do these things during the time of the demon’s possession, but after that madness has subsided. For they overeat, steal, get drunk, and do things far more shameful than these. Just as, therefore, in the case of evildoers, the judge permits most of them to live in prison for a long time, so that they often even end their life there, but when he wishes to admonish others from the crowd, he takes one or two from them, and having seated them on high on the judgment seat, with everyone standing around, he thus commands that they be led to death, and there is no need for all the wicked to be punished for the sake of the fear of the rest; so too with God, it is not necessary when He wishes to discipline us that He act toward all the wicked, but having taken some from among them, whom He knows possess no hope of correction, He demonstrates His power and His wrath, accomplishing much from this. For both the wicked are thus exhorted to a change of wickedness, if they should wish, and the good are made more attentive, and He demonstrates His own long-suffering, and the teaching concerning the resurrection, which I previously said, He makes manifest to all.
What, then, you say, are these things to those who in calamities have been raised throughout their whole early childhood, and have breathed their last before arriving at discerning good or evil? And what terrible thing do they suffer, tell me, not yet having the perception of what they suffer, nor having learned to grieve and to rejoice? I, however, do not resolve this matter by this alone, but because their parents and brothers and relatives were brought to their senses by such calamities; and this is no small gain, that from those things for which another has been wronged in no way, another should be greatly benefited. It is likely too that there is some other unspeakable cause, manifest only to the Creator of all.
9. Why some sin after affliction
9. One argument still remains: why ever those who walk the straight path fell after the testings. Who, then, truly knows those who walk the straight path, except Him who fashioned our hearts alone, and who understands all our deeds? For many who seem to be righteous are often more wicked than all others. And this has already been demonstrated both in the present life, but only in the case of some, when some circumstance or necessity arises. But when He who proves the hearts and reins, the living and active and sharper than any two-edged sword, who penetrates to the division of soul and spirit, of both joints and marrow, the judge of the thoughts and intents [Hebr. 4.12], sits to judge us, then indeed, you will see not just a few from the many, but all such people exposed; and neither will a sheep’s skin be able to hide the wolf, nor the whitewash [hide] the filth within the tomb. For there is no creature invisible before Him who judges then, but all things are naked and opened to His eyes; which Paul signifying writes to the Corinthians: Therefore judge nothing before the time, until the Lord comes, who will both bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the hearts [1 Cor. 4.5].
But so that we might leave aside the hypocrites and come in our discourse to those who live rightly, whence is it clear, if other things have been accomplished by them, that the primary point of goods, humility, has been neglected? And because of this, God left them, so that they might learn that they did not accomplish those things by their own power, but by the grace of God. If anyone should say that it is better to be raised up while accomplishing things than to fall and be humbled, such a one is very ignorant of the damage of arrogance and the gain of humility. For know well that a man accomplishing things with pride, if indeed this is accomplishing anything at all, will quickly fall into the ultimate destruction. And he who is permitted to slip, and has learned modesty from the fall, will both rise and regain himself more quickly, if he should wish; but he who seems to be doing well with arrogance, while suffering nothing terrible, will never receive perception of his own transgression, but will even increase the evil, and will escape by departing from here empty; just like that Pharisee [Luc. 18.10], who went up thinking he was rich in all good things, but went down having learned that he was poorer than the tax collector.
There is also another type which possesses great strength to empty out the good things gathered with many sweats and toils: the wind of vainglory. For just as wind, truly, having entered, blows out all the treasures of virtue. Behold, therefore, a second reason has appeared to us for those who walk the straight path, as you said. For many among us, who seem to have endured many labors for the sake of virtue, and who were enduring them, since they were looking toward the honor from men, and were not doing everything for God, were permitted to fall into trial, so that, having been deprived of the glory from the many for the sake of which they were deprived of everything, and having learned the nature of it, that it exists as nothing better than the flower of the grass, they might attend to God alone for the future, and do everything because of Him.
