...the dark garment suddenly, the clatter and the marriage-chambers, and the commotion compared to the former time, as if of actors playing in a booth, and now one thing, now another, happening? For there, one might see him who was once a king, or poorer than all, now suddenly, on the other hand, around the tomb, tearing his hair, a bridegroom again bearing a crown upon the same head, he who is cast down and sad, and often saying that she who has departed was the best of all their life, and annoyed with those who lead him away to weep, and often in the midst of these very things he is adorned and beautified again, with eyes filled with tears, and with these, with laughter to the same, and with that mouth he plays the lover and embraces all, whom he formerly inveighed against. But of all things the most pitiable, the conflict brought in, 297 living with the daughters of a lioness—for this is everywhere among mothers. Hence is the daily faction and fighting, hence that stranger and newer zeal against those who do not trouble them. For the living both cast and are cast with envy, and against these the dead also and the enemies are poured out. But not even here, but the dust and the ashes are also jealous, and hatred against the one who is buried is unspeakable, and insults and mocks and accusations against the one who has been dissolved into earth, enmity implacable against the one who has done no harm. May this not happen from the holy hand, what kind of cruelty is this? Nothing is wronged by the one who has departed—what do I say wronged, she who provides for him labors and delights in his goods—it does not cease to shadow-box against her, and having done no harm, often she is not even seen by him ever, casts thousands of jibes every day, and because of the grandchildren of that one, who is no more, she defends herself, and often arms the husband against them, when she has done nothing. But yet all these things seemed bearable to humans, only not to bear the necessary tyranny from lust. But the virgin does not tremble at the battle-line, nor has she fled the engagement which seems so unbearable to many, but she is noble, and the battle which is naturally untamed. How, then, is anyone worthy of admiration, when some need and seek second marriages, so that they may be satisfied, but she, not having touched one, is always holy and unwounded? Therefore, and before these, for the sake of the reward laid up in the heavens for those who have Christ dwelling within them, she said: It is good for them if they remain even as I. Did you not have the highest peak to ascend? You take the goodness after her—the virgin has so much more, by as much as lust, having been conquered once, was not able to hold fast always; and she who did not win then, she has conquered forever, she who has the victory of the whole, and by the end is attached only to the one who is superior.
XXXVIII. Why the Apostle gave much consolation to those who have married, yet none to the virgin
B To those who have married, he gives much consolation, in that one having no power to deprive the other, and that the restraint arising from consensus does not go far; and a second time he permitted marriage, if they wish, so as not to be inflammed. To those who abide in virginity, he gave no such consolation [original-script column: see facsimile].
[alt-version omitted]
C ...it is not anymore of your choice that the achievement becomes, but of the necessity of the law. For this reason we admire Persians not marrying their mothers, but Romans no longer; for here the thing seems disgusting to all in succession, but there the impunity of those who dare these things has made those who abstain from such mixing to be praised. According to the same reason, it is necessary to make the examination also in the case of marriage. For we, since the thing is permitted to all among us, reasonably admire those who do not marry; but you, having thrust it into the rank of the worse, would no longer be able to claim the praises from the thing. For to abstain from things forbidden is not yet of a noble and youthful soul. For of perfect virtue, it is not not to do these things which, having done, we would seem to be base in all; but it is to be brilliant in these things, which does not allow even those who have not chosen them to be blamed for this, and those who have chosen and achieved them, not only frees from the opinion of the vile, but also ranks them in the order of the good. For just as no one would praise eunuchs in the matter of virginity, because they do not marry, so neither you.
D For what to them is the necessity of nature, to you this has become the forethought of an evil conscience; and just as the mutilation of the body cast out the eunuchs from the ambition in the matter, so you the devil, your nature remaining intact, having cut away the straight reasonings, and thus having established you in the necessity of not marrying, stretches you with labors, but does not allow you to be honored. Do you hinders marrying? For this reason, there will not lie for you a reward for not marrying, but also punishment and chastisement.
XXXVII(a). Whether I hinder marriage
a. But, he says, do you not hinder? Far be it, lest I should ever rave the same things as you. How then, he says, do you exhort not to marry? Because I am persuaded that virginity is much more honorable than marriage; not, however, for this reason do I place marriage among the evil things, but I even praise it highly. For it is a harbor of temperance for those who wish to use it well, not leaving the nature to grow wild. For having placed lawful mixing instead of bulwarks, and receiving the waves of lust with this, it establishes us in great calm and preserves us. But there are some who do not need this safety, but instead of this, through fasts, vigils, sleeping on the ground, and the rest of the hardship, they tame the madness of the nature; to these I exhort not to marry, not forbidding to marry. And great is the difference between this and that, and as much as the difference of necessity and choice. For he who advises leaves the hearer to be master of the choice of matters for which he makes the advice; but he who hinders takes away even his authority himself. In addition to these, I indeed, exhorting, do not vilify the matter, nor accusing the one not persuaded; but you, slandering it, and saying it is base, and snatching the order of the lawgiver, but not of the one advising, reasonably hate those not persuaded; but not I, but I admire indeed those who have enrolled themselves for this struggle, but do not accuse 275 those remaining outside of the contest. For accusation might be justly then, when someone leans toward the agreed evil; but he who has the lesser good, but not attaining the greater, has been deprived of being praised together with that one and being admired, but to be accused would not be just. How then do I hinder to marry, not accusing those who marry? I hinder to commit fornication and adultery, but to marry, never. And those who dare those matters, I punish, and drive from the fullness of the Church, but those doing this, if they are temperate, I continue even to praise. For thus the gains become two, one indeed not to slander the creation of God, second, not to tear down the dignity of virginity, but to show it to be much more venerable.
XXXVIII. That he who praises marriage increases the glory of virginity
I. For he who vilifies marriage cuts away also the glory of virginity; but he who praises it, rather lifts up its wonder and makes it more brilliant. For what, by being compared to the worse, seems beautiful, would not be very beautiful, but that which is better than the acknowledged goods, this is what is beautiful with excess; which we are proving virginity to be. As, therefore, those who vilify marriage damage the encomiums of this, so, freeing it from slander, he has praised not this rather than virginity. For even in the case of bodies, not as many as of the maimed, but as many as of the whole and having no blemish are better, these we say are beautiful. Marriage is good; and for this reason virginity is wonderful, because it is better than the good, and better by as much as the pilot is of the sailors, and the general of the soldiers. But just as in the case of the ship, if you should take away the rowers, you have sunk the hull, and in the case of war, if you should remove the soldiers, you have delivered the general bound to the enemies; so also here, if you should cast out the one who marries from the best rank, you have betrayed the glory of virginity, and have led it to extreme evil. Virginity is good; I agree also; but also better than marriage; and this I concede. And if you wish, I also add how much it is better, by as much as heaven is of the earth, by as much as angels are of men; and if it is necessary to say something even by force, and more. For angels, if they do not marry nor are given in marriage, but they are not entangled with flesh and blood, nor have their conversations on the earth, nor do they bear a crowd of desires, nor do they need food and drink, nor could a sweet melody soften them, nor can a brilliant sight turn them, nor anything else of such things; but just as it is possible to see the heaven in a clear midday, with no cloud troubling, so also it is necessary for those natures, no desire troubling, to remain clear and brilliant.
XXXIX. How the virgin is equal to the angels
IA. But the race of men, those who are blessed, falling short of that nature, forces its own strength, and vies through the zeal according to its power to be equalized to those. How then? Angels do not marry, nor are they given in marriage; but neither does the virgin. They stand by always and minister to God; this also does the virgin. Wherefore also Paul removed them from all the cares, for the sake of the readiness and the lack of distraction. 276 And if they might not be able to ascend into heaven for the time being, just as those, the flesh drawing them down, but even in this they have much consolation, receiving the Lord of the heavens himself, if they be holy in body and in spirit. Have you seen the dignity of virginity, how it makes those who dwell on the earth to live likewise to those dwelling in the heavens? Those who are clothed in bodies it does not allow to be lacking in strength against the bodiless, being human it leads to the same zeal as the angels. But nothing of these is toward you, who damage so much a matter, and slander the Lord, and call him evil. For the punishment of the wicked servant will await you.
consolation; but having thus far granted them rest, he lets them go again, and leaves her who does not even take a short breath, but is fighting throughout, to stand continuously and be struck by the desires, and he does not even give her the chance to take a short respite. For why did he not say to her also: "But if she does not have self-control, let her marry"? Because one would not say to an athlete, after he has cast off his garment, and anointed himself, and entered the stadium, and been sprinkled with dust: "Depart, and flee the contestant"; rather, there is henceforth a necessity for one of two things: either to depart crowned, or having fallen and been put to shame. For in the wrestling-school and the gymnasium, where the exercise is among one's own kin, and one is engaged with friends as though they were adversaries, he himself is master of whether to toil or not to toil; but when he has been registered, and the theater has gathered, and the umpire is present, and the spectators are seated A and the contestant is brought in and stands in opposition, the law of the games has taken from him the authority. Therefore, for the virgin, as long as she might be deliberating beforehand whether it is necessary to marry or not to marry, marriage is without danger, but once she has chosen and has been registered, she has brought herself into the stadium. Who then will dare, with the theater assembled and the angels watching from above, and Christ acting as umpire, and the devil raging and gnashing and grappling for the wrestling bout and being held in the middle, to come into the midst and say: "Flee the enemy, give in to the toils, depart from the grip, do not throw or trip the contestant, but yield the victory to him"? And why do I speak to the virgins? As to the widows, no one would dare to utter this word; but instead of this, that fearful one, that "If they grow wanton against Christ, and wish to marry, they shall receive judgment, because they have set at naught their first faith."
B Ἀ. And yet he himself says, that "I say to the unmarried and to the widows, it is good for them if they remain even as I; but if they do not have self-control, let them marry." And again: "If her husband sleeps [dies], she is free to marry whom she wishes, only in the Lord." How then does he punish again her whom he sets free, and condemn as unlawfully happening that marriage which he says is in the Lord? Do not be afraid; not the same one, but a different one. For just as when he says, "If the virgin marries, she has not sinned," he does not speak concerning her who has renounced marriage; for it is clear to all that she has sinned and committed an unbearable sin; but he speaks concerning her who is still inexperienced in marriage, and has not yet decided for this or that, but is remaining in the middle ground of these two states of mind; so too, here, by "widow," he means her who simply does not have a husband, and is not yet bound by the decision of her own intent, but is free and can choose this or that; whereas there, he refers to her who is no longer mistress over herself to consort with another bridegroom, but has embarked upon the struggles of self-control. For it is possible both to be a widow, and not to be enrolled in the dignity of widows, when she has not yet taken this upon herself. Therefore he himself also says: "Let a widow be enrolled [as such] having attained not less than sixty years, a wife of one husband." For he allows the simply widowed woman to marry if she wishes; but she who has promised to God to remain a widow perpetually, and then marries, he condemns severely, because she has trampled upon the covenants toward God.
C Not to these, then, does he say it, but to those: "But if they do not have self-control, let them marry; for it is better to marry than to be burned." Do you see that nowhere is marriage admired in its own right, but because of fornications, because of temptations, because of lack of self-control? For above he sets all these forth, but here, since he has bitterly attacked them with reproaches, he again calls the same thing by more euphemistic terms, naming it conflagration and burning. And not even here did he endure to pass by without striking the hearer. For he did not say, "But if they suffer some violence from desire, if they are overturned, if they are not able"; nothing of that kind, which is characteristic of those who are suffering and worthy of indulgence; but what? "But if they do not have self-control"; which is characteristic of those who do not wish to work because of sloth. For he shows that being masters of the matter, they do not succeed because of not wishing to toil. But yet, not even thus does he punish them, nor does he make them liable to penalties, but having merely deprived them of praises, he demonstrates the intensity of the censure through his words, mentioning nowhere procreation, the comely and honorable cause of marriage, but naming instead burning and lack of self-control and fornication and satanic trial, and allowing the matter only so that these might not occur. And what of this? He says: for as long as it [the marriage action itself] relieves one from punishment, we will easily bear every condemnation and every reproach; only let it be permitted to live in luxury and continuously enjoy desire. What then, O best of men, if it is not even permitted to live in luxury, shall we harvest reproach alone? And how, he says, is it not permitted to live in luxury, since Paul says: "But if they do not have self-control, let them marry"? But hear also what follows this. You have learned that it is better to marry than to be burned; you have accepted the pleasant, you have praised the concession, you have admired the apostle for his condescension; but do not stop at this; receive also what follows: for both commandments are from the same person. What then does he say after this? "But to those who have married I command, not I, but the Lord, that a wife not be separated from her husband; but if she is even [also] separated, let her remain unmarried, or be reconciled to her husband; and that a husband not send away his wife."
D M. What then, if the husband is gentle, but the wife is wretched, a scold, talkative, extravagant, possessing that common malady of all such, and full of many other evils, how shall that unfortunate man bear this daily unpleasantness, the arrogance, the shamelessness? What, if on the contrary, she is dignified and quiet, but he is bold, overbearing, irascible, clothed with much arrogance from his money and much from his power, and holds the free woman as a slave, and is no better disposed toward her than toward the handmaidens; how shall she bear such necessity and violence? What, if he constantly turns away from her, and remains doing this forever? Be patient, he says, with all this slavery; for when he dies, then you shall be free—only if he is alive, one of two things is necessary: either to school him with great diligence and make him better, or, if this is impossible, to bear nobly the undeclared war and the unceasing battle. And above indeed he said: "Do not deprive one another, unless it be by consent"; but here he commands her, even though separated and unwilling, to have self-control henceforth; for "Let her remain," he says, "unmarried, or be reconciled to her husband." Do you see her trapped in the midst of two wars? For either the violence from desire [is to be checked, or we must bear the yoke of marriage].
...must be endured, or, if she is unwilling, to flatter the insulter and provide herself to him for whatever he desires, whether to inflict blows, or to rain down insults, or to hand her over to the insolence of servants, or anything else of the sort; for many ways have been devised by men 300 when they wish to punish their own wives. But if she cannot bear these things, she must practice the fruitless temperance; and I say "fruitless," because she does not hold it with the promise that belongs to it; for it does not come from a desire for holiness, but from anger toward her husband. "Let the woman remain," he says, "or be reconciled to her husband." What then, if she never wishes to be reconciled? he says. "You have a second release and dismissal. What is this? Await his death." For just as it is never permitted for a virgin to marry because her bridegroom is always alive and immortal, so it is permitted to the married woman only when the man has died. For if it were permitted while he was still alive to depart from him to another, and again from him to another, what need would there be for marriage after that, with wives using the men indiscriminately and being mixed with all men simply? And how would the disposition not be corrupted toward those living together, being with this one today, tomorrow with another, and again with another, of those cohabiting with their wives? Thus the Lord justly called it adultery.
[41. Why then did He allow this to the Jews?] In order that they might not war with one another, in order that they might not fill their homes with the blood of kin. For tell me, what was better: that the woman who was hated be cast out, or be slaughtered within? For this they would have done, if it had not been permitted to them to cast her out. For this reason He says: "If you hate her, send her away." But when He speaks to those who are more moderate, and for whom He does not even allow anger, He says: "But if she is separated, let her remain unmarried." Do you see the necessity, the unavoidable servitude, the bond surrounding both? For marriage is indeed a bond, not just because of the throng of cares, nor because of the daily sorrows, but because it compels those who are married to be subject to each other, which is more difficult than that of any servant. "Let the husband," he says, "have authority over the wife." And what is the gain of this lordship? For it again makes him the servant of the one he is ruling, having devised some new and paradoxical exchange of servitude; and just as if the feet of fugitives, which are bound both by themselves and again bound to each other by some small chain fastened from one starting point to the fetters, could not walk with freedom because the one is forced to follow the other; so also do the souls of those who are married have also their own cares, yet have also another necessity from the bond with each other, choking them more painfully than any chain, and taking away the freedom of both by not turning over the authority entirely to one, but dividing its power between both. Where then are those who are ready to bring total condemnation because of the comfort from pleasure? For no small part of the pleasure is cut off, with much time being often consumed in anger and enmity toward one another. And this servitude—having to bear the wickedness of another, even against one's will—is capable of overshadowing all delight. For this reason that blessed one, first of all, through words of shame, checked the impulse toward desire, speaking of it because of the fornications 301 and incontinence and burning passions; but since he saw that the argument of condemnation was short for the many, he puts forward an even stronger one for B deterrence; and for this reason the disciples were forced to say, "It is not profitable to marry." This is the case, that no one who is married is his own master. And no longer does he introduce this in the order of exhortation and advice, but in the necessity of a command and a law. For to marry or not to marry is in our power, but things after the marriage are no longer in our power, but it is necessary to bear the servitude both willingly and unwillingly. Why is this? Because not without knowing it did we choose this beginning, but being very well aware of its statutes and laws, we willingly submitted ourselves to the yoke. After this, having discussed those who live with unbelievers, and having gone through all the laws concerning marriage precisely, and having inserted the argument concerning servants, and having sufficiently consoled them so that they might not feel that their spiritual nobility is diminished by this servitude, he passes on finally to the discourse on virginity, which he had long ago been giving and striving to sow, but brought forth now, not having had the patience even in the discourses concerning marriage to pass over it in silence. For he had woven it into that exhortation after a fashion, albeit briefly and dispersedly; and by this most excellent method, having exercised our ears and smoothed our understanding, he prepares an excellent entry for the discourse. After, then, the exhortation to the servants (for "You were bought with a price," he says, "do not become the slaves of men"), having reminded us of the Lord’s benefit, and having raised our understandings by this toward everything and lifted them toward heaven, he thus introduces the discourses concerning virginity, saying these words: "Concerning virgins I have no commandment of the Lord, but I give an opinion as having been shown mercy by the Lord to be faithful." And yet, even in the case of the faithful who were joined to unbelievers, though not having a commandment, he legislated with great authority C thus writing: "To the rest I speak, not the Lord: If any brother has an unbelieving wife, and she consents to dwell with him, let him not leave her." Why then do you not also make the same pronouncement concerning virgins? Because concerning this, Christ has clearly decreed, forbidding the matter to come into the necessity of a command; for the phrase "He who is able to receive it, let him receive it" makes the listener the master of the choice. Concerning temperance, then, when he was discussing, he says: "I wish that all men might be as I myself in temperance." And again: "But I say to the unmarried and to the widows, it is good for them if they remain as I am." But in the discourses concerning virginity he nowhere brought himself forward. For this reason he also speaks very humbly and with much reserve; for the matter had not been perfected by him. "I have no commandment," he says. Having first set out the choice, and having made the listener well-disposed, thus he adds his counsel. Since the very name of virginity immediately shows much toil, for this reason he did not run immediately to the exhortation, but having first healed the student with the choice, and having made his soul tractable and tame, thus he makes his introduction. You have heard "virginity," [502] a name of many toils and sweats; do not fear; the matter is not a command, nor does it bring in the necessity of a law, but it rewards those who willingly and with their own D choice accept it with its own proper blessings, the bright
565 S. JOHN CHRYSOSTOM, ARCHBISHOP OF CONSTANTINOPLE 566
and placing a blooming crown upon their head; but those who refuse it and are unwilling to accept it A, He neither punishes nor forces them against their will to do so. Nor did He make the discourse inoffensive and sweet in this way alone, but also by saying that the grace of the matter was not his own, but Christ's. For he did not say, "Concerning virgins I do not command," but, "I have no commandment," as if he were to say: "If I were moved by human reasoning to exhort these things, there would be no reason to trust; but since this seemed good to God, the anchor of such freedom is secure." The power to command such things has been taken from me, but if you wish to hear as from a fellow servant, "I give my judgment," he says, "as having obtained mercy of the Lord to be faithful." It is worth admiring here the great ingenuity and understanding of the blessed one, and how, caught in the midst of two necessary things and opposites B—both to establish his own person so that the advice might be acceptable, and to avoid saying anything great about himself because he was outside of this virtue—he accomplished both in a few words. For by saying, "as having obtained mercy," he establishes himself in a way, yet by not doing this from the more brilliant part, he humbles and shrinks himself again.
XLII. For he did not say: "I give my judgment, as one entrusted with the Gospel, as one judged worthy to be a herald of the nations, as one entrusted with your oversight, as a teacher and instructor"; but how? "As having obtained mercy," he says, and he placed the lesser—for to be a teacher of the faithful is greater than merely being faithful. And he devises another humility again. And what is this? He did not say, "As having become faithful," but "as having obtained mercy to be faithful." For do not think that the apostleship and the preaching and the teaching are the only gifts of God; for this very fact of being faithful has happened to me from that mercy. For he says, "I was not judged worthy of the faith because I was worthy, but because I obtained mercy only"; but mercy is of grace, not according to merit. So if God were not very compassionate, I could never have become not just an apostle, but not even a faithful man. Do you see the gratitude of the servant and the contrite heart, how he grants nothing more to himself than to the rest, but even this, which was common to him and the disciples, the faith, he says is not his own, but of the mercy and grace of God, signifying the same thing through these words, as if he were saying: "Do not disdain to receive advice from me; for God did not disdain me in the mercy from Him." Furthermore, the matter is a judgment, not a commandment; for I advise, I do not legislate. But what law would forbid bringing into the midst the things that appear profitable to each, and proposing them, especially when this is done at the request of the hearers, just as is the case with you? "I think, therefore," he says, "that this is good." Do you see again the discourse lowered and empty of all authority? C And yet it was possible to speak thus: "Since the Lord did not command virginity, therefore neither do I; but I advise and exhort you to be zealous for this, for I am your apostle." Just as he said later when discoursing to them: "If to others I am not an apostle, yet at least I am to you." But here he speaks none of these things; rather, he uses his steps with much restraint, instead of "I advise," saying, "I give my judgment"; and instead of "as a teacher," "as having obtained mercy of the Lord to be faithful." And as if even these were not sufficient to make the discourse restrained, beginning the advice, he again curtails the authority, not simply asserting, but also adding a cause: "I think, therefore," he says, "that it is good for the present necessity." And yet, when he was discoursing about continence, he neither put "I think," nor any cause, but simply, "It is good for them if they remain even as I"; but here, "I think it to be good." And he does this not as one doubting about the matter—far from it—but as one wishing to commit the whole to the judgment of those who hear. For such is one who advises: he does not vote on what is said himself, but leaves everything clear for the judgment of the hearers.
