On Virginity

OF GREGORY AMONG THE SAINTS ON VIRGINITY

^A The entire purpose of this discourse is to enkindle in those who encounter it a desire for the life of virtue. Since, as the divine Apostle has named them, there are many distractions ^B hanging over the common life of men, this discourse necessarily sets forth the way of virginity as a kind of gate and entrance to a more solemn manner of living. It shows that, while it is not easy for those who are entangled in the common life to give themselves over in leisure to the more divine life, it is, conversely, very prompt and easy for those who have stood apart from all the turmoil of life to apply themselves without distraction to the more serious studies of divine things. And since, in some way, advice by itself has not much power to persuade, nor does he who exhorts to useful and salutary things easily sway anyone by a simple speech unless he has first seriously and amply adorned that toward which he is zealous to urge the listener, ^C for this reason this discourse, which concludes and terminates in counsel, has started from the praises of virginity. Now, because the praise attributed to any matter becomes more illustrious through the apposition of contrary things, as if through a certain contention, it is not without cause that mention has been made by us of the troubles and difficulties by which human life is afflicted. Then a certain explanation, and a brief one at that, has been introduced concerning the life which is in accordance with philosophy, and it has been clearly concluded that no one who is entirely occupied in human affairs can attain to that manner of life. But when the bodily desire of those who have cast away the care of human things has been debilitated, and their appetite as it were languishes, it has been sought in order what that thing is which is truly to be desired by us. For the sake of this matter, we have received from Him who is the Maker of our nature the very power and nature of desire. This matter having been explained as clearly as possible, and not yet ^D

it seemed an inverted order to seek the method by which we might truly attain this good. True and solid virginity, therefore, since it is not tarnished by any stains of sin, is found to be most suitable for this very inquiry. Wherefore, whatever things have been set forth in this discourse, although they may seem to look to something else, are nevertheless all clearly directed to this praise of virginity. For this address traverses the individual precepts and institutes of this life, which have been diligently and accurately cultivated by those who are participants in this holy life, while avoiding an excessive abundance of words; and in general, being extended by common precepts of exhortation, it comprehends individual things in such a way that it neither omits any necessary matters nor wanders beyond measure. However, since it is established in custom and in human habit that all should devote themselves especially to those pursuits by which they have seen illustrious men become renowned, we have necessarily commemorated those who have flourished in the glory of celibacy. And because in narrating events, examples do not have as much weight for the perfection of virtue as the living voice certainly has, and especially examples which produce salutary effects: for this reason, justly and deservedly, in this nearly final part of the discourse, we commemorate the most religious bishop and our Father, as one who, most of all, is able to teach this very thing which we seek. Yet the mention of him was not made by name, but the discourse itself, by certain signs, indicated that he is the one whom we signify, so that it might not seem a useless counsel to those who subsequently engage in this sermon, if those who enter upon this way of life were commanded to betake themselves to youths. But rather, by looking only to this—namely, what sort of person a director of this life ought to be—they may choose for themselves as guides those whom the office and kindness of God have established to preside over the accounts of this honest life: for thus they will either find what they seek, or they will not be ignorant of what sort it ought to be.

Chapter I. Virginity is more excellent than all praise.

^C That august countenance, as it were, of virginity, which is held in value among all who judge sincerely of the good, and which falls to the lot only of those to whom the grace of God kindly provides aid for this excellent pursuit, has signal praise even from the name by which it is addressed: for "incorrupt," a term which in common usage is applied to virginity, signifies its integrity. And so, from that name which is of such equal weight, it is possible to understand the excellence of this gift: for although there are many things that are performed with virtue, only this one is adorned with the appellation of "incorrupt." But if this benefit from God, the Best and Greatest, is also to be proclaimed, the divine Apostle will suffice for its commendation, who, in a few ^D words, eclipses every amplification of praise, calling her holy and blameless who is adorned with this gift. For if the achievement of this august virginity is to become someone blameless and holy—and these names are properly and primarily taken for the glory of the incorrupt God—what greater praise can there be for virginity than that it be shown to make those a partaker of its chaste mysteries, as it were, gods, so that they may be, in some way, companions of the glory of the only truly holy and blameless God, through purity and integrity contracted with Him...

by purity and incorruptibility. ^A Whoever, however, extends into lengthy discourses of praise, as if they intended by this to add something to the wonder of virginity, they seem to me, in my judgment, to be ignorant of themselves, as they greatly contradict their own purpose; for by those means which they use to exalt it to greatness, they make the praise suspect through the very eulogies themselves. For whatever things in nature possess greatness carry their own wonder with them, and have no need of the advocacy of words; such as the sky, or the sun, or any other of the wonders of the world, whereas for more humble pursuits, speech, acting as a foundation, adds some impression of magnitude through the artifice of praise. Hence it often happens that the wonder produced by eulogies is suspected by people as being contrived. ^B But the only praise for virginity that is sufficient is to declare that virtue itself is more excellent than any praise, and to admire its purity by one’s life rather than by words. But he who, out of ambition, makes this the subject of a eulogy, is like one who thinks that a single drop of his own sweat would be a noteworthy addition to an infinite sea, if indeed he believes that it is possible for human speech to exalt such a grace. For he either is ignorant of his own power, or he does not understand what he is praising. Either he is unaware of his own strength, or he does not understand that which he praises.

CHAPTER II.

We have need of no small intelligence to be able to grasp the knowledge of this excellent grace, which is understood together with the incorruptible Father. It is an admirable and unusual thing that virginity should be found in the Father, who both has a Son and has begotten the Son without passion. And it is grasped together with the Only-Begotten God, who is the author of all purity and incorruptible virginity, having shone forth simultaneously in his chaste and incorruptible generation. Again, it is equally a wonder that the Son is understood in virginity. And it is likewise contemplated in the natural and incorruptible purity of the Holy Spirit. For when you name "pure" and "incorruptible," you signify virginity by another name. And it moves in fellowship with the entire supercelestial nature, because, as it is void of passions, it is present with the sublime powers, being neither separated from any of the divine things, ^D nor attached to any of the contrary things. For all things that are, both by nature and by choice, inclined toward virtue, are entirely adorned by the pure splendor of incorruptibility; and all those things that are turned toward the contrary order are such as they are, and are so named, by the fall from purity. What power of words, therefore, will be sufficient to be matched with such grace? Or how is it not necessary to fear, lest by the zeal of praise one might harm the greatness of the dignity, by creating in the listeners a view of it lower than what they had previously conceived? Consequently, it is well to leave eulogistic discourses regarding it alone, as it is impossible for speech to rise to the excesses of the subject; just as it is possible always to be mindful of the divine grace, and to...

have hold of that good which is proper and pre-eminent to the incorporeal nature. ^A Yet by the kindness of God, it was granted and bestowed even upon those who live this life as creatures of flesh and blood, so that virginity, stretching out a hand, as it were, and offering a participation in purity, might lift up again human nature—which had been cast down by passionate inclination—and guide it to look towards things above. For this reason, I believe, even the Fountain of incorruptibility, our Lord Jesus Christ Himself, entered into the world not by way of marriage, so that He might display through the manner of His incarnation this great mystery: that purity alone is capable of making manifest the presence and advent of God. And this, ^B in its full precision, cannot be accomplished by anyone unless he has entirely alienated himself from all carnal passions. For what happened in the inviolate body of the Virgin Mary, when the fullness of the Godhead shone forth in Christ through the Virgin, the same also comes to pass in every soul that lives in virginity according to reason. The Lord no longer makes His advent in the flesh—"for we no longer know Christ according to the flesh," as it says—but He comes spiritually and brings the Father with Him, as the Gospel somewhere says. Since, therefore, such is the power of virginity, that it remains in the heavens with the Father of spirits, and dances together with the supercelestial powers, and touches upon human salvation; ^C bringing down God Himself through its own power into communion with human life, and again raising man within itself toward the desire for heavenly things; and thus becoming a kind of bond of familiarity between men and God, ^D reconciling and bringing into harmony and agreement those things which are by nature so far removed from one another: what power of speech could be found that might equal the magnitude of so wondrous a thing? But because it is truly absurd to seem like things that are mute or lack sensation, and one of two things must be true—either that one has not recognized the goods of virginity, or that one has shown himself unmoved and unaffected toward the perception of these goods—we have determined to recount a few things regarding this entire matter, since it was necessary to obey in all things the command of him who gave us instructions. Let no one seek from us a more bombastic style of discourse; for such a thing is perhaps not possible even if we desired it, being unpracticed in such diction. But even if the power to boast in such a way were present, we would not have preferred it to what is of common benefit, that one should succeed in a few words. For I believe that a person who possesses reason ought not to seek those things by which he will be admired beyond others, but those by which he might bring benefit both to himself and to others.

CHAPTER III. Memorial of the difficulties and troubles which proceed from marriage; in which it is also demonstrated that he who wrote this address was not a celibate.

Would that it were possible for me to have gained something more from such an endeavor! With greater zeal would I have undertaken the labor of this treatise, if I were toiling in this work in the hope, as is written, of sharing in the fruits of the plowing and the threshing. But now, my knowledge of the blessings of virginity is in a way futile and fruitless for me, just as the harvest is for the ox who turns toward the threshing floor with his muzzle bound, or just as the water flowing from the crags is for one who is thirsty when it is impossible to reach it.

^A Blessed are they whose choice of the better way remains within their power, and who have not been walled off by having been anticipated by the common life. For we are separated, as if by some chasm, from the glory of virginity, to which it is no longer possible to return for one who has once set his footprint in the worldly life. For this reason, we are but spectators of another’s blessings, and witnesses to the blessedness of both states; and if we conceive of any noble thought concerning virginity, we suffer the same experience as the cooks and servants who season the rich food of the tables of the wealthy for others to enjoy, while they themselves partake of none of the things prepared. How blessed it would have been if it were not so, and if we had not realized the goodness of this state only as a matter of afterthought. As it is, they indeed are truly to be envied—those who perform deeds beyond every prayer and desire—for whom the power of enjoying these blessings is not closed off.

^B We, however, like those who, while observing their own poverty in the midst of a life of wealth, are pained all the more and vexed by their present state, so too, the more we recognize the wealth of virginity, the more we lament the other life, learning through the comparison of the better life just how impoverished our own is. I do not speak only of how much is laid up for those who have lived according to virtue, but also of all that belongs to the present life. For if one were to desire to examine precisely the difference of this life in relation to virginity, he would find such a difference as exists, one might almost say, between heavenly and earthly things; and it is possible to know the truth of this argument by examining the facts themselves.

^C Where, then, should one begin, in order to portray this heavy life worthily? Or how could one bring before the eyes the common evils of life, which all men know through experience, yet I know not how nature has contrived that they should escape the notice of those who know them—men being voluntarily ignorant of the state in which they live? Shall we begin from the most pleasing aspects? The sum total of what is sought in marriage is the attainment of a pleasant life together. And let these things be so, and let marriage be depicted as blessed in every respect: a noble lineage, a wealth of resources, a suitable age, the very flower of one's prime, great affection, and all that is to be surmised in one for the sake of the other—that sweet competitiveness of wishing to outdo one another in love, each ^D acting...

But how could he display before his eyes these common disadvantages of life, when everyone from experience knows them well enough? And I do not know how nature has brought it about that these things remain unknown to those who look upon them, while the very people in whom these things inhere are willfully ignorant of them. ^B But would you like to begin with the most delightful things? Therefore, the primary goal of all that men seek in marriage is to attain the most pleasant companionship and partnership in life. And if these things were indeed so—and indeed, if marriage were described as being in every respect most blessed: with nobility of birth, sufficient wealth, suitability of age for both, the flower of beauty, the highest affection, and that sweetest contention that can be imagined between two people, as each strives to surpass the other in love—if we were to add to these things glory, riches, power, splendor, and everything else that one might wish to add: nevertheless, I would have you observe a certain malady which gradually consumes a man, and which is necessarily present in those very things that are numbered among goods.

I pass over envy, which is accustomed to be stirred up against those who have attained the splendor of glory; nor do I mention how easily that which seems to be successful in life is exposed to the plots of men, and how, in every person who does not share equally in prosperity, there arises a natural hatred toward the one who has excelled. And for this reason, life is suspect to those who seem to be enjoying prosperity, offering more troubles than pleasures. I omit these things, as if envy against them were somehow to fade away. Yet it is not easy to find anyone in whom these two things have come together: to enjoy better circumstances than many, and to escape envy. But let us suppose, if you will, that human life is free and devoid of all these things. And let us see if it is possible for those who use this favorable course of events to have a tranquil and upright state of mind. What then, you will ask, would bring distress, if envy has not fastened upon such flourishing men? I would say this very thing: when their life overflows with every good, that in itself is the incitement of sorrow. ^C For as long as man is a mortal and perishable creature, and looks upon the tombs of those from whom he is sprung, he shares in a sorrow that is joined and inseparable from this life, even if he possesses but a little capacity for reflection. For the perpetual expectation of death—not recognized by any certain or definite signs, but, because of the uncertainty of events, always terrifying as if it were present—perpetually disturbs this sweetness of life, and through fear of what is expected, perverts all joys. For if it were possible for someone to learn the nature of things before the danger that he later experiences; or if anyone living in this life could, by some other conjecture, perceive these things, how great indeed would be the rush of those fleeing from marriage toward virginity! How great would be the caution and foresight of the soul to ensure that one would never become entangled in those inexplicable snares, whose difficult knots no one can accurately know unless he is held entangled in the nets themselves! For you would see, if it were permitted to do so without danger, a great confusion of things dissimilar to one another: laughter mixed with mourning, sadness confounded with joy, and always, for those who are born, death hanging over them because of the hopes they propose for themselves. ^D Add to these things glory and power and ^A all that you will. But look also at the sorrow that necessarily accompanies the goods enumerated, and which smolders beneath them. I do not mean the envy that attaches itself to those who are held in high esteem, nor the fact that what seems to be prosperity in life is readily exposed to the plots of men, and that everyone who does not have an equal share in the better life naturally harbors hatred toward the one who excels; and for this reason, life is under suspicion for those who seem to be enjoying good cheer, providing more things to grieve over than to enjoy. I pass over these things, as though envy were also inactive against them. And yet it is not easy to find one to whom both of these have occurred together: both to be blessed beyond the many, and to escape envy. But let us assume that their life is free of all such things, if you like. And let us see if it is possible for those who are passing through such prosperity to be of good cheer. What, then, will be the source of grief, you will ask, if not even the envy of the fortunate takes hold of them? I say that this very thing, the fact that their life is sweetened in every way, this is the fuel for sorrow. For as long as people exist, and look upon this mortal and fragile state, and upon the tombs of those from whom they are descended, they have grief inseparably joined to their life, even if they share but a little in the ability to reflect. For the constant expectation of death, not identified by any specific signs, but, because of the uncertainty of the future, always alarming as if it were present, confuses the joy that is always at hand, disturbing their cheer with the fear of things expected. For if it were possible to learn the state of those who have experienced these things before the experience itself, or if one could, by some other insight, have entered into life and surveyed these things—how great would be the flight of those who of their own accord retreat from marriage toward virginity! How great would be the caution and foresight used to ensure that one would never be seized by inescapable snares, the difficulty of which one cannot know with precision unless one has been caught inside the nets! For you would see, if it were indeed permitted to see without danger, a great confusion of opposites: laughter mingled with tears, and sorrow mixed with joys, death being everywhere present to those who are involved, through their expectations, and reaching out to touch each person in accordance with his pleasures. When a bridegroom looks upon the face he loves, immediately the fear of separation also comes in with it; even if he hears the sweetest voice, he contemplates the fact that he may one day not hear it; and when he is delighted by the sight of beauty, then most of all he trembles at the expectation of mourning; if he considers the things held precious by youth, and all that is pursued by the foolish...

λύπην. ^A Likewise, and individually, he examines all things which are placed in pleasure. When the bridegroom beholds a beautiful and lovely face, fear immediately invades him lest it be torn from him; when he hears the sweetest voice, it immediately comes into his mind that it will never again be heard by him; when he is delighted by a beautiful and noble appearance, he dreads the expectation of mourning. And finally, if he contemplates those things which adolescents hold in value and honor, and which the insane covet—for instance, an eye distinguished by the beauty of its lashes, an eyebrow curved with grace above the eye, cheeks flowing with elegance and charm, a lip suffused with a natural blush, or hair interwoven with gold, or the top of the head gleaming with various colors and gems—and, in short, all that splendor of beauty which remains for a time; then, if there is even a little reflection in him, he contemplates in his mind at the same time that all that beauty will one day utterly perish, reduced to deformed, ugly, and foul bones, having lost its former appearance, and bearing away no trace, no monument, no remains of this flower.

^B If, therefore, anyone were to ponder these things and others of this kind, would he live happily? Will he place faith and hope in the good things he possesses, as if they were to remain forever? Is it not clear from this that, as in the deceptions of dreams, he will be in perplexity and will hold his life in distrust, gazing upon visible things as if they were alien to him? You certainly understand, if you have any inspection of the things that exist, that none of the things visible in this life appear as they truly are, but according to deceptive fantasies they show us one thing instead of another, mocking him who gapes at them with expectations. And through the error of visible things, it hides itself, until it is suddenly exposed in the changes, being something other than human expectation, which is generated in the foolish through deception. What joy, then, will the pleasures of life appear to be worth to one who considers these things? When will one who thinks these things find truth, and rejoice in the good things that seem to be present to him? Is he not always troubled by the fear of change, and does he not possess an insensible enjoyment of present things?

I pass over signs, dreams, omens, and such trifles, all observed by foolish custom and suspected for the worse. ^C But the time of labor seizes the girl, and the matter is deemed not a birth of a child, but the arrival of death, and the death of the pregnant woman is expected through the delivery. And often this evil divination has not disappointed them; but before they have celebrated the birthday feast, before they have tasted any of the goods hoped for, they quickly turn their joy into lamentation. ^D Still boiling with desire, still flourishing with longings, not yet having gained the perception of the sweetest things in life, as if it were the fantasy of some dream, they are suddenly separated from all that they held in their hands. And what of the things that follow this? The bridal chamber is ravaged by kin as if by enemies; and in place of the bridal chamber, death is adorned through the tomb; there are useless calls over them, and vain clappings of hands; there are memories of the former life, curses against those who advised the marriage, complaints against friends who did not prevent it; parents are under great accusation, whether they happen to be alive or not; there is indignation against the 11

^A human life, a denunciation of all nature, many complaints and accusations against the divine dispensation itself, conflict with oneself, and war against those who give advice. There is no restraint in the most absurd matters, whether in words or actions. Often, those whom passion has overcome, and whose reason is more deeply swallowed up by grief, have brought their tragedy to a bitterer end, not being able to survive the misfortune of the one who was left behind.

But let us set this aside; let us postulate better things, that they have escaped the danger of the pangs of childbirth, and that a child has been born to them, the very image of the form of its parents. Do you see, in truth, how the discourse gratifies you from this argument in such a good situation? What then? Has the subject matter for grief diminished because of these things, or has it not rather increased? For ^B while they bear those former fears, they have assumed others as well on account of the child; for they fear that some bitter thing might happen in its upbringing, that some evil fortune might impend, or that some chance accident might bring upon it disease, or fever, or any danger. And these things are common to both; but who could recount the things proper to the wife? For to pass over those things which are ready at hand and known to all—the burden of pregnancy, the danger in childbirth, the labors of upbringing, and finally, a certain convulsion of her very heart through love for the child; but if she is a mother of many children, her mind is distracted into as many cares as they are in number, as if what happens to them were fixed firmly in her own ^C bowels. But who could encompass in speech these things which all observe? But since, according to the divine word, she is not the mistress of herself, but has her orientation toward the one who has mastered her through marriage—even if she is separated from him for a short time, as if severed from her head—she cannot bear the isolation, but interprets the brief separation of her husband as a meditation on life in widowhood, and as a kind of desertion. Immediately, fear creates for her a despair of better hopes. And for this reason, her eye is fixed upon the entrance and the door, full of agitation and terror; her hearing is curious about those who whisper; her heart is broken, lashed by fear, even before any report of news; the very sound of a noise before the doors, whether suspected or real, suddenly agitates her soul like some messenger of evil things. And as for what is outside, it is perhaps ^D fortunate and worthy of no fear; yet her fainting spells arrive ahead of the message, and her mind turns from pleasant things to the contrary. Such is the life of those who are thought to be happy, but it is not truly worthy; for it does not compare with the freedom of virginity. And yet the discourse, in running through these things, has left out many that are more grievous. For often she, while yet young in body, still shining in the splendor of a bride, and perhaps still blushing at the arrival of the bridegroom and looking at him from the corner of her eye with modesty, when it happens that her desires are more intense but are checked from being revealed by shame, is suddenly widowed, and miserable, and desolate, and takes on all the names that are to be fled; and she, who was just before brilliant and white-clad and admired by all, is suddenly darkened,

and, having been despoiled of her bridal array, the calamity that befalls her clothes her in a dark garment and gloomy habit, and having ^A torn apart the bride’s finery, it casts her into mourning and squalor. Then, instead of the light in the bridal chamber, there is murk and darkness, lamentations, wailing outcries, and hatred toward those who attempt to soothe the grief; there is abstinence from food, the wasting away of the body, the dejection of the soul, and a desire for death, which often has power even up to death itself. And if the calamity is somehow abated by time, another calamity arises, whether there be children or not. For if there are, they are altogether orphans and for this reason pitiable, and through them the suffering is renewed; but if there are none, the memory of the departed perishes root and branch, and the evil is beyond consolation. I pass over the other things that are peculiar to widowhood. For who could enumerate them all with accuracy? The enemies, the relatives; some trampling upon the calamity ^B and the others delighted by the desolation, looking with an envious eye at the failing house, and the servants who hold it in contempt, and everything else that is present in such misfortunes in abundance—to see these things, through which many, and for a second time, were forced by necessity to place themselves in the experience of similar evils, not bearing the bitterness of those who mocked them, as if taking vengeance on those who had caused them pain with their own miseries. And many, from the memory of what had befallen them, would endure anything at all rather than fall a second time into a likeness of these calamities.

But if you wish to learn the hardships of the common life, hear what those women say who have known life by experience, how they count blessed the life of those who have from ^C the beginning chosen the life of virginity, and have not learned what is better through calamity, because virginity is immune to all such evils. It does not mourn orphanhood, it does not bewail widowhood; it is always with the incorruptible bridegroom; it always rejoices in the fruits of piety; and it sees the house that is truly its own continuously flourishing with all good things, because the Master of the house is always present and dwells within it; for this one, death does not cause separation, but union with the desired One; for when she is dissolved, then she is with Christ, as the Apostle says.