And there are other reasons besides these, far more than these, to us indeed invisible, as I have said, but known to God who made them. Let us not, therefore, be distressed at what is happening, but let us give thanks; for this is the mark of grateful servants. But you, wondering why not sooner, when you were living in luxury and were surrounded by worldly pretense, but now, when you have cast all those things away, and have dedicated yourself wholly to God, then this filthy one suddenly rushed [at you], you behave similarly to how you would if you wondered why, when no one molests the spectators, yet for the one who has registered to box, and has trained, and has entered the contest, for this one alone of all, the antagonist comes, striking the head and bruising the face. This is not at all wonderful nor worthy of despondency, if, because we have chosen to box, he oppresses and distresses and loads us; for this is the law of boxers; but if he overthrows and casts down and takes away the prize, this is the terrible thing. But as long as he is not able to do this, he has not only harmed nothing, but has even benefited us greatly by making us more dignified through the fierce struggle. For even in the camps, he is the best of all who has many wounds to show, and who has undertaken single combats against the more vigorous of the enemies; and we admire the athletes who grapple with the "unconquerable" [this is what they call the more contentious of the antagonists]; and that hunter is most of all a hunter who is held fast, who undertakes the catching of the beasts that are hard to capture. Impudent and fearless is [this demon].
447 S. JOHN CHRYSOSTOM, ARCHBISHOP OF CONSTANTINOPLE
and I for this reason do not cease to wonder and to be amazed that, having encountered such a violent antagonist, you have not collapsed, nor endured to come to surrender, but have remained unbending, yielding in no part to his wickedness. B But that I say these things now not to flatter you, but that you might truly reap the greatest rewards from this affliction, allow me to use boldness in speaking; for I could not otherwise furnish proof of this matter. You surely know and remember your former manner of life which you led before this kind of temptation. I would wish that you diligently examine this, and compare it with the present life you live; you will see surely how much gain you have obtained from this conflict. For now you apply yourself most intently to fasts, vigils, reading, and perpetual prayers, and have obtained gravity and humility in an excellent degree; previously there was no account of books for you, but you had devoted all your study and labor to the trees of your orchard. I heard many at that time who, rebuking you, called you arrogant and proud, and in this part imputed [the blame to] the nobility of your lineage, the brilliance of your father, and the fact that you had been raised in great wealth; as for vigils, however, how negligent you were then, you yourself know better. For often, while others were rising at deep night, you yourself were sleeping, buried in heavy slumber, and when others would wake you, you were indignant. But now, since you have undertaken this war and battle, all those things have been dissolved and changed for the better. But if you should ask of me why, when you were living in luxuries and were entirely intent upon worldy affairs, God did not send this dæmon upon you then, I shall answer that this also was done by His providence. For He knew then that you were weak, easily overcome, and would soon perish. And therefore He did not call you to this struggle immediately when you had come to the life of the monks, but He allowed you first to be exercised and to spend a long time [in preparation]; but after you had become most robust, then He drew you to this laborious stadium. You still, therefore, make mention of those who are in the world, and you bring your servant into our midst; for I think that you intended to signify him when you said that many secular men, when they had fallen into this disease, were quickly and most completely liberated. But your servant, O most beloved, and as many as have undergone the same mishaps, have not C struggled with this kind of evil for the same cause as you do now. For upon them, and upon others like them, God sent this beast only for the sake of terrifying them, that through such fear they might become better; but to you, [He sent it] that you might fight bravely and strenuously and win, and carry off for yourself the crown of patience. Moreover, there is victory then—not when one, while the theater is still standing, withdraws himself from his adversary by struggling, but when he always offers himself to the wrestler prepared for the contest, so that the adversary, suggesting absurd thoughts because of [your] sorrow, can accomplish nothing. And that the matter so stands, I thus properly conclude. It is clear surely to all, however much you through humility debase yourself, that your life differs most significantly from that of your servant, and is superior: it is necessary, therefore, that God has a greater care for you than for