XLIII. But what necessity does he mention here? Is it that which is from nature? By no means. For first, if he meant this, he would have established the opposite of what he wished by mentioning it; for those who wish to marry turn this upside down and inside out. And second, he would not have called it "present." For it is not now for the first time, but from of old it was planted in the human race, and formerly it was harder and untamable; but when Christ arrived, and virtue advanced, it became easy to conquer. So the discourse is not about this, but he hints at another, manifold and multiform. What then is this? The distortion of affairs in this life. For such is the confusion, such is the tyranny of cares, such is the multitude of circumstances, that the married man is often forced against his will to sin and do wrong.
XLIV. For in the old days, there was not such a measure of virtue set before us, but it was permitted to avenge the one who does injustice, and to render railing for railing, and to take care of money, and to swear provided one holds to the truth, and to pluck out an eye for an eye, and to hate one's enemy, and it was not forbidden to live in luxury, or to be angry, or to cast out one wife and bring in another. And not only this, but the law even permitted having two wives at once, and there was much condescension in these and in all other things. But after the coming of Christ, the way became much narrower, not only in that the unspeakable and great freedom of all the things mentioned was cut away from our authority, but also in that the woman, who often persuades and forces us even against our will to sin, must be kept within constantly, or else one must be caught in adultery if one wishes to cast her out. And virtue is difficult for us not only in this way, but because, even if the woman living with one has a tolerable D character, the swarm of cares flowing around us because of her and her children allows one not even a little to look up to heaven, swirling and drowning our soul from all sides like some vertigo. For look: the man wishes to live the life of private citizens, this safe and undisturbed life; but when he sees children standing around and a wife needing much expense, he throws himself, even against his will, into the storm of public affairs. And once he has fallen in there, it is not possible even to say how many things he is forced to sin—being angry, swearing, railing, avenging, playing the hypocrite, doing many things for favor, many things out of enmity. For how is one, whirling in such a storm and wishing to succeed in it, not to accumulate much filth from sins?
If you examine the household, you will find it full of this same or even greater difficulty because of the woman. For a man is under necessity to be anxious about many things, and on behalf of many, of which he would have had no need had he been on his own—and this is even when the woman is orderly and gentle. But if she is wicked, burdensome, and difficult to bear ᵃ, we shall no longer call the matter a necessity, but also a punishment and a torment. How then will he be able to walk the path that leads to heaven, which requires nimble and light feet and a soul that is agile and unencumbered, while having such a burden of affairs lying upon him, bound by so many fetters, and being dragged constantly downward through such a chain—by which I mean the wickedness of the woman?
D 45. But what is the wise response of the many when we set all these things before them? "Therefore," they say, "he who succeeds in the midst of such great necessity will be worthy of greater honor." For what reason, O best of men, and why? "Because," he says, "he undergoes greater labor from marriage." And who compelled him to take upon himself such a burden? For if he were fulfilling a commandment by marrying, and not marrying were an infraction of the law, this argument would have a plausible appearance. But if, being master of not entering the yoke of marriage, he willingly—with no one compelling him—chose to bring upon himself such difficulties, so that the contest of virtue became more burdensome for him, that is of no concern to the Judge. For He commanded only one thing to be accomplished: the war against the devil and the gaining of victory over wickedness. Whether one accomplishes this while marrying, living in luxury, and worrying about many things, or while living in asceticism and hardship, and with nothing else to worry about, is of no concern to Him thereafter. For as for the manner of victory and the path leading to the trophy, He Himself declares that it is the one that is free from all worldly things. But because you wish to serve and fight while involved with a wife and children and the affairs dragged in by them, as if you would accomplish the same end as those who are entangled in none of these things, and because you will enjoy greater wonder on that account, now perhaps you will accuse us of great arrogance if we say that it is impossible for you to reach the same height as them. But the end and the time of the crowns will then persuade you well that safety is much better than empty pride, and that it is better to obey Christ than the vanity of one’s own [305] reasonings. For Christ says that even renouncing all one’s own things is not sufficient for us unto virtue unless we also hate ourselves. But you, while mired in all these things, said you could manage to succeed. But, as I said, then you will know well how great an obstacle a woman and the cares of a woman are to virtue.
46. "How then," he says, "did He call her a 'helper' when she is a hindrance?" For it says, "Let us make for him a helper according to him." And I will ask you: how is she a helper who deprived the man of such security, and drove him out of that marvelous way of life in Paradise, and cast him into the turmoil of the present life? For these things are acts not of a helper, but of a plotter. "For from a woman," it says, "is the beginning of sin, and because of her we all die."
And the blessed Paul also says, "Adam was not deceived, but the woman, being deceived, has fallen into transgression." How then is she a helper who subjected the man to death? How is she a helper through whom the sons of God—or rather, all who were then inhabiting the earth—perished, having been drowned along with the beasts and the birds and all the other animals? Was she not the one who was about to destroy the righteous Job, had he not been such an exceedingly great man? Did she not destroy Samson? Did she not cause the entire race of the Hebrews to be slaughtered by the hands of their kin and to be brought to an end for Baal-peor? And who most of all delivered Ahab to the devil, and before him Solomon, after all of that great wisdom and good repute? Do they not even now persuade many husbands to offend God? On account of which that wise man says: "All malice is small compared to the malice of a woman." How then, he says, did God say to him, "Let us make for him a helper according to him"? For God does not lie. Nor would I say such a thing—far from it! But it came to pass for this and because of this, but she did not wish to remain in her proper dignity, just as neither did her husband. For God created him also after His own image and likeness. For He says, "Let us make man according to Our image and likeness," just as He also said, "Let us make for him a helper," yet having become both, he immediately lost them. For he neither kept that which was according to likeness—for how could he, having given way to perverse desire, having been caught by deceit, and having failed to master pleasure?—and that which was according to image was likewise taken away from him. For God did not clip away a small part of his rule, in that [He made him] feared by all like a master, but instead made him, like an ungrateful servant after offending the master, contemptible to his fellow servants. For at the beginning he was fearful even to all the wild beasts; for God brought all things to him, and none dared to harm him or to enslave him, for they saw the royal image shining in him. But since he dimmed those features through sin, He brought him down from that rule. As therefore his not ruling over all things that are on the earth, but [his] even trembling and fearing some, does not make false the decree of God which says, "And let them rule over the beasts of the earth" (for the mutilation of that authority did not come from the Giver, but from the one who received it), so also the plots that occur against husbands by women do not damage that word [which says], "Let us make for him a helper according to him"; for it came into being for this, but did not remain in this. Besides this, it is also possible to say that her help is manifested both for the constitution of the present life, and for the procreation of children, and for natural desire. But when there is no longer a time for the present life, nor for child-bearing, nor for desire, why vainly mention [her as] a helper in such a case? For if someone keeps bringing in as a partner in great matters one who is able to assist only in the least, he has not only not profited at all, but has also burdened himself with more cares.
47. What then shall we say to Paul, he says, when he says, "What do you know, O wife, whether you will save your husband?" and when he declares her help to be necessary even in spiritual matters? And I, too, agree with this. For not…
not cut her off entirely from the alliance in spiritual matters—God forbid!—but I rather say that she succeeds in these things when she does not perform the works of marriage, but, while remaining a woman by nature, advances towards the virtue of the blessed men. For not by adorning herself, nor by living in luxury, nor by demanding money from her husband, nor by becoming extravagant and expensive, will she be able to attract him; but when, having risen above all present things, and having imprinted the apostolic life upon herself, she displays great gentleness, great modesty, great contempt for money, and great forbearance, then she will be able to capture him. When she says, "Having food and clothing, with these we shall be content"; when through her deeds she philosophizes on these things, and, laughing at bodily death, says that the present life is nothing; when she considers all the glory of this life, according to the prophet, to be as the flower of grass. Therefore, it is not by living together as a wife that she will be able to save her husband, but by showing forth the evangelical life; since even without marriage many women have accomplished this. For Priscilla, having taking Apollos aside, it is said, guided him into the way of truth more perfectly. And if this is not permitted now, it is still possible for women to display the same zeal and to reap the same reward. For, as I said before, not even that woman, because she was a woman, dragged the man along; since nothing would have prevented any of the men who had a faithful wife from remaining an unbeliever, if sexual intercourse and living together could accomplish the matter. But this is not the case—it is not; rather, it is the displaying of great philosophy and patience, and the mocking of the circumstances of marriage, and making this one’s constant task—this is what causes the soul of the one living with her to be saved; whereas if she persists in seeking the things of women, she not only does him no good, but even harms him.
And that the matter is among the very difficult ones, listen to what he says: "For what do you know, O wife, whether you will save your husband?" We are accustomed to use this manner of questioning in the case of things that unexpectedly occur. And what does he say after this? "Are you bound to a wife? Do not seek to be loosed. Are you loosed from a wife? Do not seek a wife." Do you see how continuously he makes the transitions, and possesses much, and throughout, the mingling of each part of the exhortation? For just as in the discourses concerning marriage he injected those concerning continence, meanwhile stirring up the hearer, so here too he sets forth the discourses concerning marriage again, giving him rest. He began from virginity, and before saying anything about it, he immediately fled to the argument on behalf of marriage; for the phrase, "I have no commandment," belongs to one who is conceding and introducing marriage. Then, coming to virginity and saying that "I think this to be good," since he saw that its name, being constantly spoken, causes much harshness to the delicacy of the hearing, he does not place it frequently, but even though he spoke a sufficient cause to soothe the labors on its behalf—"I mean the present necessity"—not even then did he dare to speak of virginity again, but what? "It is good for a man to be so." And he does not pursue the argument, but cutting him off and interrupting before he appeared harsh, he again injected the discourses about marriage: "Are you bound to a wife?" he says, "do not seek to be loosed." For if this were not so, and he did not desire to construct this consolation here, it would be superfluous for one counseling about virginity to philosophize about marriage. Then again he shifts back to virginity; and not even now does he call it by its primary title, but what? "Are you loosed from a wife? Do not seek a wife." But do not fear; he did not pronounce judgment nor did he legislate; for the argument concerning marriage stands near again, relaxing this fear and saying, "But even if you marry, you have not sinned." But do not be idle even now; for he is again drawing you towards virginity. And this is what the argument intends for him, teaching that those who attend to marriage endure much affliction in the flesh. For just as the best and most gentle of physicians, when they are about to apply a bitter medicine, or cutting, or cauterizing, or something of this sort, do not perform the whole thing at once, but in the interim give the sufferer space to breathe, and thus always add what is left; in the same manner the blessed Paul, not unyieldingly, nor throughout, nor continuously, wove the counsel concerning virginity, but by interrupting it continuously with discourses about marriage, and by stealing away its severity, he made the argument gentle and acceptable.
The varied mingling of the discourses happens for this reason. It is worthwhile, moreover, to examine the words themselves: "Are you bound to a wife?" he says, "do not seek to be loosed." This is not so much of one giving advice, as it is showing the impasse and the inextricable nature of the bond. For what reason did he not say, "Do you have a wife? Do not leave her; do you live together? Do not separate," but instead called the union a "bond"? Illustrating here the burdensome nature 308 of the matter. For since all run to marriage as if it were the easiest thing, he shows that those who are married do not differ from those who are bound. For here, wherever the one pulls, necessity demands that the other also follow, or, by being at odds, that the other perish with him as well. What then, if the man is lustful, he says, and I wish to practice continence? It is necessary for you to follow him. For, even if you are unwilling to do this, the pleasant chain placed upon you by marriage drags and pulls you toward the one who was joined to you in the beginning; and if you resist and cut it, you not only have not rid yourself of the bonds, but you have even cast yourself into the ultimate punishment.
48 For she who practices continence against the will of her husband is not only deprived of the rewards of continence, but she will also render an account for his adultery, and will be held responsible for it more than he. Why so? Because she herself pushed him toward the precipice of licentiousness by depriving him of the intercourse permitted by law. For if one is not permitted to do this even for a short time against his will, what excuse could she have who has deprived him of this consolation for all time? And what, he says, could be more burdensome than this necessity and constraint? I too say this. For what reason do you cast yourself into necessity? For this reasoning ought to have been taken not after the marriage, but before the marriage. For this reason, Paul also, having placed the necessity from the bond later, then discusses the loosing. For having said, "Are you bound to a wife? Do not seek to be loosed," he then added, "Are you loosed from a wife? Do not seek a wife." He does this so that you might first examine precisely
and having learned the violence resulting from marriage, one may more easily accept the discourse regarding virginity. "But if you marry," he says, "you have not sinned; and if a virgin marries, she has not sinned." Behold at what point the great achievement of marriage ends: at not being blamed, not at being admired A. For this belongs to virginity, whereas one who has married should be satisfied to hear that he has not sinned. Why, then, do you advise, he says, not to seek a wife? Because it is not possible to be released once one has been bound, and because the matter involves much affliction. Are we, then, tell me, to gain nothing from virginity other than to escape the affliction of this life? And who would endure to live in virginity for such rewards? Who would choose to descend into such a struggle, if he were about to receive this alone as his reward?
[MT]. What are you saying? While calling me to struggle against demons (for our wrestling is not against flesh and blood), while urging me to stand against the frenzy of nature, while exhorting me to achieve, with flesh and blood, something equal to the incorporeal powers, do you remind me of the good things on earth, and [assure me] that we shall not have the affliction which comes from marriages? For why did he not speak thus: "If a virgin marries, she has not sinned, but she has deprived herself of the crowns of virginity, of those great and ineffable gifts"? Why did he not describe the good things reserved for them after the struggle, how they go to meet the Bridegroom, how they have bright lamps, how with great glory and confidence they enter the bridal chamber with the King, how they shine, above all others B, near that throne and the royal bedchambers? But he has not made even a brief mention of these things; rather, over and over he mentions the relief from the hardships of this life. I think, he says, this is good; and, leaving aside [the higher motivation], he says, for the sake of the good things to come, he says, "Because of the present necessity." Then again, having said, "If a virgin marries, she has not sinned," and having kept silent about the gifts in the heavens of which she has deprived herself, he says, "Such people will have affliction in the flesh." And he does not do this only up to this point, but even to the end he does this, and having failed to lift the matter up to the good things that are to come, he again has recourse to the same cause: "The time is shortened," he says. And instead of saying, "I want you to shine like stars in the heavens, and to be shown to be far more brilliant than those who have married," again he holds to saying, "But I want you to be free from anxieties." And he does not do this only here, but also when he is discoursing about forbearance he followed the same method of counsel. For having said that "If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him drink," and having commanded such a matter, and having ordered [men] to force the necessity of nature, and to array themselves against such an unbearable fire, in his discourse concerning the rewards he remained silent about heaven, and the things in heaven, and posits the recompense in the injury of the one who caused the grief. For, he says, "by doing this, you heap coals of fire upon his head." Why, then, has he used this method of exhortation? Not through ignorance, nor because he did not know how one might bring over and persuade the hearer, but because he was the one who, above all men, had achieved this virtue, I mean the virtue of persuasion. How is this evident? From what was said by him. How and in what manner? He was discoursing to the Corinthians (for we shall speak later about what he had said regarding virginity to them), to the Corinthians, among whom he judged it best to know nothing except Jesus Christ, and Him crucified; to whom he could not C speak as to spiritual men, and because they were still fleshly, he gave them milk to drink; and whom even when he was writing these things he reproached, saying: "But not even now are you able; for you are still D fleshly, and you walk according to man." For this reason, from the things on earth, from things seen, from things perceptible, he both exhorts them to virginity and leads them away from marriage. For he understood this well, that one could more likely entice and exhort those who are humble and groveling and still bowing toward the earth by using things on earth. For why, tell me, do many of those who are still more rustic and dull, swear by God on both small and great matters, and perjure themselves without fear, yet on the head of their children they would not choose even to swear at the start? And yet both the perjury and the punishment for that [latter] oath is far greater; but nevertheless, they are held more by this [oath] than by that. And to help the poor, the words of the kingdom do not excite them so much, even though they are constantly being heard, as the hoping for some benefit during this present life, either for their children or for themselves. Consequently, they become most ambitious regarding such relief when they recover from a long illness, when they escape danger, when they attain to some power and authority; and in general, one would find the majority of men more easily admonished by things close at hand. For in the case of favorable things such things more easily urge, and in the case of painful things they fear more, because the perception is nearer to them. For this reason he also discoursed to the Corinthians in this way, and trained the Romans to forbearance from the things of the present life. For the weak and wronged soul does not so easily release the debtor from anger, when it hears about the kingdom, and falls into long-term hopes, as when it expects to receive justice from the one who caused the pain. Wishing, therefore, to tear out the root of resentment, and for the time being to empty out the anger—which was more conducive to comforting the wronged person—this he posits, not depriving him of the honor lying in the time to come, but hastening for the time being to bring him, in any way possible, onto the path of philosophy, and to open the doors of reconciliation; for the most difficult thing is to take hold of the beginning of the achievement, but after the entrance the strain is no longer so great. But our Lord Jesus Christ does not do this, either when discoursing about virginity or about forbearance; but there He posits the kingdom of heaven: "For there are eunuchs," He says, "who have made themselves eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven." And when He exhorted [the disciples] to pray for their enemies, having said nothing about the injury of those who caused the pain, and having made no mention of the coals of fire, but having left all those things to be said to the small-minded and wretched, He Himself exhorts them from things greater. Which ones are these? "So that you may become," He says, "like your Father who is in heaven." See how great the prize! For Peter was the one hearing these things, and James, and John, and the rest of the choir of the apostles; for this reason He urged them from the spiritual prizes. And Paul would have done the same, if his discourse had been addressed to such people; but since his discourse was to the Corinthians, who were in a more imperfect state, he gives them the fruits of labors, so that they might come more readily to the practice of virtue. For this reason, God, having left aside promising the kingdom of heaven to the Jews, bestowed the good things of the earth; and instead of evil deeds He threatened not Gehenna, but the calamities in this present age, famines, and pestilence.
and diseases, and wars, and captivity, and all such like things. For the more carnal sort of men are more preoccupied with these things, and fear them more; while they make less account of things which are not seen nor present. For this reason also Paul dwells more upon these, the grossness of which it was most likely for them to grasp. But besides these, he also wished to show this: that while some of the other good things in this life surround us with many toils, it stores up all the fruit for the time to come; whereas virginity renders us the rewards, which are not small, in the very act of being achieved, by freeing us from so many toils and anxieties. And along with these, he also established a third thing. What was that? That the matter should not be deemed impossible, but even among the things that are very possible. And he accomplishes this by demonstrating from a great abundance that marriage has more difficulties, as if he were saying to someone: Does this matter seem to you base and laborious? For this very reason, I say, one must pursue it, because it is so much easier, as to provide us with far fewer troubles than marriage; for since, he says, I spare you and do not want you to have tribulation, for this reason I do not want you to marry. And what tribulation? one might perhaps ask; we shall find that marriage, on the contrary, has much ease and luxury. And first of all, to satisfy desire with all freedom, and to endure no force from nature, is no small reason for tranquility; then, that one’s other life is also relieved of dejection and squalor, and is full of cheerfulness, laughter, and joy. For indeed, by means of a sumptuous table, and soft garments, and a softer bed, and constant baths, and perfumes, and wine in no way inferior to perfume, and other great and varied expenses, those who serve the flesh provide it with much luxury. [N] But for the most part, not even these are permitted; and marriage is accustomed to provide us with the liberty of intercourse alone, but not also with luxury. And the blessed Paul is a witness, saying thus: But she that liveth in pleasure is dead. But if these things are spoken concerning widows, hear also what he says concerning those who are married: That women should adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety, not with braided hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly array, but as becometh women professing godliness with good works. And not only here, but also elsewhere one might see him making much of the point that none of these things should be of any concern to us at all. And why do I speak of Paul? When the season was of the ultimate philosophy, and the grace of the Spirit was abundant, he said these things. For Amos, discoursing to the infant Jews, for whom luxury and sumptuousness and all, so to speak, the superfluities were permitted, hear how severely he attacks those who are addicted to luxury: Woe to them that lie on beds of ivory, and stretch themselves upon their couches, and eat the lambs out of the flock, and the calves out of the midst of the stalls; that chant to the sound of the viol; as if they considered them to abide, and not as things that flee away: that drink wine in bowls, and anoint themselves with the chief ointments. [NA] What, therefore, I was saying: for the most part, it does not even permit luxury; but even if none of these things were forbidden, but everything were permitted, there are other things counterbalancing these in the scale of dejection and pain; or rather, these are so much more numerous and greater, that we do not even receive a small perception of pleasure from them, but all the pleasure from them is swept away. [NB] For if anyone, tell me, happens to be by nature jealous, or even for some false pretext is seized by this evil, what could be more wretched than that soul? By comparing such a house to some war and storm, we shall be able to hit upon an exact image; everything is full of pain, everything of suspicion and sedition and turmoil. For the man struck by this madness is in no better state than those who are possessed by demons or afflicted with frenzy; thus he constantly leaps up and jumps out and is disgusted with everyone, and always pours out his anger upon those who are present and simply blameless, even if he be a servant, or a son, or anyone else whatsoever. And all pleasure is driven away, and everything is full of dejection and mourning and unpleasantness; and whether he remains at home, or rushes into the marketplace, or sets out on a journey, everywhere the terrible [thing] touches [him], pricking and irritating his soul more cruelly than any goad, and not allowing it to rest; for this disease is accustomed to beget not only dejection, but also an unbearable temper. And each of these, even by itself, is sufficient to destroy the one who is caught; but when they have come together and besiege him, constantly pressing him, and not allowing him even a short time to breathe, what is this more cruel than any death? For if one were to mention the most extreme poverty, or an incurable disease, or fire, or sword, he will say nothing equal to it. And those who have had the experience know this alone well; for no speech would be able to represent the excess of the [terrible] thing. For when he is compelled to hold in suspicion her who is of all most beloved, and for whose sake he would gladly surrender even his soul, what of all things could be able to comfort him? For whether he needs to turn to the bed, or to choose food and drink, he will think the table full of poisonous drugs rather than of food; and as for the bed, he will not endure to rest even for a little time, but he is disturbed and turns about just as if coals were placed beneath him; and neither the company of friends, nor the care of affairs, nor fear of dangers, nor excess of pleasure, nor anything else will be able to lead him away from such a storm; but this storm takes hold of his soul more tyrannically than any good thing, or any painful thing. Considering these things, Solomon said: Jealousy is cruel as the grave; and again, For the jealousy of a husband is full of fury; he will not spare in the day of vengeance, and he will not be appeased by any ransom, neither will he rest content through many gifts. For such is the madness of this disease, that [one] is not released from the pain even after the punishment of the one who caused the grief; many, at any rate, having often slain the adulterer, were not able to slay the anger and the dejection. And there are those who, even after slaughtering their own wives, remained in like manner, or even more, wasted by the fire. And the husband indeed lives in such evils, even when it happens that there is no truth [in his suspicion]; but that wretched and miserable woman endures things far more cruel than the man. For when she sees him who ought to be the comfort of all her pains, and from whom she ought to expect protection, turned into a wild beast and disposed more hostilely than anyone toward her, where will she be able to look henceforth? To whom shall she flee? Whence find deliverance from evils, the harbor being banked up against her and full of countless reefs? Then
and 313 servants and handmaids treat her quite insolently; for this class of people is suspicious and ungrateful by nature, and when they obtain greater freedom and see those who lord over them at variance with one another, they find no small occasion for their own vileness A to wage that war of theirs. For it is in their power, with complete impunity, to invent and construct whatever they wish, and thus to make suspicion more potent through their slanders. For the soul, once it has been seized by this evil disease, easily believes everything; and, having opened its hearing to all alike, it cannot distinguish between those who are being slanderous and those who are not, but even those who increase the suspicion, or those who are anxious to dispel it, seem to it to be perfectly trustworthy.