But it is time, since the things that concern those who are prosperous have been examined in part, to consider ^D with our discourse the other ways of life, which are entangled with poverty, adversities, and other such human sufferings; such as impairments and diseases, and whatever else of this kind is allotted to human life. In all of these, he who lives for himself either escapes the experience or more easily bears the calamity, having his mind well-fortified around him, and not being distracted by cares for anything else. But he who is divided by a wife and children, he does not often have leisure

^A to lament his own evils, because the care for his most beloved holds his heart captive. Perhaps it is redundant to dwell on matters that are universally acknowledged; for if such labor and misery are conjoined with things that seem to be of the best, what might one conjecture regarding the contrary? Indeed, every description of the truth by my discourse is inferior, when attempting to bring the life of such men before the eyes of all. ^A Yet perhaps it is possible to demonstrate the many unpleasantnesses of this life from a few examples; since those to whom this manner of life falls, if they compare themselves with those who seem to be blessed, they derive pain and sadness from the very opposites. For to those who are of a joyful spirit, death—whether expected or even arriving—brings disturbance; but to those others, the delay of death is a calamity. Their life stands in opposition to itself, and as it were stands at the opposite end of a diameter; yet the weakness of soul in both meets at the same boundary. ^B Therefore, the store of evils that arise from marriage is manifold and varied; for children both born and unborn cause grief alike; and again, both when they are living and when they are dying. One man is prosperous in his children, yet does not have enough for their sustenance; another lacks a successor to his estate for which he labored much, and counts the misfortune of strangers among his own blessings; each of them wishes that to happen which he sees the other suffering from. The one has lost a beloved child; the other has a profligate son who survives him; and both are pitiable: the one lamenting the death of his child, the other the life of his. I pass over the sorts of passions and calamities, whether arising from true matters or from suspicions, that lead to quarrels and disputes. For who could diligently recount them all?

But if you wish to learn how human life is replete with such evils, do not repeat to me those ancient tales which provided themes for the poets of tragedies; for those are considered myths because of the incredibility of their absurdity, in which are found child-murders, ^C child-eatings, slaughters of men, matricides, fratricides, unlawful unions, and every sort of confusion of nature; all of which those who recount ancient tales begin from marriages and conclude their narratives with such calamities. But passing all those by, observe in the theater of this life the tragedies of which marriage becomes a minister to mankind. Come to the courts, read the laws concerning these things, and there you shall see the secrets of marriages. For just as when you listen to physicians discussing various diseases, you learn the misery of the human body by being taught what and how many evils it is capable of, so too when you encounter the laws and know the manifold illegalities of marriages, against which they define punishments, you accurately learn the things proper to marriage; for neither does a physician treat diseases that do not exist, nor does the law punish delinquencies that are not committed. ^D

CHAPTER IV: Whatever absurdities occur in this life have their beginning from marriage; and what the person who has truly renounced this life should be like.

^A But why should we briefly touch upon the absurdity of such a life, limiting the enumeration of disasters to adultery, discord, dissensions, and traps? For it seems to me that by a higher and more truthful reasoning, all the wickedness of life, which is seen in all affairs and activities, finds no foundation in human life unless one imposes upon oneself the necessity of such a life. And in this way, the truth of our argument will be revealed. Whoever perceives the deception of this life with the pure eye of the soul, and becomes loftier than the things pursued here, and, as the ^B Apostle says, regards everything as mere foul refuse, and in a way has removed himself from the entire custom of life by withdrawal from marriage, has no communion with human evils—I mean avarice and envy, anger and hatred, and the desire for empty glory, and all other things of that kind. Since he possesses the perfection of all such things, and is free and at peace in his life through all of them, there is nothing for which he would contend with his neighbors, or envy, since he touches none of those things whereby envy is grown in life; for having raised his own life above the whole world, and counting only virtue as his precious possession, he will lead a life free from pain, peaceful, and without conflict. ^C For the possession of virtue, even if all people participate in it, is always full for those who desire it, each according to his own capacity; it is not like the possession of things on earth, which, when divided into parts, as much as people add to one portion, they subtract from another, so that the excess of one is the deficiency of the one sharing in it. Whence also struggles arise over "more," because hatred is formed in people due to being diminished; but the acquisition of that former virtue is free from envy, and he who has grasped more brings no loss to one who is worthy to share in equal parts; but, to the extent that one is capable, he himself is filled with the good desire, and the wealth of virtues is not consumed by those who have preceded. ^D Therefore, if anyone looks toward this life, and is storing up for himself that virtue which no human definition limits, will he ever consent to incline his soul toward any of the lowly and trampled things? Shall he admire earthly wealth, or human power, or anything else of those things pursued out of folly? For if someone is still disposed humbly toward these things, he would be outside of such a company, and he would have nothing to do with our argument; but if he sets his mind on things above, and shares in rising toward God, he is altogether higher than such things, not having the common occasion of the wandering regarding these things, I mean marriage; for that difficult passion—pride, which is truly the seed of wanting to be above others—

^A

Chapter IV: Whatever absurd things occur in this life have their beginning in marriage. What kind of person, likewise, should he be who has withdrawn himself from the society of this life.

Whoever says that the root of every thorn of sin is to be found here will not be mistaken, for this [disposition] takes its beginning especially from the cause of marriage. For in most cases it is not possible for the covetous man not to blame his neighbors, or for one who is mad with a craving for glory and honors not to refer the cause of this evil to his lineage, so that he does not appear inferior to those who lived before him, and so that he might be considered great by those who come after, by leaving behind to his descendants some record of himself. In the same way, the remaining ailments of the soul—envy, grudge-bearing, hatred, and whatever else of this kind there may be—are attached to the same cause. For all these things dwell together within those who are distraught over the matters of this life.

He who has become free from these things, as if observing human passions from some high watchtower, pities the blindness of those who are enslaved to such vanity and who judge the success of the flesh to be something great. For when he sees any person distinguished in the affairs of life, abounding in honors, wealth, or power, he laughs at the folly of those puffed up by these things, and he calculates the longest duration of human life according to the limit stated by the Psalmist. Then, measuring this momentary interval against the infinite ages, he laments the softness of the one who lifts up his soul for such sordid, lowly, and transitory things. ^B For what is it that makes the honor sought by many here worthy of blessedness? Indeed, what more does honor add to those who are honored? For the mortal remains mortal, whether he is honored or not.

Or what of possessing many acres of land? To what good end does this lead those who have possessed such things, unless one is demented enough to think that those things which in no way belong to him are his own? For, because of an immoderate and inexhaustible greed, he is likely ignorant of the fact that "the earth is the Lord’s, and the fullness thereof" (Ps. XXIII, 1). For God is the King of all the earth; but the passion of greed falsely confers upon men the title of "lords" of the things they possess. For the earth, as the wise Ecclesiastes says (Eccl. I, 4), stands for eternity, serving all generations and successively nourishing others born from it. ^C But humans, not even being lords of themselves, but hanging upon the will and nod of the supreme Ruler—for they enter into this life when they do not know, and they depart from it again when they do not wish—in their great vanity, these beings who are born and perish from time to time think they have dominion over the earth, which remains forever.

He, therefore, who has contemplated these things, and through this despises whatever is accounted honorable among men, and who possesses a longing only for the divine life; he who knows that "all flesh is grass, and all the glory of man is as the flower of grass" (Isa. XL, 6), when will he consider the grass that exists today and will not exist tomorrow to be worthy of his earnest concern? ^D

^A they believe they rule over the earth, which is to abide forever. Therefore, he who keeps his mind fixed on these things, and for this reason deems as naught the things which the common herd of men hold in esteem and honor, and who is led solely by the love of the heavenly life—seeing that all flesh is as grass and all the glory of man as the flower of grass—will he ever think that grass is worthy of concern, which is today and tomorrow is not? For he who rightly contemplates divine things perceives not only that human affairs possess nothing firm or solid, but that since this entire universe is not to be in perpetuity, he neglects this life as something alien and fleeting; for, as the voice of the Lord has signified, heaven and earth shall pass away, and all things necessarily await a transformation of form. For this reason, as long as anyone is "in this tabernacle," as the Apostle says, bearing mortality before him and burdened by this life, he laments that this sojourning is prolonged for him, as the Psalmist has sung in divine canticles; for those who lead their lives in these tabernacles do truly live in darkness. On account of which the Prophet, grieving at the extension of his sojourning, says: "Woe is me, that my sojourning is prolonged!" ^B And he attributed the cause of this gloom to darkness. For we have learned that darkness is called *Cedar* in the Hebrew tongue; for truly, just as though they were held by some nightly lack of vision, so do men grow dim-sighted regarding the knowledge of deception, not knowing that all things which are considered precious in this life, or all those which are deemed to be their opposites, subsist only in the opinion of the senseless, but in themselves they are absolutely nothing; there is no ignobility, no illustrious lineage, no glory, no splendor, no records of ancestors, no pride in present circumstances, nothing in dominating others, nothing in being held under the command of others; wealth and luxuries, poverty and want, and all the inequalities of life, seem to the uneducated—when they make pleasure the criterion of such things—to differ greatly. ^C But to one of lofty mind, all these things appear of equal value, and one is not to be preferred before another, since the course of life is equally accomplished through things contrary to one another, and the capacity for living well or ill exists equally in either condition of life; through the "right hand" weapons and the "left," says the Apostle, through glory and dishonor; through which he who has purified his mind and examined the truth of existing things will rightly conduct his journey, passing through the time appointed to him from birth until his departure; but, according to the custom of travelers, pressing forward, he takes little account of the things that appear before him. For it is customary for those who are traveling to press forward equally to the end of the road, whether they pass through meadows and fertile fields, or through more desolate and rugged places, and neither does the pleasantness delay them, nor does the unpleasantness hinder them. Thus he, too, will hasten ^D irrevocably toward the goal set before him, turning toward nothing that lies along the path, but looking only toward heaven, he shall cross the

^A life, like some good pilot steering the vessel toward the goal above. But he who is dull of mind, looking downward, and having his soul bowed toward the pleasures of the body—just as cattle are toward their fodder—living only for the belly and the things that follow the belly, alienated from the life of God and a stranger to the covenants of the promise, thinking that there is no other good than to find pleasure through the body—this man (and everyone like him) is he who walks in darkness, as the Scripture says, and is the inventor of the evils in this life. For in these things are avarice, intemperance of the passions, immoderateness toward pleasures, all manner of ambition, the desire for empty glory, and the rest of the host of passions that dwell with men. For indeed, one evil holds onto another in a way, and to whichever one the first is attracted, the rest follow of necessity, as if drawn by some physical force. For example, in a chain, when the beginning is pulled, it is not possible for the remaining links to remain at rest, but the link at the other end of the chain is moved along with the first, according to the succession, as the movement proceeds from the first through the adjacent ones. Thus human passions are intertwined and grown together, and through one that has gained the upper hand, the rest of the train of evils enters the soul. And if I must map out this wicked chain for you, suppose someone who has been overcome by the passion for empty glory by way of some pleasure; but to empty glory, the desire for more has also followed. For it is not possible to be greedy without that passion leading the way. Then the desire to hoard and to surpass—which stirs up anger toward one’s equal, or pride toward a subordinate, or envy toward a superior—it follows that hypocrisy arises from envy, bitterness from that, and misanthropy from this; the end of all these things is condemnation, ending in ^B Gehenna, and darkness, and fire. Do you see the dragnet of evils, how all things proceed from one passion for pleasure? Since, therefore, the sequence of such passions has once entered into life, we see one way of escape from them according to the counsel of the inspired Scriptures, which is to separate oneself from such a life, which has the pursuit of grievous things bound up within itself. For it is not possible for one who has taken up residence in Sodom to escape the rain of fire, nor for one who has departed from Sodom, but then turned back toward its destruction, not to solidify into a pillar of salt; nay, neither will he escape the servitude of the Egyptians, who has not abandoned Egypt,

that is, this submersed life, and crossed not that Red Sea, but this black ^A and dark sea of life. But if—as the Lord says—the truth does not set us free, we remain in the evil of servitude; how then can he who seeks falsehood, or who is occupied in the errors of this life, exist in the truth? And in what way shall one escape servitude who has given his own life up to the requirements of nature?

The argument concerning these things might become clearer to us through some example. Just as a winter torrent, roughened by a current and carried along according to its own nature, takes up timber and stones and everything that chances to be in the channel, bringing calamity and danger to those who dwell nearby, but flowing fruitlessly for those who keep themselves safely at a distance; so, too, ^B he who has moved into the turbulence of life alone endures it, and he alone receives into himself those passions which nature, as it flows according to its own course, necessarily brings upon those who walk within it, flooding them through the evils of life. But if one should leave this torrent, as Scripture says, and the water that is not stable, he will be entirely outside, according to the sequence of the song, of the hunting of the teeth of life, escaping the snare like a sparrow on the wing of virtue.

For since, according to the example put before us regarding the torrent, the human life, flooding with all kinds of disturbances and unevenness, is always being carried along, pouring forth according to the downward slope of nature, and none of the things therein are steadfast, nor do they await the satiety of those who desire them—but all things that befall reach us even as they approach, and as they touch they pass by, and what is always present escapes our perception in the vehemence of its passage, being snatched away by the influx that follows—for this reason it would be profitable to keep ourselves far from such a current, so that, by not being encompassed by the unstable, we might not neglect those things which are always standing firm. For how is it possible for one who is attached to any of the things in this life to possess to the end what is desired? What among the things most eagerly sought remains forever? What peak of youth? What good fortune of power or beauty? What wealth? What glory? What dominion? Do not all such things, having flourished for a short time, fall away again and pass over to the opposite name? Who has persisted in youth throughout? To whom has strength lasted to the end? And has not nature made the flower of beauty even more short-lived ^C than those things that appear in the spring? For the things of the season, once it arrives, have sprouted, and after flowering for a short time, have lived again; and again they have fallen, and again they have flourished, and have displayed their beauty anew even into youth. But the human flower, once nature has displayed it in the spring of youth, it then extinguishes, causing it to disappear in the winter of old age; likewise also all other things, having deceived the perception of the flesh for a season, then pass by and are covered over by oblivion. Since, therefore, such transformations are according to some ^D...

as if in the first spring, it plainly demonstrated, and then in the winter of old age extinguished; and in the same way all other things, which for a certain time deceived the sense of the flesh, after they have completed their course, are at once hidden in oblivion. Since, therefore, such mutations, which occur by a certain necessity of nature, afflict with pain him who is entangled in affection, there is certainly one way of declining these evils: that one should not join oneself to any things that excite the soul, but, so far as possible, should withdraw oneself from all the habit of life that leads to a vicious discipline and is addicted to the flesh, or rather remove oneself from that convenience and conjunction of nature by which everyone is held bound to his own body, so that life, which is from the flesh, may not be liable to the calamities of the flesh. But this is to live for the soul alone, so that one may, as much as in him lies, imitate the institution of those powers that are devoid of a body: for they neither marry, nor are given in marriage; but this is the task, study, and perfect duty set before them, that they should contemplate the Father of incorruptible integrity, and, so far as they can attain by imitation, by gazing upon the exemplar of His beauty, adorn their own form.

Chapter V. The integrity of the soul, and its freedom from all passions, should take precedence over bodily cleanliness.

^B

That the impassibility of the soul ought to precede purity in the body.

We have said that virginity is given to man as a helper to this mind and this high desire, as it is accustomed to be called in the divine Scriptures: for just as certain arts of other studies have been devised for the perfect discipline of those who are held by the study of them, so the study of virginity seems to me to be a certain art and power of a more divine life, which teaches how those who are held bound by these chains of the body may be made similar to the nature of those things which are without a body. For the whole study and institution of this life is such that the height of the soul should not be depressed by the impulse of pleasures, nor should we, who ought to contemplate heavenly things and behold divine things with the mind, fall, having lapsed into the affections of the body. For in what way can our mind—which is enslaved to this inferior pleasure of the flesh, and is entirely given over to the appetite of human affections—be able to gaze with a vacant and free sense upon that kindred light which is discerned by the mind itself, when it directs its sight toward these lowly and muddy things through some depraved and unlearned anticipation? For just as the eyes of swine, by nature turned toward the ground, have no view of the wonderful heavenly things, so the soul, lost in the luxury of the body, since it is inclined toward lowly things and those that belong to the beasts, will no longer be able to discern the heavens, nor the convenience and beauty of other things. Wherefore, in order that our soul may look back—quiet and most free—toward that divine and blessed pleasure, it will not turn itself at all to any fleeting and earthly things, nor will it become a participant of those pleasures which are prepared for the indulgence of common life, but rather will transfer all the force of its love from bodily things to the contemplation of that beauty; which is both devoid of a body, and is discerned by the mind: and to this disposition of the soul, indeed, ^{C D}

tion, but rather it is the aim of bodily virginity that, since it has brought the greatest forgetfulness of those affections which seem to be granted by nature, it should induce no necessity of being unoccupied by the sordid debts of the flesh. For when it has once been liberated from these debts, there is no longer any danger that through the habituation of things which seem to be allowed by a certain law of nature, it should avert and flee from that true and immortal pleasure which the heart alone, when the integrity of the mind that rules us is kept pure, is accustomed to grasp. ^A

CAPUT VI. Elias and John were diligent in their care for these things.

For this reason, the great one among the prophets, Elias, seems to me to be such, as does he who arrived in life after him in the spirit and power of Elias, than whom no greater has arisen among those born of women. ^B If the history regarding them reveals anything else through an enigma, it teaches this most of all in its own doctrine of life: that he who has devoted himself to the contemplation of things that are invisible to the senses must become alienated from the routine of human life, so that he may not, by becoming accustomed to such deceptions as occur through the senses, suffer some confusion and error in his discernment of what is truly good. Both of them, indeed, immediately from their youth, alienated themselves from human life and, as it were, set themselves outside of nature through their contempt for the usual and customary food for eating and drinking, and through their way of life in the desert, so that their hearing might be kept from din, their sight from wandering, and their taste might remain simple and unencumbered, with their need being satisfied by whatever happened to be at hand for each of them. ^C From this they established themselves in great serenity and calm, free from external disturbances, and for this reason they were raised to such a magnitude of divine gifts as this discourse commemorates regarding each of them. For Elias, having become, as it were, a steward of God’s gifts, had the authority to close the needs of heaven to sinners and to open them to those who repented. But the divine history says nothing of John having performed such a miracle; yet it is testified by Him who sees hidden things that a greater gift was granted to him than to all other prophets. Perhaps this happened to these two because they placed their desire in God pure and devoid of all material affection, not being intent upon the love of children, nor the cares of a spouse, nor any other human things; they did not deem even the care of their daily and necessary food to pertain to them, ^D and, having cast away the luxury of clothing, they easily obtained the necessary things from what was offered: for one was clothed in goat skins, the other in camel's hair. I do not believe, indeed, that they would have arrived at that magnitude if marriage had softened them with the pleasures of the body. Furthermore, these things were not recorded without cause, but, as the Apostle says, for our instruction, so that we may direct our own lives toward theirs. What then do we learn from these things? To direct the mind of one who desires to be joined to God toward the imitation of these holy men, so that it may not be occupied with any of the things of this life

written for doctrine, namely that we might also direct our own life according to their way of living. What, therefore, do we learn from these documents? This, indeed: that with the example of holy men set before us, he who strives to be joined with God should not set his soul upon those things which pertain to this life; for it is impossible that he whose soul is distracted by the cares of many things should apply himself fully to the contemplation of God and to desire for Him. ^B

CHAPTER VII

It truly seems to me that what is commanded regarding these matters can be more clearly illustrated by an example. Let us suppose water flowing from a certain fountain is divided and dissipated into various flows and rivulets, as happens. So long as it is carried in this way, it will be suitable for none of those things that are advantageous for agriculture; since the dissipation of that water into many parts renders that which is in each part slight, and it is barely moved on account of its thinness. But if someone should gather all its scattered rivulets, and collect into one channel that which was hitherto dissipated everywhere, he would use the water—now derived into one place—with greater abundance for many of the conveniences of life, and indeed for those that are necessary. Thus, the human mind, if it is poured out everywhere—and especially where it is swept away by the allurements of the senses—is perpetually flowing away and being dissipated, and seems to me to have no great power for that course which pertains to the true good. But if it should gather itself from all sides and retreat into itself, and if it should be propelled wholly toward that function of its natural office which is proper to it, nothing will be an impediment to its being carried toward higher things and reaching the truth of those things which really are. For just as a great volume of water, covered and enclosed by aqueducts, is often, when that force breaks forth, carried on high since it has nowhere to disperse—and this, even though its natural motion is to be carried downward—so the human mind, as if in a certain narrow aqueduct of water, when it is compressed on all sides by restraint itself and has nowhere to break forth, will, by that very agitation, be excited in a certain way toward a desire for heavenly things. For the soul, which is moved by perpetual agitation, can neither stand still, having received such a nature of motion from Him who created it, nor, if it is hindered from using that motion for vain things, is there any doubt that, when it is driven away from absurd things on all sides, it will strive straight toward the truth. For we see that travelers on many paths, for the most part, do not wander from the straight way when, having been previously instructed by the error of the other paths, they are altogether careful not to wander; just as he who, while journeying, has drawn himself away from uncertain and transverse paths, will preserve himself more successfully on the straight way. ^C Thus, our soul, turned away from vain things, will clearly recognize the truth in those things which are. And so the commemoration of those great prophets seems to instruct us to this point: that we should not be entangled in those things which are sought after in this life, in the number of which things are marriages, which are rather the seed and beginning of vain pursuits. ^D

CHAPTER VIII. That marriage is not among things condemned.

