Which note, even if there were no other things underlying it, would even alone be sufficient for us to remove it from the number of the authentic works. This homily also, like many others, a certain recent writer attributed to Severianus, bishop of the Gabalians.A SERMON ON THE PUBLICAN AND THE PHARISEE.
C People indeed behold the pleasantness of flowers from afar: but they truly recognize their beauty when, upon approaching near, they touch the flowers with their own hands. I would wish that you, beloved, consider the state of the Church to be such, since the readings of the divinely inspired Scriptures offer themselves to those who wish like certain amaranthine flowers. For it is permitted for anyone to see, in spiritual paradises and gardens, prophets leading choruses, apostles leading orders, martyrs acting as legates, angels helping, teachers fighting for religion, the grace of the Spirit overflowing, flocks endowed with reason sealed with the Dominical blood, and—what is greater than these things that have been mentioned—the summit of goods, the firmament of our hope, the head of delights, the consummation of joy: I mean the Gospels of Christ, in which the perfection of our life is stored. Come then, let us behold Christ the Lord pouring every pleasure upon his servants: in whom we see diseases put to flight, the sea terrified, winds calmed; death rebuked, hell despoiled, demons driven out and sent into exile, sinners converted to their Lord. For these are the gifts Christ proposed to be seen in the divine Gospels, in which he showed the just shining like the sun, the limbs of the languid strengthened, paralytics who were bearers of their own beds running, publicans ascending to the dignity of evangelists, leprosy shaken off like dust by his will alone, fever driven to flight by the word of the Lord, the dead receiving life without any exertion, graves releasing those whom they held to life, the height of the Pharisee humbled, the humility of the publican exalted. And indeed, having been satiated with such great goods, it will have been easy to have received the hospitality of crumbs. I, however, am of the opinion that you, with good grace, will again as usual also listen to this our discourse, you who have filled the storehouses of your souls with the abundance of the goods preached before. Since therefore you, by the benevolence of God, are content with a poor table, and I, following the pursuits of your charity, have subjected the neck of my soul to the yoke of teaching: come, let that which was read a little while ago be proposed to you by me; for I, a poor steward of the table, have arrived for all you affluent ones to prepare this feast of discourse. “Two men,” he says, “went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee, and the other a publican” (Luc. XVIII, 10). A Pharisee boastful of his justice, a Pharisee who had not yet harvested the ripe crop of good deeds, he who was richer in arrogance than in money, who with a vain puff blew away the fruit of his virtues, a possessor of pride, an accuser of the whole of nature, an inhuman calumniator, an unmerciful reproacher, a tempest and whirlwind of the publican’s prayer. And let no one think that I cast these things for the sake of insult; but, having heard the words of the Pharisee himself, let him recognize that the things said are true. “God,” he says, “I thank you, that I am not like the rest of men.” Are you then… DA the one who is more just than all? "I am not like the rest of men." What are you doing, Pharisee? Do not look upon the name of shared nature: for the human being was made a lover of men, provided that you, where you ought to share with him, do not utter such arrogant words. Say rather, as some men say, and not others, "of men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers." All are extortioners, except for one, Pharisee? All are unjust, and you alone are just? All are adulterers, and you alone are worthy of the praise of temperance? "I am not like the rest of men, adulterers": even this tax collector. But behold, the mind of the man begins to develop wings: now it is shaking its wings of the soul toward heaven. Why do you drag him down with the weight of your words, preventing him from flying toward the Philanthrope? Why do you trample upon the one who is prostrate? Why do you pile wood upon his fire? Why do you accuse the one who strikes his conscience without yielding? Or even just like this tax collector. For what, O man, did you see the tax collector doing? Robbing? Plundering the labors of others? Stealing the property of others? Reaping what he did not sow? Gathering where he did not scatter? Spreading his net for travelers? You have seen nothing of the sort, O Pharisee; but you see a pitiable form, worthy of pity and help. He lies upon his face, he torments his B chest as if it were a workshop of evils, he does not dare to lift his eyes to heaven; perhaps he is expecting an accusation even from the stars themselves, or rather he thinks that the multitude of his transgressions has been written in the firmament; from afar, as if judged, he stood away from the temple, and cried out as if he were already being condemned. Have you not read what is written, that "you should not provoke a man in his destitution" (Eccli. 4. 25)? For he is destitute, and thoughts have encircled him from every side like a multitude of accusers: his conscience used his right hand to scourge his chest; he acted as his own executioner. Does he not move you to tremble? Does he not stir you to sympathy, this man who is bowing his face downward? Does he not soften your inhumane opinion, by not daring to look up to heaven? For when he was collecting taxes, you ought to have shouted such words against him; for it was fitting for him then to be reproached not only by you, but by everyone. When, however, he condemned his own evils, when he beheld the wounds of his soul, he ran to the Physician who heals without a fee, when he remembered his transgressions and took refuge with the Master who does not remember wrongs, do you then attack him excessively, O Pharisee? C Or just like this tax collector. For are there not other tax collectors, who have not yet loved the sweet lament of repentance? If you have a great desire to accuse sinners, turn your tongue against those who are still caught in the nets of greed. Toward this man, however, your hostility is superfluous. For not only are you unable to harm the man, but you will only stir up the Master all the more, so that He might display His forgiveness more quickly.