Henceforth, then, it is necessary to fear and tremble not only at the fellow-inhabitant, but no less at those runaways and their wives, and [the woman], having abandoned the order B becoming to her, to take up theirs. When, then, will she be able to pass her time without tears? What night? What day? What festival? When, without sighs and wailings and lamentations? Threats and insults and reproaches are continuous, partly from the husband, who is wounded in vain, and partly from the filthy servants; prisons, precautions, and everything is full of fear and trembling. For not only are entrances and exits C scrutinized, but even words and glances and sighs are examined with the greatest strictness; and it is necessary either to be more immovable than stones and to bear everything in silence, and to be fastened to the bedchamber more than a prisoner, or, if she wishes to speak and groan and go out, to submit to a reckoning and account to those corrupt judges—I mean the handmaids and the multitude of servants.
To these, if you will, add among the evils untold wealth, and the luxury of the table, and herds of servants, the brilliance of birth, the greatness of power, much glory, the renown of ancestors; leave out nothing at all of what are thought to make the present life enviable, but having gathered everything with precision, set it against this grief, and you will not even see the pleasure from those things appearing, but rather as having vanished, just as it is likely that a small spark falling into a vast sea would be extinguished. And these things [happen] when the husband is jealous; but if the passion should ever shift to the wife (and this is wont to happen not infrequently), he will be disposed more easily than the woman, but the greater part of the pain will fall back onto that wretched [woman]; for she will not be able to use the same weapons against him who is suspected—for who will endure a wife ordering him to stay at home all the time? Or who will dare to watch over the master among the servants, without being straightway dragged off to the pit? Thus she will be able neither to console herself with these devices, nor to vent her anger through words, but, perhaps, he will endure her being harsh and wailing once, but if she continues constantly to accuse him, he will soon teach her that it is better to bear such things in silence and be consumed. And these are the things in the cases of suspicion; but whenever 314 the evil happens to be real, no one will rescue the woman from the hands of the injured party, but having the laws helping him, he has dragged [her], who was the most beloved of all to him, into a tribunal and slaughtered her; but the husband escapes the punishment from the laws, but is held by the vote and judgment D of God from above. But this is not enough to console that wretched [woman], but it is necessary for her to endure a long and pitiable death, that from sorceries, that from poisonings, which women who are whoring invent. And there are some for whom there was no need of a plot against the injured, but they were already snatched away by the intensity of the despondency; so that if all men were rushing into marriage, one should not pursue it. For neither would they be able to say that such is the tyranny of desire among them, and they themselves reap the greater part of the evils of the matter, just as the argument also demonstrated. What then, he says, does this belong to all marriages? But it is not absent from all; however, it is distant and far removed from virginity. And the one who has married, even if she does not fall into the evil itself, will yet fall into the expectation of the evil; for it is not possible for her who is about to converse with a husband, not to contemplate and fear the evils with the conversation itself; but the virgin is freed not only from the difficult circumstances, but even from the suspicion. This does not belong to all marriages. For I do not say this, but if this is not present, many other things are present; and even if one escapes those, one will not be able to escape everything simply. But just as with the thorns that stick to one's garments when crossing a hedge, when one turns to pull out one, he is caught by many others, so also in the affairs of marriage, he who has escaped this is pierced by another in turn; and he who has escaped this, has stumbled upon another, and in general it is not possible to find a marriage free from every nuisance.
LII. Quantum malum sit zelotypia
LIII. Conjugium divitum expetendum non esse, imo pauperum connubio molestius esse
LIII. But, if you will, putting aside the difficult things for now, let us bring into the midst the thing that seems to be blessed in it, and which many—or rather, all—often pray to obtain, and examine it now. What then is this? To take a wife who is distinct from someone who is poor and lowly and humble, from those who are great and powerful and possess much wealth. But we shall find that this "enviable" thing possesses sorrows no fewer than that "abominable" one. For the race of men is indeed otherwise most arrogant, and in this very thing women are even more so, in as much as they are also weaker; and for this reason they are more seized by the passion; but when she also has many pretexts for arrogance, there is nothing that holds them in; as fire grabbing some kind of fuel, so they rise to an untold height, and invert the order, and make the things above below. For the wife does not let the husband remain in the place of the head, but having pushed him away from that order through pride and folly, and having led him into the one fitting for her, that of subjection, she herself becomes head and ruler. What then could be worse than this disorder? And I pass over the reproaches, the insults, the nuisances, which are more unbearable than all.
LIV. Quantumvis subjectam uxorem opulentam habens, ingens incommodum esse
LIV. But if one were to say (for I have heard many saying [this], when such discussions arise): "Let her only be wealthy and well-provided, and there is no work in bringing her down and humbling her pride"—if, therefore, one were to say these things, first he is unaware that it is one of the very difficult things; then that even if it were to come about, it does not have small damage. For to be subjected to the husband [f] by necessity and fear and with force will be heavier and more unpleasant to him than commanding with all authority. Why so? Because this force casts out all friendship and pleasure; and friendship not existing, nor desire, but in place of these, fear and necessity, what kind of marriage will such a one be worth henceforth?
LV. And these things [are so] when the wife is well-provided. But if it should happen that she has nothing, but the husband is wealthy, [the] hand-
instead of a wife, becoming a slave, having lost the freedom which becomes her, she will be no better off than those purchased with silver. Nay, even if he should wish to behave licentiously, even if he should wish to provoke her, even if he should wish to bring into her own marriage bed a multitude of women who are prostituting themselves, she is under necessity to bear everything and to be cheerful about it, or else to be cast out of the house. And this is not the only terrible thing; but because, when the husband is so disposed, she will be able to command neither servants nor handmaids with any freedom; but, as one living in another’s house, and enjoying what does not belong to her, and living with a master rather than a husband, she is forced to do and to suffer everything. And if one should wish to marry from similar estates, the law of subjection again ruins the equality of status, since the measure of property persuades her to be made equal to the husband. What then could one do, when such difficulty is everywhere? For let no one bring before me, if somewhere there were very few and numbered marriages that escaped these things; for it is not by B those who are rare, but by those who are always happening that it is proper to characterize the facts. For in the case of virginity, it is difficult for these things to happen, or rather impossible, but in the case of marriages, it is difficult for them not to happen.
LVI. But if, regarding those who seem to be good, such unpleasantnesses and calamities are born, what could one say regarding the admittedly painful ones? For she fears not only on account of one death, although she is once about to die, nor does she worry about one soul, having only one, but she trembles on behalf of her husband, she trembles on behalf of her children, and she trembles on behalf of the women and children belonging to them; and by how much the root extends to more branches, by so much do her anxieties increase. And on the occasion of each of these, whether it be a loss of money, or a sickness of the body, or some other unwanted event, she is under necessity to be cut to the heart and to mourn no less than those who are suffering. And if they all depart before her, the grief is unbearable; but if some remain and others are carried off by untimely deaths, not even thus does one have any clear consolation. For the fear for the living that is ever stretching the soul is not less than the pain on behalf of those who have passed away, but, if one must say something wonderful, it is more grievous. For the depression on behalf of those who have fallen asleep is softened by time, but the anxieties on behalf of the living must remain for all time, or be ended by death alone. And if we are 516 not sufficient for our own sufferings, what life shall we live, being forced to mourn the calamities of others? Often many children of brilliant parents, having been reared with much luxury, are given to one of the men of great power, then suddenly, before they are congratulated on these things, a danger having fallen upon them like a tempest or a wind, they also founder, and partake of the terrors of the shipwreck, and having enjoyed ten thousand good things before the marriage, they fall into the ultimate calamity from the marriage. But not these things, he says, befall all people, nor do they always happen from without; but neither has anyone been spared from all of them (for I will say the same things again); but for some they have come through experience, while those who have escaped the experience are made miserable by the expectation. But every virgin is beyond both the experience and the expectation.
LVII. However, if it seems good, let us leave those things which are inherently bound up with marriage, and which no one would be able to escape, whether willing or unwilling, and let us consider these now. What, then, are these? The birth pains, and the giving birth, and the children. But let us rather understand as is possible—for those who have experienced them alone know. The time of the betrothal arrives, and immediately anxieties are successive and manifold: what kind of man she will receive, not unnoble, not one of the dishonored, not self-willed, not a deceiver, not an arrogant man, not bold, not jealous, not a miser, not foolish, not wicked, not harsh, not effeminate. For it is not necessary that all these things should happen to all women who are being married, but it is necessary to be anxious and to care about all of them; for since the one to be cast by lot is not yet clear, but the hope still remains suspended, the soul fears and trembles at everything, and there is nothing of these things that it does not calculate. And if someone should say that also by expecting the opposite she might be able to be gladdened, let him know well that the hopes of good things do not comfort us as much as the expectations of bad things grieve us. For the good things, when hoped for with certainty, only then beget pleasure; but the bad things, even if only suspected, immediately constrain and disturb the soul. And as in the case of slaves, the uncertainty of the following masters does not allow their soul to rest, so also in the case of virgins, their soul resembles a storming ship throughout the whole time from the betrothal, as the parents on each day are, [some] holding firmly, and [some] casting them out. For the one among the suitors who was victorious yesterday was today surpassed by another, and this one was again cast out by another. And there is a time when even at the very doors of the marriage the expected bridegroom departs empty-handed, and the parents hand over the girl to the one not expected. And not only women have grievous anxieties, but also men. For it is possible for these indeed to search into things, but as for the one inside, always kept closed up, how could one thoroughly investigate her on account of her ways or her appearance? And these things indeed are at the time of the betrothal; but when the time of the marriage arrives, the agony increases, and fear is greater than pleasure, lest from the very first evening she may seem to be unpleasant, and far inferior to the expectation. For the one who had a good reputation at the beginning to be scorned later is bearable; but when she appears faulty from the very line, as one might say, when will she be able to be admired henceforth? And do not tell me this: "What then, if she happens to be beautiful?" For not even thus is she rid of this anxiety. At any rate, many who shone very brightly throughout the hour of their physical beauty were not able to captivate their husbands, but those men, having left them, gave themselves to those who were much their inferiors. And this anxiety having been loosed, another unpleasantness enters again in the paying of the dowry, with the father-in-law not yielding it with readiness, as he is laying down a dowry, and the bridegroom craving to enjoy everything, but being ashamed and blushing to make the exaction, as he is forced to do so more than anything else from the husband, or the woman in the delay of the payment by an ungrateful debtor; I pass this by now. But indeed, that anxiety having been loosed, the fear of childlessness immediately enters, and to this again the anxiety of having many children, and these things not yet being clear to anyone, they are disturbed by the anxieties of both from the beginning. And if she immediately conceives, there is again joy with fear (for none of the good things in marriage are without fear); but the fear is that, an abortion having perhaps occurred, the thing conceived might be destroyed, and the pregnant woman might be endangered concerning the ultimate things. But if a long time passes between, the woman is without boldness, as if she herself were the mistress of her giving birth. And when the time of the birth arrives, they interrupt and tear apart the [so great]...
the labor of the womb, which alone are sufficient to cast a shadow over all the good things of marriage. Other cares, too, trouble her along with these. For the wretched and miserable girl, even though she is so severely strained by those pains, is no less afraid of whether she might bring forth a child that is maimed and crippled instead of one that is sound and healthy, or a girl instead of a boy. For this anxiety, too, no less than the labor pains themselves, troubles her at that time; for they are agitated as much regarding things for which they are not responsible as they are regarding those for which they are, and they fear their husbands no less than regarding the others. Forgetting their own safety in such a tempest, they worry lest something undesirable happen to the husband. And when the child has fallen to the ground and given its first cry, other cares again take their place, those of its safety, those of its upbringing. Even if the child happens to be well-formed and suitable for virtue, the parents are again in fear lest what has been born suffer some terrible fate, lest it undergo an untimely death, lest it change for the worse into some vice. For not only do good children come from wicked parents, but also base and wicked children from virtuous ones. And if any of these undesirable things happens, the grief she experiences is more unbearable than if these things had befallen them at the beginning. But if all the good things remain secure, the fear of change is at least always present to them, shaking the soul of the parents and cutting off a large part of the pleasure. But it does not happen to all those who are married to have children. You are telling me, then, of another cause for despondency. Since, therefore, they are held by different griefs and cares whether they have children or do not, and whether they turn out to be good or wicked, how then shall we call the life in marriage a most pleasant one? Again, if those who live together continue to be of one mind, there is the fear that death might intervene and cut off the pleasure; nay, it is no longer merely a fear, nor is the evil merely in expectation, but it is bound to happen in reality. For no one has ever been able to show that both died on the same day; and since this is not the case, it is necessary to endure a life much more painful than death, whether one has happened to live together for a long or a short time. For the one who has experienced it for a longer time has a greater pain, as long familiarity makes the separation unbearable; but the one who is deprived of it before experiencing and being filled with that friendship, while the desire is still at its peak, grieves for this very reason even more than the other, and from the nature of the case both are held by equal torments. And what must be said about the separations that occur in the meantime, the long journeys, the anxieties coupled with them, the illnesses? And what has all this to do with marriage? one might say. For the most part, many have fallen ill often because of the very problems of marriage. For, being insulted and angered at times by rage, and at other times by despondency, they have given birth to many fevers. And if they suffer nothing of the sort while he is present, but enjoy his gentle company at all times, they are again brought back to these evils by his absence. But let all these things be dismissed, and let us bring no charges against marriage, but we shall not be able to liberate it from that cause along with them. And what is that? That it leaves nothing for the one who is healthy to be better off than the one who is sick, but sets her in the same despondency as the one who is lying down.
LVIII. That marriage, even if it escapes all miseries, possesses nothing great
[NB] Would you have us cast all these things away and set before the argument the impossible, and let us grant that a marriage exists B possessing all the goods together: many children, good children, wealth, the wife’s self-control, beauty, understanding, harmony, and long old age? Let there further be added the distinction of family and the magnitude of power, and let not even that common passion of nature—the fear of the change of these things—trouble them, but let every cause of despondency and every occasion for care and anxiety be banished, and let neither any other cause nor untimely death separate the marriage, but let everyone receive this on a single day, which seems to be by far more blessed than these things; let the children indeed remain as heirs, and let them escort both parents together after a long old age; and what is the end? What is the gain that they will have as they depart to that place from this great pleasure? For to leave many children and to have enjoyed a good wife with luxury and all the other things I just went through, and to have reached a long old age, what will that be able to benefit us before the judgment seat there in the eternal and true realities? Nothing. These things, therefore, are a shadow and a dream. For when we are able to gain nothing from these things in the ages that will succeed us there, which have no end, nor to enjoy any consolation, the one who has shared in them must be placed on an equal footing with those who have not. For if someone in a thousand years saw a pleasant dream for only a single night, we would not say that he has anything more than the one who has not enjoyed this sight. And yet I have not even said as much as I wanted. For the present age is not as far removed from the one to come as dreams fall short of the truth, but even more so; nor is a single night in a thousand years as far from it as the present age is from the coming one, but even in this there is by far a greater difference again. But the affairs of the virgin are not like these, but she departs possessing a great store of wealth; or rather, let us examine the account from the beginning.
LIX. That virginity is easy
[NB] The virgin is not compelled to be overly curious about the bridegroom, nor does she fear that she might suffer any deception; for God is the bridegroom, not man; a Master, not a fellow-servant. And such is the difference between the bridegrooms; but consider also on what terms they are joined. For not slaves, nor acres of land, nor so and so many talents of gold, but the heavens and the good things in the heavens are the dowry of this bride. In addition to these, the married woman shudders, for the sake of the death of the others, and because it separates her from the one who lives with her; but the virgin both longs for the departure, and is weary of life, hastening to see the bridegroom face to face, and to enjoy that glory.
LX. That virginity requires nothing that is not in our own power
[NB] Neither can living in poverty, as in the case of marriage, harm her, but it actually makes her even more desirable to the Bridegroom for willingly enduring this, nor is it from having been born of humble origins, nor from the lack of shining beauty of body, nor any other such thing. And why do I say these things? For even if she happens not to be free-born, not even this damages her betrothal, but it suffices to demonstrate a good soul, and to attain the first prizes. There is no jealousy to be feared there, there is no cause to grieve from being envied by another woman as having been joined to a more illustrious man. For there is none equal or like unto Him, nay, not even close by a little; but in marriage, even if one has a husband among the very wealthy and the very powerful, one could still find another who possesses much more. Not that it matters to the bridegroom, but it lessens the—
the excess of the greater things A over the lesser ones. But is the abundant luxury of gold, and garments, and a table, and other such security, sufficient to entice and draw away the soul? And how many women enjoy these things? For the greatest part of mankind lives in poverty, and hardships, and labors. And if there were any who partook of these, they are very few and easily numbered, and even these are not according to the will of God; for He does not permit anyone to live in luxury in these things, as we demonstrated in the previous discourses.
A
LXI. Aurum gerere metus quam voluptatis plus habere
A ΞΑ'. Nevertheless, let us again assume for the sake of argument that this luxury is permitted, and that neither the prophet nor Paul is hostile to the women who live in splendor; what is the profit of much gold? Nothing else, but envy, and anxiety, and fear that is not to be disregarded. For not only when they are deposited in the chest, nor only when night has fallen, are they troubled by anxieties, but also when they are worn, and when there is daylight, they endure the same care, or rather, even a more grievous one. For in the baths and in churches, those women who are guilty of such things B arrive; and even without their being there, the gold-wearers are often pushed and squeezed by the crowd without even noticing that some of their gold has fallen off. Many, in this way, have lost not only these things, but also necklaces much more precious than these, composed of valuable gems, which were torn off and fell.
B
LXII. Aurea ornamenta et formæ nocere, et augere deformitatem
B ΞΒ'. But let not even this be the fear, and let even this anxiety be removed; what is the profit? "Another person," she says, "saw it and was amazed." But he did not look at the one wearing them, but at the things being worn, and on account of these he often disparaged her, as one decked out beyond her merit. For if she is beautiful, it ruins the beauty of nature; for that massive adornment does not allow it to appear, taking away most of it; but if she is ugly and ill-favored, it has shown her to be even more unpleasant. For deformity appearing everywhere by itself is seen only for what it is; but when the brightness of gems and the beauty of some other material are placed alongside it, it is intensified into greater ugliness. For the blackness of the body shows the light of a pearl that is placed upon it to be much blacker, as though it were shining in the darkness, and the ugliness of the face makes the flowers of the garments appear much worse, not allowing the form of the countenance to contend by itself before the spectators, but toward that man-made and lifeless beauty, whence a greater defeat occurs. For the gold scattered on the garments, and the great variety of those who work such things, and all the rest of the ornament, just as a noble athlete, in robust and thriving health, pushes aside and overcomes a scurvy, ugly, and starving opponent, so it strikes down the glory of the face of the wearer and draws the spectators to itself, causing her to be mocked the more, while it is admired with excess.