Let no one, on account of these things, think that we are disparaging the dispensation of marriage; for we are not ignorant that this also has not been estranged from God’s blessing. But since the common nature of men is a sufficient advocate for this, ^A spontaneously implanting an inclination toward such things in all who proceed to procreation by way of marriage—for virginity somehow opposes nature—it would be superfluous to laboriously write instructions and exhortations regarding marriage, since pleasure itself demonstrates that it takes on the most spirited defense of it, unless perhaps there were need for such discourses on account of those who corrupt the dogmas of the Church. These are the ones whom the Apostle calls cauterized in their own conscience; ^B and he calls them so rightly, because, having abandoned the guidance of the Holy Spirit, through the teaching of demons they engrave certain scars and brandings on their hearts, detesting the things created by God as if they were pollutions and leading to evil and [as] causes of evil, speaking of them in such a way. But why, the Apostle says, should I judge those outside? For those truly are outside the court of the word of the mysteries, not dwelling in the shelter of God, but in the den of the Evil One; those captivated by his will, according to the voice of the Apostle, and for this reason failing to understand ^C that since every virtue is viewed as a mean, the turning toward what lies on either side is vice. For everyone who, in all things, holds to the mean of that which is too little and that which is too much, has distinguished vice from virtue. This question will be clearer if it is demonstrated by the things themselves. Cowardice and rashness are thought to be two vices positioned opposite one another; the former, because it deserts the measure of confidence, and the latter, because it exceeds it, contain the mean which is discerned in courage. Again, he who practices piety is neither godless nor superstitious; for in both there exists an equal measure of impiety: the one because he denies God, and the other because he ^D opines that there are many gods. Do you wish to know this same thing from other examples? He who refuses to be miserly or prodigal, having removed the contrary affections from himself, has rightly practiced liberality in his conduct; for liberality shines forth in him, so that one does not rashly and recklessly expend money on immoderate and useless expenses, nor is he stingy and remiss in necessary matters. And thus in everything else, so that we may not pursue each point individually, reason has defined that the mean of things mutually opposing one another is situated in virtue; and so temperance also is a mean, and it has clear turnings to vice on either side. For he who is deserted by the firmness of his mind and is easily overcome by the affection of pleasure, and for that reason

^A defines marriage as detestable, brands himself with the reproaches of marriage. For if the tree is evil, as the Gospel says somewhere, the fruit is also entirely worthy of the tree. If, then, man is the growth and fruit of the plant of marriage, the reproaches cast upon marriage fall entirely upon the one who utters them. But those people are convicted by such things, having their conscience branded and scarred by the absurdity of their opinion. ^B We, however, regarding marriage, judge that divine study and care must take precedence over this duty of marriage, yet we do not despise it where one can use it temperately and moderately. Such was the patriarch Isaac, who did not marry in the prime of his youth, for fear that marriage would become a work of passion, but, when his youth was already spent, received the cohabitation of Rebecca for the sake of the blessing of God upon his seed; and having devoted himself to marriage only until the birth of one child, he was again entirely occupied with things invisible, having closed the doors of his bodily senses. For this is what the history seems to signify to me, when it recounts the heaviness of the patriarch's eyes. But let these things be as they may seem to those skilled in discerning such matters. ^C But let us proceed to the continuous part of our argument. What, then, is being said? That if it is allowable, one should neither depart from the higher desire nor flee from marriage. There is no argument that nullifies the economy of nature, and slanders as detestable that which is honorable. For just as in the example of the water and the spring that we proposed, when a farmer leads water through conduits into a certain region, and in the middle of the course there happens to be a need for a small outflow, he will allow only as much water to overflow as is considered commensurate with the requested need, and is prepared to let it mix again with the rest of the stream; but if, without reserving any of the water, he incautiously opens a passage for it, there will be a danger that the whole force of the water, leaving its straight course, will occupy everything crosswise with swamps. ^D By the same reasoning, since there is a need in life for mutual succession, if one uses this marriage that has been contracted in such a way that spiritual matters are given precedence, and uses a slight and relaxed desire for such things because of the brevity of the time, this man is a temperate farmer, according to the precept of the Apostle, who cultivates himself by the precepts of wisdom, and is not always base and abjectly occupied in rendering those cold debts, but separates the purity of his soul for the freedom of prayer, fearing lest through such an inclination he become entirely flesh and blood, in which the Spirit of God does not abide. But he who is weakly disposed, so that he cannot stand manfully against the impulse of nature, would be better off holding himself far from such things than entering into a struggle greater than his strength. For there is a danger

nature to sustain, it is better handled if one keeps far away from these things, rather than to descend into a struggle for which one is not equal. For the danger is not light, that a man, deceived by the use of pleasures as if by bait, might think there is no other good than that which is perceived by the senses with a certain sweetness of the flesh, and, having entirely turned his mind away from the desire for incorporeal goods, might become wholly fleshly, pursuing the pleasure in these things at all times, being a lover of pleasure rather than a lover of God. Therefore, since on account of the weakness of nature it is not for everyone to attain the symmetry in such matters, and it is dangerous for one who has been carried beyond the limit to be stuck, according to the Psalmist, in the mud of the deep; it would be beneficial, as the discourse counsels, to have no experience of such things, so that through the excuse of what is permitted, the passions might not find an entrance against the soul. ^B

CHAPTER IX. In omni re non facile commutari potest consuetudo.

For habit is unconquerable in everything, possessing great power to draw and attract the soul to itself, and to provide a certain appearance of good, in which one might acquire a disposition and affection through frequent practice. And there is nothing so much to be avoided by nature, as that, once it has become a habit, it should not also be thought worthy of zeal and desirable. The proof of this statement is human life, in which, among so many nations, the same things are not pursued by all, but different things are noble and honorable among different peoples, for the habit of each creates zeal and desire for some things. ^C And it is possible to see such variation not only among nations, as the same practices are admired by some and condemned by others, but even within the same nation, the same city, and the same family, in which one can see much difference resulting in each person from habit. Thus, brothers born from one womb have gone forth into life and have been separated from one another in their ways of life and practices; and this is not even to be wondered at, since even every individual person does not, for the most part, have the same judgment about the same thing, but as he has been disposed toward each thing by habit. And that we may not speak of things far removed from the matter, we have known many, especially lovers of temperance, who appeared as such from their earliest age, but who cast as a beginning of an impure life what seemed to be a lawful and permitted participation in pleasures. For since once they accepted such an experience, in accordance with the example given to us of the stream, they turned all their desire toward these things, and diverted their impulse from the more divine toward the humble and material, they opened up in themselves great room for the passions, so that the upward movement ceased entirely and the desire dried up, having been completely diverted toward the passions. Therefore, we believe it to be beneficial for those who are weaker ^D regarding virginity

^A to flee to it as to a most secure fortress, and not, by descending to the customs of this life, to provoke temptations against themselves, nor, on account of these carnal affections, to become involved in those things that are most opposed to the reason of our mind, nor to risk danger—not concerning the boundaries of estates, or the loss of money, or any other things sought after in this life, but concerning the hope that shines before us. For he who turns his mind toward the things of this world, and takes up the care of the present life, and occupies his heart with pleasing men, cannot fulfill that first and greatest commandment of the Lord, which instructs us that we should love God with all our heart and all our strength. For how shall anyone love God with all his heart and strength, when he divides his heart between God and the world, and, in a manner of speaking, steals the love owed to Him alone, and spends it on human passions? For the unmarried ^B man cares for the things of the Lord, but the married man cares for the things of the world. But if the struggle against pleasures seems laborious and difficult, let everyone be confident; for custom is not of small account in this matter, as it is able, through persistence, even in those things which seem most difficult, to generate a certain pleasure—and a pleasure most noble and most pure, for the love of which he who is endowed with a mind should be held, rather than being alienated from things that are truly great, which exceed the whole mind, by a certain dejection of soul which is observed in lowly things.

Capitulum X. What is truly to be sought after.

For if one were to fall from the possession of the truly good, what language could explain the magnitude of the loss? With what excess of mind could one treat it? And how could one demonstrate and bring into description that which is ineffable in speech and incomprehensible to the intellect? For if ^C someone has so purified the eye of his heart that he is able to see in some way that which was promised to us by the Lord in the beatitudes, he will condemn every human voice as having no power for the explanation of the thing understood; but if someone is still entangled in material passions, so that the discerning power of his soul is clouded over by the passion-filled disposition, as if by some rheum, every power of speech is vain and utterly fruitless to him. For with those who are in a state of insensibility, it is the same whether one diminishes or magnifies the wonders by words; just as with the rays of the sun, the explanation of the light by words is vain and of no use to one who has not seen the light from his very birth, since he cannot perceive the rays of light with his ears. Thus, too, with the true and intelligible light, there is need for everyone’s own eyes, ^D so that he may behold that beauty which he who sees it, by some divine gift and inspiration, holds in the ineffable depth of his conscience

ἔχει ^A nor will one who has not seen it know the loss of the things of which he has been deprived. For how could anyone set before him the good that has escaped him? Or how could one bring before the eyes that which is ineffable? We have not learned words of our own that are significant of that beauty; there exists among existing things no image of what is sought; and it is truly impossible to demonstrate it by way of comparison. For who compares the sun with a small spark, or sets a tiny drop against the infinity of the abysses? For the relation that a mere drop has to the abysses, or a small spark to the great ray of the sun, such is the state of all things that are admired by men as beautiful when compared with that beauty which is observed in the First Good and that which is beyond all good. What then is the mental faculty that will demonstrate the magnitude of the loss to him who has ^B suffered this loss? The great David seems to me to have rightly indicated this difficulty: for he, being at some time lifted up in his mind by the power of the Spirit, and as it were standing outside himself, and when he was in that blessed elation of mind, he saw that ineffable and inconceivable beauty (and he saw it as far as it is possible for a man to see, having become outside the wrappings of the flesh, and having entered through mind alone into the contemplation of the incorporeal and intelligible), since he desired to say something worthy of that which was seen, he cried out that word which all sing, that "All men are liars." And this is, according to my reasoning, that every man who entrusts the interpretation of the ineffable light to speech is, in truth, a liar; not because he hates the truth, but because he is weak regarding the representation of that which is understood. For the beauty that is perceived by the senses, as much as it revolves here below in our life, whether in inanimate matter or in animate bodies, appearing through some complexion, our power of sense is sufficient both to admire and to approve, and to make known to another, through the writing of words—as if in some image being inscribed by speech—the beauty of such a thing. But regarding the beauty whose archetype escapes comprehension, how could speech bring it before the eyes, finding no device for description, having no color to name, no form, no magnitude, no grace of shape, nor any such trifle at all? For that which is ^C entirely invisible and shapeless, and alien to all magnitude, and standing far removed from everything that is considered in relation to body and sense, how could one make it known through things that are grasped by sense alone? Yet, one must not for this reason despair of this desire, because it appears higher than comprehension; but by as much as the argument has shown the object of our search to be great, by so much more must the mind be exalted and rise up together with the magnitude of the object of our search, so as not to be completely outside the participation in the Good; for there is no small danger, lest by the too exalted and ineffable nature [of the Good], we slip away completely from the very conception of it, by attaching our understanding of it to nothing familiar. One must, therefore, [reconcile] the weakness...

is that which is sought, the more must it be lifted up in soul and mind; and by the very magnitude of the object, we ought to be more and more excited, lest we become altogether alienated from association with that Good itself. For there is no small danger that, since we have affirmed that the understanding of this can be grasped by the knowledge of no created thing, we might, on account of its great and inexplicable magnitude, lose all knowledge of it whatsoever. Therefore, because of this very infirmity, it behooves us to transfer the power of our mind, in some way, from things known by sense to that which does not fall under the eyes. And in this contemplation, we ought to occupy ourselves in this ^A way: by means of things familiar to the senses, to lead the intellect by the hand to the invisible. And our conception of this might be as follows:

CAPUT XI. How one ought to engage in the consideration of the truly honorable.

^B Just as those who look at things in a rather superficial manner, without the intellect, when they see a human being or any of the phenomena that may happen to appear, do not inquire into anything more than what is seen—for it suffices them, upon beholding the bulk of the body, to think that they have grasped the whole concept of a human being—but the man who is sharp-sighted in soul, and educated not to entrust the investigation of beings to the eyes alone, will not stop at the phenomena, nor count as non-existent that which is not seen; but he even peers into the nature of the soul and the qualities implanted in the body, and examines them both collectively and individually. For he separates each of them specifically by reason, and again contemplates their common concurrence and the certain conspirant harmony regarding the constitution of the underlying subject. So, too, in the search for the Beautiful, he who is imperfect in intellect, when he sees some object that is suffused with the appearance of some beauty, will think that the thing itself is beautiful by its own nature, insofar as it attracts his sense through pleasure, and he inquires into nothing more than that. But he who has the eye of his soul cleansed, and is capable of seeing such things, having left behind the matter that is the subject of the form of beauty, will use that which is seen as a kind of foundation, for the contemplation of that intelligible beauty by the participation in which other things are, and are called, beautiful. ^C It seems to me difficult, however—since for the most part men live with such thickness of mind—for those who divide by reason and separate the matter from the apprehended beauty, to be able themselves to know the nature of beauty as it is in itself. And if anyone should wish to accurately examine the cause of erroneous and base opinions, I do not believe he can find any other cause than that we have not accurately exercised our soul’s senses toward the discernment of the beautiful from the non-beautiful. On account of this, men, having turned away from the pursuit of the truly Good, have partly slipped into the love of the flesh, and partly turned their desires toward the inanimate matter of riches; others have defined the beautiful to be in honors, glories, and powers; there are some who have been swept away by arts and sciences; but those who are more servile than these make the throat and the belly the criteria of the good. And those who have turned away from material thoughts, and from those things that concern the phenomena, and have sought the simple, incorporeal, and formless nature of the beautiful, would not have been led astray in the choice of their desires, nor would they have been so much deceived by such deception as to not even see the fleeting nature ^D of the pleasure in these things.

^A This, then, is the way for us that leads to the finding of what is truly honorable: to treat all other things, as many as entice the desires of men and are thought to be good—and are for this reason deemed worthy of some zeal and acceptance—as low and fleeting, and to expend no part of our appetitive power upon any of them; nor, however, to keep it idle and motionless stored up within ourselves, but, having cleansed it from the pursuit of base things, to lead it up to that place where sensation does not reach. Thus, one would neither gaze with wonder at the beauty of the heavens, nor at the rays of the light-bearers, nor at any other of the visible goods, but through the beauty contemplated in all of these, one would be led by the hand toward the desire for that Beauty whose glory the heavens also recount, and the firmament, and the whole of creation declares His knowledge. For the soul, ascending in this way and leaving behind everything that is apprehended as being smaller than what is sought, might come into an intuition of that majesty which is exalted above the heavens. ^B But how could anyone satisfy his longing for the sublime while having his zeal occupied with base things? How could one soar toward heaven, not having been winged with the heavenly wing, and not having become high-minded and lifted up through a high manner of life? And who is so far outside the evangelical mysteries as not to know that the vehicle for the human soul’s journey to the heavens is for one to make oneself similar to the appearance of the dove that descended, whose wings the prophet David himself longed to have? For so it is the custom of Scripture to name the power of the Spirit in an enigma, either because this bird is devoid of gall, or because it is the enemy of foulness, as those who have observed such things say. ^C Whoever therefore has distanced himself from all bitterness and carnal foulness, and has risen above all things base and petty, or rather has become higher than the entire world through the aforementioned wing—that person will find the only object worthy of desire, and he himself will become beautiful, having drawn near to the Beautiful. And having made his dwelling therein, he will be established, bright and light-like, in the participation of the true light. For just as at night the frequent fires of the sky which some call shooting stars are said by those who have philosophized about these matters to be nothing else than air being carried up into the ethereal region by the force of certain spirits—for they say that this fiery tract, the spirit being inflamed in the ether, is etched into the heaven—so then, this earthly air, being pushed up by the force of the spirit, becomes light-like, being transformed by the purity of the ether. In this way, too, does the human mind, having left behind the murky...

and muddy life, once it has become pure through the power of the spirit and has become light-like and mixed with the true and lofty purity, shine through, so to speak, in that [purity], and is filled with rays, and becomes light, according to the promise of the Lord, who promised that the just would shine like the sun. We see this also happening on earth on a mirror, or water, or anything else capable of gleaming because of its smoothness. For when one of these things receives the sun’s ray, it also produces another ray from itself; which it would not have done if the clean and gleaming surface were made useless by some filth. Whether, therefore, we are raised on high, having left behind this earthly darkness, and there become light-like, having approached the true light of Christ; or whether that true light, which shines even in the darkness, descends to us, we too shall be light, as the Lord says somewhere to the disciples: unless the grace of our light is obscured by some filth of malice and impurity being brought closer to the heart. ^B Perhaps, then, the discourse has gradually led us through these examples to the idea of our transformation for the better; and it has been shown that it is impossible for the soul to be united with the immortal and incorruptible God in any other way, unless it also, as far as possible, becomes pure and incorrupt through the safeguard of integrity and chastity, so that by this likeness it may apprehend what is like itself, subjecting itself like some mirror to the purity of God, so that by partaking in and reflecting the beauty of the archetype, it may also be formed within itself. But if someone is such that he already knows how to abandon all human things—whether bodies, or money, or the pursuits of sciences and arts, or whatever is considered excellent in customs and laws (for it is regarding such things that the deception of the understanding of the beautiful lies, in those matters where sense perception becomes the judge)—such a person will be drawn by love and desire only toward that which does not have its goodness from elsewhere, nor is it ever potentially for something else; but is beautiful from itself and through itself, and is such a beauty in itself, and is not something that was once beautiful or will sometime not be, but always exists in the same way, above addition and increase, and incapable of any change or alteration. ^C Therefore, to one who has wiped clean all the powers of his soul from every kind of vice, I dare to say that that which is beautiful by nature alone, which is the cause of all that is beautiful and good, becomes manifest. For just as the eye, when it has wiped away the rheum, clearly perceives the things in the heavens, so too to the soul, through incorruptibility, comes the power of the understanding of that light, and true virginity, and the zeal concerning incorruptibility, reaches this goal: that through it one may be able to see God. For that which is primarily, and fundamentally, and solely beautiful ^D

and good and pure is the God of all, no one is so blind in mind as not to perceive it from himself. ^A But perhaps no one is ignorant of this; it is natural, however, to seek if it is possible to discover some method and way to lead us toward this. The divine Books are full of such instruction; and many of the saints, as a kind of lamp, set forth their own life to those who walk according to God. But it is possible for everyone to gather the suggestions from the divinely inspired Scripture for the proposed goal, in rich measure, from both Testaments; for it is possible to receive in abundance many things found in the prophets and the law, and many in the evangelical and apostolic traditions. And whatever we ourselves might surmise, following the divine voices, these things are.

CHAPTER XII.

That the passions were not innate to man from the beginning, nor by nature, but occur to him from his own choice.

This rational and intellectual animal, ^B man, having been made a work and imitation of the divine and unblemished nature—for so it is written concerning him in the Cosmogenesis, that "He made him in the image of God"—this animal, therefore, man, did not have the passible and frail nature within him by nature or by constitution at the first creation. For it was not possible for the principle of the image to be preserved if the thing depicted had a state contrary to its archetype. But later, the passion was introduced to him after the first formation; and it was introduced thus: Man was an image and likeness, as it has been said, of the power that rules over ^C all that exists. And for this reason, he had that likeness in the self-determining power of the One who has authority over all, enslaved to no necessity from without; but governed by his own judgment toward what seemed good, and choosing by his own authority what pleased him, he himself, having been led astray by deceit, drew upon himself this calamity by which the human condition is now held fast, himself becoming the inventor of evil, having not found it created by God; for God did not make death, but man became in a certain way the architect and creator of evil.

For just as the participation in solar light ^D lies open in common to all who have the power of seeing; yet it is possible for anyone, if he should wish, by closing his eyes, to be outside the perception of the light, not because the sun departs elsewhere and thus brings on that darkness, but because the man, by the closing of his eyelids, has partitioned the eye off from the rays—for while the power of sight cannot remain inactive when the eyes are closed, it is a necessary consequence that the operation of seeing becomes an operation of darkness—so man, voluntarily, through incontinence

^A of mind, brings upon himself the darkness which he refuses to see. Or as if someone, while building a house for himself, should refuse to provide any entrance for the light to those parts within, he will necessarily live in darkness, having voluntarily excluded the beams of the sun; so also the first man formed of the earth—or rather, he who generated evil in man—had by nature the good and the noble, which was set before him on every side, under his own control. But he, of his own volition, innovated things contrary to nature, having fashioned the experience of evil through the turning away of his own free choice from virtue. For evil, existing outside of free choice and considered in its own self-subsistence, is nothing in the nature of existing things. For every creature of God is good, and nothing is to be rejected, and all the things that God created were “very good.” But because, in the way already mentioned, the sequence of sinning entered into the life of mankind, and from a small starting point poured out into an infinite amount of evil within man, that godlike beauty of the soul, which had been expressed after the image of the Prototype, was—like iron—blackened by the rust of evil. ^B No longer, at that time, did it preserve the grace of the image that was its own by nature, but it was transformed into the deformity of sin. Hence that great and precious thing, man, as he was named by Scripture, having fallen from his own dignity—just as happens to those who have fallen into the mire through a slip and have obscured their appearance with mud, so that they are not recognized even by their acquaintances—so too he, having fallen into the mire of sin, lost the quality of being the image of the incorruptible God, and put on the corruptible and earthen image through sin. This image, the Word counsels us to put off—having washed it away as if with the pure water of a virtuous way of life—so that, the earthen covering having been removed, the beauty of the soul may again be made manifest. The putting off of that which is foreign is the return to that which is one's own and in accordance with nature; which is impossible to attain in any other way than by becoming again such as one was created in the beginning. For it is not our own work, nor is the likeness to the Divine an achievement of human power; but this is the gift of the great generosity of God, who bestowed the likeness to Himself upon our nature at the very moment of our first origin.

But the extent of human effort should be ^D only to cleanse away the filth that has subsequently attached itself to the soul from evil, and to illuminate the beauty that is hidden within. I believe the Lord teaches such a doctrine also in the Gospel, when He speaks to those who are able to hear the wisdom spoken in a mystery, saying: “The kingdom of God is within you” (Luke xvii, 21). For the saying indicates, I believe, that the divine good is not separated from our nature, nor is it removed far from those who choose to seek it; but it is in each of us, though unknown and hidden when it is stifled by the cares and pleasures of life, yet found again when, into that very

^A inner place, we turn our mind and soul. But if we must also confirm this argument by means of other things, I believe that the Lord instructs us in this same way by the search for the lost drachma: that there is no profit from the remaining virtues—which the discourse called "drachmae"—if that one is missing, leaving the soul widowed, even if all the others happen to be present. For this reason, He first commands that a lamp be lit, perhaps signifying reason, which illuminates things hidden and obscure; then, that one should search for the lost drachma in one's own house, that is, in oneself. By the drachma being sought, the image of the King is surely hinted at—an image that is not entirely lost, but hidden under refuse. And by "refuse," I think we should understand the filth of the flesh; once this is swept away and cleansed by the care of one’s life, that which is sought becomes manifest, at which the soul that has found it naturally rejoices and takes its neighbors into the communion of its joy. For all the powers that dwell within the soul—which He here calls "neighbors"—when that image of the great King, which the Creator originally impressed on our drachma, is revealed and shines forth within our hearts, will then be turned toward that divine joy and gladness, gazing intently upon the ineffable beauty of what has been found. "Rejoice with me," He says, "for I have found the drachma which I lost" (Luc. XV, 9). The neighbors—that is, the powers of the soul—rejoicing at the finding of the divine drachma (both the rational and the appetitive, as well as the disposition that arises within us according to grief and anger, and whatever other powers are observed to be within the soul) are reasonably also considered friends. It is expected that all of them rejoice in the Lord, when they all look toward what is good and beautiful, and act in all things for the glory of God, no longer being weapons of sin.