him. Since this is patent, that also will be similarly clear: namely, that if that permission [of the trial] were a matter of hatred, He would surely never have increased it upon him whom He loved the more, after He had so quickly snatched away from the dæmon him who had been by far the worse. Nor would I assert this from this alone, but from those things by which you think yourself to be deserted by God, from those I shall attempt to show most of all that His care for you is supreme. For if you had not done all things most studiously hitherto, if you had not undertaken long journeys, that you might encounter those holy men most powerful in solving such bonds, perhaps some would have rightly doubted, since the cause for which He left you [in this state] for so much time did not appear clear enough; but after you went often to the places of the martyrs, where many of those also who were devouring men have often been healed, and you spent much time among those wonderful and most strenuous men, who had never attempted a cure in vain, and you omitted nothing at all which might be seen in any way to be able to contribute to this liberation, and you returned carrying the enemy with you—you have brought back a clear and most certain proof of divine providence concerning you, manifest even to those who are very foolish. For God would surely never have hindered such grace, nor would He have allowed His own servants to be so covered with shame, unless He had known that it would be vehemently expedient for both your probation and your utility. And so, what seems to be a sign of divine abandonment, that is an argument of His supreme affection and love for you.
OF THE SAME TO STAGIRIUS, THAT SORROW IS MORE GRIEVOUS THAN THE DÆMON HIMSELF. BOOK TWO.
D It should suffice to have said that He is not turning away, nor hating, but rather loving you very much, and that He trains you in this way. But since you have complained that you are vehemently tormented also from another side, because the dæmon often tries to persuade you to snatch away your life either by the sea, or by a precipice, or by some other kind of death, come, let us discuss also these kinds of thoughts briefly. For that counsel is not of the dæmon alone, but also of sorrow: or rather, more of sorrow than of the dæmon, or perhaps indeed of sorrow alone. That this is so is surely clear, because many, even those free from this kind of harassment, deliberate about these things from grief alone. This, therefore, drive out and utterly eliminate from your mind, and he will have no strength henceforth for him, not only to persuade you of these things, but not even to suggest them. For indeed, just as those who dig through walls, in the time of night, with the light extinguished, can both steal wealth and slay the masters of these things with great ease…
so also this one, having poured out dejection instead of night and darkness, attempts to steal away all those reasonings that might be for our protection, in order that, having taken the soul desolate and destitute, he may pierce it with countless wounds. But when anyone has dispelled this darkness with hope in God, and has taken refuge in the Sun of righteousness, and hastens to place those rays within his own soul, he will transfer the tumult from his own reasonings onto the robber. For indeed, those who perpetrate such things, A when someone convicts them and shows the light, they tremble, they become dizzy, they are disturbed. And how, you say, could one be delivered from this pain, without first being delivered from the demon that stirs it up? It is not the demon who moves the dejection, but rather that which makes the demon strong and suggests evil reasonings. And the blessed Paul would bear witness to us in this matter; for he was not fearing any demon, but the excess of this [dejection] when he wrote to the Corinthians to spare the one who had offended, lest such a one be swallowed up by the excessive grief. But if you wish, let us for the moment assume in our argument that the demon is pressing down, and the dejection has been banished from your soul: what harm will there be henceforth? What could he, by himself, being small or great, do to injure us? Yet that [dejection], even if he himself were not present, would work many terrible things. And we shall find that the greater number of those who have fastened the noose, or have perished by the sword, or have been choked in rivers, or have destroyed themselves in some other way, were pushed by dejection to these violent deaths. And if some of those who are demon-possessed were among these [victims], yet even their destruction is not to be reckoned to the demon, but to the tyranny and violence of the dejection. And how is it possible, you say, not to be dejected? If, having departed from the opinion of the many concerning this matter, you think on things above. For now, since the matter is considered terrible by the many, it seems so to you as well; but if you should wish, having been delivered from vain and misguided prejudice, to look at it carefully by itself, you will find it contains no cause for dejection, as has already been often