B ΞΓ'. But the adornment of virginity is not of this kind. For it does not ruin the one who wears it, since it is not even something bodily, but belongs entirely to the soul; and for this reason, if she is ill-favored, it immediately transformed the ill-favor by putting on an unfathomable beauty; if she is beautiful and radiant, it has made her C brighter. For it is not stones and gold, nor the lavishness of garments, nor various expensive dyes, nor any other such thing among those corruptible ones that adorn the souls, but in place of these, fasts, holy all-night vigils, gentleness, kindness, poverty, courage, humility, endurance, and, simply put, a disdain for all things in the present life. For the eye of such a person is so beautiful and becoming that it has, instead of humans, the incorporeal powers and their Master as its lover; and it is so pure and clear that it is able to behold, instead of bodily things, the incorporeal beauties; and it is so gentle and calm that it does not become fierce or rise up even against those who do injustice—and constantly cause grief—but looks at these, too, in a sweet and mild way. Such modesty surrounds her that even the dissolute are ashamed and blush, and yield their own madness, when they look at her intently. And just as a modest woman necessarily makes the maidservant who serves her such, even if she does not wish it, so it is necessary for the flesh of a soul that is philosophizing in this way to adjust its impulses to those of the soul. For the eye, and the tongue, and the posture, and the gait, and absolutely everything is characterized by the internal order; and just as precious ointment, even if it is locked in a vessel, while permeating the air with its own fragrance, fills with pleasure not only those inside and standing nearby, but all those outside as well, so the fragrance of the virginal soul, flowing over the senses, reveals the virtue stored within, and by holding the golden reins of good order over all of them, keeps each of the "horses" in great rhythmic harmony; and it allows neither the tongue to utter something discordant and unharmonious, nor the eye to look at anything brazenly and suspiciously, nor the hearing to receive any of the unbecoming melodies. And she concerns herself with her feet, so that she does not walk in a disorderly and affected way, but has a walk that is simple and unaffected; and having cut away the embellishment from the garments, she also advises the face constantly not to be let loose in laughter, nor even to smile gently, but always to show a venerable and severe brow, and to be prepared for tears at all times, but never for laughter.
C ΞΔ'. When you hear of tears, suspect nothing somber; for those tears have so much pleasure in them, as much as even the laughter of this world does not. If you disbelieve, hear Luke saying that the apostles, after being scourged, departed from the presence of the council rejoicing; and yet the nature of scourges is not such; for it is accustomed to produce not pleasure and joy, but pain and suffering. But the nature of scourges is not such, but the faith in Christ is such that it also overcomes the very nature of things. If scourges birthed pleasure on account of Christ, what is to be wondered at if tears work the same thing on account of Him? For this reason, He called it a narrow and compressed road, and this same one He calls a good yoke and a light burden. For by nature the thing is such, but by the resolve of those who achieve it and by their good hopes, it becomes very light. Therefore, one might see those who have chosen it traveling the narrow and compressed road with greater zeal than the wide and broad one, not because they are not afflicted, but because they are superior to the afflictions, and suffer nothing from them, knowing what their peers suffer. For this life indeed has afflictions, but when we compare them to those of marriage, they must not even be called afflictions.
66. Tell me, what does the virgin endure throughout her life that is comparable to what the married woman undergoes practically every year, being torn apart by birth pangs and laments? For the tyranny of this pain is so great that even the divine Scripture, whenever it wishes to signify captivity, famine, or pestilence, and the unbearable nature of evils, calls all such things "birth pangs." And God Himself, instead of as a punishment and a curse, imposed this upon the woman; I do not say the bearing of children, but the bearing them in this way, with pains and birth pangs. "In sorrows," He says, "you shall bring forth children." But the virgin stands above this pang and this curse; for He who dissolved the curse from the law has dissolved this one along with that one. B
67. But it is pleasant to be carried about in the marketplace on mules. This is mere superfluous pride, and it is stripped of all pleasure; and just as darkness is no better than light, nor being shackled better than being free, nor needing many things better than needing nothing, so too will she who does not make use of her own feet not be well off. For I omit the unpleasantness that she is forced to endure from these things. For it is not the case that it is permitted for her to go out from the house whenever she wishes; rather, even when some useful outing is urgent, she is forced to remain at home, like beggars whose feet have been amputated and who have nothing to carry them. And if the husband happens to have occupied the mules, there is pettiness, and fighting, and much sullen silence; and if she herself, having foreseen none of these things, does the same, once she has left the husband to himself, she turns her anger against herself, continually eating herself away under the injury of her own spirit. And how much better it would have been to use her feet (for this is why God made them for us) and to endure none of these terrible things, than for the sake of wishing to be pampered, to have such forced occasions for sorrow and pettiness! For these are not the only pretexts that keep them at home, but even if it happens that her feet ache, or whether both mules or just one of them is gone, the same thing happens; and when it happens that they are turned out to pasture (and this happens every year and for many days), it is necessary again to remain at home as if bound, and not to go out of the house even when an urgent need calls. But if someone should say that she is freed from the multitude of those they encounter, and is not forced to be seen by each of her acquaintances and to blush, he seems to me to be very ignorant of what it is that frees and what it is that wraps the female nature in shame. For neither being seen nor being hidden causes this, but on the one hand the recklessness that keeps possession of the soul within, and on the other hand, modesty and reverence. For this reason, many who have been released from that prison, even while walking through the midst of the crowd in the marketplace, have not only escaped becoming grounds for accusation, but have even had many admirers of their modesty, and through their bearing, and through their gait, and through the unaffectedness of their garments, have shed the bright ray of interior decorum; whereas not a few of those sitting inside have wrapped themselves in an evil reputation. For it is possible, even while locked away, for those who wish to do so to show themselves to be more reckless and impudent than those who are seen.
67 [sic]. But perhaps the number of handmaidens is pleasant? There is nothing worse than this *pleasure*, for it entails so many cares; it is necessary to be troubled and despondent for each one who is sick and dying. But these things are perhaps bearable, and those that are even more severe than these, such as having to strain oneself each day to curb wrongdoing, to check wickedness, to put a stop to ingratitude, and to tutor all their other evil—and the most grievous of all 325 which usually happens C in a multitude of such service, is when it happens that one who is comely is in the herd of those handmaidens. For it is necessary that this should happen in such a multitude; for the wealthy are eager not only to acquire many, but also for them to be equally good-looking. When, therefore, it happens that one of them shines forth more than the others, whether she captures the master with a spell, or whether she is powerful enough for nothing more than to be admired, the state of pain becomes equal to that of the mistress who is being surpassed, even if not by desire, then by the beauty of body and by the wonderment. When, therefore, those things that appear to be bright and enviable among them involve such tribulations, what could one say concerning the sorrowful things?
68. But the virgin endures none of these things; her chamber is free from disturbance, and all clamor has been driven far away; and just as in a calm harbor there is silence and stillness in the soul, since nothing human troubles it, and all things within are kept in check, and she has another, greater silence presiding over her, continually conversing with God, and looking more intently toward Him. Who, then, could measure this pleasure? What sort of discourse could represent the joy of a soul disposed in this way? There is none; but those who take their fill of the Lord, they alone know the magnitude of this delight, and how it overcomes every comparison by a vast degree. But, many say, silver seen everywhere provides much delight to the eyes. And how much better it is to look toward heaven, and from there to reap a far greater pleasure! For just as gold is brighter and more radiant than tin and lead, so is heaven brighter than gold and silver and all matter—and this is a contemplation without care, whereas that one is attended by much anxiety, which is the very thing that everywhere corrupts the desires. But do you not wish to see heaven? It is in your power to see the silver lying in the marketplace. I speak for your shame, according to the blessed Paul, since you are so beguiled by the love of money. But I do not know what to say. For great perplexity has seized me here, and I cannot understand whence the whole human race, so to speak—when it is possible to be delighted with ease and relaxation—does not even regard the matter as a pleasure, but finds most pleasure in worrying and being distracted and anxious. For why does the silver lying in the marketplace not delight them as much as that which is in the house? And yet the former is brighter and leaves the soul free from all care. "Because," he says, "that one is not mine, but this one is mine." Avarice, then, is what possesses the pleasure, not the nature of the silver; for if this were the case, one ought to be delighted by the other in the same way. But if you speak for the sake of utility, glass is much better; and even the wealthy themselves would say this, for they mostly make their drinking vessels out of this material. But if, perhaps, forced by pride, they are compelled to make this out of silver, they first place the glass inside, and only then wrap it with the silver on the outside, showing that the former is more pleasant and suitable for drinking, while the latter is only for pride 324 and superfluous arrogance. And what is it, in short, "mine and not mine"? For when I examine these words with precision, I see only empty sounds. For many, even while living, were not able to retain it from their own ownership, and for those to whom it remained until the end, at the time of their departure, they fell out of the possession of it, whether they liked it or not. And this is not only the case with silver and gold, but also with…
and wearinesses. What then is it that makes sleep sweet, if not the fact that those who have first been brought into need partake of it in this way? Whereas for the wealthy, if drunkenness does not overwhelm them before nightfall, they are necessarily forced to lie awake, tossing and turning, and restless upon their soft bedding.
[OA'] It would be possible to demonstrate from other sources the unpleasantness of luxury, as well as the loss and the shame, by enumerating the diseases it wipes off upon the soul—diseases far more numerous and grievous than those of the body. For it makes men soft, effeminate, bold, arrogant, profligate, insolent, unrestrained, quick-tempered, cruel, ignoble, covetous, slavish, and, to say everything, useless for any of the useful and necessary things; all of which insufficiency is corrected by self-sufficiency. But now our discourse hastens toward another subject; therefore, adding only that, let us again touch upon the apostolic words. For if things that seem desirable are full of so many evils, and bring such a blizzard of illnesses upon the soul and body, where shall we place the painful things? Such as the fears of rulers, the surges of the mobs, the stratagems of sycophants and envious men—things which especially surround the wealthy; in which also women are necessarily forced to share more of the evils because they do not bear such changes with courage.
[OB'] And why do I speak of women? For even the men themselves are wretchedly ensnared by such things. For he who lives in self-sufficiency fears no change; but he who has been spent in that liquid and dissipated life, if ever peradventure he should be delivered over to poverty by some circumstance and necessity, will have died before bearing such a change, because of his lack of practice and lack of training. For this reason the blessed Paul said: "Such shall have tribulation for the flesh; but I spare you." Then after this he says: "The time is shortened henceforth."
[OC'] And what has this to do with marriage? one might perhaps ask. Nay, but it has much to do with it! For if we are confined to the present life, and in the life to come they neither marry nor are given in marriage, and the present time is hastening toward its end, and the things of the resurrection are standing at the doors, it is no time for marriages or possessions, but for need and all the other philosophy that is useful to us there. For just as a maiden, so long as she remains at home with her mother, takes great care of all her childish things—and having deposited in a chest within the storeroom the things laid up there, she herself holds the key, and has all the authority, and undertakes as much concern for the safekeeping of those small and trivial things as those who manage great estates; but when it is time to be betrothed and the time of marriage compels her to leave her father’s house, then, having been delivered from that simplicity and humility, she is forced to take thought for the management of the house, and a multitude of possessions and servants, and the care of a husband, and other things greater than these—so too must we, since we are being led toward the perfect life and that which is fitting for men, leave behind all things on earth as things that are truly childish playthings, and imagine heaven and the brilliance and all the glory of the dwelling there. For we too have been betrothed to a Bridegroom who seeks to be loved by us in such a way that we would be willing to depart not only from the things on earth, nor from these small and trivial things, but even from our soul itself for His sake, when it is necessary. Since, therefore, it is time to depart there henceforth, let us rid ourselves of trivial care. For even those who are about to move into a kingdom from a poor
houses, roof tiles, wood, furniture, and all other poverty concerning the house we would have cared for. Let us not, therefore, even now be anxious about things on earth; for the time already calls us to heaven, just as the blessed Paul said when writing to the Romans: "For now our salvation is nearer than when we believed; the night has advanced, and the day has drawn near." And again: "Here the time is shortened for what remains, so that even those who have wives should be as though they had none." A Why, then, is marriage necessary for those who are not going to enjoy marriage, but are to be disposed as those who do not have one? And why money, and why possessions, and why the necessities of life, when the use of them is now untimely and inopportune? For if those who are about to stand before a court of ours and to give an account of their offenses, with the mistress being near, do not only cast off the thought of a wife, but also of food and drink and every care, becoming concerned only with their defense, much more should we, who are about to stand not before some earthly court, but before a heavenly tribunal, and to give account of words, deeds, and thoughts, cast off everything—both the joy and the grief concerning present matters—and be anxious only for that fearful day. For if anyone, he says, comes to me and does not hate his father, and his mother, and his wife, and his children, and his brothers, and his sisters, and yes, even his own soul, he cannot be my disciple; and whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me, cannot be my disciple. But you, do you sit in leisure, given over to the desires of a wife, to laughter, to dissipation, and to luxury? B The Lord is near, be anxious for nothing; yet you, do you worry and care about money? The kingdom of heaven is at hand; yet you, do you look after a house and luxury and other pleasures? The form of this world is passing away; why then do you cut yourself in pieces over the things of the world that do not abide, but are consumed, while neglecting the things that abide and are steadfast? No longer marriage, no longer birth pangs, no longer pleasure and intercourse, no longer abundance of money, nor care for possessions, no food, no drink, no farming and seafaring, no crafts nor buildings, no cities nor houses, but some other state and manner of life. All these things will perish a little later. This is what it means: "The form of this world is passing away." Why then do we show all our zeal here, as if living for all ages, being anxious about matters from which we shall often depart before evening? Why do we choose the labor-filled life when Christ calls us to the life free from business? For "I wish," he says, "that you be free from anxiety. The unmarried man is anxious for the things of the Lord."
C
LXXIV. That the anxiety for the Lord is lighter than worldly anxiety.
How then does he wish us to be free from anxiety, having cast us into another care again? Because neither is this care, just as it is not for the sake of Christ to suffer trials, because of a change in the nature of things, but because of the decision of those who bear these things with pleasure, and control the nature of things. For the man who is anxious about these things, of which he will not enjoy for a long time, and often not even for a short time, would reasonably be said to be anxious; but he who will receive the fruits of greater cares, should rightly be placed in the category of the free from anxiety. And apart from these things, the divide between each anxiety is so great that one would not think of comparing this anxiety with that; it is so much lighter than that one and much easier. And all these things we have demonstrated through the foregoing arguments: the unmarried man is anxious for the things of the Lord, but the married man is anxious for the things of the world; but the one passes away, the other abides. D Is this alone then not sufficient to show the dignity of virginity? For by as much as God differs from the world, by so much is this care better than that.
How then does he allow marriage, which binds us to cares and draws us away from spiritual things? For because of this, he says, I said: "So that even those who have wives should be as though they had none," so that those who have already arrived at being bound, or are about to be, might in some other way work their bond more loosely. For since it is not possible to break it once one has been ensnared, make it more endurable. For it is possible, if we wish, to cut off all the superfluous things, and not to add to the cares born from the nature of the matter the sluggishness that comes from our own selves.
LXXV. What it is to have a wife as though one had none.
If anyone should wish to learn more clearly what it is, "having a wife, not to have one," let him consider those who are crucified, how they are disposed. How then are those disposed? They are not forced to buy a multitude of maidservants, nor gold and necklaces, nor bright and large houses, nor so many acres of land; but, having abandoned all these things, they are anxious about one cloak and their food. It is possible also for one who has a wife to lead himself into this philosophy. For what was said above, "Do not deprive one another," was spoken only concerning intercourse; for in this he commands them to follow one another, and lets no one be master of himself; but where it is necessary to practice the other philosophy—that in garments, that in diet, that in all other things—the one is no longer thereafter liable to the other, but it is permitted for men, even if the wife does not wish it, to cut off all luxury and the surrounding crowd of cares; and for a woman, likewise, there is no necessity, if she does not wish it, to be decked out and to be vainglorious and to be anxious about superfluous things. Reasonably so; for that desire is a certain natural one, and because of this it has met with much indulgence, and the one is not master to deprive the other who does not wish it; but that of luxury and of superfluous treatment, and of useless care, does not spring from nature, but is born from sloth and much wantonness. Because of these things, he does not force those who are married to be subject to one another in these matters, just as [he does] in those [intercourse]. This then is to have a wife as if one has none, when we do not accept the superfluous cares which are caused by the affectation and pampered behavior of women, but we take only such an addition of care as is likely to be for one soul added to us, and which has chosen to live philosophically and sparingly. For that he says this, he indicated through the continuation: "And those who weep as though they were not weeping, and those who rejoice in possessions as though they were not rejoicing." For those who do not rejoice will not even be concerned about the possession, and those who do not weep will neither be able to shudder at poverty, nor turn away from self-sufficiency. This is to have a wife and not to have one; this is to use the world and not to misuse it. But the married man is anxious for the things of the world. Since, therefore, there is anxiety both here and there, and here it is in vain and for nothing, or rather even for grief and trial (for such persons shall have "trial in the flesh," he says), but there it is for ineffable goods, why do we not choose this care rather, not because it has such and so many offsets, but also because by nature it is lighter than that? For what does the one who has not married care about? Is it about money, about servants, about stewards, about fields, and the other things?
is keeping house for cooks, or weavers, or the rest of the household staff? Away with the thought; nothing of these enters her mind; she is concerned only with building up her own soul, with adorning that holy temple not with braids, or gold, or pearls, not with cosmetics or pigments, nor with other hardships and base toils, but with holiness according to bodily and spiritual standards. "But she that is married," he says, "careth for the things that are of the world, how she may please her husband." With great wisdom he did not descend to an examination of the actions themselves, nor did he recount how many things women suffer for the sake of pleasing their husbands, both in body and soul—tormenting and whitening themselves, stretching themselves on other racks, and filling themselves with servility, flattery, hypocrisy, pettiness, and superfluous and useless cares—but by one phrase he hinted at all these things and left it to the conscience of his hearers to reflect upon them. Having thus shown the superiority of virginity, and having exalted it to heaven itself, he again turns the discourse back to the concession of marriage, fearing everywhere that anyone might think the matter to be a command. Wherefore he was not content with his former exhortations, but after saying, "I have no commandment of the Lord," and, "If the virgin marry, she hath not sinned," he says here again, "Not that I may cast a snare upon you."
[OϚ'] One might reasonably ask: How is it that above he called the matter a loosening of ties, and said he was counseling it for our own benefit, and so that we might not have affliction, and that we might be without concern, and because he spares us, and through all these things shows its lightness and bearableness, yet here he says, "Not that I may cast a snare upon you"? What, then, is this? He did not call virginity a snare—away with the thought—but rather the choosing of this good out of compulsion and necessity. For it is indeed so. Everything which one undertakes under compulsion and against one's will, even if it be very light, becomes more unbearable than anything else, and strangles our soul more grievously than a noose. That is why he said, "Not that I may cast a snare upon you." This means: I have described and demonstrated all the good things of virginity, and yet after all this, I leave the choice of the matter to you, not wishing to drag those who are unwilling toward virtue. For not wishing to afflict you did I advise these things, but so that your seemly devotion might not be disrupted by worldly affairs. But observe with me here too the wisdom of Paul, how he has introduced exhortation again through these qualifications, and counsel through his concession. For by saying, "I do not compel, but I advise," and by adding, "for the sake of what is seemly and for the purpose of undistracted devotion," he showed the marvelous nature of virginity, and how much gain comes to us from the way of life led according to God. For it is not possible for one who is entangled in worldly cares and dragged about everywhere to have undistracted devotion, when their entire zeal and leisure are divided among many things—I mean a husband, the care of a household, and all the other things which marriage is accustomed to drag along with it.
[OZ'] What then, he says, when even a virgin is caught up in many affairs and has worldly cares? Away with the thought; drag her-out of the choir of virgins; for it is not enough to remain unmarried to make one a virgin, but one must also have purity of soul; and by purity I do not mean only to be free of wicked and shameful desire and of cosmetics and meddling, but also to be free of worldly care; and if this is not the case, what is the profit of bodily purity? Just as there could be nothing more shameful for a soldier than to have thrown away his weapons and to be idling in taverns, so also there is nothing more unbecoming for virgins than to be bound by worldly cares. For those five [maidens] also possessed lamps and practiced virginity, but they profited nothing from any of these things, but when the doors were shut they remained outside and were lost. For virginity is a good thing for this reason: that it cuts off every occasion of superfluous care, and dedicates all leisure to the works of God; as if it does not have this, it becomes again far inferior to marriage, carrying thorns in the soul and choking the pure and heavenly seed.