^B If, therefore, this is the concept of finding what is sought—the restoration of the divine image to its original state, which is now covered in the filth of the flesh—let us become what the first-formed man was at the beginning of his life. What, then, was he? He was naked of the covering of dead skins, yet he beheld the face of God with boldness; he did not yet judge what is good by taste and sight, but delighted only in the Lord, and used the helpmates meant for this purpose, as the divine Scripture indicates, for he did not know her until he had been exiled from paradise, and before she, having been deceived and having sinned, was condemned to the punishment of the pangs of childbirth (Gen. IV, 1). ^C Therefore, by the same sequence of events through which we were cast out of paradise, expelled along with our forefather, it is now possible for us, by returning the same way, to go back to our ancient blessedness. What, then, is that sequence? Pleasure, induced at that time by deceit, began the fall; then shame and fear followed upon the affection of pleasure, so that, no longer in

^A their sight, they dared to be in the presence of Him who created them, but hid themselves with leaves and shadows, and later covered themselves with dead skins. And thus they are sent as settlers into this sickly and laborious region, in which marriage was devised as a solace for dying. If, therefore, we intend to depart from here and be with Christ, it is fitting to begin once again from the last stage of our dissolution; just as those who have journeyed far from their own land, when they return to the country from which they set out, first leave behind that place where they arrived last. Since, therefore, marriage is the last stage of our separation from that life which was in Paradise, the discourse counsels those who are returning to Christ to leave this behind first, as if it were some final hostelry; ^B then, to be separated from the wretchedness of tilling the earth, in which man was placed after the sin; then, that we should remove the coverings of the flesh and strip away the skin tunics—that is, the disposition of the flesh—and renounce all the hidden things of shame, no longer hiding ourselves under the fig tree of this bitter life, but, having cast away the coverings of the leaves of this transient life, to be once again in the eyes of Him who created us; and to cast off the deception that was conceived through taste and sight, taking as our counselor no longer the venomous serpent, but the commandment of God alone. For this is it: to touch only what is good, and to reject the tasting of evil things; for from that point we received the beginning of the succession of evils, by not wishing to be ignorant of evil. For this reason it was strictly enjoined upon the first-formed pair not to receive the knowledge of opposites alongside the good, but to abstain from the knowledge of both good and evil, and to enjoy the good, pure and simple, and unmixed with any part of evil. ^C This, in my opinion, is nothing other than to be with God alone, and to have this pleasure unceasing and perpetual, and no longer to mix into this enjoyment things that draw one toward the opposite. And if it is permissible to speak with boldness, perhaps in this way one might be snatched from this world, which lies in the evil one, back again into Paradise, where Paul, having been caught up, heard and saw things ineffable and invisible, which it is not lawful for a man to utter.

CHAPTER XIII. Virginitatem exemptam esse mortis dominio.

And since Paradise is the dwelling place and home of the living, and does not receive those who through sin have been sentenced to death; and we are fleshly and mortal, sold under sin: how is it possible for one who is held by the power of death to be in the land of the living? What path and what plan could one find so that he might become free ^D from this power? But surely the teaching of the Gospel is entirely sufficient for this. Moreover, we have heard the Lord speaking to Nicodemus

^A accordance with the Word, it says: "That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit." We know that the flesh, because of sin, is subject to death, but the Spirit of God is incorrupt, life-giving, and immortal. Just as, then, by generation according to the flesh, the power which dissolves what is generated is necessarily brought forth with it, so also, clearly, the Spirit confers a life-giving power upon those who are born through Him. What, therefore, emerges from these things that have been said? That we, having departed from the life according to the flesh, to which death necessarily follows, should seek such a life as no longer draws the sequence of death along with it. This is the life in virginity. And that these things are true will be clearer with a few added words. For who does not know that the work of bodily union is the construction of mortal bodies, whereas from communion with the Spirit, life and incorruption are gained by those who are joined to it in place of children? And it is well for the Apostolic word to be applied to this, that "she shall be saved through the childbearing" of these children, the mother rejoicing, as the Psalmist celebrated in the divine hymns, saying: "Who makes the barren woman dwell in a house, a mother rejoicing over children." For she is a mother in truth, the virgin mother who bears immortal children through the Spirit, called "barren" by the Prophet on account of her self-restraint. Therefore, such a life is to be preferred by those who have understanding, since it is stronger than the dominion of death. For bodily procreation (and let no one take offense at the statement) is for men an occasion of death rather than of life; for from birth, corruption has its beginning, from which, having ceased through virginity, they have set within themselves a boundary to death, preventing it from proceeding further by their own agency; and having set for themselves a kind of borderline between death and life, they have checked it in its forward course. If, therefore, death cannot pass beyond virginity, but in it terminates and is dissolved, it is clearly demonstrated that virginity is stronger than death; and rightly is the body called incorrupt, which has neither ministered to the service of this corruptible life, nor consented to become an instrument of mortal succession. ^B For in this way, the continuity of the sequence of decaying and dying, which has existed from the first-formed man down to the life of the one living in virginity, was interrupted. For it was not possible for death to ever find rest while human generation was being effected through marriage; but running through all previous generations, and passing along with those who were constantly being brought into life, it found in virginity a boundary of its operation, which it is impossible to pass. For just as in the case of the Theotokos Mary, the death that had reigned from Adam until her, because it happened to reach her, stumbled against the fruit of virginity as if upon a stone, and was shattered about her; so in every soul that, ^C by means of virginity, ^D

^A this life of the flesh, the power of death is in a way abraded and dissolved, having nothing into which it may thrust its sting. For just as fire, if wood, straw, hay, or any other such material that is consumed by fire is not laid upon it, does not have the nature to persist of itself, so the power of death will not be able to act if marriage does not provide it with material, preparing those who are to die as if they were condemned criminals. But if you doubt this, I would have you consider the names of those calamities which are inflicted upon men by cause of death, as it was mentioned at the beginning of our discourse: what is their origin? Is it possible to lament widowhood, orphanage, or the loss of children, if marriage has not first taken place? For the much-sought-after pleasures, joys, and delights, and everything that is desired in marriage, conclude and terminate in such pains as these. For just as the hilt of a sword appears smooth ^B and easy to the touch, adorned on all sides, while the rest is iron—the instrument of death—dreadful to behold, but even more dreadful when put to the test: such a thing is marriage, which, like a hilt beautified by skillful workmanship, presents a certain polished appearance of pleasure to the taste and touch of our senses. But when it is in the hands of one who has grasped it, it has brought with it in close union the presence of painful things, becoming for mortals the creator of mourning and calamities. These have produced those pitiable and tear-filled spectacles; for we often see children left alone at an immature age and set as prey before those in power, who often laugh at their misfortune through ignorance of the evils of the world. What else is the origin and cause of widowhood if not marriage? Therefore, retreat from this state possesses, all at once, an exemption from all these evils, and with good reason. For when the penalty that was established at the beginning ^C against those who sinned is dissolved—then, as it is written, the sorrows of mothers are not multiplied, nor does grief precede the birth of man—suffering is utterly removed, and the tear is wiped away from their faces, as the Prophet says. For conception is no longer in iniquities, nor is gestation in sins; nor does the birth come of blood, nor of the will of man, nor of the will of the flesh, but of God. This comes to pass when someone conceives the incorruption of the Spirit in the vital part of the heart; and it brings forth wisdom and righteousness, and likewise sanctification and redemption. For it is permitted to everyone to be a mother of Him who is these things, as the Lord says somewhere: “Whoever does the will of my Father, he is my brother and sister and mother.” What place then has death ^D among these births? Thus, in them, death is swallowed up by life; and the life in virginity seems to be a kind of image of the blessedness of the age to come, bearing within itself many

of the goods laid up by hope. And one may recognize the truth of what has been said by examining the argument: first, because he who is dead to sin once for all, henceforth lives to God, no longer bringing forth fruit unto death; and having completed in himself the perfection of this life which is lived according to the flesh, as far as lies in his own power, he awaits henceforth the blessed hope and appearing of the great God, interposing no interval of time between himself and the coming of God through the generations that lie between. Then, because he enjoys in the present life those things which are the most excellent of the blessings of the resurrection. For if the life after the resurrection is promised by the Lord to the righteous as being like to that of the angels, and it is proper to the angelic nature to be free from marriage, then he who has already shone forth with the splendors of the saints, and who, by imitating the purity of those who are without bodies, has already received the blessings of the promise, has thereby partaken of them. If, therefore, virginity is the promoter ^B of these and such-like things, what speech will be able to admire this grace as it deserves? And what other of the blessings of the soul will appear so great and precious as to be equaled by comparison with this perfection?

Chapter XIV. True virginity is sought in all pursuits.

But if the excellence of this gift has been apprehended by us, it is fitting to consider also what follows: that this perfect duty of virginity is not simple, as one might perhaps think, nor does it stop short at the body, but it extends and passes through ^C in contemplation to all things which are accounted duties of the soul. For the soul that has been bonded to the true Bridegroom through virginity will not only distance itself from bodily defilements—but beginning its purity from there, it proceeds with equal security in all things, fearing lest, if the heart should incline more than is proper, it might admit some adulterous affection ^D through communion with some evil thing. For example (for I will repeat the argument): the soul that has been joined to the Lord so as to become one spirit with Him, having entered as it were into a covenant of life to love Him alone with all its heart and strength, will neither join itself to fornication, that it may not become one body with it, nor will it admit any other of the things that are contrary to salvation, as though there were a communion of defilements in all things; so that if it were to be defiled by any one thing, it could no longer have the stainlessness within itself. And it is possible to demonstrate the argument by examples. Just as the water in a pool is smooth and motionless for so long as no agitation from without descends to disturb the stability of the place; but if a stone falls into the pool, the whole is moved along with the part—for while it sinks to the bottom by its own weight, the waves around it are stirred up in circles in other places, and by the movement in the center they are thrust out towards the edges of the water.

is stirred, and the surface of the lake is roughened all around, ^A becoming disturbed with its depth; so too, the serenity and quiet of the soul, if some single passion happens to fall into it, is shaken altogether, and feels the harm done to the part. For those who have examined such things say that the virtues are not at all separated from one another, nor is it possible for anyone to grasp the definition of one virtue accurately without having also laid hold of the rest; but to whomever one of the virtues is present, the others necessarily follow. Therefore, conversely, any harm done to what is within us extends to the entire life lived according to virtue, and truly, as the Apostle says, the whole is affected with the parts; if one member suffers, the whole suffers with it, and if one is glorified, the whole rejoices with it. ^B

CAPUT XV. That in whatever degree one is removed from virtue, in that degree one is in danger.

But there are countless paths of sinning in our life, and the divine Scriptures indicate this multitude in various ways: "Many, they say, are they who persecute me and trouble me," and, "Many war against me from on high," and many other things of this kind. Perhaps, then, it is accurately permissible to say that many are they who plot adulterously, so as to defile this truly honorable marriage and the undefiled bed; and if one must also enumerate such things by name, anger is an adulterer, avarice is an adulterer, envy is an adulterer, the remembrance of injuries, enmity, jealousy, and in short, all things which are collected by the Apostle as being contrary to sound doctrine, are an enumeration of adulterers. Let us assume, then, that there is a woman outstanding in form and desirable, and that for this reason she has been joined in marriage to a king; and that plots are laid against her because of her beauty by certain profligate men. Now, as long as she has a hostile mind toward all those who attempt to offer her vice, and indicates the actual situation ^C to her true husband, she is a chaste woman, one who serves only the honor of her own husband, and for this reason the traps of profligate men have no place against her. But if she should consent to one of those who are plotting against her, her chastity, which she displays in other respects, does not at all free her from punishment. For it is enough for condemnation that the bed be defiled by the stain of even one. In the same way, the soul that lives for God will not delight itself in any things which, because of some error, present to it a form of the good that is not true; but if it has contracted a stain upon its heart from some affection of vice, it itself has rescinded the rights of its spiritual marriage; and, as is written in the divine Scriptures, "into a malicious soul wisdom will not enter." By the same reasoning, we can truly say that in a soul full of anger and envy, or one held ensnared by some sin of this kind, it is impossible that the good ^D Bridegroom should take up residence. For what reasoning will join what is by nature alien and incompatible? Hear the Apostle, who teaches that there is no fellowship of light with darkness, or of righteousness with iniquity, or to sum up—

dwells. For what ratio of counsel will reconcile that which, by nature, is alien to it and possesses no right of association? I would have you hear the Apostle, who teaches that there is nothing in common between light and darkness, nor between equity and justice and iniquity 29: and, to speak briefly and summarily, all things whatever by which the Lord is understood and named, according to the difference of those things which are discerned in Him, are to be understood as contrary to all those things which are rooted in vice. If, therefore, the association of things dissimilar is difficult, that soul which is snared by any vice is entirely removed from the company of virtue, and is not at all capable of virtue. What, then, do we learn from these things? This, indeed: that the chaste virgin, who follows reason as the guide of her life, must remove herself entirely from all the affections of the soul; and that she should preserve herself whole and pure for the Bridegroom who will adorn her, so that she may not contract any stain or wrinkle or anything of that kind. ^B

CHAPTER XVI

That he who fails in any part of the duty of virtue is poorly suited for the good.

There is one way, straight, narrow indeed and constricted, which does not admit of deviations to either side, and even to be in any way outside of it carries with it the risk of falling. If these things are so, we must correct the habit of the many, as far as it is possible, who fight strongly against the filthier pleasures, but who otherwise pursue pleasure in honors and desires for power—acting much like a servant who, desiring freedom, does not hasten to be free from slavery, but simply changes his masters, thinking that the changing of masters is freedom. For all are equally servants, even if they are not ruled by the same ones, so long as some power with authority holds sway over them. And there are again those who, by their great struggle against pleasures, have become in some way easily conquered by the opposing passion, and who, in their strained strictness of life, are easily captured and with difficulty escape from sorrows, irritations, grudges, and all the other things which have been set up against the passion for pleasure—and this happens when it is not reason according to virtue, but some passion, that leads the course of life. For the commandment of the Lord is very bright, so as to lighten the eyes even of infants, saying that it is good to cleave to God alone 30; and God is neither sorrow, nor pleasure, nor cowardice, nor rashness, nor fear, nor anger, nor any other such passion which rules the uneducated soul; but, as the Apostle says, He is wisdom itself and sanctification, truth and joy and peace, and all such things 31. How then is it possible for one who is held by the opposites to be joined to Him who is these things? Or how is it not absurd for one who is striving not to be brought under the power of any one of the passions to believe that the opposite is virtue? For instance, to be held by sorrow because one has fled from pleasure; or to humble the soul with cowardice while avoiding what is rash and headlong; or to have been terrified by fear while striving to remain unconsumed by anger. For what difference does it make whether one falls from virtue in this way or that, ^{C D}

or rather removes himself from God Himself, who is absolute and perfect virtue? ^A For in bodily sicknesses, no one would say it makes any difference whether the wasting of disease arises from too little food or from unrestrained gluttony, since the excess of either ends in the same result. Therefore, he who cares for the life and health of his soul will keep himself in a moderate equilibrium, remaining pure and devoid of either of the contraries that lie on either side of virtue. This is not my own teaching, but the word of the divine voice itself. For the doctrine of the Lord's teaching is clearly this, in which He instructs the disciples, who are roaming as sheep among wolves, not only to be doves, but also to have something of the serpent in their conduct. ^B This means that they should neither pursue too intensely what appears to men to be praise-worthy simplicity—since that state borders on the extreme of foolishness—nor, on the other hand, consider the cleverness and craftiness that many people praise as a pure and unmixed virtue, but rather create from these opposing traits one tempered state of character, cutting away foolishness on one side and malicious wisdom on the other, as if from both contraries one perfect good is constructed, which is fashioned from both simplicity of mind and shrewdness. "Be," He says, "wise as serpents, and simple as doves."

CHAPTER XVII.

Therefore, let what was said there by the Lord be a common precept for the whole of life, and especially for those who approach God through the pursuit of virginity: that while they look to one right duty, they should not only beware of the contrary things, but also gather the good to themselves from every side, so that by all means they may place their life in safety. For a soldier who has protected one part of his body with armor will not expose the rest of his body, naked of armor, to danger. For what gain is there for him from the armed part of the body, if he receives a lethal wound in the naked parts? Who would call someone beautiful from whom part of what contributes to good form has been cut away by some disaster? For the ugliness ^D and deformity of that severed part spoils the beauty of the whole. And if, as it is written in one place, he is ridiculous who has begun the construction of a tower and, having indeed placed all his zeal in the foundations, has not completed the final part of the building, what else do we learn from this parable than that those who have proposed some high object should strive to attain the end, perfecting the work of God with the various structures of the commandments? For neither is one stone the entire construction of a tower, nor does one commandment lead the perfection of the soul to the sought-for measure; but even the foundation,

^A must by all means be laid down, as the Apostle says, [and] the building of gold and precious stones be added. For thus the works of the commandments are named, according to the Prophet who said, "I have loved your commandments above gold and much precious stone." Let therefore the zeal for virginity be laid down as a kind of foundation for the life according to virtue, and let all the works of virtue be built upon this foundation. For even if this is believed to be most precious and godly—as indeed it is and is believed to be—yet if the whole life does not correspond to this achievement, and if it is further defiled by the disorder of the soul, this is that "ring in the snout of a swine," or the pearl trodden under the feet of swine. But enough on these matters.

CHAPTER XVIII.

If, however, anyone makes light of the need to harmonize his life with the appropriate standard, let him learn from observing his own household. ^C For it does not seem to me that the master of a house would allow in his own home to see unseemly and ugly things—such as a bed not made, or a table full of filth, or precious vessels cast into some dirty place, while things intended for meaner services are placed in the eyes of those entering. Rather, having arranged all things seemly and according to the proper order, and having assigned to each thing its suitable place, since he is sure of the order in which matters in his house are kept, he will then receive guests and strangers with a confident spirit, as one who will suffer no shame if it becomes manifest how things are in his house. In the same way, I think it behoves the master ^D and steward of our tabernacle—I mean the mind—to arrange everything in us well, and to make proper and noble use of each of the powers of the soul, which the Creator fashioned for us as tools and vessels. And if one does not condemn our account as mere chatter and loquacity, it shall be told, one by one, how a person might use the things present to him to organize his life for the best. We say, therefore, that desire should be kept established in a pure part of the soul, as if dedicated to God like an offering or the first fruits of one's own goods, and once consecrated, it should be kept untouched and pure, never being defiled by the filth of life. Anger, irascibility, and hatred, like certain gate-keeping dogs, should stay awake solely for the resistance of sin, and this nature should be used against the thief and enemy who creeps in for the destruction of the divine treasure and comes for this reason, that he may steal and kill and destroy; and one ought to carry courage and boldness like a weapon in the hand, so as never to be shaken by any fear that may come, or by the onsets of the wicked; and with hope and endurance as a staff,

^A if at any time one grows weary under trials, to find support. And the cultivation of sorrow at the time of repentance, should it ever happen, is to be held in readiness, as though it were not useful or salutary at any other time except for this sole purpose of such repentance. For justice shall be to him a rule of rectitude, guiding in every word and deed, so that he may be blameless, teaching how the things within the soul must be disposed, and how one might distribute to each thing according to its due merit. And the desire for more, which is great and immeasurable in the soul of every man, if he adds to it the impulse of longing for God, he will be blessed in his greed, exerting force there where it is praiseworthy to use force. He will also employ wisdom and prudence as counselors for what is beneficial, and as companions to his life, so that he may never at any time be led into error by ignorance or foolishness. But if one does not use the aforementioned powers according to their proper nature, but changes them contrary to what is right, applying his desire to the most base things, preparing hatred against those of his own kin, loving injustice, becoming bold against his parents, daring absurdities, and hoping for vain things—while driving wisdom and prudence away from his fellowship—he would instead take on gluttony and folly as his companions. If he acts in the same way in other matters, he is surely senseless and akin to a monster, in such a way that his absurdity cannot be described as it deserves. For just as if someone, armed in a confused manner, were to invert his helmet so as to cover his face, with the crest leaning toward the back, and have his feet in the breastplate, and adapt the greaves to his chest, and exchange the equipment of the left side for the right, and cast the equipment of the right side onto the left—what is likely to happen to such a soldier in battle, the same is likely to befall in life the man who is confused in his mind and perverts the use of the powers of the soul.

^C Therefore, we must apply a certain diligent ratio of suitableness and decorum in these things, which true temperance is wont to implant in our souls. And if the perfect and absolute definition of this virtue is to be considered, perhaps it is properly called a well-ordered state of all the soul's movements, joined with wisdom and prudence. And such a state of the soul will no longer require any labor or diligence for the communion of high and heavenly things, but with no effort at all, having rejected contrary things, it will naturally grasp what is sought and accomplish what seems difficult to attain; for he who is placed far outside darkness must necessarily be in the light, and he who is not dead must necessarily live. ^D And indeed, if one has not received his soul in vain, he will certainly be on the path of truth: since the prudence and knowledge which one uses, so as not to deviate from the path, is a diligent guide of the right journey. For just as servants, once freed from servitude, when they have ceased to serve those under whose power they were held, and when they become masters of themselves, turn their diligence towards themselves; so I think the soul also, when liberated

from the servile obedience of the body, dwells in the knowledge of that action which is proper and natural to it. For liberty, as we have learned from the Apostle, consists in not being bound by the yoke of slavery, nor, like a fugitive or a criminal, being fettered by the bond of marriage. ^A But my discourse returns again to the same starting point: that the perfection of liberty does not consist solely in this, that one should abstain from marriage (lest anyone think the duty of virginity is so small and cheap that he believes he is acting perfectly by merely following a minor precept of restraining the flesh). But since everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin, that propensity toward vice, in every matter and pursuit, subjects man to slavery in a certain way and brands him with the mark of vice, causing scars and burns upon him through the wounds of sin. ^B Thus, it is fitting for one who has embraced the great goal of virginity to be like himself in all things, and to manifest purity throughout his whole life.

If, however, it is necessary to support this argument through some divinely inspired Scripture, truth itself—which, through a parable and enigma in the Gospel, has given us this teaching—is sufficient in itself for the confirmation of the truth. For the fishing art separates the good and edible fish from the bad and poisonous ones, so that—lest any of the pestilential ones should creep into the vessel—the enjoyment of the good ones might not be made useless. This is also the task of true temperance: to select from all pursuits whatever is pure and useful, and in everything to reject what is unbecoming as useless, leaving it to the common and worldly life, which is metaphorically called a "sea" by this parable. ^C Since the Psalmist, also guiding us toward a doctrine of confession in one of his psalms, calls this unstable, passionate, and turbulent life—the waters touching the soul—as well as the depths of the sea and a storm, in which every apostate mind, in the likeness of the Egyptians, sinks like a stone into the abyss.