2. "The tax collector," he says, "standing far off, was not even willing to lift up his eyes to heaven"; and he himself altogether uttered the voice of Manasseh: "I am not worthy to look up and see the height of heaven because of the multitude of my injustices." For at that time many evils were gathered in the soul of the tax collector: an insatiable desire for money, a lust for injustice that admitted no end, extortion that had no limit; a tax collector is a common evil for the nature of men, a lawful unjust man, a rapacious man beyond accusation, a fearless thief, a blameless robber, an unavoidable damage, a wolf of rational sheep, a beast in human form. With such evils the tax collector went up D into the temple. For when he had committed all these terrible things, and had made the weight of his transgressions heavy upon his soul, when at last he had bowed his neck, he sought to be lightened of the weight, and he did not know how he would shake off the burden; then he had a quick thought, he found a form of freedom; for he remembered the voice of the Master crying out to sinners: "Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest" (Matt. 11. 28). Remembering this voice, with the load of his evils he arrived at the temple of God; and having become weak, and no longer able to bear it, he immediately fell upon his face, and implored the Master, saying, "God, be merciful to me, a sinner." I am, he says, destitute of every benefit, I am shaken by the terrible things that have befallen me, my lawlessness has multiplied beyond the number of the sand of the sea, they have been multiplied beyond the hairs of my head. I see your judgment seat already being cried out against by the things I have committed; I have heard that before your thrones, Master, books will be opened, in which the sighs of the oppressed have surely been written. There is no kind of injustice that has avoided your impartial knowledge; the time for my defense has not arrived, no place is left for my flight. I do not dare to look up to heaven, I fear even the earth as having seen these deeds of mine. For inanimate things accuse the extreme sinner. Therefore, having run to you, the Master of all, I found this only for help, this supplication: "God, be merciful to me, a sinner." Great is the summit of my evils; but what is that compared to the sea of your goodness? For me to be saved is impossible among men, but with you, Master, all things are possible. For if you have come into the world for the sake of the righteous, I have run to your temple in vain, loathing the tax collector; but if you have also made an account of sinners, or rather have dwelt in creation for their sake, do not show me my priceless hopes in you to be in vain, but heal my broken heart, make me who am dead in transgressions live. A harlot touched you, and washed away the filth of her evils; you lent the hem of your garment to the believing woman, and you dried up rivers of blood; you approached the paralytic who was lying there, and you showed him to be a worker of his bed; you saw, as you were passing by, a blind man, and you restored the grace to his sight; for it was missing from his body, you corrected the vessel with clay; and you opened the sight to the light, showing the man the beauty of creation; you saw a woman weeping, and having scourged Hades before the time of the resurrection, you brought Lazarus out from there, as if having snatched the man from the mouth of the lion of death. Seeing a man piteously falling before you, and terribly sinking in the shipwreck of childlessness, you immediately anticipated him with your prayers, and called the maiden; and for the one who called, the maiden indeed rose, but death fled away. To you also the Canaanite woman cried out, seeing her own daughter being torn by a demon, and having cried out, "Have mercy," she did not fail of her hopes; for having accepted her faith, you drove the wolf away from the sheep, and you expelled the mad inhabitant; and having granted the maiden sobriety, you stilled the lament of her mother. You fed a multitude in the desert with small loaves. I also, hungering for righteousness, seek a small crumb of your philanthropy; as one of those mentioned, have mercy on me. I am stained in my soul, as the harlot was before repentance; I am abhorred by all, as the woman with the issue of blood was considered unclean before her healing; I am paralyzed in my soul, more than the paralytic of the body; I have had the eyes of my soul blinded, just like the man blind from birth in his body; I am dead in transgressions, having my soul locked within my body, just as the tomb held Lazarus; I suffer from almost all the terrible things of all. But you who have had mercy on all, have pity on me also as I fall before you. God, be merciful to me, a sinner. What then does the philanthropic Judge do, the ambitious umpire of those who run the race of repentance? He endured the Pharisee boasting, and the tax collector turning…
himself into his own accuser, and distributed to each according to their worth. For the publican, who had become his own accuser, He dismissed free from all condemnation; the Pharisee, however, who had brought his own good deeds into the midst, He judged poorer than the publican himself. To both, their manners and the state of their souls brought forth their result: to the one, poverty gave the occasion for wealth; to the other, wealth brought a slip into indigence. For what says the Lord? “Amen I say to you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other” (Luke 18:14). O, what a great evil is the disease of arrogance! The Pharisee went up with a magnificent head, crowned as if with flowers by his good deeds; the publican accompanied him, deprived of any defense; but since the latter had opportunely humbled himself, he was exalted; the former, however, when he had raised himself to an immoderate height, was reduced to shameful nakedness. A Was it not better to use restrained and humble words? Was it not better to hear the prophetic voice which says, “Be humbled in the sight of the Lord, and he will exalt you” (James 4:10)? Was it not more useful to restrain the tongue and guard the wealth which he had acquired with many labors? Those virtues which he had gathered over a long time, he dispersed in a brief moment by his voice. Had the Pharisee perhaps not heard what is written: “Every one that is proud in heart is an abomination before the Lord” (Prov. 16:5)? Had he not learned that excellent saying, “Let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth” (Matt. 6:3)? Indeed, perhaps he knew both, but the power of the desire for vain glory overcame him. Let us therefore acquire for ourselves the humility of the publican, and let us cast away the burden of our sins: but let us hold in hatred pride, through which the Pharisee lost the wealth of his virtues: “For God resisteth the proud, but to the humble he giveth grace” (James 4:6; 1 Pet. 5:5). To Him be glory and power for ever and ever. Amen.