[OH'] "But if any man think that he behaveth himself uncomely toward his virgin," he says, "if she be past the flower of her age, and need so require, let him do what he will, he sinneth not; let them marry." What are you saying? "Let him do what he will," and you do not correct his erroneous opinion, but allow them to marry? Why did you not say, "But if he thinks he behaves uncomely toward his virgin, he is wretched and miserable, thinking a thing so wondrous to be shameful"? Why did you not advise him, having been freed from this suspicion, to lead his daughter away from marriage? Because, he says, such souls were of the very weak and those dragging along the ground; and it was not possible to lead those so disposed all at once to the arguments for virginity. For he who is so excited by the things of the world, and admires the present life so much that even after such great exhortation he thinks a thing that is worthy of heaven and near the angelic way of life to be worthy of shame, how could he have endured a counsel urging him toward this? And what is surprising if Paul did this regarding a permitted action, when he does the same thing again regarding what is forbidden and unlawful? What kind of thing am I saying? To hold to the observance of food and to approve of this while rejecting that was of Jewish weakness; but nevertheless there were those among the Romans who had this weakness; and not only did he not denounce them with severity, but he does something even more than this. For he leaves those who are sinning and rebukes those who attempt to hinder them, saying, "But who art thou that judgest another man's servant?" But he did not do this when he wrote to the Colossians, but with much authority he attacks them and philosophizes, saying, "Let no man therefore judge you in meat, or in drink," and again, "If ye be dead with Christ from the rudiments of the world, why, as though living in the world, are ye subject to ordinances (touch not; taste not; handle not, which all are to perish with the using)?" Why on earth does he do this? Because those [Colossians] were strong, but the Romans still required much condescension, and he waited first for the faith to be rooted in their souls, fearing that if he came sooner than the proper time to pull up the tares, he might pull up along with them the plants of sound teaching by the roots. For this reason he neither attacks them severely, nor does he leave them unreproved, but he rebukes them, yet without suspicion and covertly, and by means of the reproof of others. For by saying, "To his own master he standeth or falleth," he seems to be silencing the one who is rebuking the other, but in truth he is pricking the soul of the latter, showing that to choose such things is not of those who are firm nor of those standing securely, but of those who are still wavering and who are in danger of slipping and falling if they do not stand. He keeps the same law here as well, because of their great weakness.
those who are ashamed of the thing. For he does not openly address him, but in the midst of the praises of him who preserves his own virginity, he deals him a heavy blow. For what does he say? *But he who stands steadfast in his heart.* A This is said by way of contrast to him who is easily and readily swayed, and who knows not how to walk with any constancy, nor to stand with much courage. Then, when he perceived that the discourse was sharp enough to sting his soul, see how he again shaded it, adding a cause that is not altogether worthy of accusation. For having said, *He who stands steadfast in his heart*, he added, *having no necessity, but having power*. And yet, it would have been consistent to say: "He who stands steadfast, and does not think the thing to be a disgrace." But this would have been more stinging; thus he added another thing in its place, soothing him and giving him greater inducement to take this cause. For the matter is not so terrible to be hindered by necessity as by shame. For the latter belongs to an unmanly and miserable soul, while the former belongs to one that is also perverted, and does not even know how to judge the nature of things correctly. But the time for these words was not yet; for since, B [351] it is not right to be hindered from virginity when one has already chosen it, but one must stand bravely against all things that obstruct this noble impulse, hear what Christ says: *He who loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me.* For when we are pursuing any of the things that please God, let everyone who hinders us be an enemy and an adversary, even if it be a father, or mother, or anyone whomsoever. But Paul, still bearing with the imperfection of his hearers, wrote these things, saying: *But he who stands steadfast, having no necessity*; and he did not even stop the argument there; and yet, *having no necessity* and *having power* are the same thing; but by the length of the discourse and the continuity of the concessions, he soothes a small and feeble mind, adding to these another cause: *He who has determined in his heart.* For it is not enough to be free, nor is he responsible from this alone, but when he chooses and decides, then he does well. Then, so that you may not think, because of his C great condescension, that there is no difference in the intermediate state, he again posits the distinction, with deference indeed, yet he posits it, saying: *So that both he who gives his virgin in marriage does well, but he who does not give her in marriage does better.* But here he did not show how much is the "better," for the same reason again; but you, if you wish to learn, hear Christ saying: *They neither marry, nor are given in marriage, but are as the angels in heaven.* Do you see the intermediate state, whither virginity suddenly lifts the mortal, when it is truly virginity?
LXXIX. That Elias, Elisha, and John were in no way inferior to the angels, and that this was due to the benefit of virginity
D What, then, separated the angels from us, tell me, was it Elias, Elisha, John—these true lovers of virginity? Nothing at all, except that they were bound to a mortal nature; but as for other things, if one were to examine them accurately, he would find them disposed no worse than those ones; and this very thing, which seems to be a shortcoming, is a great reason for praise. For to be able to reach that virtue while living on earth and subject to the necessity of mortal nature, see what courage, what philosophy it required. And that virginity made them such, is clear from this: for if they had had a wife and children, they would not have easily relinquished the wilderness, they would not have scorned houses, nor the rest of the equipment of life; but now, having been released from all these bonds, they lived on earth as if they were in the heavens; they needed neither walls, nor roof, nor bed, nor table, nor any other such thing; but instead of a roof they had the heaven, instead of a bed the earth, instead of a table the wilderness; and the thing which to others seems the cause of famine, the unfruitfulness of the wilderness, this placed those saints in abundance. For they had no need of vineyards, nor wine presses, nor harvest fields, nor crops; but the springs and rivers and lakes provided them with drink in abundance and sweetness, and an angel prepared for the one a table both wonderful and paradoxical, and greater than human custom. *For the one loaf*, he says, *sufficed for forty days of fasting*; and the other was nurtured by the grace of the Spirit A often working wonders, and not only him, but through him others as well. And John, who is more than a prophet, than whom no one greater has arisen among those born of women, did not even need human food; for neither grain, nor wine, nor oil, but locusts and wild honey sustained the life of his body. Do you see angels upon the earth? Do you see the strength of virginity? It prepared those who were entwined with blood and flesh, those who walk upon the ground, those who were subject to the necessity of mortal nature, to act in all things as if they were immaterial, as if they had already obtained heaven, as if they had partaken of immortality.
LXXX. What is meant by "seemly and comely"
B For all things were superfluous to them—not only those things which are truly superfluous, luxury, wealth, power, glory, and the rest of the swarm of these dreams; but even the things which seem to be necessary, houses, and cities, and crafts. This is what it means to be "seemly and comely," this is the virtue of virginity. For it is indeed wonderful and worthy of many crowns to prevail over the madness of desires and to restrain the raging of nature, but it becomes truly wonderful when such a life is also present; but in itself it is weak, and not sufficient to save those who possess it. And all those who practice virginity even now—and yet who fall as far short of Elias and Elisha and John as the earth does of heaven—would bear witness to us. For just as if you take away the "seemly and comely," you have severed the very sinews of virginity, so when you possess it with an C excellent way of life, you have the root and the foundation of all good things. For as rich and fertile soil knows how to nourish the fruits of virginity, or rather, the root and fruit of virginity is the crucified life. This anointed those noble ones for the wonderful race, having cut away all their bonds, and having set their feet loose and light, like winged birds, to fly toward heaven. For where there is neither the care of a wife nor the provision for children, there is great ease of poverty; and poverty makes one near to the heavens, delivering us not only from fears, nor cares, nor dangers, but also from all other difficulty.
LXXXI. How great a good is poverty
D For he who has nothing, as if he possessed all things, thus scorns everything, and uses great boldness both before rulers and before the powerful and before him who wears the crown. He who scorns wealth, proceeding on his way, will also scorn death easily; having become above these things, he will converse with all with boldness, fearing no one nor trembling. But he who is busied about wealth is not only a slave to wealth, but also to glory and honor and the present life, and simply to all—
things of this life. For this reason, Paul called it the root of all evils (1 Tim. 6:10). But virginity is sufficient to wither this root and to implant in us another, an excellent one, which buds forth every good thing: freedom, boldness, fortitude, ardent zeal, a warm love for heavenly things, and a disdain for all things upon the earth. Thus does it become reputable and well-ordered.
B LXXXII. But what is this wise argument of the many? The patriarch Abraham, he says, had a wife, and children, and riches, and flocks, and herds; and after all these, John, both the Baptist and the Evangelist, both being virgins, and Paul and Peter, who shone in continence, pray to come into his bosom. Who told you this, my good man? What prophet, what evangelist? He himself, he says, Christ. For when he saw the centurion possessing great faith, he said: *Many shall come from the East and West, and shall recline with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob* (Matt. 8:11). And Lazarus also is seen at that time feasting with him. And what is this to Paul, and what to Peter, what to John? For Lazarus was not Paul and John, nor were the many from the East and West the choir of the apostles. Therefore, this argument of yours is futile and vain. But if you wish to hear clearly the rewards of the apostles, hear Him who is to grant them, saying: *You shall sit upon twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel* (Matt. 19:28). And nowhere here is Abraham, nor his son, nor his grandson, nor the bosom that received them, but an honor far greater than that; for these shall sit judging the descendants of those others. C And not only by this is the difference clear, but because those things of which Abraham obtained, many shall obtain: *For many shall come,* he says, *from the East and West, and shall recline with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob*. But of those thrones, no other shall take hold, but only the choir of these holy ones. Are you still, tell me, remembering flocks and herds and marriages and children?
What then, he says, when many of those who have practiced virginity, after many labors, pray to enter there? I shall say something even greater than this: that many of those who have practiced virginity shall not obtain even those bosoms, nor the lesser things, but will depart into hell itself. And the virgins excluded from the bridal chamber demonstrate this. Is, therefore, marriage equal to virginity for this, or even worse? For your example makes it even worse. If indeed the married Abraham is in comfort and luxury, but those who practiced virginity are in hell, this is left for you to suspect according to your argument. But these things are not so, they are not! For not only is virginity not inferior, but it is far better than marriage. How? Because neither did marriage make Abraham what he was, nor did virginity destroy those wretched women; but the rest of the virtue of his soul proved the patriarch brilliant, and the rest of the corruption of life delivered those others to the fire. D For he, even while living in marriage, was eager to accomplish the goods of virginity—I mean what is reputable and well-ordered—but these others, even having chosen virginity, fell into the surge of life, and the involvements of marriage. What then prevents, he says, even now, with marriage and children and riches and all other things, from preserving what is well-ordered?
First, because no one is now like Abraham, nor even close by a little. For he despised riches more than those who practice poverty, though he was wealthy and had a wife, and he mastered pleasure more than those who practice virginity. For these are inflamed by desire every day; but he so extinguished this flame, and was bound to no strong attachment, that he not only refrained from his concubine, but even cast her out of his house in order to remove every occasion for strife and discord—now, however, it is not very easy to find this.
LXXXIII. And apart from these things, which I was saying as I began, I will say this also now: that the same measure of virtue is not required of us and of them. For now it is not possible to be perfect without having sold all, without having taken leave of all—I do not mean just riches and house, but also one's own soul—but at that time there was not evidence of such precision. What then? Do we live more precisely, he says, than the patriarch now? We were bound to, and this we were commanded, but we do not live it; and for this reason we fall far short of what is just—since it is plain to everyone that heavier burdens are laid upon us. For this reason, the Scripture, marveling at Noah, does not do it simply, but with a certain addition. For Noah, it says, was *a just man, perfect in his generation, he pleased God* (Gen. 6:9). Not simply perfect, but in that time; for many are the ways of perfection determined according to different times; and as time progresses, what was once perfect becomes later imperfect. What do I mean? A person was once perfect who lived according to the law: *For the man who does these things,* it says, *shall live by them*; but Christ having come, showed this perfect thing to be imperfect. *For unless,* he says, *your righteousness shall exceed that of the scribes and Pharisees, you shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven* (Matt. 5:20). Then murder alone was thought to be terrible, but now anger and mere reviling can send one to hell; then adultery alone was punished, but now to look at a woman with unchaste eyes is not devoid of punishment; then perjury alone was from the Evil One, but now even to swear: *For the excess,* he says, *of these is from the Evil One.* Nothing more was required of those then than to love those who love them; but now this great and wonderful thing is so imperfect that even after its accomplishment, we have nothing more than the tax collectors.
LXXXIV. Why then is the same reward not set for us and for those under the Old Covenant for the same virtuous deeds, but we must show greater virtue if we are to attain the same things as they? Because the grace of the Spirit is poured out abundantly now, and the gift of the coming of Christ is great; for it made them perfect men instead of infants. Just as we, therefore, require much greater virtuous deeds of our own children when they grow up, and we praised those things they did earlier according to their first
A to be of things belonging to this life. For this reason, Paul called this the root of all evils. But virginity is sufficient to dry up this root, and to plant in us another that is the best of all, budding forth with all good things—freedom, boldness, courage, fervent zeal, love of heavenly things, and contempt for all things that are on earth; for thus she becomes decent and well-pleasing.
B But the wise argument of many says: "The patriarch," he says, "Abraham, had both a wife, and children, and riches, and flocks, and herds, and all those things that John, both the Baptist and the Evangelist [333], as virgins, both happened to be; and Paul and Peter shone with continence, to whose bosom they pray to come." Who said this to you, my good man? What prophet, what evangelist? He, he says, is Christ. For He, seeing the centurion having much faith, said, "Many shall come from the east and west, and shall sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob. And Lazarus [was] with him, then he was comforted by the rich man." And what is this to Paul, what to Peter, what to John? For neither was Lazarus or Paul and John, nor were the many from the east and west, the chorus of the apostles. "So that the argument for you is superfluous and vain." But if you wish to hear what the apostles suffered, hear what is going to give them these things, saying: "Ye shall sit on twelve thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel." And by no means here the Abraham, nor his servant, nor his, nor the one who begged the bosom, but a glory much greater than theirs; for those who judge are the descendants. C Nor is the difference clear only in this, but that Abraham happened to have the first place. "Many shall come," he says, "from the east and west, and shall recline with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob." Yet of those kingdoms, no one else is chosen, but the chorus of these saints alone. "But come, tell me, do you remember the flocks, and the herds, and the marriages, and the children? What then," he says, "of those who remained virgins after many labors, pray to enter there? I will say something greater than this, that many of those who remained virgins will not even be entrusted with the bosoms, nor the lesser, but will go away into the punishment itself." And they denote the virgins excluded from the bridal chamber; for then marriage is equal to this, and even worse; for the illustration makes yours and mine even worse. For if the married Abraham was in rest and luxury, and those who remained virgins have fallen into Gehenna, this is lacking in your comparison. These things are not so, they are not so; for not only is virginity not inferior, but it is much better than marriage. How? Because neither did marriage make Abraham such, nor did virginity lose that man's reward; but the rest of the virtue of the soul made these shine, and the rest of the wickedness cast both into the fire. There, for even in marriage [one] strove to perform the good things of virginity, I mean being decent and D well-disposed—they who chose virginity, having fallen into the tempest of life and the affairs in marriage, remained intact. What prevents, he says, even now with marriage, and children, and riches, and all other things, the well-disposed from being saved? First, because no one is like Abraham; indeed, not even near. For those who practice poverty are more to be accounted as despising riches than he who is wealthy and has a wife and is held by pleasure more than those who are virgins. These indeed are not burned by desire every day; he, however, in such a way suppressed the flame, and by no affection was subdued, so that he did not [334] merely withdraw from the concubine, but [was ready] to cast her out of the house for the sake of the struggle and discord, to remove every pretense—now this is not very easy to find.
A [The text continues] age, when they have become men and accomplish these things, we no longer marvel in the same way, but we command them to show forth other things far greater than those; so also God did not require great achievements from human nature in the first times, inasmuch as it was disposed more childishly; but since it has heard the prophets, the apostles, and has attained the grace of the Spirit, He has increased the magnitude of its achievements; and reasonably so. For He has established greater rewards, and the prizes now are far more brilliant; for no longer is it earth and things on earth, but heaven and things that transcend the mind that are laid up for those [335] who achieve. How then is it not absurd to remain at the same smallness when we have become men? For then, indeed, human nature was divided against itself, and there was an unceasing war; and Paul, describing this, says in some such way: "But I see another law in my members warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which is in my members." But now these things are not. "For what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, God sending His own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for sin condemned sin in the flesh;" and giving thanks for these things, Paul said: "O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death? I thank God through Jesus Christ." For this reason we are punished reasonably, because being released, we do not wish to run as those who are hampered; or rather, even if we were able to run equally, not even so are we delivered from punishment. For those who enjoy deep peace ought to raise much greater and more brilliant trophies than those who are heavily burdened by war [b]. But if we are going to be occupied with riches and luxury and women and the care of affairs, when shall we be men, when shall we live in the spirit, when shall we care for the things of the Lord? When we depart from here? But the time is no longer for labors or struggles, but for crowns and punishments. Then, even if a virgin has no oil in her lamps, she will not be able to receive it from others, but she will remain outside; and if one comes having filthy garments, she will not be able to go out and change her robe, but she will be led away into the fire of Gehenna; and even if she beseeches Abraham himself, it will be of no further advantage to her. For when the Mistress has arrived, and the tribunal has been set, and the judge has sat down, and the river of flame is being dragged along, and the examination of the things we have done is taking place, we are no longer permitted to wash away [c] our transgressions, but we are dragged, both willing and unwilling, to the penalty owed for these things, with no one then being able to deliver us, but even if one happens to have the same boldness as the great and wonderful men—even if Noah, even if Job, even if Daniel, even if he pleads for sons and daughters—there will be nothing more, but there will be the necessity for those who have sinned to be punished immortally, just as also those who have achieved are to be honored. For that there will be no end to either of these, Christ declared, as He said that life is eternal, so also the punishment is eternal. For when He received those on the right hand, and condemned those on the left, He added, saying: "These shall go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life." Therefore it is necessary to manage all things here, and for him who has a wife to be as though he had none, and for him who truly has none to practice, along with virginity, all other virtue, so that after the departure from here we may not lament in vain.
AD VIDUAM JUNIOREM. — MONITUM.
A ...is extinct; "having eaten poisoned mistletoe," as Chrysostom himself confirms in his 15th homily to the Philippians: "he was destroyed by poisoned drugs." Another man—the very one who had invested him with the purple, namely Gallus Caesar—was killed by Constantius. Thus far Chrysostom, who in his review of the rest remains silent about those who died violent deaths: namely Julian, who was killed in the Persian war; Valentinian the First, who, when he answered the Quadian legates in a rage, suddenly perished, suffocated by a flow of blood; and Valens, whose later destruction by the Goths he narrates.
As far as the wives of these deceased emperors are concerned, some of whom he says died of poison, some of sorrow, history provides us no light. However, of the two who survived, regarding whom the emperor feared lest someone should take them away from his ward son, the one who seems most certainly to be the wife of Jovian—whose son Varronianus was already in his sights—does not seem to have been seeking imperial power; and that phrase "in fear of things to come" (φóβῳ τῶν μελλόντων) does not refer to the paternal imperial right, for she could not have been matched to Justina and her son Valentinian, since the latter was already proclaimed emperor and came from a family already reigning. The other, however, the wife of a certain deceased emperor who could scarcely return from exile even after many prayers, is not easily determined: whether she is the wife of Valens, Domnica, or rather Severa, the first wife of Valentinian I, who was repudiated by him and sent into exile, and who returned from exile after the death of Valentinian. Hence it is that the wives of the emperors of that time proceed, of whom one, recovering from past calamities, when she was an expert in sorrow, seems to be Constantia, the daughter of Constantius, whose husband, Gratian, was scarcely twenty years old at the time; the other, B who feared for her husband, was without doubt Flacilla, the wife of the Emperor Theodosius.
But let us make a calculation: we must start from the death of Valens; that occurred in the year 378, in the month of August. In the following year, 379, in the month of February, Theodosius was proclaimed Emperor by Gratian, and from then on he fought often with the Goths, up to the year 382, when the affairs of the Goths were worn down. While Chrysostom was writing these things, the Goths were still raging, and the Romans were terrified, as he himself was, and Theodosius was occupied in war and in battles. These things can reasonably apply to the year 380, when Chrysostom returned to Antioch from the cave in which he had been lurking for two years, or to the following year, 381. The notes reviewed above fit perfectly to this time; to another, they do not at all.
It remains to deal with the following treatise to the widow. If faith is to be placed in the title, and this was also sent to the same widow, namely the wife of Therasius, Chrysostom sent this as well: thus it is read in all the editions, as well as in the manuscripts: Τοῦ αὐτοῦ πρὸς τὴν αὐτὴν περὶ μονανδρίας ("By the same, to the same, on single-marriage"). This type of argument also seems to favor this: for it deals with a younger widow, who married once, and who matches the wife of Therasius. But he does not address this widow as a young widow here, but rather teaches all widows together in the manner of one preaching, concerning the causes of not entering a second marriage: although second marriages are not to be condemned, they are not worthy of praise, and they carry with them some incontinence. He concludes the oration, as he is accustomed to do in his homilies: "These things," he says, "we have brought forward, not that we judge them to be necessary, or that we condemn those who do not wish to remain in widowhood, but we have done this with one exhortation and admonition, that they might not wish to cling forever fixed to the earth, but once freed, remain in C liberty, and aspire to heaven; that they might apply themselves to the way of living in heaven, and that they might offer all things to Christ, what is required of them, as they have found Him as their only spouse: for that He is worthy of this, no one fails to see." Therefore, even in the title "to the same" (πρὸς τὴν αὐτὴν), it has been added by some librarian rashly; for Chrysostom, who considers the wife of Therasius miserable, later recited this very composition in the manner of a homily in the assembly. So that it may be correct, it is opportunely placed after the oration to the wife of Therasius, because it is of the same subject matter, and should not have been moved from its place.
We have placed the translation of Flaminius Nobilius, as it is accurate and not unrefined, albeit in places corrected, opposite the Greek text.