But as much as is pleasing to God and capable of perceiving the truth—which in history is named Israel—this alone crosses the sea as if the waters were dried, touching nowhere the bitterness and saltiness of worldly waves. Thus it was figuratively under the law as a guide; and Moses was the type of the law. And Israel crossed the sea dry-shod, while the Egyptian, crossing therewith, was submerged, each being led by his own accompanying disposition; the one passing through lightly, the other being dragged into the depths. For virtue is a light and upward-soaring thing. ^D For all who live according to it fly like clouds, according to Isaiah, and like doves with their young; but sin is heavy, as one of the prophets says, sitting upon a talent of lead. But if to anyone such an interpretation of history seems forced and poorly connected, and he does not accept that the miracle performed through the sea is recorded for our benefit.

as clouds fly, according to Isaiah, and as doves with their young; for sin is grave, and as one of the prophets says, it sits upon a talent of lead. But if this explanation of the history seems difficult to anyone, and as if dragged to that meaning by some force, and if he does not think that the miracle which happened in that crossing of the sea was recorded in writing for our benefit, let him call the Apostle into counsel here: for what happened to them both held the adumbration of our discipline and was written for our instruction. ^A

Chapter XIX. Mention of Mary, sister of Aaron, as one who initiated the pattern of this perfect office.

For us, however, to contemplate this very thing, the prophetess Mary gave the occasion, who, when the sea was dried up and passed through, being surrounded by a choir of women, led the song with the tuneful timbrel; for perhaps the Word seems to signify silently through the timbrel the virginity which was first cultivated by Mary, through whom I believe the Theotokos Mary also was prefigured. ^B For just as the timbrel, purged of all moisture of water and having become perfectly dry, emits a great sound, so too virginity becomes brilliant and celebrated, receiving into itself in this life none of the vital moisture. If, then, that timbrel was a dead body, which Mary handled, and virginity is the death of the body’s passions, perhaps it is not very far from the probable that the prophetess was a virgin. But we have thought it to be so by certain conjectures and surmises, not by a clear demonstration, that the prophetess Mary led the choir of virgins, even though many learned men have openly declared her to have been unmarried, since in no historical records is there any mention of her marriage or procreation of children. Otherwise, she would have been named not from her brother Aaron, but from her husband, if she had had one; since not the brother, but the husband is named the head of the wife. ^C But indeed, if the procreation of children was sought by some as a part of the blessing, and the grace of virginity was also lawful and honorable for them, how ought we, who do not understand the divine blessings according to the flesh, be affected toward it? For it was revealed through the divine oracles when it is salutary to conceive and bring forth, and what kind of many-offspring-ness was sought by the most holy men of God. For both the prophet Isaiah and the divine Apostle clearly and wisely signified these very things: the one indeed with these words: "For thy fear, O Lord, we have conceived in the womb, and have been in pain, and have brought forth"; the other, however, boasting of the most numerous offspring of all, so that he brought forth whole cities and nations; ^D not only leading the Corinthians and Galatians to the light through his own travails and forming them in the Lord, but from Jerusalem around, and even unto Illyricum, having filled the world with his own children, whom he begot for the Lord through the Gospel. In this way, the womb of the holy Virgin is also blessed in the Gospel, which served the immaculate birth: because neither did the birth dissolve the virginity, nor did the virginity become an impediment to such a conception. For where the spirit of salvation is begotten, as

Isaiah says, the desires of the flesh are altogether useless. There is also a certain statement of this kind in the Apostle, that we are each of us a twofold man; the one defined externally, to whom it is given by nature to be corrupted; the other, known by the hidden man of the heart, who admits of being renewed ^A. If, then, the saying is true (and it is altogether true because of the Truth which speaks within it), it is not absurd to conceive of a twofold marriage, one appropriate and suitable as it were to each of the men within us; and perhaps he who dares to say that bodily virginity becomes a helper and purveyor of that interior and spiritual marriage will not be far from the truth. ^B

Chapter XX. It is impossible for one to serve bodily pleasures and at the same time attain the temperance that is pleasing to God.

For just as it is not possible for one to serve two arts at the same time through the action of the hands—such as husbandry and sailing, or smithing and carpentry; but if he is to apply himself rightly to one, he must refrain from the other—so for us, since there are two marriages set before us, one accomplished through the flesh and the other through the spirit, the devotion given to the one necessarily causes the abandonment of the other. For neither is an eye sufficient to see two things at once, unless it rests the eye upon each separately and individually; nor will the tongue serve with different sounds, uttering Hebrew and Greek words at the same time; nor will the hearing pay attention to the narration of events and to didactic discourses simultaneously. For if the difference of the voice is heard separately, it signifies the meaning to those who hear; but if it is mixed and sounds in the ear simultaneously, an indistinct confusion will take hold of the mind, the things being signified being confounded with one another. ^C According to the same logic, our faculty of desire does not have the nature to serve bodily pleasures and at the same time pursue the spiritual marriage. For it is not possible to attain either of these ends through similar practices; for temperance, the mortification of the body, and the contempt of all things according to the flesh are the purveyors of the one, whereas all things contrary to these are of bodily intercourse. Therefore, just as when two masters are proposed as an option, since it is not possible to be subject to both at the same time (for no one can serve two masters), he who is well-advised will choose the more beneficial; ^D so for us, two marriages being proposed, since it is not possible to be in both (for the unmarried man cares for the things of the Lord, while he who is married cares for the things of the world), I say that those who are wise will not fail in the choice of what is profitable; but also that they will not be ignorant of the road that leads to this, which cannot be learned in any other way than by some analogy. For just as in bodily marriage, he who is eager not to become one who is rejected, and

who seeks the best habit of body, decorous adornment, abundance of wealth, and to avoid every reproach either from his life or his family, bestows great care upon this—for in this way he attains what he most desires—so he who desires to enter into a spiritual marriage will first show himself to be young and removed from all old age through the renewal of his mind. Then he will show himself to be wealthy and abundantly supplied with those things in which it is most blessed to abound, not being puffed up by these earthly riches, but adorned with heavenly treasures. ^B He will not claim to possess nobility of lineage from some chance fortune, which happens to many even of the worst of men, but that which is acquired through labor and zeal from his own upright deeds, which only those display who are children of light and children of God, and who are called noble from the rising of the sun because of their brilliant deeds. He will not procure strength and a good habit of body by exercising the body or fattening the flesh, but on the contrary, he will perfect the power of the spirit in the weakness of the body.

I know also that the dowry gifts of this marriage are not made from perishable money, but are bestowed from the soul's own riches. Do you wish to hear the names of these gifts? Listen to Paul, the excellent wedding instructor, concerning those who have become rich in all things, among which, after mentioning many other great things, he also adds, "And in purity." And again, whatever else is elsewhere enumerated among the fruits of the spirit, all these are gifts of this marriage. And if one is going to trust Solomon, acting to join true wisdom to himself as a companion and partner of life—of whom he says, "Love her, and she will preserve thee; honor her, that she may embrace thee"—he will be adorned with a pure robe worthy of this desire, to partake of the feast with those who rejoice in these nuptials, ^C so that he may not be cast out; for he who considers himself worthy to participate in the celebration of the feast, while not wearing the wedding garment, is surely rejected.

It is clear that the reasoning is common to both men and women alike regarding the pursuit of such marriages; for since, as the Apostle says, "There is neither male nor female; but all and in all is Christ," reasonably the lover of wisdom has the divine aim for his desire, which is true wisdom; and the soul that has attached itself to the incorruptible bridegroom is held by the love of true wisdom, which is God. What spiritual marriage is, and toward what end the pure and heavenly love looks, has been sufficiently demonstrated by us from the things we have mentioned.

CHAPTER XXI

That he who intends to live accurately must keep himself estranged from every kind of bodily pleasure.

that one himself first becomes such, it has appeared impossible; it would be necessary for him to separate himself from pleasures by some great and strong wall, so that in no way might the purity of his heart be defiled by this approach. ^A And the wall is the secure, complete alienation from everything that is done with passion. For pleasure, being one in kind, as it is possible to hear from the wise, is like some water flowing from a single source and being divided into various channels, and it is mixed in for those who love pleasure through each of the senses. Therefore, he who has been conquered by the pleasure arising in him through one of the senses has been wounded in his heart from that source, just as the voice of God teaches, that he who has satisfied the desire of the eyes has received the wound in his heart. ^B I think that the Lord, in speaking of a part, intended here to refer to every sense; so that we, following what has been said, might rightly add that he who has listened for the sake of lust, and he who has touched, and he who has dragged every power within us into the service of pleasure, has sinned in his heart. In order, therefore, that this may not happen, this rule must be used by the sober person for his own life: never to apply oneself in soul to anything in which some lure of pleasure is mixed; and before all else, to guard especially against the pleasure of taste, because this seems to be, in a way, closer and, as it were, the mother of the forbidden. For the pleasures connected with eating and drinking, when they exceed the measure of food, necessarily inflict upon the body a surfeit of undesired evils, such as usually beget such passions in men. ^C In order, therefore, that the body may remain for us as tranquil as possible, and not be clouded by any of the passions resulting from excess, we must be diligent in following a more restrained manner of life, defining the measure and limit of enjoyment not by pleasure, but by the necessity of each case. But if pleasure is often mixed with necessity (for need knows how to sweeten everything, turning everything that is found for necessity into something sweet by the intensity of the appetite), we must not reject necessity because of the pleasure that follows, nor must we primarily pursue the pleasure; but, choosing what is useful from everything, we must learn to overlook what delights the senses.

CHAPTER XXII. Continentiam exercere non debemus plus quam oportet.

^D We see also how farmers skillfully separate the chaff mixed with the wheat, so that each of them may be taken for its proper use—the one for the life of men, the other for both burning and for the feeding of irrational animals. Therefore, he who works at temperance, separating the necessity from the pleasure, just as the wheat from the chaff, will cast away the pleasure to the more irrational, whose end is for burning, as the Apostle says; but the necessity itself, according to what is needed, [he will...]

partake of. But since many have fallen into another kind of immoderation, through excessive rigor, they have unconsciously come to strive for things contrary to their own purpose, and in another way have estranged their soul from high and divine things, dragging it down to low cares and occupations by directing their mind toward bodily observations. So that for them the mind can no longer soar in freedom or look upward, but inclines toward the suffering and wasting flesh. It would, therefore, be well to take care of this also, and to guard equally against both forms of immoderation, so that they may neither wall off the mind as if by embankments through physical corpulence, nor, conversely, by bringing on infirmities, make it thin, ^B weak, and utterly useless for bodily work, remembering the wise man’s commandment, which forbids one to decline either to the right or to the left. I have heard a certain physician, while explaining the precepts of his art, say that our body is composed not of four elements of the same kind, but of elements affected differently toward one another; and that heat is mixed and tempered with cold, and that a certain tempering of the moist nature arises from the dry and arid, contrary to expectation, and that they cohere with their contraries by means of a certain affinity of intermediate things that are suitable. And with this kind of subtle art, he one who studies the investigation of nature demonstrates the principle, saying that each of these, being by nature at a distance from its opposite, is joined to its contraries by the affinity of the neighboring qualities. For since cold and heat are equally conjoined with moisture and dryness, and again moisture and dryness are composed with an equal tempering of heat and cold, this same equality of qualities, which appears in things contrary, produces of itself the cohesion of things contrary to one another. But why should I detail each thing exactly, and how these are separated from each other by the opposition ^C of nature, and again are joined by being tempered with one another through the affinity of the qualities? But we have mentioned what we have said for this reason: because he who has pondered the nature of the body, having considered these things, warned that this equal potential of the qualities must be managed by every means, because good health consists in this, that none of those things that are in us is overpowered by the others. Therefore, if the commemoration of these things has any truth, we must care for this constitution of the body in order to preserve health perpetually, so that we may not, through an unequal manner of diet, add ^D either too much or too little to any part of those things of which we are composed. For just as the driver of a chariot, if he should happen to be guiding horses that are not in agreement or accord, neither urges on the swift one with the whip, nor holds back the slow one with the reins, nor again allows the perverse, unbridled, and untamed one to be carried away into disorder by its own impulses, but steers one, checks another, and reaches those needing the whip, until he creates in all a single harmony for the race; in the same way our own mind, holding the reins of the body itself, will neither devise additions of heat by over-indulging the warmth at the time of youth—for this would be a kind of combustion—nor, when it is chilled by passion or time, will it…

the cooling and withering will abound; and, in like manner, concerning other qualities, one must listen to the Scripture: "That neither he who has much may have abundance, nor he who has little may have a deficiency" ^A; but, lopping off what is immoderate in either case, one should be careful to add what is lacking, holding evenly to the unserviceableness of the body in both respects, neither by excessive comfort having trained one's flesh to be unruly and headstrong, nor by boundless hardship having made it diseased, broken, and useless for necessary service. This is the most perfect goal of continence: not to look to the affliction of the body, but to the ease of the spiritual ministries.

Chapter XXIII. Bodily obesity hinders the perfection of the soul as much as immoderate affliction.

^B Now, as for the details of how he who has chosen to live in this philosophy ought to conduct his life, and what he should guard against, and in what exercises he should train himself, the measures of his continence, his manner of living, and the entire course of life befitting such a goal—for anyone who desires to learn these with precision, there exist indeed written instructions teaching these things. But the instruction which is demonstrated by deeds is more effective than that which comes from words, and there is no difficulty in the requirement, such as that one must undergo a long journey or much seafaring to attain the instructor of this discipline; but "the word is near you," says the Apostle ^C, "and in the presence of grace." This place is a workshop of virtues, in which such a life, having progressed to a certain high degree of integrity, is purged of filth. Here there is also much opportunity, both among those who are silent and those who speak, to be instructed in this heavenly way of life through the deeds themselves; since every discourse that is viewed apart from deeds, even if it happens to be most elegantly adorned, is like an inanimate image, displaying a certain flourishing figure in dyes and colors. But he who acts and teaches, as it is somewhere said in the Gospel ^D, he is truly a living human being, beautiful in beauty, active, and moving. Therefore, he who is about to take up, according to the aforementioned word, the virginity, must associate with such a one; for just as he who is eager to learn the language of a certain nation is not self-sufficient as his own teacher, but is educated by those who are knowledgeable, and thus becomes of one speech with those of a different language, so I think it is with this life, which does not progress according to the sequence of nature, but is turned aside by the strangeness of its manner of life; that no one can learn its precision in any other way than by being led by the hand by one who has accomplished it; and all other things also, whatever pursuits we live by, might be better accomplished by one who undertakes them, if one were to learn the skill of each of the things aimed at from teachers, rather than if

he were to attempt the matter on his own; for it is not clear, such that it is necessary to entrust the judgment of those things that concern us to ourselves: since to test the experience of unknown things is not free from danger. For just as men discovered medicine, which was previously unknown, through experience, and revealed its precepts bit by bit through certain observations—so that it being known by the testimony of the experienced what is beneficial and what is harmful from the example of the things of which trial had been made, it was in this way reduced to a system of art, and what had been taught by the ancients on this matter was subsequently diligently observed—so now, he who has applied himself to this art has no need to discern the power of medications, whether it is a poison or an antidote, through his own risk, but by learning the things known by others, he himself performs the office of healing perfectly. In the same way, regarding the medicine of the soul—I mean philosophy, through which we learn the treatment of every affection that touches the soul—there is no need to pursue knowledge by certain conjectures and surmises, but there is great capacity for knowledge in one who has acquired the habit through long or much practice. ^B For youth is generally a dangerous guide of counsels in every business, and one would not easily find any of the things worthy of study rightly accomplished by one to whom old age has not been added as a partner in the deliberation. And by how much the goal set before those who pursue it appears more serious and greater than other studies, by so much the more diligently must we beware of the danger. For indeed youth, which is not ruled by counsel, in other matters or its own resources brings about loss, or is despoiled of some splendor of worldly praise or dignity; but in this great and divine desire, it is not money that is endangered, nor worldly and ephemeral glory, nor any other of the things that follow us from without—things which men who are moderate and temperate rightly despise, and have little regard for, as they are things that come from elsewhere and are governed in one way or another. But the rashness of counsel touches the soul itself, and the danger of such a loss is, not that one should be deprived of something else, for which a recovery might perhaps seem possible, but that one should lose himself and suffer the loss of his own soul. For he who has consumed his patrimonial estates does not, perhaps, while he is still among the living, despair of being able, by certain devices, to return again to his former abundance of goods; but he who has fallen from this life has set aside every hope of being able to return to better things. ^C Therefore, since many, while yet young and immature in mind, take up the pursuit of virginity, this should be for them, before all else, a thing to be practiced: to seek a good guide and teacher for this path, lest, because of the ignorance that is in them, they strike out for themselves some paths that are impassable and wanderings away from the straight road. For "two are better than one," says Ecclesiastes, "and the one is easily defeated by the enemy who lies in wait along the divine paths." And in truth, "Woe to the one when he falls, for he has no one to lift him up." For already some have attempted the desire for a noble life with a right impulse, but as soon as they had chosen it, they were tripped up from perfection by a fall, through some madness of mind...

having reached [the goal], have been tripped up by another fall through pride, having deceived themselves through some mental derangement into considering that to be good to which their own mind inclines. Of such a kind are those whom Wisdom has called "sluggards," who have strewn their paths with thorns; who deem the zeal for the works of the commandments to be a harm to the soul; who have disregarded the apostolic exhortations, and do not eat their own bread honorably, but have clung to another’s, making idleness their craft of life. Hence come the "dreamers," who make the deceptions of dreams more trustworthy than the evangelical teachings, and call their fantasies revelations (from these are those who "creep into houses"). And again, others there are who think that that which is antisocial and savage is virtue, and do not even understand the fruit of patience and humility. And who could recount all such falls, into which one is carried by not wishing to join those who are well-pleasing to God? For from these we have known some who endured hunger even unto death, as if God were pleased with such sacrifices; and again, others who, as if from the opposite direction, have defected to the contrary, who practice celibacy only in name, and differ nothing from the common life, not only indulging the belly in pleasure, but living openly with women and calling such cohabitation a "brotherhood," as if covering their intent, which is prone to worse things, with a more honorable name. Through whom even this holy and pure pursuit is greatly blasphemed by those outside. ^{A B}

CHAPTER XXIV. That he who wishes to learn the precision of the life must be taught by one who has attained it.

It would therefore be beneficial for the young not to legislate the way of this life for themselves, for the life of our times has not been left wanting in examples of good things; but even strongly now, if ever, uprightness of character flourishes and dwells in our life, having grown little by little until it has arrived at the summit. It falls to him who walks in the footsteps of such men to become a partaker of such holiness of character, and for him who follows the scent of this ointment to be imbued with the supreme fragrance of Jesus Christ. For just as when one lamp is lit, the transmission of the flame occurs to all the nearby lamps, neither is the first light diminished, even though to those who are illuminated by the participation it is shared equally; so too is the gravity of this life [passed on] from him who ^{C D}

has rightly achieved it to those who are nearby. For true is the prophetic word: with the holy and innocent and chosen man, such also does one become. But if you seek the marks, by which it is impossible to err from the good model, the description is easy. If you see the life of a man standing in the midst of death and life, choosing what is useful for philosophy from both sides, neither admitting the inaction of death in the zeal for fulfilling the commandments, nor walking with full step in the state of living—because of his alienation from worldly desires, in which the life of the flesh is tested, remaining more inactive than the dead, but toward the works of virtue, by which those who live in the Spirit are recognized, offering himself as truly alive and active and powerful—look to him as the canon of life. Let this be the goal of divine life for you, just as ^B the ever-appearing stars are [a guide] to steersmen; imitate his old age and his youth, or rather imitate his old age in youth, and his youth in old age. For neither did the time of old age dim the vigorous active power of his soul, nor was his youth active in those things by which youth is known to be active; but there was a certain marvelous mixture of opposites in each age, or rather, a shift of properties. In old age, the power toward the good was as if it were youthful, and in youth, the vigor toward evil was inactive. And if you seek the loves of that age, imitate the intense and burning love for divine wisdom, with which he grew from infancy and which lasted until old age. But if you are unable to gaze upon him, as those who have weaker sight are to gaze upon the sun, then look ^C upon the chorus of saints ordered under him, those who shine in life as examples for imitation of each age. God has set this as a goal for our life. Many of these, being youthful in age, grew old in the pure temperance, having outpaced old age with their reason, and having outstripped the passage of time with their character; they only knew the love of wisdom—not that they were different in nature (for in all things the flesh lusts against the spirit), but because they rightly listened to him who rightly said that temperance is a kind of tree of life to all who grasp it. Upon this tree, like a ship of some kind, they sailed across the tempestuous sea of youth and anchored in the harbor of God's will. And now they possess the soul ^D calm and waveless, blessed in their fair voyage; they who, having secured their affairs upon good hope, as if upon some safe anchor, resting far from the waves of turbulence, have placed their own lives as lights—like torches from a high watchtower—before those who follow them. Therefore we have one to whom we may look and safely avoid the surge of temptations. Why do you question me if some of those who thought on these things were defeated, and on that account despair as if the matter were impossible?

^A Look to him who has achieved success, and confidently dare to embark upon this good navigation, assisted by the breath of the Holy Spirit, and steered by Christ as the helmsman in the rudder of joy. For not even those who descend into the sea in ships, and perform their labor in many waters, make the shipwreck that has happened to someone an obstacle to their hopes; but, setting their good hope before themselves, they hasten to the end of their achievement. Or would it not be most absurd of all, that while we consider it a wicked thing for someone to stumble in a life of precision, we think it better to grow old in a whole life of faults? For if it is a terrible thing to approach sin even once, and because of this you deem it safe to not even attempt a higher goal, how much more grievous is it to make sin the practice of one's life, and on that account remain altogether deprived of a purer life? How can you listen to the Crucified One—He who lives, He who died to sin, He who is healthy in relation to it—who commands one to follow after Him, bearing the cross on the body as a kind of trophy against the Adversary, if you are not crucified to the world and do not accept the mortification of the flesh? How can you be persuaded by Paul, who encourages you to "present your body as a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God," if you are being conformed to this age, and are not being transformed by the renewal of your mind, nor walking in the newness of this life, but still pursuing the path of the life of the old man? ^B How do you act as a priest to God, even though you were anointed for this very purpose, to offer a gift to God—a gift, moreover, which is by no means something alien, nor something substituted and coming to you from outside, but that which is truly yours, which is your inner man, which must be perfect and blameless, according to the law concerning the lamb, removed from every stain and blemish? How, then, will you offer these things to God, you who do not listen to the prohibition against the unclean acting as a priest? And if you also long for God to appear to you, why do you not listen to Moses, who commands the people to be chaste from marriage, so that they may be capable of the appearance of God? But if these things seem small to you—to be crucified with Christ, to present one's self as a sacrifice to God, to become a priest of the Most High God, to be deemed worthy of the great appearance of God—what higher thing shall we devise for you, if those things which result from these also seem small? ^C For from being crucified with Him, there follows also living with Him, and being glorified with Him, and reigning with Him; and from presenting one's self to God, there is the transition from human nature and dignity to the angelic. For so says Daniel too, that "Thousands of thousands stood before Him." But he who has received the true priesthood, and has joined himself to the great High Priest, remains himself also a priest forever, no longer hindered by death from remaining in it continuously. And as for being deemed worthy to say one has seen God, there is no other fruit than this— ^D

to be changed. For thus Daniel says: "A thousand thousands ministered unto him." But he who has been accepted by Him, who is the true sacrifice, and has constituted himself a high priest to the chief of priests, remains altogether a priest forever, nor is he prevented from enduring in eternity. But for him who deemed himself worthy to see God, there is no other fruit than this very thing, namely, that he was considered worthy to see God. For the sum of all hope, the perfection of every desire, and of every blessing of God, and of every promise, and of the ineffable goods which are believed to be beyond sense and knowledge, is this end and head. This Moses sought, this many prophets and kings desired to see: but only those are considered worthy who are pure in heart, who for this very reason are and are called blessed, because they themselves shall see God; of whom we wish that you too may be one, that, having been crucified together with Christ, you may present yourself as a pure priest to God, and having become a clean sacrifice, through all purity by means of chastity, you may prepare yourself under His protection for the coming of the Lord, so that you too may behold God with a pure heart, as the promise was made to us by God and our Savior Jesus Christ, with whom is glory to the almighty God, together with the Holy Spirit, unto ages of ages. Amen.