demonstrated to us. And concerning your contemporaries (for I think that, seeing their cheerfulness and their boldness towards your brethren, you are confounded and cast down), I would say this: that if, while they were living in temperance and modesty and the rest of the philosophy of life, you were spending all your time in brothels and dice and revelries, the excuse for dejection would have some ground. But if you are still walking the very same path as they, what is it that grieves you? For I, if my speech were towards some other of those who are easily elated, I would have kept silence on these things that I am about to say to you; but since I have great confidence that, even if someone should praise and admire you with ten thousand praises, you will never cease from being moderate, but will remain even so in the lowest [place], ranking yourself among the last, I will say everything without holding anything back. For I hear that your progress in piety has become so great that your rivalry is no longer with those youths, but with the great and admirable men. For they say that you fall short of them in nothing, not in the account of fasting—(for how could you, being nourished only on water and bread, and that every other day?)—nor in the time of the all-night vigils, but in the same way as they, one after another, you pass many sleepless nights. And regarding your conduct during the day, they say that you have already eclipsed many of them. For I hear those coming from there relating that all your time is consumed in prayers and tears; and just as those who practice silence, or who have shut themselves up alone in a small chamber, speak nothing to anyone, so they say you continue to live even while moving about in such a crowd. And they have shuddered while recounting the contrition of your heart, and your dryness, B and the pain, and many have been touched here by the report of your condition; "He does not look at," he says, "any of those who enter there, nor does he relax himself from the continuous toils; we have often feared lest he should blind his eyes with the wailings, lest he should strike his brain with the intensity of the lack of sleep and the unyielding and continuous zeal for reading."
2. Therefore, these things grieve and disturb you—that you have so surpassed your contemporaries, that while having a fierce and shameless antagonist, you have by a great measure outstripped those who run with you. Was I not saying with reason that this dejection is only prejudice, and when examined, provides us with many grounds for cheerfulness? For what advantage, tell me, is there in not being demon-possessed, when one’s life is neglected? And what harm is there in being demon-possessed, when the matters of one's conduct happen to be carefully ordered and well established? But perhaps you are ashamed and you blush when he casts you down in the presence of some people? But this happens to you again from the same presupposition—that you have entrusted the matter to the opinion of the many, and never to reason. For falling is not this thing which you say you suffer, but rather the falling into sin; it is appropriate to be ashamed and to suffer pain at this fall. But now, we are cast down over matters that contain no shame, yet those things that are truly shameful and full of much laughter and final punishment—seeing these things, we consider that we suffer no harm. But while the soul is falling every day under the operation of sins, there is no one who mourns; but if ever this body of yours suffers something, it seems to be terrible and unbearable. Is this not what it means to be demon-possessed, to have the soul so disposed and to be mistaken in the judgment of things? For if you were suffering this through drunkenness, it would be necessary to be cast down and to be dejected, for the crime would be of one's own choice; but if the matter is of another's violence, one should be ashamed not for the one being harassed, nor for the one enduring the violence, but for the one doing it. For if, in the market, when a fight has occurred, one pushed the other and cast him down, we all blame the one who cast down, not the one who fell. It is good to blush, but only when we do some of those things that bring punishment to us before Him who will judge us at the coming age. But as long as we are conscious of nothing of the sort in ourselves, for what cause do we hide our faces? For if someone, having taken you alone, were simply beating you and having nothing of which to accuse you, or again were casting you down to the ground, and you, having endured everything with gentleness, departed, it would not be a matter of shame, but of philosophy and the greatest praises.
And what could be more irrational than this contradiction? For if, rising from that fall, you were led to do or to say any base thing, I myself would not forbid you to lament and grieve over these things; but if you endure everything with thanksgiving, and immediately turn yourself to prayer, what is it that could bring you shame or confusion? Yet perhaps the reproaches cast upon us by others are judged to be grievous and painful things.