[335] ...age, we no longer marvel at men who have become such and are succeeding; rather, we command them to show forth many things far greater than those. Thus, too, did God not require great achievements from human nature in the first times, insofar as it was arranged in a more childish state; but since it heard the prophets, and the apostles, and attained the grace of the Spirit, He extended the magnitude of its achievements; and reasonably so. For He established greater rewards, and the prizes are now much more glorious; for no longer are the earth and the things upon the earth, but heaven and the goods that surpass the mind are laid up for those who achieve. How then is it not absurd, once we have come to manhood, to remain still in the same smallness? For at that time human nature was divided against itself, and there was an unceasing war; and describing this, Paul says in a certain place: *But I see another law in my members, warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which is in my members.* But now these things are not. *For what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, God sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh;* and giving thanks for these things, Paul said: *O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death? I thank God through Jesus Christ.* For this reason we are chastised justly, because we who have been loosed do not wish to run on equal terms with those who were shackled; or rather, even if we were able to run on equal terms, we are not even thus delivered from the punishment. For those who enjoy deep peace must set up trophies far greater and more brilliant than those who are heavily oppressed by war. But if we are going to be occupied with money and luxury and women and the care of matters, when shall we be men, when shall we live by the Spirit, when shall we concern ourselves with the things of the Lord? When we depart from here? But the time is no longer for labors or for contests, but for crowns and punishments. Then, even if a virgin be someone who has no oil in her lamps, she will not be able to receive it from others, but will remain outside; and if someone comes wearing filthy garments, she will not be able to go out and change her robe, but will be led away into the fire of Gehenna; and even if she pleads with Abraham himself, it will be of no advantage to her from then on. For when the Sovereign arrives, and the tribunal is set, and the judge sits, and the river of flame is drawn along, and the examination of the things we have done takes place, we are no longer permitted to wash away our transgressions, but we are dragged—willingly and unwillingly—toward the justice owed for them, with no one being able to intercede for us at that time; even if one happens to have the same boldness as the great and wonderful men, even if it be Noah, or Job, or Daniel, even if he prays on behalf of sons and daughters, it will be of no avail, but it is necessary from then on that those who have sinned be punished eternally, just as also those who have achieved are honored. For that there will be no end to either these or those, Christ has declared, saying that just as life is eternal, so also the punishment is eternal. For when He welcomed those on the right, and condemned those on the left, He followed up by saying: *These shall go away into everlasting punishment: but the righteous into life eternal.* Therefore it is necessary to manage all things here, and for the one having a wife to be as though not having one, and for the one truly not having one, along with virginity, to practice every other virtue, so that after our departure from here we do not lament in vain.
TO A YOUNG WIDOW
TO A YOUNG WIDOW
A 1. That you have received a grievous blow, and that the dart sent from above struck you in due season, all would agree with you, nor will any of those who are greatly practiced in philosophy gainsay it. But since one ought not to consume all one's time in mourning and tears for those who are smitten, but rather to show great foresight in the healing of wounds, lest that which is overlooked provide the tears with a larger wound and cause the flame of grief to grow more violent, it is well both to accept encouragement by means of words, and, having checked the torrent of tears for at least a brief moment, to offer yourself to those who attempt to comfort you. For this very reason, we did not trouble you at the very height of your grief, nor at the moment the thunderbolt was cast down; but having waited for the time that has intervened, and having allowed you to be sated with your lamentations, when at length you were able to look up a little from that mist and open your ears to those who were trying to console you, then we, too, have added our own words to those of your handmaidens. For while the winter was still severe, and the grief blowing with such force, the one who encouraged you to abstain from sorrow would have only provoked you the more to wailings, and would have offered much fuel to the fire, with the result of gaining nothing but a reputation for being an enemy and senseless. But since the storm has at last begun to subside, and God has calmed the savageness of the waves, we have easily unfurled the sails of our discourse. For in a moderate winter, skill may perhaps be able to do its work; but when the assault of the winds is irresistible, there is no benefit in experience. It is for all these reasons that, having kept silent all the previous time, we have now with difficulty attempted to open our mouth, because we have heard from your godly relative that you now ought to take heart; for indeed, you have been emboldened to endure long discourses about these matters, not only from your handmaidens, but also from the women from outside, and those related by birth, and those who are otherwise well-disposed. And that you will not dishonor the words coming from us, while welcoming those from them, but will grant them quiet and tranquility as much as you are able, we greatly hope and believe. And, moreover, the female sex is somewhat more prone to sympathy; but when youth is present, and an untimely widowhood, and inexperience of affairs, and a great crush of anxieties, and the fact that one who lived in luxury, and cheerfulness, and wealth B has been turned back [to face] all the past time, the distress becomes manifold; and even if she who has suffered this does not chance upon help from above, any random train of thought could destroy her, which I posit as the first and greatest proof of the great providence of God in your regard. For to not be suffocated by grief, when so many evils have suddenly rushed together, and not to be driven out of one's natural senses, was not the result of any human help, but of the hand that is able to do all things, of the wisdom for which there is no number, of the prudence C for which there is no finding out, of the Father of mercies and God of all comfort. For He has struck us, it says, and He will heal us; He will smite, and He will bind us up and make us whole.
For as long as that blessed man was with you, you enjoyed honor and care and devotion; you enjoyed such things as it is natural to enjoy from a man. But since God has taken him to Himself, in his stead He has become [the husband] to you. And this is not my word, but that of the blessed prophet David; for he says, "He shall take up the orphan and the widow." And elsewhere he calls Him the father of orphans and the judge of widows; so great is the concern you will see Him showing for this class in many places.
2. But that this name, being constantly spoken, may not disturb your soul and trouble your reasoning D—having come upon you in the very flower of your age—I wish to discuss this first, and to show that it is not a name of calamity, but of honor, and honor of the greatest kind. And do not, I pray, offer me the opinion of the many, which is falsified, but the legislation of the blessed Paul, or rather, of Christ; for what he uttered, Christ spoke through him, just as He himself said, "Do you seek proof of Christ who speaks in me?" What then does he say? "Let a widow be enrolled, not less than sixty years old"; and again, "But the younger widows refuse"; by means of both, wishing to show us the magnitude of the matter. And while giving directions about bishops, he nowhere specifies a number of years, but here he indicates great precision. Why is this? Not because widowhood is greater than the priesthood, but because these women have greater labor than those, with many matters flowing in upon them from all sides, both public and private. For just as a city without walls lies exposed in the midst to all who wish to plunder it, so also a young widow living in widowhood has many who plot against her from every side—not only those who covet her money, but also those who [plot] against her chastity.
[This is the first page of the translation.]
to hasten to ruin. And we shall find, not only these, but other occasions also that present themselves for her downfall. For servants who have no respect, and affairs neglected, and the fact that one is no longer held in the former honor, and seeing one's contemporaries doing well, and often also the desire for luxury, have persuaded them to enter into second marriages.
There are also those who, in the eye of the law, do not wish to be joined to husbands, yet do so secretly and in hiding. 340 They do this so that they may harvest the praises of widowhood; thus it seems to be an act not shameful, but wonderful and worthy of honor in the presence of men, not only among us believers, but even among the unbelievers themselves. For I know that when I was young, my teacher—who was the most superstitious of all men—on many occasions admired my mother. For, as was his custom, he would inquire of those sitting with him who I was, and when someone told him that I was the son of a widow, he would learn from me both the age of my mother and the duration of her widowhood. And when I said that at forty years of age she had twenty remaining, from the time when she lost my father, he was astonished and shouted aloud, and looking toward those present, he said, “Bah! What women there are among the Christians!” So much does the matter enjoy admiration and praise, not only among us, but even among those on the outside.
Seeing all these things, the blessed Paul said: “Let a widow be listed not less than sixty years old.” And not even after such a testimony of the years does he allow her to be enrolled in this holy choir, but also adds other things, saying, “well reported for good works, if she has brought up children, if she has lodged strangers, if she has washed the saints’ feet, if she has relieved the afflicted, if she has diligently followed every good work.” B Behold the scrutiny and the trial, how much virtue he requires of the widow, and how he scrutinizes! He would not have done this if he were not intending to entrust her with a matter significant and solemn. And, “But younger widows,” he says, “refuse.” Then he also adds the reason: “For when they have begun to wax wanton against Christ, they desire to marry.” By this word, he hints to us that those who have lost their husbands are betrothed to Christ in their stead. See how, in demonstrating that this harmony is mild and gentle, he sets this forth—I mean: “For when they have begun to wax wanton against Christ, they desire to marry,” just as a man who is gentle, and who does not use authority over them, but lets them live in freedom. And he did not cease his discourse with these points, but elsewhere again he has shown great concern for her, saying: “But she who lives in pleasure is dead, but the widow who is truly desolate has hoped in God, and continues in supplications C and prayers night and day.” And writing to the Corinthians he says: “But she is happier if she so remain.” Do you see how many are the praises of widowhood, and these in the New Testament, when even the beauty of virginity shone forth? But yet, not even then did its brightness succeed in concealing her rays, but she shines forth and thus possesses her own virtue. When, therefore, we mention the state of widowhood, do not be cast down, nor consider the matter a reproach; for if this to be reproached, virginity is much more so. But it is not, it is not; God forbid. For where we all admire and accept those who abstain from husbands while they are still living, how must one not be struck with awe and offer praise for those who demonstrate the same goodwill toward them even when they have departed? As for the time, as I said, when you lived with the blessed Therasius, you enjoyed both honor and care, such as it is expected one enjoys from a man; now, however, you have in his place the Lord of all, God, who formerly stood over you, and who will do this now with even greater and more abundant concern. And of His great care, as I said before, He has already shown us a sign by keeping you sound and untouched in such a furnace of anxieties and grief, and by allowing none of the things which you did not desire to happen to you. And He who in such a storm did not permit a shipwreck to occur, will much more preserve your soul in tranquility and make your widowhood light, as well as the things which appear to be grievous because of it.
3. If, however, it is not the very name of widowhood that troubles you, but the loss of such a husband, I myself agree with you that everywhere on earth there have been few such men among those who live in the world—affectionate, gentle, humble, guileless, D sensible, pious. But if he were utterly destroyed and had passed into non-existence, one would have to be troubled and to grieve; but if he has sailed into his own harbor and has departed to his own true King, one ought not to mourn for such a person, but even to rejoice. For this death is not a death, but a departure and a translation from the lower things to those that are better, from earth to heaven, from men to angels and archangels and the Lord of angels and archangels. For here on earth, while he was serving as a soldier for a king, one had to expect dangers and many plots from those who envied him; for in proportion as his reputation for excellence grew, so much did the things from his enemies abound; but there, upon his departure, there is nothing one can suspect of these things. Therefore, by as much as you grieve that God has taken one who was good and virtuous, by so much should you rejoice that he has departed with great security and glory, and having been freed from the present turmoil of danger, he is in peace and great quiet. For how is it not absurd to confess that heaven is much better than the earth, yet to mourn those who have migrated from the latter to the former? For if of those who have lived wickedly and contrary to what is pleasing to God, the blessed...
he was, one ought to have lamented and mourned, not only when he departed, but even while he was alive; but since he happened to be one of your friends, you ought to rejoice with him not only in his life, but also in his falling asleep. And that this is what must be done, you have surely heard from the blessed Paul, who says: *To depart and to be with Christ is far better.* But perhaps you desire to hear his words, 312 and to enjoy his friendship, and you seek his habit, and the glory which came through him, and the splendor, and the honor, and the security, and all these things, having become vanity, trouble and darken you. Now, it is permitted for you to maintain the friendship toward him even now, just as before.
For such is the power of love; it embraces, glues, and binds together not only those who are present and near us and seen, but also those who stand far away; and neither the length of time, nor the distance of paths, nor any other such thing could be able to cut or divide the friendship of the soul. But if you also wish to see him face to face (for I know that this is what you desire most of all), preserve for him your bed untouched by another man, and strive to show a life equal to his, and you will surely go to the same choir as him, not for five years as here, nor for a hundred and twenty, nor for a thousand and twice that, nor for ten thousand and many times that, but you will dwell with him for the infinite and unending ages. For it is not bodily kinships that are fit to inherit those places of rest, but the equality of lives. For if He brought Lazarus, who was unknown to Abraham, into the same bosom as himself, and prepares many from the east and the west to recline with him through the sameness of conduct, so too will the place of rest receive you along with the good Therasius, if you are willing to show in yourself the same life as his; and then you shall receive him back again, not in this beauty of the body, which he had when he left, but in another kind of radiance and brightness, shining more than the rays of the sun.
For this body, even if it runs to great height, is nevertheless corruptible; but the bodies of those who have been well-pleasing to God shall put on such glory as even to see is not possible for these eyes. And God has provided that certain signs and faint traces of these things be given to us both in the Old and in the New Testament. For there, the face of Moses was so brightly lit with glory at that time that it was inaccessible to the eyes of the Israelites; but in the New Testament, that of Christ shone much more. For tell me, if someone promised to make you king of all the earth, and then ordered you to stand apart for twenty years for this, and after that promised that he would restore him to you with the diadem and the purple, and again to the same rank and honor, would you not bear the separation gently and with the fitting sobriety? Would you not have welcomed the gift, and considered it a matter worthy of prayer? Then endure this even now, not for an earthly kingdom, but for the one in the heavens; not that you may receive back one wearing a golden robe, but that you may receive immortality 313 and glory, as much as it is likely for those who dwell in the heavens to have. But if you are in such insufferable distress regarding the length of time, it is likely that he may appear to you some time in dreams, and speak as he was accustomed, and show the face so longed for; let this be for you a consolation instead of letters, or rather, let this be even clearer than letters. For there, one can see only written words, but here, the form of his face, and his pleasant smile, and his posture and gait, and hear his chime, and recognize the voice most dear.
D 4. But since you also mourn over the security which you possessed long ago through him, and perhaps also because he held out greater hopes of advancement (for I heard he was immediately to arrive at the throne of the praetorian prefects, which most of all, I think, turns your soul upside down and confuses it), consider those who were in greater dignity than him, and who ended their lives most pitiably. I shall remind you—perhaps you have heard of Theodore the Sicilian; for he happened to be among the most illustrious; he surpassed all in beauty and greatness of body and in boldness toward the emperor, and was more powerful than any of those moving in the palace; yet he did not endure that prosperity calmly, but having plotted against the emperor and been caught, he himself was beheaded most pitiably, and his wife—having no less nobility of upbringing and birth and all other things than yours—was suddenly stripped of everything of hers, and having fallen from her freedom, she was numbered among the treasury's spinners, and was forced to live a life more wretched than any maidservant, having so much more than others that, because of the excess of her calamity, she was wept over by all who saw her. And it is said that Artemisia, the wife of a man who was very renowned, since he also craved tyranny, came into such poverty and deprivation. For both the magnitude of her depression and the multitude of her tears quenched her eyes; and now she has need of those to lead her by the hand; and she goes to the doors of others, that she might have sufficient means for necessary food. And I could have told of many other families brought down in such a way, had I not known the piety and wisdom of your soul, not wishing to find consolation for your own calamity from the evils of others. And of these, whom I have mentioned, I have mentioned them for no other reason now, but that you might learn that human affairs are nothing, but truly, as the prophet says, *All human glory is as the flower of the grass.* For by as much as it is exalted and shines, by so much does it produce a greater fall—not only of those who are ruled, but of the kings themselves. For no one would find a private house filled with as many calamities as the palaces are full of
evil. For there are untimely deaths of orphans, and widowhoods, and violent 344 deaths, more lawless and far more bitter than those in tragedies, which especially descend upon this station of power.
But to pass over ancient matters, of those who have ruled in our own generation, nine in total, only two ended their lives by a common death; of the others, one was killed by a tyrant, another in war, another was plotted against and killed by those guarding him within his own house, and another by the very one who had ordained him and placed the purple upon him. As for the women who lived with them, some, they say, died by poisons, others by their own despondency. Of those still living: one, having an orphan child, trembles and fears lest one of the rulers in their fear of future events should kill him; another has barely returned from exile, through the intercession of many, to the very place from which the ruler had previously banished her. And of those who live with the present rulers, one, having found a respite from her former calamities, finds her pleasure mingled with much pain, because the ruler is still very young and inexperienced, and has many who plot against him from all sides; another has died of fear, and she lives more miserably than the condemned because her husband, from whom she received the diadem, spends his time to this very day in wars and battles, and is consumed more by shame and the reproaches of all than by calamities. For what has never happened before has now come to pass, and the barbarians, having left their own country ten thousand stades from ours, have many times overrun even as many more, and after burning the lands and capturing the cities, they do not wish to return home again, but rather, as if dancing B or mocking, they trifle with all our people. And they say that one of the kings among them remarked that he was astonished at the shamelessness of our soldiers, who, even while being slaughtered more than sheep, expect to prevail and do not wish to depart from their own; for he himself said he had long since become surfeited with cutting them down. What kind of spirit, then, do you think the king, and his wife hearing these words, must have?
ε'. Since I have mentioned this war, a great swarm of widows has crowded into my mind, who of old C shone brightly from the honor of their husbands, but now are all suddenly dressed in mourning and dark garments and lament for all time. Nor did this befall them, which was granted to your honorable head. For you, O admirable lady, both saw that noble man lying upon his bed, and heard his final voice, and learned what it was necessary to do for the affairs of the household, and what he commanded, and through his testament barred entry to all the grasping and the false accusers. And not only this, but even while he was still lying dead, you fell upon him many times, and kissed his eyes, and embraced him, and wailed, and saw him escorted with great honor 345, and performed all the rites for the burial as was fitting, and by going often D to his tomb, you have no small consolation for your grief. But those others are deprived of all these things, having sent all their husbands to war as though they would receive them back again, but instead of them, they receive only the bitter news of their end. For not even the bodies of any of them were brought back to them, but only words describing the manner of their death. And there are some who were not even granted this account, nor were they able to learn how they fell, buried as they were in the great multitude of the conflict.
And what wonder if so many of the generals died in this way, since even the king himself, having been left behind in a certain village with few soldiers, did not dare to go out and withstand those who had come upon him, but remained inside and, when they set fire to it, was burned to death with all who were within—not only men, but also horses and beams and walls, and everything became one heap of ash? And those who had gone to war with the king returned to the wife in the king’s place, bearing only the report. For nothing, truly nothing of the events in this temporary life, nor the beauty of spring flowers, excels the splendors of the world. First of all, it flies away before it even appears; then, if it endures for even a small amount of time, it immediately becomes corruptible. For what is more worthless than the honor and glory from the multitude? What fruit does it have, what is its benefit, to what useful end does it arrive? And if this were the only terrible thing; but now, besides having nothing good to gain, he who has this most cruel mistress is forced to bear many painful and harmful things continuously. For she is a mistress to those who possess her, and by as much as she is flattered by her slaves, by so much the more does she rise up against them and tighten their bonds with harsher commands; and those who spit upon her and regard her with contempt, she herself is no longer able to avenge; thus she is more cruel than any tyrant or any wild beast. For the tyrant and the wild beasts are often tamed by flattery, but she becomes most savage when we obey her most, and if she finds someone who will listen and yield in all things, there is nothing she does not command thereafter. She possesses also another ally, whom one would not be wrong to call her daughter. For when this one, too, has been nurtured and grown, and has rooted herself well among us, she then brings forth recklessness—a thing no less able to precipitate the soul of those who possess it.
(6.) Therefore, tell me, do you mourn that God delivered you from such harsh servitude, that He barred every approach of these pestilential diseases? 546 For while your husband was living, they did not cease to leap continuously upon the reasonings of your soul, but now that he is dead, they have no source from which they may take hold of your mind. This, therefore, must be accomplished from now on: not to mourn for their departure, nor to seek after that bitter lordship. For wherever these things breathe strongly, they have overturned and pulled down everything from the foundations; and just so...
for many of the women who are harlots, though they are ill-favored by nature and hideous, they inflame the still-tender souls of the young with their cosmetics and painting, and when they have them under their control, they treat them more insolently than any slave. Even so do these passions, vanity and arrogance, pollute the souls of men more than any filth.
Therefore, wealth also seemed to many to be a good thing; for when one is stripped of this, one will not even be desirable hereafter. Yet those who were able, through poverty, to obtain the glory which comes from the many, no longer chose to be wealthy, but rejected the gold that was offered to them in abundance. And you will not need to learn of these from me; you know them more accurately than I: Epaminondas, Socrates, Aristides, Diogenes, Crates, who abandoned his own land, though it was rich in sheep. For the others, from whom it was impossible to be wealthy, saw glory come to them through poverty, and they came to it immediately; but this man cast away even what he already possessed. Thus all were frantic for the acquisition of this cruel beast. Let us not, then, weep because God has delivered us from this shameful, ridiculous tyranny which possesses so many reproaches. For it has only a glorious name, but in its deeds it renders those who possess it contrary to that title; and there is no one who does not laugh at him who does anything for the sake of glory. For only that person who does not look toward this will be able to become conspicuous and renowned; but he who considers the reputation from the many to be a great glory, and who suffers and does everything in order to obtain it, he will be the one who most completely misses it and falls from it, and he will enjoy all the opposite things: laughter, accusation, mockery, enmity, and hatred. And this is accustomed to happen not only in the case of men, but also in the case of you women, and indeed most especially in your case. For all women admire, are amazed at, bless, and wish all good things for the woman who is unaffected in her bearing, her gait, and her clothing, and who seeks honor from no one; but they turn away from and hate the vain woman, and flee from her as they would a wild beast, attacking her with myriad curses and insults. And not only do we escape evils by not accepting the reputation that comes from the many, but we also gain the greatest of all things in addition to what has been said, being trained little by little to rise up and move toward A heaven, and to despise all things upon the earth. For he who does not need the honor that comes from men, whatever good he may do, will do it all with safety, and will suffer nothing terrible or grievous in this life. For neither can these things intimidate and cast him down, nor can the others inflate and puff him up; but in the midst of changeable and turbulent affairs, he remains outside of all change. I expect that this will quickly happen to your soul, and that, being suddenly detached from all worldly things, you will manifest to us the life in the heavens, and that glory, which you now mourn a little B later to be laughed at, and you will see the empty and vain mask of it. But if you desire the security which has come to you through Him, and the preservation of your affairs, and not to be plotted against by any of those who pounce upon the misfortunes of others, "Cast your burden upon the Lord, and He will sustain you." For "look," He says, "to the generations of old, and see: who has hoped in the Lord C and been put to shame? Or who has called upon Him and been overlooked by Him? Or who has remained in His commandments and been abandoned by Him?" For He who has endured the misfortune that was so unbearable, and has caused things to be in a calm now, He will also repel the things that are coming; for you will no longer receive any other blow more grievous than this, as you yourself will agree with us. Therefore, since you have borne what is at hand so nobly, and that while inexperienced, you will bear what is coming much more easily, if by any chance — which may it not happen — any of the things contrary to our wishes occurs. Therefore, seek heaven D and all the things that lead toward the life there, and nothing that is here will be able to harm you, not even the ruler of darkness himself, provided only that we do not harm ourselves. For even if one were to take away your property, even if one were to cut apart your body, none of these things concern us, so long as our soul remains sound.