BY THE SAME GREGORY: AN ORATION AGAINST THOSE WHO DELAY BAPTISM.

^A The kings of this world, when they write laws which well regulate the lives of men, entrusting them to magistrates, command through them that they be published to the citizens, so that what has been commanded may be kept inviolate in this way. But the great God also gave laws to the leaders of the Churches, which we bring forth in their proper seasons each year, read them to you, and command that what is written be kept to the best of your ability. Behold, therefore, the good steward of all things, who turns the years and governs the cycle of time, has brought a salutary day on which we are accustomed to call foreigners to adoption as sons, the needy to the participation of grace, and those who are stained with the filth of sins to the cleansing of sins. And this is that ancient proclamation, which was shortly before the Savior ^B appeared: "The voice of one crying in the wilderness: Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths." But if

I am neither John nor David, let the humility of the servant not hinder the power of the Master's law. For it is not out of reverence for the writers of the laws that we obey what is commanded by them, but because we fear the authority of the Lawgiver, we submit to the precepts. ^A Royal grace has come, granting remission to two afflicted classes: liberation to the captives, and the remission of debt to the debtors. And for this reason I, too, open up the appropriate remedy to both classes, and with great confidence I promise that help will come from this diligence.

That no one may think the cure is expensive, I declare beforehand the very medicines with which I heal those who are suffering. ^B For to some I guarantee health through water and the laver, while for others I wipe away the disease with a few tears. For the application is simple, the gift is God-sent, and the success is truly great, to be freed without cauterization or incision from those chronic wounds which we suffered poorly from the bites of the serpent. Come, therefore, you who are afflicted with evils, to your own healing, and do not treat the matter with indifference. For a disease that has grown old and become chronic surpasses the skill of healing. You poor and needy, hasten to the distribution of the royal gifts; you sheep, to the seal and the sign of the cross, which brings help and remedy to evils. Give me your names, so that I may inscribe them in sensible books and write them with ink; ^C but God will mark them on the incorruptible tablets, into which decay does not enter, writing with His own finger, as He once wrote the law for the Hebrews.

"Come to him and be enlightened, and your faces shall not be ashamed. Wash yourselves, take away your sins." [Ps. XXXIII, 6; Isa. I, 16.] These things were written long ago; but the power of the words has not grown old, but flourishes and strengthens day by day. Come out of the prison, I beseech you. Hate the dark dwellings of vice. Flee from the devil, as a bitter jailer who feeds and profits from the calamity of sinners. For just as God rejoices in our righteous deeds, so the author of sin rejoices in our transgressions. You are outside of paradise, O catechumen, a partner in the exile of Adam, our first parent. ^D But now, with the door opening for you, enter from where you went out, and do not delay, lest by chance death may intervene and block the entrance. The head is already turning white; the summer of life is near; perhaps the sickle is being sharpened against us, and I fear that while we sleep and are occupied with vain vanities, the terrible reaper may arrive suddenly. But you, who are young, will say: "I have not yet grown old." Do not be deceived, therefore. For death is not defined by set times of age, nor does it fear those who are in their prime, nor does it hold dominion over the elderly alone. Take daily experience as your teacher of this. For you see the funeral bier, how indiscriminately and, as it happens, it carries away every age,

^A today the old man, tomorrow the flourishing and graceful youth, a little later the one on whom the down has begun to appear, then the man ^B robust and strong in his powers, and again the old woman, and along with her the maiden. Seeing these things, let us secure ourselves against the uncertainty. For it is no great task for a wineskin of spirit to be emptied, when the mouth is opened but slightly, nor is it difficult for a human to yield up his soul in a single moment of time.

I see that whenever an earthquake has occurred in the world, or famine, or pestilence has raged, or an incursion of enemies has taken place, all hasten with speed to the baptistery, so that they may not depart from among men empty of grace. What then? Do not those other varied and unexpected mishaps have the same force as those evils? Apoplexies, swoons, unexpected suffociations, the onsets of gusty winds? ^C Do we not see those who are running fall, those who are eating cease entirely from their nourishment, and those who sleep being led away to death, the sister of sleep? Secure the instability and uncertainty of life. Do not trade in or peddle grace, lest you fall from the gift. Owe as much as is possible to be forgiven, and as much as will not exclude the benevolence of the King. For the princes of the earth, when they have seized someone who has greedily coveted public resources beyond measure, and has glutted himself with royal funds beyond satisfaction, despair indeed that he will make restitution; but they punish him severely, content with the penalty in place of the money. You have given much time to pleasure; give something also to philosophy. Strip off the old man like a filthy garment, which is full of ignominy and disgrace, which has been forged from a multitude of sins and cobbled together from the miserable rags of iniquity. But receive the garment of incorruptibility which Christ, having unfolded and spread out, offers to you; and do not repel the gift, lest you insult the One who gave it. You have long wallowed in the mire; hasten, O man, to my Jordan, not with John calling, ^D but with Christ exhorting. For the river of grace flows everywhere, not having its springs in Palestine and being concealed in the neighboring sea, but circling the whole inhabited world and entering into Paradise; flowing opposite to those four which stream out from there, and bringing into Paradise things far more precious than those which are exported from thence. For those indeed bring aromatics, agriculture, and the produce of the earth; but this one brings in men, the offspring of the Spirit. Wherever you draw it, it flows over to that place; it is diverted into the whole world, and it does not spend the stream upon those among whom it is divided. For it has a rich fountain, Christ, and flowing from Him, it floods the entire world. This is sweet and potable, drawing in nothing of the unpleasant salinity. For it is made sweet by the arrival of the Spirit, as the spring of Mara was by the touch of the wood. It is passable for the pious, but for the profane it is very deep and cannot be approached even by them. Imitate Joshua the son of Nun. Carry the Gospel, just as he carried the ark; dismiss the

desert, that is, sin; cross the Jordan; hasten to the life that is in Christ, to the land that bears the fruit that brings joy, the land which, according to the promise, flows with milk and honey. Overthrow Jericho—namely, your ancient custom—do not leave it fortified. Destroy from the foundations the mother of sinful thoughts. Make the deceitful Gibeonites the servants of Israel, that is, make your evil thoughts the servants of the Gospel life. Let Achan be stoned, that sophist and greedy person who laid claim to what was not his, he who stole the golden tongue. He is the one who destroyed the observance of the precious commandment. All those things are a type of our own, all are foreshadowings of the things that now appear. ^B

Dismiss, then, from your life that ravenous crow—sin. Give the dove an opportunity to fly to you, which Jesus first brought down typically from heaven, which is guileless, most gentle, and most fruitful; which, once it finds a man who is purified—like silver that has been rightly refined and polished—dwells within him willingly, and, nurturing the soul like eggs with fire, brings forth for him many children. These children are good actions and virtuous words: faith, piety, justice, temperance, chastity, purity. These are the children of the Spirit, but they are our possessions. How long will you be a disciple of the first elements? Open your soul like a tablet, and allow us to imprint upon it a perfect discipline; do not go on forever stuttering with children, nor be an infant in your mind. I am ashamed on your behalf that, though you have grown old, you are still cast out with the catechumens like a foolish boy, unable to keep secrets when a mystery is being spoken. Unite yourself with the mystical people and learn the secret words. ^C Recite with us those things which the six-winged Seraphim sing with the perfect Christians. Desire the food that strengthens the soul; taste the drink that gladdens the heart; love the mystery which, in a way that does not fall under the senses, transforms the old into youth. Imitate the Ethiopian eunuch of fervent desire. For he, after taking Philip—brought by the Holy Spirit—as a fellow-passenger in his chariot, and learning in the course of the journey not merely to read but also to understand the wise Isaiah, tasted through the interpretation, like a good hunting dog, of the blood and of the slain Lamb; he barked vehemently at Philip, until he led him to the perfect hunt of the prophecy he held in his hands. And he received the baptism he had requested ^D spontaneously, neither waiting for an inn, nor a city or village, nor waiting for a place of sanctification, but prudently considering that every place belongs to the common Master, and every water is suitable for the need of baptism, provided only that it finds the faith of the recipient and the blessing of the sanctifying priest. Do not provoke the baptizer by delaying, nor anger him by putting it off day after day, and wasting time in promises—

lest he pursue you with the same words as John, calling you a brood of vipers, or a deaf asp that grows savage at the voice of the enchanter; or show you a sharpened and gleaming axe, lying beside the tree and threatening you with ^A amputation. In the choice of evils, it is better to have been deemed worthy of the saving washing and then to fall again into sin than to end one’s life devoid of grace. For the former transgression will perhaps merit forgiveness or the clemency of which there is great hope among the good; but for the latter, salvation is altogether denied by a fixed and certain decree. For when I hear that voice which does not lie, saying: "Amen, amen I say to you, unless one is born from above, he cannot see the kingdom of God," I can expect nothing good for those who have not been initiated into the mysteries. For what forgiveness is it truly just to grant to those who have treated the King’s grace with contumely, not accepting the cancellation of their debts, nor embracing the freedom that descended to them of its own accord from heaven; but, through contempt of the gift, visiting reproach and disgrace upon the One who gave it? A soul not at all illuminated, nor adorned with the grace of regeneration, I know not whether the angels receive it after it has been separated from the body. For how should they receive one that is unsealed, that bears no mark of its Lord? ^B Indeed, it is likely that it is borne through the air, wandering and roaming, and sought by no one, as it lacks a Lord, seeking rest and a place to dwell and finding none, weeping in vain and repenting uselessly, just like the rich man who was clothed in purple and fine linen, and whom delicate and luxurious food of every kind nourished, the material of the unquenchable fire.

I wish also to tell you a story of a certain wretched man who had not attained that great hope and was seeking water in a time when water failed. For recently, when the incursion of the nomadic Scythians destroyed and overturned much of the land along with its inhabitants, in this city of the Comani, which is adjacent to the suburbs of the barbarians, a certain young man of noble birth, Archias by name—whom I knew to be deeply grieved ^C by both the private and common evils of the fatherland—went out from the city and the garrison to observe diligently how many the plundering barbarians were, and what were the events taking place; and having fallen in with the enemy, he was struck by arrows. Having fallen and being hastened toward death, with as loud a voice as he could he cried out (for he was one of the uninitiated): "Mountains and glens, baptize; trees and rocks and springs, grant the grace!" And uttering these miserable cries, he ended his life. When the city learned of these, it lamented them more than the event of the war. Similar to him are those who are suddenly ^D pressed by diseases. For when one who was healthy yesterday and promised himself long years of

^A life, describing the things of the foolish man of old, it is said to him out of despair, "This night thy soul is required of thee," then there is noise and clamor; and everything is sought out in a moment of time, with urgency—the vessels, the water, the priest, the discourse preparing one for grace, which necessity demands, but which the disease obscures, causing a violent and incessant panting. ^B And it creates a noise no less than the constraint of war; all who are in the house, meeting one another, break out; and there is pushing, and confusion, and a mournful and indistinct murmuring, just as if in a naval battle, with servants, relatives, friends, children, and wife becoming entangled with one another. While there is still a time of peace, therefore, let us set our affairs in order with sobriety. In leisure and tranquility of life, receive the gift of Christ, when he who receives the high and incomparable benefit is, with pleasure, numbered in the catalog of those being adopted as sons, and all those acquainted with him feel special joy and gladness at that change for the better.

"But I fear," he says, "the propensity of our nature toward sin, and for this reason I delay coming to the grace of regeneration." Your pretext of timidity is fair-seeming, and you cleverly disguise yourself with the mask of caution; but a brief question put to you will suffice to lay bare the pretense easily. For since you, who say that you fear sin, are a catechumen, which kind of life do you claim to live—one that is beyond reproach, or one that is sinless, or one in sins? ^C For if you mean the sinless life, why do you dread baptism, even while observing the established strictness before it? But if your life is impure and unguarded, and you delay while dwelling in iniquities, and are acquiring the habit of evil through long familiarity, it is obvious that you are waiting for your final breath, so that, by receiving baptism at the last hour, your life might be concluded at the same time. This is a vain and strange kind of commerce—not one of gold or garments, but a curious peddling of a multitude of iniquities instead of the purification of the soul. And just as swine pass from mire to mire and have the mud as their dwelling place, so do those who live in impurities connect ^D consecutive iniquities. For they are either defiled by fornication, or they plot the ill-famed sin of adultery, or they practice drunkenness, the tinder of evil desires, or they pursue sins akin and related to these. They fear baptism as an impediment to pleasures and as an abstinence from vile indulgences. When, therefore, he who seeks excuses for sins says that he is afraid, it is clear that he is not fearful of sinning, but that he wishes to remain for as long as possible in his way of life in sins. Those who have this wicked intention in the depth of their heart are not even considered worthy of the grace in the first place; but they [deceive] themselves with vain hopes.

^A They are unexpectedly led astray, as death, like a wily thief, falls upon them silently and suddenly. Yet, even if God, in the abundance of His own forbearance and goodness, should deem the lover of sin worthy of the mysteries on the final day, the gain from this transaction is not as great as they imagine. For they think that the kingdom will be opened to them immediately, and that they will be granted some place full of wonderful good things and be deemed worthy of the same honors as the just. But this is a vain hope, beguiling the soul with false estimation. ^B For, as it seems to me, the affairs of men in the life to come will be divided into three classes, to speak generally for the moment, without subdivisions. The first is the order of the praiseworthy and just; the second, of those who are neither honored nor punished; the third, of those who pay the penalty for what they have done wrong. Where, then, shall we place those who received the benefit of the laver at their obsequies? Is it not clear that it is among the second class, and this with pardon, so that we may assign it according to the philanthropy of God? For he who has betrayed the accomplishments of virtue through sloth and negligence is not free from loss and condemnation, since to desire evil is akin to criminality, and to hate good things is a manifest proof of wickedness. What great thing, then, will you gain if you fall away from the kingdom and from those promises that "eye hath not seen, nor ear heard"? "I am not punished," one says, "nor do I fear the threats; it is enough for me not to suffer anything terrible, nor to be declared one who has achieved anything noble." ^C This is the disposition of a wicked slave, who is concerned only with avoiding the punishments of the mill, bonds, and scourges, but does not lay claim, even in small measure, to liberal glory or the splendor of honors. Such a voice is hostile and contrary to all the saints who have been from the beginning of time. For all of them loved the dangers endured for the sake of confidence, and offered their bodies to those who wished to cut and kill them in various ways; they were not softened or broken by any harsh trial, awaiting the reward of their blood and their noble deeds—the honor that is in the kingdom of heaven. For the sake of that, Abraham was commanded and sacrificed his son; and Moses labored in the dire hardships of the desert; and Elias lived a harsh and austere life in the wilderness; and all the prophets lived in sheepskins and goatskins, afflicted and vexed. ^D For that same goal the evangelists suffered the marks for the sake of the Gospel, and the martyrs contended against the torments of tyrants. And whoever is truly endowed with reason, is an image of God, and has a kinship with things high and heavenly, does not even desire to be or to be resurrected with the men who rise again, unless he is to be praised by God as a good slave and deemed worthy of certain rewards. It is because of this resolve that David also accepts the thirst of the stag as his own pattern for his longing for God; and he prays to see the face of God, so that [in the]

embraces which fall under the understanding, he may be gladdened. And Paul, having put off the flesh as a heavy and burdensome garment, desires to depart and be with Christ 15: both of them thinking entirely of the blessed and immutable joy. But if there is no love for that [reality], all other things, as Ecclesiastes truly says, are vanities of vanities 16.

Flee, therefore, O Christian men, participants of a heavenly calling, from every such thought, worthy of robbers and criminals; and do not think it blessed to flee punishment, but love the gifts and crowns which God has prepared for the athletes of righteousness; desire baptism without deceit; receive the talent, and add the labor; for thus, according to the parable, you will become rulers of ten cities 17. But he who has been buried together with [Christ] in baptism, [yet] has hidden the talent in the earth, will surely hear those things which were said to the idle and negligent servant 18. Rightly does he who is freshly illuminated, if he has not joined the commandment to his faith, have nothing that is not related to accusation. He was a prisoner, liable for innumerable crimes, fearing the judgment, trembling at the time of giving an account. Suddenly came the kindness of the King; it opened the prison, it released the evil ones. Let Him who gave the grace be praised and worshiped, as He who, by the abundance of His goodness, saved those who did not hope to live. But let him [the recipient] know himself, and let him live in humility: let him not be so disposed as if he had done something ^B marvelous, because he has been released from bonds. For the remission of crimes testifies to the mercy of Him who granted it, not to a right action on the part of him who was released. He who has received the bath of regeneration is like a new soldier, who has recently been enrolled in the ranks of the heavy infantry, but has not yet shown any military or noble [deed]. Just as that man, having taken up the belt and girt on the cloak, does not immediately consider himself a hero, nor, approaching the king with boldness, speaks to him as a familiar friend, nor asks for favors that belong to those who have labored and toiled; so do not you, having obtained grace, think that you will live with the righteous and be led to their inheritance, unless you endure many dangers for the sake of piety, and wage war against the flesh and, with it, against the devil, and bravely resist all the arrows of the evil spirits. ^C Nay, rather, if it seems good, let us take the very voice of the Lord itself, which is to be proclaimed at the time of the common judgment, and is the teacher of what is proposed. For what does He say? "Come, you blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world 19." Why? It is not because you put on the garment of incorruptibility, nor because you washed away your sins, but because you practiced love. And immediately the list follows of those who were fed, who were given drink, who were clothed. And rightly does the Judge, who cannot be deceived, judge in this way. For grace is indeed the gift of the Master, but the conduct [of life] is the achievement of the one who has been honored ^D.

No one demands a reward for the grace he has received; rather, he is a debtor to it. And for this reason, when we are enlightened through baptism, we owe benevolence to our benefactor. Our benevolence toward God is the gratitude we show to our fellow servants, our own salvation, and our concern for virtue. Put away, therefore, your vain opinion, you who reserve baptism for the funeral rites, knowing that faith demands its own sister, the good life, as its companion—the kind of life of which we may be deemed worthy through a good will and the help of God, to whom belongs worship now and forever. Amen.

PART IV. ORATIONS AND EPISTLES. I. ORATIONS. NOTICE REGARDING THE FOLLOWING ORATION [(a)]

Jacob Gretser, a theologian of the Society of Jesus, first published this Oration from a single Munich manuscript in his *Appendix to the Works of St. Gregory of Nyssa*, Paris, 1618, in-folio, pp. 225-234. Shortly after, it was repeated in the second Paris edition of 1638, in-folio, vol. II, pp. 225-234. Having examined both editions more carefully and having transcribed the Greek words from the copy of the Gretserian Appendix, I found the Greek oration of the holy Father to be so deformed by errors of every kind, and the Latin translation so inaccurate, that I was forced to have recourse to the manuscript. I therefore wrote to J. G. Krabinger, custodian of the Royal Library of Munich—a most celebrated man and one who has deserved exceptionally well of these studies of ours—freely and frankly requesting from him a new collation of that manuscript by a friend. Krabinger very willingly granted my requests, and on November 10, 1839, sent to me from Munich a list of the variants, which was full and accurate even in the smallest details. I have used this most faithfully here in my Annotations, ignoring only obvious orthographical errors. This Munich manuscript, which I have designated with the letters "Mon.", is the only one in which this homily is preserved; Krabinger wrote to me that no other can be found in Vienna, Venice, or Florence, and I have not found one in Paris, nor do I believe one is kept in Madrid. I have therefore had to be content with that Munich manuscript 47, a paper one, dating from the sixteenth century, in-folio, with the help of which I have been able to correct and supplement very many things. It is strange that Gretser, as it seems to Krabinger, attributed, corrected, and occasionally corrupted so many things that I myself, in my own judgment, believe he must have used some other manuscript besides the Munich one. I have corrected many things myself, with the reader being warned everywhere; whether I have done so perversely, those more learned than I will judge; the punctuation, however, is entirely my own.

(a) Ludov. de Sinner, in the preface to his edition of the following oration, which was published in the year 1838 by the Gaume brothers in 12mo.

OF OUR HOLY FATHER GREGORY, BISHOP OF NYSSA. ORATION AGAINST USURERS.

^A The life of men who are lovers of virtue and who choose to live according to [the dictates of] reason is regulated by good laws and precepts. In these, one can perceive the intention of the Lawgiver directed generally toward two ends: the one, which contains the prohibition of forbidden things; the other, which urges individuals toward the performance of good deeds. For it is not otherwise possible for a life of good citizenship and temperance to be successfully achieved, unless someone, while fleeing vice as much as he has the power to do so, pursues virtue as a son pursues a mother. Therefore, having gathered today ^B so that we might listen to the commands of God, we have heard the Prophet cutting down the miserable children of loans, that is, usury, and removing from life the use of currency for gain. Let us then receive the instruction obediently, so that we do not become that rock ^B upon which the seed, having fallen, remained dry and barren, and so that it may not be said to us one day as it was said to the unyielding Israel: By hearing you shall hear, and shall not understand, and seeing you shall see, and shall not perceive.

I beg those who are to hear me not to condemn me for audacity or folly, for having, while [speaking of] a man who is eloquent and renowned in philosophy, and exercised in every kind of speech, and successful in this matter itself, and who has left behind [the]— ^C

^A a discourse against usurers for the edification of life, I myself should descend into the same arena, having yoked together couples of oxen or asses with which I might contend against horses adorned with the crowns of victory; for small things are always seen alongside great ones; and the moon shines while the sun shines; and a ten-thousand-ton ship sailing, driven by the intensity of the winds, is followed by a small dinghy crossing the same sea; and again, when men are competing in athletic contests, boys exercise themselves in the same place. Let this, then, be the request of my intention.

But you, whatever person you may be, hate the way of the huckster, ^B since you are a human being. Love human beings, and not silver; stop the sin at this point. Utter at some time to your dearest interests the voice of John the Baptist: "Brood of vipers" (Matt. III, 7), depart from me. You are the destruction of those who keep you and accept you. You bring a little pleasure, but as time goes on, the poison scattered by you turns into bitter malice for the soul. You block the path of life; you shut the gates of the kingdom. You refresh the eyes and ears for a short time, but meanwhile, you are the cause and origin of eternal pain. Having said these things, renounce usury, and pledge yourself to love of the poor, and do not turn away him who wishes to borrow. Because of poverty he supplicates you and sits at your doors; being in need, he flees to your wealth, so that you may become a helper for his necessity. ^C But you do the opposite; you who should be an ally become an enemy; for you do not work with him so that he might be freed from the necessity pressing upon him, and pay back the loan to you, but you sow evils for the one in straits, stripping the naked individual, wounding the wounded one, piling cares upon cares, and adding sorrows to sorrow. For he who receives gold to be returned with interest, receives a pledge and earnest of poverty, bringing home destruction in the guise of a benefit. For just as one who, overcome by the entreaties of a feverish man, and one whom the most intense heat and excessive thirst are agitating, and who urgently begs for a drink, offers him neat wine under the pretext of philanthropy, gladdens the sick man for a very brief time while he drains the cup; but when a short time has passed, ^D he causes a fierce and tenfold more severe fever to...

^A produce. Thus, he who offers gold, full of poverty, to a needy man, does not ease his necessity, but rather increases his calamity. Do not, therefore, live an inhuman life under the guise of philanthropy, nor become a physician who kills, having the appearance of saving out of wealth, as the other does by his craft; but by your choice, you are using the person who has entrusted himself to you for his destruction.

Idle and greedy is the life of the usurer. He knows not the labor of agriculture, nor the thought of commerce; but he sits in one place, feeding wild beasts in his own home. He wishes everything to grow for him without sowing or ploughing; his plough is the pen; his field, the paper; his seed, the ink; his rain, time, which unknown to him increases and nurtures the fruit of his money. His sickle is the demand for payment; his threshing floor, the house in which he winnows the fortunes of the wretched. He looks upon the belongings of all as his own. He prays for calamities for people, so that they may be forced to come to him. He hates those who are self-sufficient, and counts those who have not borrowed ^B as his enemies. He haunts the courts, so that he may find someone pressed by creditors, and he follows the tax collectors as vultures follow camps and armies. He carries around his purse and shows the bait of the hunt to those who are choking, so that, gaping at it because of their need, they may swallow with the usury the hook as well.

He counts his profit every day and is never filled with desire. He is vexed at the gold laid up in his house, because it lies idle and unproductive. He imitates the farmers who always take seed from their heaps. He does not leave the wretched gold untouched, but passes it from hand to hand. You see, then, that one who is wealthy and has much gold often might not have even one coin in his house, but has his hopes in papers, his substance in bonds, having nothing and possessing everything; he uses his life in a manner contrary to the apostolic letter, giving everything ^C to those who ask, not by a philanthropic impulse, but by a greedy disposition. For he chooses temporary poverty, so that, like a hardworking servant, the gold, having labored, may return to him with interest. You see how the hope of future gain empties the house and makes the one who otherwise has much gold a man who possesses nothing temporarily. And what is the cause of this? It is the writing on the paper, the agreement

or promise of one in distress. "I will repay with interest," he says; "I will restore the principal with profit." Then I urge and admonish him not to break his word. And the debtor, though destitute, finds trust because of a promissory note. But God, who is rich and makes promises, is not even heard, despite a clear and resounding voice. "Give, and I will repay," He cries out in the Gospels, in a public document known to the whole world, which four evangelists wrote in place of a single notary, with all Christians from the time of the salvation of the world as their witnesses. You have Paradise as a pledge—a pledge certainly worthy, upon which you may confidently rely. And if you seek something here as well, the whole world is the property of this honest debtor. Examine clearly the wealth of the One who seeks this kindness from you, and you will find His riches. For every gold mine is the property of this debtor. Every metal of silver and copper and the rest of the materials ^B are subject to His dominion and rule. Look up at the vast heaven; observe the infinite sea; consider the breadth of the earth; count the creatures nourished upon it; all are slaves and possessions of Him whose poverty you despise. Be moderate and fair, O man. Do not insult God, nor deem Him of lower or less honorable status than money-changers, to whom you yield your trust without doubt if they but give a surety. Give to an immortal surety. Believe in a promissory note that is invisible, yet of such a kind that it cannot be lost. Do not demand interest, but offer kindness without hope of gain, and you will see God repaying the grace with an addition.

^C But if this discourse seems strange and contrary to your expectations, I have testimony at hand, by which it is clear that God returns the favor in many different ways to those who piously make expenditures and perform acts of kindness. For when Peter asked and said: "Behold, we have left everything and followed you; what then shall be for us?" "Amen, I say to you," He says, "everyone who has left houses, or brothers, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or fields, shall receive an hundredfold, and will inherit eternal life." ^D Do you see the generosity? Do you see the goodness? The most shameless money-lender labors to double the principal, but God, of His own accord, gives an hundredfold to the one who does not oppress his brother. Obey, therefore, God who counsels you, and you shall gather interest that is free from sin. Why do you wear yourself out with sinful cares,

numbering the days, calculating the months, dreaming of the principal sum, imagining additions, fearing the deadline, lest it arrive fruitless like a summer struck by hail. The lender ^A scrutinizes the borrower’s actions—his travels, his movements, his changes of residence, his business dealings—and if some sad rumor arrives, that so-and-so has fallen among robbers, or that through some circumstance his prosperity has been changed into poverty, he sits with hands clasped, he groans continuously, he weeps copiously; he unrolls the contract, he laments his gold in those letters, bringing forth the bond like the garment of a dead son; his grief is stirred more hotly from that than from anything else. And if the loan is a maritime one, he sits by the shores, he worries about the movements of the winds, he constantly asks those putting into port whether a shipwreck has been heard of anywhere, whether those sailing encountered danger. He chills his soul ^B with the remnants of his daily anxiety. To such a man it must be said: Cease, O man, from your perilous care. Put away your agonizing hope, lest while seeking interest you lose even the principal. You seek revenue and additions to your wealth from the poor man, doing something similar to one who, from a field dried up by intense heat, would wish to take stacks of grain, or a multitude of grapes from a vine after a hailstorm has visited it, or the fruit of children from a barren womb, or the nourishment of milk from women who have not conceived. No one attempts things that are contrary to nature and impossible; for besides achieving nothing, he would also incur laughter as a mockery. God alone is omnipotent, who from desperate things finds the means and creates things beyond hope and expectation, now commanding ^C a spring to flow from a rock, then raining down from heaven an unusual and strange bread, and again making sweet the bitter Marah by the touch of wood; and making the womb of the barren Elizabeth fruitful, and giving Samuel to Anna, and to Mary the firstborn in virginity. These alone are the works of the omnipotent hand. But you, do not seek interest on bronze and gold, things that are barren by nature, nor force poverty to do the things that the wealthy do, nor demand excessive payments from the one who is begging for the principal. For do you not know that the necessity of asking for a loan is a fitting cause for mercy? Therefore, the divine Scripture, which is the introductory writing ^D of piety, everywhere dictates…

^A that usury be forbidden. If you lend money to your brother, you shall not press him. And Grace, abounding in the fountain of goodness, legislates the remission of debts; where, indeed, it acts kindly, saying: *And do not lend to those from whom you hope to receive* (Luke 6:34). And elsewhere, in a parable, it severely punishes the harsh and unmerciful servant who, while his fellow servant was prostrating himself, was not moved to compassion, nor did he remit the trivial debt of a hundred denarii, even though he himself had received the remission of ten thousand talents. Further, our Savior, the teacher of all virtue, while prescribing to his disciples a rule of prayer that contains nothing ^B superfluous, added this article to the form of prayer, as if it were the most effective means to move God to mercy: *And forgive us our debts, as we also forgive our debtors* (Matt. 6:12). How then will you pray, O usurer ^C? With what kind of conscience will you seek a good request from God, you who receive everything [for yourself], and ^D [yet ignore the commandment to give]? Or do you not know that your prayer is a reminder of inhumanity?

What have you remitted, that you seek remission? Of whom have you had mercy, that you implore mercy? And if you do give alms, is it not [the product of] your inhuman exactions, full of the calamities, tears, and groans of others? But if the ^A needy person knew from where you bestow your alms, he would certainly not receive them, fleeing, as it were, from tasting fraternal flesh and the blood of his own kin; he would say to you with the freedom of a sound mind: "Do not feed me, O man, from fraternal tears. Do not give to a needy person bread made from the groans of those who fare as poorly as I. Return to your fellow man that which you have unjustly snatched away, and I shall return you thanks." What benefit do you provide, when you make many poor, and comfort only one? If there were not a multitude of usurers, there would not be such a multitude of the needy. Dissolve your faction, and we shall all have what is sufficient. Everyone accuses the usurers, and there is no law, prophet, or evangelist that can remedy this evil. Such as the divine Amos thon ^B thunders: "Hear this, you who crush the poor in the morning and oppress the needy on the earth, saying, When will the month pass, and we shall sell our wares?" For not even fathers rejoice at the birth of children as much as usurers rejoice at the completion of the months.

They call their sin by honorable names; they call their gain "philanthropic" (human-loving), in imitation of the Greeks, who (41) call certain man-hating and murderous demons—instead of their true name—the Eumenides (Kindly Ones). Is it philanthropy? For is not the interest—an exaction that crushes households, exhausts wealth, and makes those of good birth live a life worse than that of slaves—something that delights for a short while at the beginning, but prepares a bitter life for them afterwards? For just as birds, which are entrapped by bird-catchers, are delighted at first by the scattered seeds and frequent the places where they find ^C abundant food for themselves, but a little later, once caught in the nets, they perish; so too those who take interest on loans, having been well-off for a short time, later fall away even from their ancestral home. And mercy is exiled from the corrupt and avaricious souls (45) of usurers; and seeing the very house of the debtor set up for sale, they are not moved to pity, but rather [eagerly] hasten the sale.

so that by receiving the money more quickly, they may bind some other wretched person in the toils of usury, after the manner of tireless and insatiable hunters, who, having encircled one valley with nets and caught all the beasts lurking within it, drive their stakes ^A to neighboring valleys, and from these to others, and so on, until they have emptied mountains of their game. With what eyes, then, do you, being such a man, look up to heaven? And how do you ask for the remission of sins? Or perhaps you say this in your prayers out of stupor, that which the Savior taught us: "And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors"? How many have destroyed themselves by the noose on account of usury, or thrown themselves headlong into rivers, judging death more tolerable than the usurer, leaving behind orphaned children for whom poverty has begun to be a stepmother that is neither kind nor gentle! But those illustrious usurers, indeed, do not even pity houses bereft of parents; but they drag away and plunder the heirs, to whom perhaps nothing has fallen by inheritance except the noose, and they demand gold from those who procure their own sustenance from the generosity of others. When, however, the death of the debtor is—as is fitting—reproached to them, and when some mention the noose so that they might blush, they are not affected by any shame at all for this deed, nor do they tremble in their souls, but rather they pour forth from an ulcerated heart words full of impudence: "And will it be ascribed to our character," they say, "if that wretch and man of poor mind, born under an unhappy star, compelled by the necessity of fate, has laid violent hands upon himself?" For usurers also philosophize, and become disciples of the Egyptian mathematicians, when there is need to compose an apology for their crimes and detestable deeds and their homicides. ^C Such a one, therefore, must be addressed with this speech: "You are that unfortunate birth, and that unhappy necessity of the stars. For if you had lightened his care, and had released even a part of the debt, and had accepted a portion with remission, he would not have hated the light as something hateful, nor would he have become his own executioner. And with what eyes will you look upon the murdered man at the time of the resurrection (52)? For you will both come to the tribunal of Christ, where usury is not calculated, but the account of a life lived will be judged. And what will you answer when accused before the incorrupt judge, when He says to you: 'You had the law, the prophets, the evangelical injunctions. You heard them all together, at once, crying out with one voice to love and philanthropy, with these admonishing you: Thou shalt not lend at usury to thy brother (55),' and others saying: 'Thou shalt not give thy silver at usury'; and others, 'If you lend to your brother..."

thou shalt not oppress him.' ^A Matthew also in the parables cried out, announcing the Lord's command, saying: 'Thou wicked servant, I forgave thee all that debt, because you asked me: oughtest not thou also to have had compassion on thy fellow-servant, even as I had pity on thee?' And the Lord being angry, delivered him to the tormentors, until he should pay all that was due unto him. Then a late and fruitless repentance will take hold of you; heavy groanings will seize you, and an inevitable punishment. Gold will be of no help there, nor will silver bring relief. The taking of usury is more bitter than gall. These are not empty threats of words, but the very truth of the matter; they bear witness to the future judgment before experience makes it known, wherefore a prudent man, and one who has a care for the future, will zealously take heed.

Ut ^B truly I might provide some benefit to those listening, by recounting something that happened in our own age, in the house of a certain usurer, before that judgment of God, attend: even if perhaps many of you already have this, which I am about to recount, known to you.

There was a certain man in this city (I shall not speak his name, fearing to seem to want to mock the dead by naming them), whose sole art was to lend and to derive some profit from detestable usury. Seized by this disease of avarice, he became tenacious and sordid to himself and his own (as misers are wont to be), in that he would not set out a sufficient table, nor change his garments except when compelled by greatest necessity, nor provide for his children the necessities for subsistence, nor make use of baths from fear of the ^C fee of the three obols; but he was devising every way, whence he might further increase the count of his monies. Nor did he consider any person a trustworthy guardian of his purse, neither son, nor servant, nor money-changer, nor key, nor seal; but depositing his gold in the holes of the walls, and smearing over the mud on the outside, he kept the treasure known to no one, changing places from place to place, and walls from walls, and cleverly scheming to lie hidden from all. Suddenly he departed from life, having declared to none of his family where the gold had been buried. And so he himself was buried ^D also, having gained this one thing, namely, that he himself was hidden away under the earth. But his children, when they hoped that they would be the richest of all the citizens, sought everywhere, inquired of one another, examined the servants, dug up the floors of the houses, undermined the walls, rummaged through the houses of neighbors and acquaintances, and "having moved every stone," as the saying goes, they did not find even an obol. They lead their lives in...

the present time as exiles, bereft of home and hearth, every day detesting their father’s folly.

Such, therefore, O usurers, was your friend and companion—a man who ended his life in a manner worthy of his habits, a vain and fickle financier who, though he struggled with countless troubles and hunger itself, procured for himself eternal torments as if by hereditary right, while leaving poverty to his children. You do not know, miserable men, for whom you are scraping together and hoarding. The turns of fortune's wheel are various; there are infinite impostors, and many a treacherous man or bandit disturbs both land and sea. See to it that, having lost your gold, your main profit does not turn out to be sin. ^B "But this speech," they say, "is odious and heavy for us." I know your grumbling and the gnashing of your teeth, even though I endeavor more often from this higher place to strengthen you in the right path. "He begrudges," they say, "those who receive benefits and those who are in need. Therefore, we shall refrain from giving loans." And what life will the needy and afflicted lead? Indeed, an utterance worthy of their habits, and an objection fitting for those who are darkened by the shadows of riches. For they do not have a sufficiently strengthened judgment of mind to be able to understand what is said. Hence, they take the warnings of those who advise them rightly in the contrary sense; for just as they threaten, while I am speaking, that they will not give loans to the poor, so they mutter and threaten that they will shut their doors against the needy when they come.

I, for my part, first preach and proclaim that one ought to give as a gift. Then, I also exhort one to lend. For a loan is a second form of gift. But this should be done without interest or surcharges, ^C just as the divine Word has commanded us. For both the one who does not give a loan and the one who gives it with interest are equally liable to punishment. For the inhumanity of the former, and the huckster's gain of the latter, have both been condemned. But these men flee to the opposite extreme, promising to withhold the gift altogether. Yet this is a shameless defiance, a manic rivalry against justice, a strife and war against God. "For," says one, "I will either not give, or if I lend, I will fix the contract with interest."

So then, regarding the usurers, the argument has contended sufficiently against them, and the points of the indictment are shown clearly, as if in a court of law. And may God grant them repentance for their evil deeds. But toward those who readily take loans and cast themselves recklessly into the ^D hooks of usury, I shall say no word, judging as sufficient for them the counsel which our inspired Father Basil wisely worked out in his own treatise on this subject, in which he spoke at greater length to those who take loans thoughtlessly than to those who lend out of avarice.

OF OUR HOLY FATHER GREGORY, ON LOVING THE POOR AND EMBRACING BENEVOLENCE, ORATION I

^A The president of this Church, and those teachers of pure piety and of a life lived according to virtue, have much in common with the instructors and masters of the primary elements of letters. For just as those, having received from their parents children who are still infants and babbling, do not immediately burden them with the hidden precepts of the disciplines, but first trace the letter alpha in wax, and the letters that follow, teaching them to know their names and exercising their hands upon the inscribed forms; and after this, advance them to syllables, and then instruct them in the pronunciation of words; in the same way, the leaders of the Church, first leading the listener to the rudimentary elements of instruction, then step-by-step reveal those things which are more perfect and more recondite.

Since, therefore, during the two previous days we have disciplined the lust of the throat and the belly, do not suppose that today too I shall speak of the customary things, that it is good to disdain meats, and to abstain from wine, which is a companion of laughter and madness; and to restrain the cooks, and the hand of the cupbearer, weary from preparing and pouring out cups. For these things have been sufficiently spoken of by me, and you have demonstrated the effectiveness of the counsel by your own deeds. But since you have practiced this first lesson, it is right to move forward to impart, in turn, teachings that are greater and more robust.

^B There is, therefore, also a bodiless fast and an immaterial self-control, which turns toward the soul the abstinence from evil; and it is for the sake of that fast that this abstinence from foods has also been prescribed to us. Fast, therefore, from malice; ^C for this kind of fasting—and this degree of self-control, which is removed from the body and from matter, and which respects the soul alone—is accomplished by our refraining from vices; and of this fast, the grace...

^A of self-denial is the beginning. Refrain from the desire for what belongs to others; starve the greed for Mammon. Let there be nothing in your house that is stored up from violence and robbery. For what is the benefit if you do not bring meat to your mouth, and yet with malice you bite your brother? Or what benefit is it if you do not eat your own, and yet unjustly take what belongs to the poor? What kind of piety is this, if while drinking water, you contrive deceit and hunger for blood out of wickedness? Judas, after all, fasted with the eleven; but because he did not tame his avaricious disposition, the fasting profited him nothing for his salvation. And the devil does not eat, ^B for he is a spirit without a body; yet because of his wickedness he fell from the height of his rank. Likewise, with respect to every one of the demons, neither is thirst brought against them, nor can they be accused of overeating or drunkenness. For their nature has separated them from the participation of food. Yet, both by night and by day, wandering through the air, they are the authors and ministers of wickedness, and they labor diligently to plot against us. They melt away with malice and envy, which it is better to flee, if we indeed intend to have as humans a relationship with God, since they themselves have fallen from that affinity with the good. And so, the philosophical way of life ^C should guide the lives of Christians. Let the soul flee the damage of malice. For if, although we abstain from wine and meat, we remain liable to sins of the heart, I forewarn and testify that water and vegetables and a bloodless table will profit us nothing, if we have an inner disposition that is unlike our outward appearance. Fasting was ordained for the sake of the purity of the soul. But if that purity is dissolved by our purpose and other actions, why do we use up pure drinking water in vain? Why do we cultivate that mire that cannot be washed away or cleansed? What is the benefit of bodily fasting if the mind is not clean? For it is of no use if the currency is strong and the chariot is well-ordered, ^D if the charioteer is insane. Or what is the benefit of a well-fitted ship if the pilot is drunk? Fasting is the foundation of virtue. But just as the hulls of ships and the foundations of a house, even if you lay down massive ones, are useless and vain if you do not build the remaining parts upon them with skill and knowledge: so also, this self-control will have no profit unless other parts of justice are added to it. Let the fear of God teach the tongue to speak what is fitting, to be silent about contrary things, to observe the occasion, the measure, and the necessary word, and an apt reply; not to speak without order; not to crush those we meet with severity. For this reason that most delicate membrane, which binds the tongue to the lower jaw, is called the bridle, that it might not speak disorderly and without method. Let it use praises, not insults; songs, not curses; commendations, not disparagement. Let the wayward hand be restrained as if by a chain by the memory of God. For this reason we fast, because our Lamb—insults and blows, beforehand

was afflicted before being fastened to the cross with nails. Let us not imitate the Jewish character, we who are disciples of Christ.

For if we are so disposed, Isaiah will say to us: "Why do you fast for contests and strifes, and strike the lowly with your fists?" Learn from the same prophet the works of a sincere and pure fast: "Loose every bond of wickedness. Dissolve the obligations of violent contracts. Break your bread for the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house." ^A The present time brings us a great abundance of those who are naked and homeless. For a multitude of those captured by misfortune frequents the doors of everyone.

Nor are strangers and exiles lacking; and one can see the hand seeking aid extended everywhere. For them, the air serves as a roof in the open. Their lodgings are porticoes, crossroads, and the deserted parts of the marketplace. They hide in caves and crevices after the fashion of night-ravens and owls. Their clothing is tattered rags; their agriculture is the kindness of those who pity them, food being whatever might fall into their hands from those who pass by; their drink, like that of creatures without reason, is from the springs; their cup is the hollow of their hands; their storehouse is their bosom—if indeed it is not torn, but is able to cover what is put into it; their table is the joining of their knees; their bed is the ground; their bath is a river or a pool, which God gave as common to all and without preparation. Their life is nomadic and wild, not because they established it so from the beginning, but because they have been forced into it by calamity and necessity.

^B To these, you who fast, provide the necessities. Be generous toward those of your brothers who are unfortunate. What you have taken from your own belly, add to that of the hungry. Let the fear of God be the righteous arbiter of these things. Treat with temperate self-control two affections at odds with each other: your own satiety and your brother’s famine. For this is what physicians also do: they empty some and fill others, so that by addition and subtraction the health of each may be preserved. Be persuaded by this noble exhortation. Let reason provide the poor access to the houses of the wealthy. Let counsel lead the needy to the one who possesses. Let not mere talk enrich those who groan. Rather, let the eternal Word of God grant them a home, a bed, and a table. Through kindly discourse, provide from your own means what is necessary for their need. ^C Among these, let there be other poor who are infirm and bedridden. Let each take concern for his neighbors. Do not allow your neighbor to be tended by another. Do not let another take the treasure that lies before you. Embrace the one afflicted by calamity as if he were gold. Cherish the one who is mistreated as if he were your own health, as the salvation of your wife, your children, your servants, and your entire household.

^A For when all the poor are to be cherished and helped, those who are sick are to be embraced with special care. For he who is needy and sick labors under a double poverty. The destitute, who are sound in body, go from door to door and walk up to those who have means. Sitting at the crossroads, they call out to all who pass by. But those who are fettered by sickness, enclosed in narrow lodgings and confined to the cramped corners of a room, like Daniel in the lions' den, wait for you—the pious and the lover of the poor—as if you were Habakkuk.