7. But altogether, if you wish for your money to remain in security and to increase again, I will point out to you both the method and the place where it is not allowed for any of those who plot to enter. What, then, is the place? Heaven. Send them to that noble Man, and neither a thief, nor a plotter, nor anything else that ravages them will be able to pounce upon them. If you bury these riches there, you will find a great fruit from them. For all things that are planted in the heavens by us have their yield both more abundant and better, and of such a kind as it is proper for those to have which are rooted in heaven. And if you do this, see what good things you will enjoy: first, eternal life and the things promised to those who love God, which "eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor have they entered into the heart of man"; then, to dwell with this Good One for all eternity, and you will deliver yourself from the cares and fears 348 and dangers and plots and enmity and hatred here. For as long as you are clothed in these things, there will perhaps be some who will attack you; but if you transfer them to heaven, you will live a life free of danger and secure and full of much peace, enjoying self-sufficiency along with piety. For it is truly a great lack of sense, when one wishes to purchase a field, to seek out the fertile land, but when heaven is set before one—when it is possible to acquire a lot there—to remain upon the earth and endure the toils of it; for it often cheats us of our hope. And since what is expected distracts your soul terribly and troubles it—that it will often arrive at the station of those in power, and have been snatched away from the authority—first consider this, that if
and this hope was very manifest; but yet it was a human hope, often failing. And we see many such things happening in life, and that desires which were very much expected remained unfulfilled, while things that had not even come into our minds have often come to pass, and this we see happening always, in magistracies, in royal governments, in inheritances, and in marriages. So that even if the time was very near, yet many things, according to the proverb, “are between the cup and the lip.” And Scripture also says, “From morning until evening the time changes.” Thus also the king who is today, tomorrow dies. And again, this same wise man, showing us things contrary to hope, says: “Many tyrants have sat upon the ground, and one who was never suspected has worn the crown.” And it was not at all certain that, having lived, he would reach that position of authority; for the future is uncertain and provided us with reasons to suspect other outcomes. For whence was it clear that he would live to reach that authority? Because things contrary did not also happen, and he fall from the honor he had, being given over to disease, or being struck down by the envy and jealousy of those who wished to outdo him, or having suffered some other grievous thing? But let us assume, if you wish, and that it is clearly manifest that he was bound to survive and was going to attain that summit; for the greater the dignity, the greater the necessity of having dangers and anxieties and plots. But let not even these things be, but rather let him cross that sea without danger and with much peace; and what is the end, tell me? Is it not what is present now, or rather, not this, but something else perhaps unpleasant and undesirable? First, that it is slower to see heaven and things in the A heavens, which is no small loss for those who have believed in things to come; then, even if he had lived very purely, yet the length of life and the necessity of that authority would not B have let him depart as pure as he is now. But it is uncertain whether, even if he had received many changes and inclined toward negligence, he would have breathed his last in the end. For now we have confidence that by the grace of God he has flown to the place of rest, because nothing had dared to approach him of those things which bar one from the kingdom of heaven; but then, having spent a long time in public C affairs, perhaps he would have contracted much filth. For it is among the very rare things for one moving in the midst of so many evils to succeed, while to sin, both involuntarily and voluntarily, is one of the things that are probable and always happening. But now we are relieved of this fear, and we are very convinced that on that day he will arrive with much brightness, shining near the King, and marching before Christ with angels, and clothed in the ineffable glory, and standing by the King as He judges, and ministering the first services to Him. Wherefore, leaving behind D lamentations and wailings, hold to the same manner of life, or rather, even a more exact one, that you may reach a virtue equal to his, and may inhabit the same tabernacle with him, and be able to be joined to him again for those immortal ages, not this union of marriage, but another much better. For this is only a connection of bodies; but then there will be a union of soul with soul that is more exact, and much sweeter and better.
BY THE SAME, TO THE SAME, ON MONOGAMY.
1. That men should seek out such infinite, troublesome associations, and pains, and all other things which marriage drags in as it enters into the homes of men—there is nothing wonderful in this; for the proverb says that even war, a matter so painful to the inexperienced, is sweet. But that those who have endured ten thousand evils, and often having been persuaded by the necessity of circumstances, have blessed those who were freed from the things of the world, and have cursed themselves, and their matchmakers, and the day on which their wedding chambers were woven—that these, after so much bitterness, should again desire the same things, this is what most of all strikes me and makes me at a loss, and to seek the cause for which the things which they previously thought were to be avoided, when they were in them, these now, when they have been freed from them, they seek again as desirable. And turning ten thousand reasonings in my mind up and down, I could hardly at any time persuade myself and find the cause of the matter; or rather, there is not one cause, nor two only, but more than these. For some, having surrendered the previous things to oblivion through the length of time, and remembering only the things at hand, come indeed to marriage as to a release from the evils of widowhood, but they find in it other things much more grievous, so as again to utter the same cries as before. But others again, gaping at the things of the world, and hanging on the glory of the present life, and thinking widowhood to be a disgraceful thing, choose the miseries that are in marriage, for the sake of vain glory and superfluous pride. And there are those who are overcome neither by these, but by incontinence alone, and return again to the former things, and try to conceal the true cause with the aforementioned pretexts. And so, to censure and condemn them for this marriage, I neither dare myself, nor do I advise another to do so; since this does not seem right even to the blessed Paul, or rather, to the Holy Spirit. For having said, “A woman is bound by the law for as long a time as her husband lives; but if her husband should fall asleep, she is free to be married to whom she wishes, only in the Lord,” and having granted to the widow, if she should wish to be married again,
and saying: "But she is happier if she so remain," A in order that no one might think the command was merely human, he added: "I think that I also have the Spirit of God," declaring that he wrote these things by the Spirit.
Let no one, therefore, think that in what I shall now say I am accusing or blaming those who marry. For it would be the height of folly and madness for one whom that blessed man did not punish, but spared, for me to condemn—and that, too, when we are ourselves filled with ten thousand evils. For if we are commanded not to judge, that we may not be judged by the same measure, nor to be harsh judges of the sins of others, but rather sympathetic and gentle; when you condemn others for a matter that is not even a sin, you deprive yourself of all sympathy, making the Judge harsher toward yourself by your own harshness toward your neighbor. I have not, therefore, come to this task now to accuse or attack them; for that which can exist "in the Lord" is free from all accusation. For he says only: "in the Lord." As then, when we speak in favor of virginity, we do not dishonor marriage by exalting the former; so when we discuss widowhood, we do not, by placing second marriage among things forbidden, exhort [them] to be content with the former, but we acknowledge it indeed to be a marriage according to the law, yet we say the one is much better than the second. Let no one, therefore, think that the superiority by comparison is a proof of the wickedness of the thing that has been lessened by it. For we do not make this comparison by thrusting the matter into the rank of evil things; but letting it be among those that are permitted and within one’s power, we thus prefer and admire that which is by far superior. Why so? Because it is not the same thing for a woman to be the wife of one husband as it is to be the wife of a second. For she who has been satisfied with the first has shown that she would not have chosen even this one, had she known the experience of the thing well; but she who introduces a second bridegroom into the bed of the former has provided no small evidence of her great love for the world and her sympathy for earthly things. And the former was not even, while her husband was living, excited toward any other; but the latter, even if she did not sin against others while he was living, yet she admired many others more than him.
B But that we may not guess about a life that has passed, let us compare the very matter itself. For as virginity is better than marriage, so this marriage is better than that one. For the widow, having been lessened only from virginity from the start, at the end is equalized and united with it again; but this marriage stands apart from both of her states. And besides these things, she who easily bears her widowhood often practices self-restraint even while her husband is alive; but she who finds the state burdensome is prepared to consort not only with two or three, but with many more husbands, and only with difficulty does she desist when old age has come upon her. As, therefore, that marriage is a sign of much dignity and temperance, so this one—I would not say it is a matter of licentiousness, far be it!—is [a sign] of a weak soul, and one that is very carnal, and bound to the earth, and unable ever to imagine anything great or elevated.
If anyone should say that the good is the same, whether it happens once, or twice, or many times (for it will be equally good, and he who uses it often would more justly be praised; so if marriage is a good thing, he who has used it continuously is more worthy of admiration and more acceptable than he who has used it rarely), we will say that while this might deceive the simpler ones, to those who are willing to pay attention, the sophism will be easily detected. For marriage is not called marriage because of the intercourse—for in that case, prostitution would also be marriage—but because of the woman’s being satisfied with one husband; and in this, the free and temperate wife is distinguished from the harlot. For if she were satisfied with one husband throughout, the matter would reasonably be called marriage; but if, instead of one, she brings many bridegrooms into the house, I do not dare to call the matter prostitution, but I would say that it falls by a wide margin short of being the woman who knows no other husband but one. For that woman heard the Lord saying: "For this cause shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave to his wife, and they two shall be one flesh"; and she truly held fast to her own flesh, and did not forget the head once given to her; but this one held neither the first nor the second in the status of her own flesh. For the first has been cast out by the second, and the second by the former; and she could not well remember the previous one while attending to the other after him, nor will she look upon the latter with the proper affection, as her mind is divided toward the one who has departed. So that both consequences follow: that this one and that one have been cast out of the honor and love becoming a husband from a wife. And what kind of soul does she think the second bridegroom has, when he is led into the chamber of the former, and ascends into his bed, and sees the former’s wife laughing and joking over these things? Very much so! For she will not approach him with great affection; for even if he were the most callous of all men, he would not be so savage as not to be affected by something human, even if she adorns herself and the house with ten thousand embellishments. For the grief that has already taken hold of the house does not permit the joy to be pure; but just as on walls, when a part happens to be thoroughly scorched, and then is quietly whitewashed, the depth and intensity of the blackness keeps damaging the whiteness of the surface, and it is an unpleasant sight; so here too, even if she thinks up many brilliant things, in the midst of them the gloominess shines through, and there is a certain unpleasant mixture in them. For even the servants, and the handmaids, and the laborers, and the neighbors, and the relations of the one who has departed…
and relatives of the departed look dejected at what has happened and groan. And if orphan children happen to be left behind, being very young, they kindle in the mother a fierce hatred on the part of those who are able to understand what is happening; but if they happen to be grown, they cause those (mothers) more annoyance than all else. Since the lawgivers have perceived all these things, and are comforting those who suffer because of them, and apologizing for themselves—in that they did not ordain this marriage with intent or primarily, but fearing lest some worse evil happen—they have renounced all the festive elements of a second marriage. And neither flute, nor cheers, nor nuptial hymn, nor dances, nor bridal wreaths, nor anything else of that sort adorns that evening; but, having stripped it of all these things, they thus lead the husband to the widow woman without wreaths, almost crying out through these acts that they perform all these things for the sake of indulgence, and not for the sake of praise, cheers, and wreaths. C
γ'. How then did Paul forbid widowhood, he says, even to those young ones who wish for it, by writing thus: "But the younger widows refuse"? It is not that Paul forbade those who wish to live in widowhood, but they themselves compelled Paul—even against his will—to ordain this law for them. For if you wish to learn Paul’s will, hear what he says: "I wish that all men might be as I myself am," in continence. So that blessed man would not have fought against himself, nor would he have fallen into such contradiction, nor would he who wishes all men [353] to be in continence have forbidden those who wish to live in widowhood. How then does he say, "But the younger widows refuse"? But tell me, for what reason and why? For he did not speak thus simply, but he also appended the cause, saying: "For when they have waxed wanton against Christ, they wish to marry." See that it is not those who wish to live in widowhood, but those who prefer to marry after having lived in widowhood, that he forbids to remain in widowhood and to be enrolled in that holy choir. And he moves very wisely. For if you are about, he says, to engage in second marriages, do not even promise widowhood; for to act thoughtlessly after the promise is much worse than not promising at all. Just as, then, he allowed frequent intercourse, not legislating, but sympathizing with them: "For this I say," he says, "by way of concession, not by way of command, because of your lack of self-control"—so also here, he ordained the second marriage because of another, greater evil, showing that this too is a matter of concession, to the weakness of the many yielding. By weakness, I do not mean of power, but of choice. For just as a virgin, having been corrupted after the profession of virginity, has dared something worse than adultery, so also a widow, once having made a profession, then trampling upon the covenants with God, will fall under the same sin and will be liable to the same punishment; and if one must say something even more wonderful, perhaps even to much greater. For it is not the same thing, as I said at the beginning, for the inexperienced and for one who has tasted to fall back into the same temptations. D
And not here only, but also having said beforehand, and again saying, "I wish for younger widows to marry, to bear children, to rule the household," he adds the cause for which he wishes these things. And what is this? "So as," he says, "to give no occasion to the adversary for the sake of reproach." Since it was likely that many of the widows at that time made use of their life afterwards too recklessly and too audaciously, as if released from some necessity and dominion of the union with a husband, even drawing upon themselves an evil reputation through this forwardness, he, leading them away from this destructive liberty, leads them back to the former yoke. For if one, he says, being a widow, is likely to commit fornication in secret and to shame herself, it is much better to marry, and to give no occasion to the adversary for the sake of reproach. So for the sake of not providing occasions for reproach, and of living a life of insult and fornication, he ordained marriage. Hear then how many things he accuses them of. For whereas they ought to have turned to prayers and supplications for the entire time: "But they," he says, "also learn to be idle, wandering about the houses; and not only idle, but also gossips and busybodies, speaking things which they ought not." But he himself does not wish this, but for her to be nailed fast at all times to spiritual things. "For she that liveth in pleasure," he says, "is dead while she liveth." Since he wishes to define this good [354] not by the purity of the body, but that the entire leisure be spent on the worship of God. "For this," he says, "I say for your profit, not that I may cast a snare upon you, but for the becoming and attentive toward the Lord without distraction." For he does not wish her to be divided, but to be wholly of the spiritual things and of those in the heavens, and to be anxious for the things of the Lord. So he also exhorts the widow to live, saying: "And she that is truly a widow and desolate, hath hoped in God, and continueth in supplications and prayers night and day." When, therefore, they spend the leisure, which ought to be spent on evangelical matters, not only on useless and unprofitable things, but even on things most harmful, squandering their entire life, he naturally leads them to marriage henceforth. As, therefore, God gave the Sabbath to the Jews, not that they should be idle simply, but that they should abstain from evil deeds; so also the widow and the virgin, not that they may simply not have intercourse with a man do they choose this life, but that they may be anxious for the things of the Lord, that they may wait upon the service of God fully.
δ'. Yes, he says; but it will be an unbearable evil for a woman, being inexperienced in affairs, to be forced to endure the men’s burdens. For she will neither be able to manage them as he did, and she will gain nothing but sorrows from these things and the loss of everything. Are all, then, who have not engaged in second marriages, lost all their own things, and failed in everything, and is it not possible to see a widow woman presiding over affairs? These are pretexts and excuses and veils of one's own weakness. For many of the women have presided over households and reared children even more bravely than men.
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orphans, and have increased the substance in hand, and some have not diminished it. For God, from the beginning, did not entrust everything to men, nor did He leave the things in life to depend solely upon them; for otherwise the woman would have been contemptible, contributing nothing to our life. Knowing this, God assigned to her a portion no less; and, making this manifest from above, He said, "Let us make a helper for him." For so that the man might not, because he was born first, or because the woman was made for his sake, become haughty against her, He restrained his arrogance by this word, showing that the things of the world are not in less need of the woman than of the man. A What, then, are these things, and in what does she cooperate with us for the subsistence of life? Since private matters uphold the present state of affairs no less than public ones, He divided them, and committed all things in the marketplace to the men, and those in the house to the women; and if they should exchange their roles, everything would be corrupted and lost; thus each is in his own domain far more useful than the other. If, therefore, the things of the house depend upon feminine science, and the woman is so much better than the man in this, as craftsmen are compared to unskilled workers in those things where they are craftsmen, why do we fear this fear to no purpose? B For to acquire and gather from without is peculiar to men alone, and it is not right for women; but to keep and guard what has been gathered is hers alone. So that, even if it seems that to acquire is more than to keep, yet without the latter, the former also becomes useless and redundant; and often, even when the latter is present, the former not only has been of no benefit, but has even ruined everything. For since it is a difficult matter for a man earning from without to acquire just gains (for as a rule such men traffic in the misfortunes of others), they often have damaged, by the wife’s skill and domestic management, what was brought into their hands, even if unjustly and by force. C So, if acquiring is greater than keeping, it is shown in another way to be less, when it not only contributes nothing to the increase of one’s goods, but even destroys what is laid up. Why, then, does the widow fear that in the absence of her husband she might manage the affairs of the house worse than she did when he was alive? "But," she says, "it is handled more easily, because on account of his fear there is no one opposing or causing difficulty." For servants and stewards and overseers and all are cowed, and obey with much persuasion, and there is no one who speaks against her; but when he who causes fear is gone, all trample upon the widow, commit wrong, act insolently, and confuse and plunder everything; and if she seeks to prosecute and defend herself, by twisting, whipping, or casting into prison, there come condemnations, insults, and accusations from the many. D If, however, she should trample upon the covenants with the one who has departed, and forget his affection, and the evening on which he was first joined to her, and the noise, and the wedding song, and the nuptial torches, and the first embraces, and the meals, and the salt 616 which she shared with him for all time, and the words which it is fitting for a wife to enjoy from a husband; if she suddenly throws all these away as if they had never happened, and, having flung open the doors of the house to another, draws into the marriage bed him who is privy to all that was before—if she does these things, is there no one to blame her, or to accuse her? Is there no one who will hate her, and proclaim her heartless, and faithless, and covenant-breaking, and all such things?
5. For do not imagine that, because the blessed Paul permitted the matter, it is already worthy of praise, and that she has been delivered from the condemnation of the many. For it is indeed devoid of punishment and vengeance, but it could not participate in praises and encomiums. For even to be somewhat wanton and lascivious, and not to abstain from the wife either in the time of fasting or at any other time, is indeed far and removed from punishment, but not at all near to praise; for the very act of consenting so much is nothing other than a sign of weakness and great inattention. So if you fear that you might receive a reputation for boldness on account of the censure of your servants, you ought to fear before this that you might smear upon yourself a reputation for such lasciviousness and dissipation. Besides these things, it will be better for the widow to undertake the matter, so that her many affairs may be in security, and she may not only not be blamed, but even be praised by all, and before this, attain the good things from God. For if you wish to entrust your money to heaven, and bury it in that inviolable place, it will not only not be diminished, but will even become much greater. For such is this seed. But if she is less able to reach that point of legislation, and does not wish to transfer everything all at once, let her consider again that even if she takes a husband, she will not necessarily take one such as to add to what she has; but if indeed he should be such a one, let her not think only of this, the addition of money, but that she will be led to offend God and men in many things. For if he be of those who are powerful and have great strength, there are times when he will compel her to do and suffer many things against her will, and what she feared in widowhood, this she will undergo now with greater necessity; and not only this, but also that it is likely she will receive the change most quickly. For being a widow, even if she should diminish some of these things, yet she will hold what remains with much security; but joined to a powerful man, and one who manages the affairs of the city, or who pursues some other concern, she will often suddenly lose everything; for it is necessary that those who dwell with men share in their misfortunes. If nothing of the sort happens, what is the gain, tell me, to choose servitude instead of freedom? And what is the benefit of much money, when she is not able to use it as she wishes? Is it not much better to have a few things with freedom, than to have the things of the world while also being subject to another with them? For the cares, and the insults, and the reproaches, and the jealousies, and the suspicions to no purpose...
and toils, and all other things, I omit for now. For he who is conversing with a virgin will naturally discourse also about these things, since she is inexperienced and ignorant of those matters; but one would harass a widow by saying these things. For it is superfluous for the discourse to try to teach her what she has already learned more accurately through experience. And it is well to add this, that the virgin who marries will converse with greater boldness and freedom than one who marries after widowhood. For while one may cherish the latter as a wife, he does not take her as a virgin; and that those loves are far more intense and maddened than these is surely evident to everyone; but he will not embrace and kiss the former with every passion, as one who is not inexperienced with any man. For we are all, so to speak, 357 naturally inclined, whether by jealousy, or vanity, or I know not what other source, to love most those things of which we have the power and enjoyment not with others, but rather ourselves have been established as the first and sole masters. One might see this happening to us even with garments; for we are not disposed in the same way toward those that have come to us for use from others as toward those that have come from no one else. This also holds true for a house and for household goods; for we do not love a house given to us by another in the same way as one we have built ourselves; and among household goods, those that are newly made and receive their first use from us we keep with great frugality and care, while those that have come to us from others we do not fully welcome, but turn away from them so much that we often dispense with them. If, then, this affection happens to us regarding houses and garments and goods, consider how it is likely to occur with intensity in the case of a wife, than whom there is nothing more precious to men. For while we might share those other things with those who wish, as for her, it is not right for us to do so, and we would sooner be parted from our soul than endure such a thing. Thus, he approaches the virgin, as I said, being untouched and his own, having become no one else’s, with every eagerness; but he will not look upon one previously joined to another with the same friendship and goodwill.