Therefore, become a companion of the Prophet through almsgiving; approach the needy quickly and readily to nourish them. You will suffer no loss in doing this. Do not fear; the fruit of almsgiving grows many-fold. Sower of benefits, that you may reap the fruit and fill your house with goodly sheaves. ^B But you will say, "I too am poor." Be it so. Let it be granted. Give what you have. For God does not require from you what is beyond your strength. You give bread, another a cup of wine, a third a garment, and thus, by the contribution of many, the calamity of one is relieved. Even Moses did not receive the expense for the tabernacle from one person’s service, but from the whole people. For the wealthy brought gold, another silver, the poor skins, and he who was poorer than the poor brought hair. Do you see how even the widow's mite surpassed the offerings of the rich? For she poured out everything she had, while from their abundance, scarcely a tiny token fell. Do not despise the poor who lie there as if they were of no value. Consider who they are, and you will recognize their dignity: they have taken on the person of our Savior. ^C For the kind One has granted them His own person, that through it, they might shame the unsympathetic and those who hate the poor, just as those who hold up royal images against those who do them violence, so that by the likeness of the sovereign, they might shame the offender and their assault might be broken and held back. So too, those who are moved by no compassion and who pursue the poor with hatred might be swayed, softened, and moved to prayer by that same image. These are the storekeepers of the good things we expect. These are the gatekeepers of the kingdom of heaven, who open the doors to the kind and good, and close them to the harsh and inhuman. These are both fierce accusers and excellent advocates. They advocate and accuse, not by speaking, but by being seen by the Judge. For the deed done regarding them cries out before the Knower of hearts more clearly than any herald. Because of them, the fearful judgment of God—of which you have often heard—was recorded for us by the angels. ^D For I saw there the Son of man coming from the heavens, treading upon the air as if it were earth, and accompanied by the many myriads of angels. Then a throne of glory was raised on high, and the King sat upon it. Then every tribe of men, all the nations, all the peoples, who have come into being and were illuminated by the sun, and were drawn from this air, in two

^A parts separated to stand before the tribunal of the Judge. I hear those who are on the right being called lambs; those on the other side, I heard, are goats—taking their appellations upon themselves from the similarity of their character. And there are dialogues there of the Judge with those being judged, and answers of those being held to account toward the King. And that which was appropriate for each was allotted. To those who had lived the best life, the enjoyment of the Kingdom; but to the misanthropic and wicked, the punishment of fire, and this one that endures forever. And everything is written down carefully; and the tribunal has been vividly depicted for us by the Word, for no other reason than that we might learn the goodness of doing good. For this is what sustains life, the mother of the needy, the teacher of the rich, a good nurse of children, a caretaker for the elderly, a storehouse for those lacking, a common ^B harbor for the unfortunate, dispensing her own providence to all ages and calamities.

For just as those who preside over the games of vanity proclaim their own generosity with a trumpet, promising the distribution of wealth to all those in the wrestling arena, so also doing good calls everyone who is in difficulties and crises to itself—not distributing rewards for wounds to those who approach, but dispensing remedies and healing for their calamities. And this is higher than every praiseworthy deed, an assessor of God, a friend of the good, and having a great kinship with Him. Thus, before all things, God Himself appears to us as the practitioner of good and humane deeds; for the creation of the earth, and the arrangement of the heaven, and the orderly succession of the seasons, and the heat of the sun, and the chilling formation of ice, and everything in each detail—not for Himself does God Himself effect these—for He is in no need of such things—but He is constantly working for our sake; an invisible farmer of human food, a timely sower, and a skilled provider of irrigation.

For He, according to Isaiah, gives seed to the sower and water from the clouds, now sprinkling it gently upon the earth, ^C and again pouring it in torrents over the furrows. And when the crops have grown and the grassy stage has passed, dispersing the clouds from the entire sky, then He sets the sun over them, naked of any covering, stretching out its hot and burning ray, so that the ears of corn may become ripe for harvest. He nurtures also the vine, preparing drink for the thirsty at the appropriate times; and He nurtures for us herds of different kinds, so that there may be abundant food for men—and the skins of some, producing wool, provide us with shelter; and of others, they fashion for us our footwear. Do you see that God is the first lover of doing good, thus feeding the hungry, and giving drink to the thirsty, and clothing the naked, as was said before? ^D And when the crops have grown and the greenness has appeared, then, the clouds having been scattered and dispersed, He shows them the sun, naked and open from all coverings, and sends it down so that, warmed by its hot and burning rays, they may reach maturity and show spikes suitable for harvesting.

What then? Because He even nourishes the vine and thus grants drink to the thirsty at the fitting time. What then? Because He also nourishes various kinds of animals, to provide men with both flesh for eating, and skins, which furnish wool for shielding and for making clothes, and for sewing shoes. You see how God is the first author and source of beneficence, feeding the hungry, giving to the thirsty, and covering the naked, as we said before.

^A If, however, you wish to hear how He also cures those laboring under disease, those who are ill-affected and afflicted, listen. Who taught the bee to manufacture wax and with it the honey? Who caused the pine, the terebinth, and the mastic tree to distill that rich resinous sap? Or who created the land of the Indians to be the mother of dry and fragrant fruits, and of sweet-smelling gums? Who brought forth the olive as a relief for bodily labors and pains? Who gave us the knowledge of roots and herbs, and the learning concerning the qualities that are within them? Who devised the medicine which produces and preserves health? Who drew forth from the earth the springs of warm waters, that by their power we might be healed of our cold and moist, or dry and scorched, afflictions and diseases? It is right, therefore, and timely for me to use the words of Baruch: *He found out all the way of knowledge, and gave it to Jacob his servant, and to Israel his beloved.* ^B Through Him all arts, whether practiced by fire, or without fire, or in water, were invented; through Him were countless sciences devised, so that nothing whatsoever might be lacking to men that pertains to the necessity and convenience of carrying on life. And God, indeed, as the inventor and fountain of beneficence and generosity, benignly supplies all things that are necessary for us.

But we, who are instructed by every single word of the divine Scripture to imitate our Lord and Creator (insofar as a mortal can imitate the blessed and immortal), grab everything for our own enjoyment, and measure everything by our own pleasures; some things we lavish on the delicacies of our own life, and other things we hoard for the greed of our heirs. But there is no consideration for the wretched, no suitable care for the poor, and no concern. O cruel souls! O minds entirely alienated ^C from all mercy! A man sees another man in need of bread, not having the necessary sustenance of life, and yet he does not succor him with a prompt and eager mind, nor afford him salvation; but he despises him, and, like a flourishing plant, allows him to wither from a lack of water; and this even though he himself is flooded with the greatest abundance, and is able to satisfy and refresh the poverty of many from his own overflow. For just as the flow from one spring makes many long and wide-reaching plains of fields fertile and productive, so too can the wealth of one house rescue and sustain a multitude of the poor from the straits of indigence, provided that a thrifty and stingy mind does not, like a fallen stone, turn back and intercept the veins and rivulets of ^D benevolence that should flow forth publicly as from a fountain.

Let us not live for the flesh in all things: let us live somewhat for God. For the delicacies of banquets, which enter into the belly, can bring to the flesh only as much pleasure as is the space which the throat encompasses. For as soon as they have slipped into the belly, they putrefy and pass away through the lower parts. But mercy and beneficence are matters pleasing to God, and in whatever man they dwell, they make him divine, and stamp him with the likeness of the Good, so that

he is adorned with the image of that first and impassible nature which surpasses all mind. But what kind of end to their striving and toil do they promise? ^A

Now, indeed, a glorious hope and an expectation full of joy; but later, when we have stripped off the spoils of this constantly flowing flesh and put on immortality, a blessed life, which shall have no end, and which is subject to no evils, dwelling in pleasures and delights that are supreme and wonderful, and which here cannot be grasped by our understanding.

Therefore, you who are endowed with reason and adorned with the mind as an interpreter and teacher of divine things, do not, I beseech you, be seduced by the flatteries of fleeting and perishable things, ^B or allow yourselves to be enticed and captured like bait. Embrace Him who will never desert the one who possesses Him; set a limit to the use of life. Do not think that all things are yours; let there be a portion also for the poor and the friends of God. For all things belong to God, our common Father. We, however, are brothers as being of the same race. And as for brothers, the best and most just thing is to divide the inheritance in equal shares. But when this is not done, and one or another appropriates more, the rest should at least receive one portion. But if anyone wishes to be the master of absolutely everything and wants to turn away the entire inheritance, and exclude his brothers from a third or fifth share, he is not a brother, but a bitter tyrant, a ruthless barbarian, ^C indeed an insatiable wild beast, who with gaping mouth devours the delicious viands alone, or rather, is even more savage and rustic than the beasts themselves; forasmuch as the wolf admits a fellow wolf into the feast for the sake of devouring the prey, and many dogs sometimes tear the same body asunder. But this man makes no human being of his own kind a participant in his wealth. A moderate table suffices for you. Do not cast yourself into that sea of licentious feasting, so that you crave banquets furnished with every kind of food. For there a grave shipwreck occurs, in which you are not struck against rocks hidden under the sea, but are thrust down into a most deep and dark chasm, from which he who has once fallen never emerges.

Use, therefore, but do not abuse; for so also Paul taught. ^D Recreate yourself with modest enjoyment. Temperately relax your mind. Do not let luxuries so overwhelm you that you exult with excessive joy and revel in insane pleasures. Do not be the destruction of absolutely all animals, whether large, small, birds, fish, those easily obtained, those rare, those cheap, or those of great price. Do not satisfy one belly with the sweat of many hunters. Do not let your throat be like a chasm, or a whirlpool, or a vast and deep well, to fill which many hands must labor. Because of the luxury and delicacies of men, not only is the deep sea stirred up; not only are the fish swimming in the waters caught; but others, whatever animals dwell in the waters, are thence dragged out onto land and into this air. Thus

the ingenuity used by the pleasure-seekers devises various traps to ensnare them, and has laboured to discover various snares and wiles to bring them forth to behold this light of heaven. And what sort of things follow such luxuries? ^A For it is inevitable that luxury, wherever that disease has once taken root and grown, should pull along the accompanying materials of wickedness. Hence, those who have set themselves to live softly and delicately are necessarily drawn into the construction of magnificent buildings, and they expend great wealth on the size of their houses and curious ornaments. ^B To these they willingly call and invite companies of men, and diligently prepare splendid clothing and varied furnishings. They have tables made of silver worth many talents, some polished until they are perfectly smooth, others fashioned with artistic carving, so that it may be possible for the guests at once to regale their throats with feasts and to delight their eyes by gazing at and reading the histories depicted there. Reckon up for me what follows: craters, tripods, jars, vessels for pouring, platters, myriad types of drinking cups, buffoons, mimes, cithara-players, singers, wits, musicians, female musicians, dancers, dancing girls—the whole performance of wantonness; boys effeminated with their hair, shameless girls—whom because of their immodesty you might rightly call sisters of Herodias, destroying John, that is, the mind which is godlike and studious of wisdom in everyone.

While these things are being enacted inside, countless Lazaruses sit at the gates of the vestibule; some full of ulcers, others deprived of their eyes, others groaning from the mutilation of their feet; some of them, though stripped of almost all their limbs, yet dare to crawl, and in some way make progress. They cry out, but they are not heard. For the din of the pipes and the melodies of the automatic songs, and the guffawing of those who are laughing unrestrainedly, hinder it. But if they happen to trouble the doors a little more insistently, a bold doorkeeper, springing out from somewhere for his merciless master, drives them away with rods, calling them shameless dogs, and flaying their wounds with lashes. ^C So the friends of Christ, in whom is set the sum of the commandments, depart having received not even a morsel of bread nor any piece of food, but having instead gained insults and blows. Inside, however, in the workshop of Mammon, some, like overly laden ships, vomit up their food; others fall asleep at the table with the cups present. A double sin is committed in that shameful house: one for the surfeit of the drunkards, and the other for the famine of the excluded poor.

If God looks upon these things, as he clearly does behold them, what reversal of life, what outcome do you think there will be, you enemies of the poor? Tell me, I pray you, do you not know that it is for the sake of such things that all the horrid and terrible examples are placed and commemorated in the holy Gospel? And it is recorded, indeed, how he who had been nourished in fine linen, and was constrained in the abyss of evils, ^D groaned heavily and sighed;

^A regarding the other, similar to him, was he not, when at evening he was pondering the delights of the morning, condemned to such an unexpected and sudden death that he could not even behold the rays of the rising sun? Therefore, since we are mortal, let us not cast away the faith, nor enjoy our pleasures as if we were immortal. For we are generally disposed in this way, whoever of us wishes to indulge our own genius and satisfy the flesh in all things: as though we were householders who would never have a successor, and as perpetual masters of human affairs, we perform the sowing at the time of harvest, and when it is time to sow, we hope for the joy of the harvest. We plant a plane tree, and hope for the shadow of that tall tree. We commit the seed of the palm to the earth, and look forward to the sweetness of its fruit. And these things are done often in old age itself, when the autumn of life is already present, and the winter of death is approaching, and the time remaining in life is not a series of years, but three or four days.

Let us think, therefore, as rational beings, how transitory is this life of ours, and how the time flows, unstable and unchecked, like the current of a river, driving all that is within it toward the end of destruction. And would that, being brief and frail, it were also free from account! But this is the dangerous part: that for every hour, nay, even for the words which we utter, we must render an account before the incorruptible tribunal. ^B For this reason also the blessed Psalmist, turning himself toward a realization similar to what is now being said, desires to know the limit of his own end. He beseeches God to be taught the number of his remaining days, so that he may prepare himself for the tasks of his departure, and not be suddenly troubled like an unprepared traveler walking along the way and looking about for the necessary provisions. He says, therefore: "Make me to know, O Lord, my end, and the number of my days, what it is; that I may know what I lack. Behold, thou hast made my days as handbreadths, and my being is as nothing before thee." See the good concern of a prudent soul, and that, too, in a man established in royal dignity. For he looks toward the King of kings and the Judge of judges; and he seeks, having acquired the perfect garment of the commandments, to depart as one who is sound, a citizen of that country above—the which may we all attain by the grace and loving-kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.

BY THE SAME GREGORY: ON THE LOVE OF THE POOR, ORATION II

A Discourse on the Gospel passage: "Inasmuch as you did it to one of these," and what follows.

^A Still I am detained in the contemplation of that terrifying coming of the great King, which the Gospel describes for us. Still my soul, as I attentively consider the fear which that mention inspires, shrinks and shudders. For I seem to behold the heavenly King Himself, as it is described there, sitting in a fearful manner upon the throne of majesty. And I perceive that magnificent throne—whatever that throne may be—which contains Him who is contained by no place. I see those countless myriads of angels surrounding the King. I behold the great and terrible King Himself, looking down from His immense glory upon human nature, and gathering to Himself every generation of men, as many as are found from the time when men began to be generated until the day of that fearful coming. And to each, according to the standard of their life and the merits of their previous conduct, He either awards rewards or imposes punishments: placing those who have lived rightly and holily on the right hand, as it is said, while those who have behaved basely and wickedly are placed on the left and condemned. And I hear Him addressing both, though in a different manner. For He speaks to some with those sweetest and most auspicious words: "Come, you blessed of my Father"; but to others with that horrible and terrifying threat: "Depart, you cursed, into eternal fire."

^B Thus is my soul affected and terrified as I read and consider these things, that I seem to think them not being read, but being fulfilled, and not being spoken, but being enacted; and I seem to be not merely hearing, but to be actually present in the very events themselves. Therefore, I feel nothing more of present things, nor does my mind have leisure to turn to anything else among the matters proposed for my investigation ^C and contemplation—though, indeed, these are no small matters, nor worthy of little inquiry: to know how He who is always present comes. For "Lo," He says, "I am with you all the days." And if it is believed that He is with us, how is it promised that He will come, as if He were not already present? If

indeed in Him, as the Apostle says, we live and move and have our being, there is no way ^A that the One who encompasses all things could spatially exclude those who are contained within Him; so that one should expect Him either not to be present now to those who are encompassed by Him, or to be present at some later time. But what, too, is the throne of the Incorporeal? And the manifestation of the Invisible? And the form of the Shapeless? And the circumscription of the Uncircumscribed upon a throne? All these things, as being greater than our present time, I shall defer. But that we may not be thrust into the order of the outcasts, to this end, as much as I am able, I shall turn my discourse to our common profit. For I am exceedingly, brothers, exceedingly terrified by the threat; and I do not deny the affliction of my soul. I would that you also would not have a contemptuous attitude toward fears. For, "Blessed is the man who fears everything out of reverence," ^B and he who despises a matter shall be despised by it, as the word of Wisdom says somewhere. Therefore, before the time of evils arrives, let us take care not to experience these sorrows. But what is the deliverance from these fearful things? It is to choose this way of life which the Word has now pointed out to us, the one that is truly recent and living.

What is this way? "I was hungry, and I gave you to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave me to drink; I was a stranger, and you took me in; naked, and you clothed me; I was sick, and you visited me; I was in prison, and you came to me." Insofar as you did it ^C to one of these least, you did it to me. And because of this, He says, "Come, you blessed of my Father." What do we learn from these things? That blessing is the diligent keeping of the commandments; but curse is the slothfulness regarding the commandments. Let us love the blessing, and let us flee the curse. For it is in our power to choose or not to choose either one; for in whatever direction we incline with our will, in that we shall be. Therefore, let us make the Lord of the blessing our own, He who reckons the zeal spent upon the needy as though it were spent upon Himself; and especially now, when the commandment has much material in the present life. For many are in need of necessities, and many are in need ^D of the body itself, being consumed by a grievous disease. Therefore, in the zeal spent upon these, let us secure for ourselves the good promise; I speak clearly here of those who have been mangled by a grievous disease. For by as much as their infirmity is greater, by so much, evidently, is the blessing greater for those who carry out the arduous task of the commandment. What then must be done? Not to go against the ordinance of the Spirit. This is, not to alienate ourselves from those who share our nature, nor to imitate those condemned in the Gospel, I mean the priest and the Levite, who passed by without sympathy

^A for that miserable man whom the story reports was left half-dead by the robbers. For if those men are found guilty because they did not turn their attention to the wounds swelling upon his naked body, how shall we, who imitate those very culprits, not fall under the same condemnation? Surely, the spectacle presented by that man who had fallen among robbers was not so pitiable as that presented by those who are oppressed by a calamity of this kind. You see a man transformed by the severity of a disease into the shape of a quadruped, having covered his hands with wood in place of hooves and claws, and thus pressing a new kind of footprint into the human paths. Who, from that form, could recognize that a human being had imprinted such tracks upon his journey? Man, who in his form is upright, who looks toward heaven, to whom nature gave hands as an instrument for accomplishing tasks, is bent toward the earth, and becomes a quadruped, and is little short of appearing devoid of reason. With difficulty he draws breath, grows hoarse, and elicits a rumbling from his innermost vitals, being (may one speak boldly?) more calamitous than the very animals themselves that are devoid of reason. For they, as a rule, preserve the form they received from birth until the end; nor is any one of them changed from that form into another on account of some disease. But this one, as if his nature were changed, appears as something else, and not the animal he was accustomed to be; his hands perform the function of feet for him; his knees provide the use of soles; for his natural soles and ankles either vanish completely, or, like some extraneous skiffs rashly attached to ships, are dragged along by chance. ^B In these cases, do you see a human being and feel no shame for the kinship? Do you not pity one who is of the same nature? Instead, do you loathe the calamity and hate the supplicant, avoiding his approach just as you would shun the onset of some wild beast? And yet, you ought to have been restrained by this thought, if nothing else: that an angel, free from body and matter, did not disdain to touch you, a being mixed and compounded of flesh and blood, even though you are a man. But why do I speak of angels, when the Lord of angels himself, the King of heavenly blessedness, became man for your sake and clothed himself in this foul and filthy husk of flesh, along with the soul that was clothed within it, so that by his own touch he might heal your ailments? Yet you—who are the same by nature as the afflicted man—flee from a human being of the same kind. Do not, brother, I beseech you, let this wicked counsel please you. Consider who you are and concerning whom you are deliberating: it is a man, concerning other men, you yourself possessing nothing unique beyond the common nature. ^C Do not prejudge the future. For while you condemn the affection visible in another’s body, you are pronouncing an uncertain judgment upon the whole of human nature. Yet you are also a participant in that same nature, just like all the rest. Therefore, let there be deliberation as if upon a matter held in common.

^A Why, then, does no compassion for the things that are visible enter into you? You see nomadic people, wandering about like cattle in their need for food, possessing only rags—this is their clothing; a staff in their hands—this is their weapon, this is their carriage—and even this is not held by their fingers, but tied to their palms with certain straps; a tattered wallet, and a piece of bread corrupted by mold and rot; their hearth, their home, their bed, their couch, their storeroom, their table, every single provision of their life, is this wallet. And then, do you not consider who it is that is in this state? It is a human being, made in the image of God, appointed to rule over the earth, having the service of irrational creatures subject to him; he has come to such a state of calamity and change that the sight is ambiguous, for he bears no clear sign ^B of being a man, nor does he bear the marks of any other animal individually. If you compare him to a human, the human character repudiates such an ugliness; if you turn your inspection toward the irrational animals, they too do not admit to a likeness of what is seen. Only these men look toward each other alone, and flock together with one another because of the similarity of their affliction; they are creatures who are loathsome to others, but not loathsome to one another out of necessity. For since they are driven out from everywhere, they become a people of their own, rushing together toward one another. Do you see these joyless dancers, this mournful and gloomy chorus? How they parade their own misfortunes! How they make a spectacle of their own deformed nature, like certain jugglers displaying their many sorts of infirmities to those who happen by! They are poets of mournful melodies, composers of those wretched songs; tragedians of this empty and miserable tragedy, not using the sufferings of others for their tragedies, but filling the stage with their own evils. What figures they are! What stories they tell! And what do we hear them saying? How they were cast off by those who gave them birth, for no crime of their own! How they are driven out of common assemblies, festivals, and public gatherings, just like some murderers or parricides condemned to perpetual exile—or rather, far more miserable than those, for murderers are permitted to live elsewhere among men! But these people alone of all others are driven out from everywhere, as if declared to be common enemies; they are deemed unworthy of a single roof, a common table, or the use of utensils. And this is not yet the worst; for not even the springs are common to them alongside other men, nor are the rivers trusted, as if they would pull down some of the pollution of their infirmity. If a dog laps the water with its blood-thirsty tongue, the water is not considered loathsome because of the beast; if the sick man approaches the water, forthwith the water is condemned because of the man. These things they recount, these things they lament; for this reason, the wretched creatures are forced to throw themselves before men, becoming supplicants to anyone who happens by. Often I have shed tears at this gloomy spectacle, often I have been indignant at nature itself; and now, at the