B Nor should you say that these things happen rarely and once in a while, but that they are shown continuously in the nature of things. And it is not only for these reasons that she will enjoy greater boldness, but also for many others. For he could easily reproach her as being held in contempt by him, and bring forward as proof of this neglect the distrust which had arisen toward her on account of the former husband, and silence her, and regarding things that have happened, and also perhaps regarding things that will not even happen. For he who has gone, having been scorned, will persuade the living one to suspect these things regarding himself, even if they have not occurred. Nor will he alone be burdensome by constantly bringing these things before her, but also servants and handmaids, even if not openly, at least secretly murmuring, will cast countless taunts at her. And if it should happen that children of the deceased are left behind young, how will she rear them, and how will she preside over them? And for whose orphans is it not more difficult to live seeing as they do that their father's belongings, and servants, and house, and fields, and—the sum of all—their mother, belong to another? How will they be able to be disposed as toward a mother? And how will she be as toward children whom she is forced to be ashamed of and to blush before, and for whom she does not have all motherly affection, her mind being divided into the children of him?
What then, if the girl is very young, he says, and has enjoyed the husband for but a short time? For this is spoken by me to maidens, not to those who have grown old; for I shall not even discuss this with those who do so, for if long time and age and all other things did not persuade them to refrain from a second marriage, much less will we, for the discourse from us will not persuade them; but my whole discourse is toward these. What then, if she is a maiden, he says, and has lived with the first husband for only a year when she remarries C again? For what reason will you prefer her over one who has spent her twentieth and thirtieth year in marriage? Not I, but the blessed Paul; for he says, "But she is happier if she so remain." For what if she indeed lived for a long time with her husband, but with one and the same person and only him, to whom she was allotted from the beginning? But she has given herself to two, and that in a short time. "But she did not do it willingly," he says; "for if the first were living, she would not have loved another after him; but since he departed before the hour, she was joined to a second again by necessity." By what necessity? For I see another necessity greater than the one you speak of, sufficient to hold her to the deceased, namely, having enjoyed the bitter things of the world. For the one who has lived with them for a long time, and has been well sated, will touch upon the same things again as one who will obtain the same things; but she who has experienced such grievous preludes, with what resolve and hope will she come to the trial of the grievous? For not even if someone wishing to trade, before he gains anything, as soon as he leaves the harbor, encounters shipwreck, will he easily touch upon the business thereafter. Nor, with any reason, would one who has expected many pleasant things, before properly taking trial of them, love the things of the world having seen such mourning, unless she happens to be very incontinent. Rather, if she should be very much inclined toward them and be very attached to them, the aversion of the beginning is sufficient to quench all her desire for them. For we are accustomed to persevere in things most when we have experienced good preludes; but when from the beginning and from the very, as one might say, starting line we perceive grievous and difficult things, we are quickly turned back, our resolve being quenched for us. So that those who have endured untimely widowhoods, these might naturally refrain from a second marriage so as not to suffer the same things again. For she who remains in widowhood will have security, and will not suspect another such mourning again; but she who has engaged in a second marriage will be forced to expect this terrible thing. And besides, if widowhood is one thing, not all...
A shall receive the same rewards for it, but some will receive more, and others less. For those who have taken up the yoke in youth will enjoy more both of the honor and of the gift, but those who are at the very onset of old age will not be treated in the same way as they. Why is this? Because the former endured everything for the sake of the fear of God, when there were many obstacles, while the latter did not suffer even a small drop of sweat or any labor; for how could she, when there was no circumstance compelling her? Just as, therefore, she who has given herself to a second is inferior to her who keeps to one husband, so she who continues in widowhood during her very youth will be able to surpass by a great measure the one who lost her husband in old age. Although to both the husband has been one, yet this one has run the race of purity, while the other was left behind in many of the stadium's laps. Do not, therefore, look at the labor only, but also at the reward. For most of our good works seem difficult to us because, by constantly turning over their toil and sweat in our minds, we do not consider the rewards stored up B for them. But we should not do this; rather, we should consider the rewards together with the labors, and so they will appear easy to us, just as they truly are. For the soldier, having considered not the wounds alone, nor the falls, nor the death, but also the trophies and the victories and all the other honors, thus goes forward into the battle. And the farmer also, having set before his eyes not the plowing alone, nor the labor of digging, but also the threshing floor and the winepresses, thus applies himself to his work. In the same way, let us also lighten the toil of widowhood with good hopes, and let us do so much more than they; for whereas for them, many things often interrupted their expectation of what was not in their own control, for us, there is no one who will put our hopes to shame, unless we ourselves should wish it. Let us not, then, wish it, but considering that the widow is not far C behind the virgin (and there is even a case where she has surpassed her, when the virgin is entangled in affairs, while the widow, according to Paul, being left alone and hoping in God, devotes herself to supplications and prayers, and keeps herself from worldly affairs), let us take up this struggle, that we may attain to the crowns within it. These things have been said to you not because of necessity, nor, as I said, in order to condemn those who do not wish to remain widows—it is not for this that I have come to this exhortation—but to encourage and urge you not to be tied so much to the earth, but, having once been released, to remain free, and to seek the heaven, and to demonstrate the manner of life that is there, and, having been wedded to Christ, to do all things as befits those who have such a bridegroom. For to Him befits all glory, honor, and adoration, with the unoriginate Father D and His life-giving and holy Spirit, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.
will receive their rewards, though some greater and others lesser. For those who have taken up the yoke in their youth will reap a greater share both of honor and of the gift, whereas those who do so in old age will not be on an equal footing with them. And why is this? Because the former endured everything for the fear of God while many obstacles stood in their way, whereas the latter underwent no sweat or labor—for how could she, when there was no circumstance that presented any compulsion? Just as she who has given herself to a second husband is less [honorable] than one who has kept to one, so she who remains in widowhood in her very youth will be able, by a wide measure, to surpass the one who loses her husband in old age, even though the husband was the same for both. Yet, nonetheless, the former has run the race of purity, while the latter has been left behind by many laps. Do not, therefore, look at the toil alone, but also at the reward. For many of our duties seem difficult to us for this reason, that we are constantly dwelling on their exertion and sweat, and do not take into our minds the rewards that are laid up for them. But one should not do so; rather, one should calculate the rewards together with the labors, and thus they will appear easy to us—as in fact they are easy. For the warrior looks not only to his wounds, nor to his falls, nor to death, but also accounts for the trophies, the victories, and all the other honors, and thus proceeds to the battle; and the tiller of the land does not set before his eyes merely the plowing, or the labor in digging, but also the threshing-floor and the wine-vats, and thus takes hold of his tasks. Let us, too, with good hopes, lighten the toil of the requirement, and let us do so far more than they; for theirs, many times, the expectation of things not under their own control has been cut short, while for us there is no one who brings our hopes to shame, unless we ourselves should wish it. Let us not wish it; but considering that the widow is not far behind the virgin (and there are cases where she actually surpasses her, when the virgin is entangled in [worldly] affairs, but the widow, according to Paul, being left alone and hoping in God, devotes herself to supplications and prayers, and keeps herself free from worldly matters), let us undertake this contest, that we may attain the crowns within it. These things have been said to you not out of necessity, nor, as I said, do we come to this exhortation to condemn those who do not wish to remain widows, but to encourage and urge you not to be tied so firmly to the earth, but, once loosed, to remain free, and to seek for heaven, and to demonstrate the conduct that obtains there, and, being betrothed to Christ, to do all things as it becomes those who have such a Bridegroom, for to Him belongs all glory, honor, and worship, with the unoriginate Father and His life-giving and holy Spirit, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.
OF OUR HOLY FATHER JOHN CHRYSOSTOM ON THE PRIESTHOOD
BOOK ONE
WHAT IS CONTAINED IN THIS FIRST BOOK: I. Basilius excels all the friends of Chrysostom. II. The harmony of Basilius and Chrysostom, and their common disquisition on all matters. III. The unequal balance when the monastic life was to be entered upon. IV. The proposal of a common habitation for both. V. The entreaties of his mother. VI. The fraud of which Chrysostom made use at his ordination. VII. The modest and simple accusation of Basilius. VIII. Chrysostom's defense combined with rebuke. IX. The great benefit derived from a timely fraud: a thesis and a common topic.
A Mihi quidem amici complures fuere, iique germani et veri, qui amicitiæ leges et probe intelligerent et diligenter observarent: horum vero complurium unus, qui cæteros omnes amicitia longe superabat, tantum illos retro relinquere studebat, quantum illi reliquos mediocriter erga me affectos. Is ex eorum numero erat, qui lateri meo perpetuo hærerent: etenim iisdem tum disciplinis tum magistris operam dedimus. Unum utriusque erat circa literas studium, una sollicitudo, par desiderium iisdem ex rebus natum. Neque enim solum cum ad magistros ventitaremus, sed etiam cum illinc egressos consilium inire oporteret, quod præstantius vitæ genus nobis capessendum esset, tunc etiam idem consensus apparebat.
B Erant et alia quæ hanc concordiam firmam inconcussamque servarent. Neque enim ob patriæ amplitudinem alter adversus alterum se efferre poterat: mihi non opes summæ erant, nec ille extrema premebatur inopia: imo et facultatum modum propositi paritas æmulabatur: par generis conditio erat, omniaque ad sententiam nostram concurrebant. C Cum autem proximum esset ut beatus ille vir monachorum vitam veramque philosophiam amplecteretur, jam non par erat statera, sed ejus lanx, utpote levior, sublimis ferebatur; ego vero mundi cupiditatibus irretitus lancem meam, juvenilibus onustam cogitationibus, deprimebam. Hic demum amicitia quidem firma, ut ante, manebat, sed consuetudo dirimebatur: neque enim una versari poterant qui non iisdem studiis tenerentur. Cæterum ubi et ipse a vitæ hujus fluctibus caput paululum erexi, me ille ambabus apprehendit manibus: at ne sic quidem potuimus æqualitatem pristinam retinere. Etenim cum ille nos tempore antevertisset, ardensque studium exhibuisset, rursus sublimior ferebatur, in altum valde sublatus.
D Attamen bonus cum esset amicitiamque nostram magni faceret, a cæterorum omnium contubernio se abducens, nobiscum omni tempore versabatur, quod antea ipsi in voto erat, sed, ut dixi, a segnitie nostra prohibitus fuerat. Neque enim poterat is, qui judiciis et foro hærebat et scenæ oblectamenta sectabatur, cum eo sæpe versari, qui libris deditus in forum nunquam ventitaret. Quamobrem cum antea repulsus nos ad eamdem vitæ societatem accepisset, quod jam pridem desiderium parturiebat, confestim peperit, ac ne minimam quidem diei partem a nobis abesse patiebatur: sed assidue hortabatur, ut domo uterque sua relicta commune domicilium incoleremus: quo impetrato jam res in manibus erat.
At matris illius blanditiæ obstiterunt, quominus hanc illi gratiam redderem; imo vero, quominus id beneficii ab eo acciperem. Enimvero ubi illa odorata est me id consilii inire, dextra apprehensum introduxit me in peculiare sibi domicilium, ac me prope lectum, ubi me enixa fuerat, assidere jusso, emissis lacrymarum fontibus, ipsis lacrymis miserabiliora verba proferebat, his me gemebunda compellans: Ego, inquit, fili, virtute patris tui non multo tempore ita providente numine frui potui. Nam partus tui dolores excipiens illius obitus, te pupillum, me viduam præmature reliquit, additis viduitatis incommodis, quæ expertis solum probe nota sunt. Nullus enim sermo illam tempestatem ac procellam exprimere possit, quam puella subit, cum nuper e domo patris emissa, ac negotiorum imperita, repente luctu intolerabili perculsa, sollicitudinem ætate ac sexu suo majorem suscipere cogitur. Opus enim est servorum ignaviam emendare, nequitiam observare, cognatorum insidias propulsare, publicanorum molestias et in vectigalibus exigendis immanitatem fortiter ferre. Quod si is, qui mortem obit,
leaving behind the dead [304], was a female, she would occasion much care for the mother, yet she would be relieved of expenses and fears; but a son fills her with ten thousand fears every single day, and with even more anxieties. For I pass over the expenditure of money, which she is forced to endure, desiring to rear him liberally. Yet none of these things persuaded me to engage in second marriage, nor to introduce another bridegroom into the house of your father; but I remained in the tempest and the tumult, and I did not flee the iron furnace of widowhood, being supported first by the help from above; and the constant sight of your face brought me no small consolation in those evils, and [served as] a living image of the departed one, well and perfectly resembling him. Because of this, even when you were still a child, and had not yet learned to speak—at the time when children most delight their parents—you provided me with great consolation. And surely you could not say and blame me for the fact that, while we bore widowhood bravely, we diminished your father’s estate because of the necessity of widowhood, which I know many who have suffered the misfortune of being orphaned have experienced. For I have kept it entirely whole, and I have omitted nothing of what was due to your reputation, spending money [derived] from my own means and from what I brought from my home. And do not think that I am saying these things now in order to reproach you; but in exchange for all these things I ask of you one favor: do not envelop me in a second widowhood, nor kindle again the grief that has already been laid to rest, but wait for my death; perhaps in a short time I shall depart. For the young have the hope of reaching an old age, but we who are aged await nothing but death. When, therefore, you shall deliver me to the earth, and mingle me with the bones of your father, then take long journeys, and sail the sea wherever you wish; then no one will hinder you. But as long as I breathe, bear with living with us; do not provoke God in vain and without cause by wrapping us in such evils, having done no wrong. For if you have any complaint that I drag you into worldly cares, and constrain you to manage your own affairs, do not respect the laws of nature, nor the upbringing, nor custom, nor anything else, but flee as though from plotters and enemies; but if we do everything to provide you with much leisure for the course of this life, if nothing else, at least let this bond hold you with us. For even if you say you love ten thousand people, no one will provide you with the enjoyment of such freedom, since there is no one who cares for your reputation as much as I do.
6. These things, and even more than these, did my mother say to me; while I spoke to that noble friend. And he not only was not shamed by these words, but he insisted all the more, demanding the same things as before. And while we were in this state, and he was constantly pleading, and I was not consenting, [565] suddenly a report stood by and threw both of us into confusion; for the report was that we were to be promoted to the dignity of the episcopate. I, therefore, as soon as I heard this, was gripped by fear and perplexity; by fear, lest I be captured even against my will, and by perplexity, seeking often whence it came upon men to think such a thing concerning me; for in looking to myself I found nothing worthy of that honor. But that noble friend of mine, having approached me in private and shared with me concerning these things as though I were ignorant of the rumor, begged that even here we be seen acting and deliberating the same matters as before; for he would readily follow me, whichever of the roads we thought it necessary to choose, whether to flee or to accept. Having perceived his zeal, therefore, I, considering it a loss to the whole common body of the Church if I, through my own weakness, were to deprive the flock of Christ of a youth so good and suitable for the oversight of the many, did not reveal to him the intention I had concerning these matters—although I had never before suffered to conceal any of my deliberations from him—but saying that it was necessary to defer the decision about these matters to another time, for the present did not press, I persuaded him immediately to be concerned about nothing regarding these things, and I gave him cause to be confident that I would be of the same mind if any such event should happen. But when no long time had passed, and he who was to ordain us had come, and I was hiding, he himself, not knowing any of these things, was led away under another pretext, and accepted the yoke, hoping from what I had promised him that we would certainly follow, or rather thinking he was following us. For some of those present there, seeing him vexed at the catch, cheated him, shouting that it was absurd for the one who appeared bolder to all—me, they said—to have yielded with great mildness to the judgment of the Fathers, while he, the much more intelligent and milder one, was being bold and vainglorious, leaping and jumping away and contradicting. Having yielded to these words, since he heard that I had escaped, he came to me with much gloom, sat near me, and wanted to say something, but, held by perplexity and not having the words to express the violence he had endured, he was prevented from speaking by his despondency as soon as he opened his mouth, before he could unclench his teeth, as his speech was broken. Seeing him, therefore, tearful and filled with much turbulence, and knowing the cause, I laughed with great joy, and holding his right hand, I forced myself to kiss him, and I glorified God that the device had for me a good end and such as I had always prayed for. But when he saw me joyful and bright, he perceived that he had been deceived by me previously, and he was bitten and vexed all the more.
7. [566] And at some time, having calmed down a little from that storm of the soul, "But," he says, "if you have rejected our part, and if you have no further regard for me, as I do not know why, you should at least have been concerned for your own reputation. For now you have opened the mouths of all, and all say that you have declined this ministry because you are a lover of vain glory, and there is no one who can rescue you from this accusation. To me, it is unbearable even to enter the marketplace; so many are those who come to us and blame us every day. For when they see...
A that the deceased has left behind such a burden for the mother, even though he is a female it would still cause her much care and worry, yet she is freed from expenses and fear; but a son fills her with ten thousand fears every day, and with even greater worries. For I pass over the expense of money, which she is forced to endure, desiring to raise him liberally. But yet nothing of these things persuaded me to contract a second marriage, nor to introduce another husband into your father's house; but I remained in the storm and the noise, and I did not flee the iron furnace of widowhood, first of all being helped by the favor from above; but it brought me no small comfort in those terrible things to be constantly seeing your face, and to keep for myself a living image of the deceased, and one well-formed exactly like him. For this reason, even when you were still an infant and had not yet learned even to speak—the time when children especially delight their parents—you provided me with much consolation. And moreover, you could not even say or charge that while we bore widowhood nobly, we diminished your paternal estate through the necessity of widowhood, as I know many who have been unfortunate in their orphanhood have suffered. For I kept this entirely intact, and I lacked nothing of what was owed for your success, spending from my own funds and what I brought from home. And do not think that I am saying these things now in reproach; but in return for all these things I ask one favor: do not clothe me in a second widowhood, nor kindle again the grief that has already been laid to rest, but wait for my death; perhaps I shall depart in a short time. For they who are young have B hope to reach old age, but we who have grown old await nothing else but death. When, therefore, you have committed me to the earth, and mingled my remains with the bones of your father, then set out on long journeys, and sail whatever sea you wish; then there will be no one to hinder you. But as long as we breathe, endure living with us; do not provoke God in vain and needlessly by surrounding us with such evils, having done nothing [to deserve them]. For if you have to complain that I drag you into the cares of life and force you to manage your own affairs, do not respect the laws of nature, nor the upbringing, nor the habit, nor anything else, but flee as from conspirators and enemies; but if we do all things for the sake of providing you with much leisure for the course of this life, if nothing else, let this bond hold you with us. For even if you say that you love ten thousand people, no one will provide you with the enjoyment of such freedom, since there is no one who cares for your success equally with me.
6. The deception Chrysostom used for his ordination
[§] 6. These things, and more than these, did my mother say to me, while I spoke in that worthy manner to her. But he was not only not shamed by these words, but was all the more insistent, demanding the same things as before. And while we were in this state, with him constantly entreating and me not consenting, 565 suddenly a rumor was brought to us which disturbed us both; and the rumor was that we were about to be promoted to the dignity of the episcopacy. I, for my part, as soon as I heard this report, was seized with fear and difficulty: with fear, lest I should be taken even against my will; and with difficulty, wondering often whence it came to the minds of those men to think such a thing about us; for looking into myself, I found nothing worthy of such honor. But this nobleman of mine approached me in private and shared with me about these things, as if I were ignorant of the rumor, and begged that even here we should be seen acting and deliberating the same things as before; for he said he was ready to follow us in whichever of the paths we thought best, whether it were necessary to flee or to choose. Perceiving, therefore, his eagerness, and considering it a loss to the whole common Church if I were to deprive the flock of Christ of a youth so good and so fit for the ruling of many because of my own weakness, I did not reveal to him the intention I had regarding these matters; although I had never before endured to keep any of my counsels from him. But having said that the decision concerning these things should be deferred to another time, for now was not the urgent time for it, I persuaded him immediately to worry no more about these things, and gave him confidence for my own part that I would be of the same mind if ever such a thing should happen. When not much time had passed, and he who was to ordain us arrived, while I was hiding, he—knowing nothing of these things—was led as if on another pretext, and accepted the yoke, hoping from what I had promised him, that we would certainly follow, or rather believing that he was following us. For some of those present there, seeing him vexed at the seizure, deceived him by shouting that it was wrong for the one who appeared more audacious to all—meaning me—to yield with much gentleness to the judgment of the Fathers, while he, who was much wiser and more gentle, should be audacious, vain-glorious, prancing, leaping, and contradicting. Yielding to these words, when he heard that I had escaped, he came to me with much sadness, sat down beside me, and wanted to say something, but being held by perplexity, and not having the means to describe the violence he had endured, as soon as he opened his mouth to speak he was hindered by [his] dejection, which cut off his speech before he could gnash his teeth. Seeing him, therefore, full of tears and filled with much turmoil, and knowing the cause, I laughed for great joy, and holding his right hand, I forced him to kiss me, and I glorified God that my trick had reached an auspicious end, just as I had always prayed. But when he saw that I was very joyful and cheerful, and realized that he had been deceived by me previously, he was stung all the more and was vexed.
Caput 7. Basilii accusatio modesta et simplex
[§] 7. And at one point, having calmed down a little from that storm of the soul: "But," he says, "even if you have despised our part, and have no account of us anymore—though I know not why—you ought at least to have cared for your own reputation. But now you have opened the mouths of all, and everyone says that you have declined this ministry because you love vain glory, and there is no one who can rescue you from this accusation. To me, it is unbearable even to enter the marketplace; so many are those who come to us and blame us every day. For when they see C
A that I am prepared to answer not only for these things but also for those for which you have left us unaccountable, I will endeavor to give you an account, as I am able. And, if you wish, I will first begin my defense from these very things. For I would be unreasonable and very ungrateful if, while I am concerned for the opinion of those outside, and doing everything so that they might cease B from accusing us, I could not persuade my dearest friend—who has shown such respect toward us that he has not even wished to accuse me for the things in which he says he has been wronged, but instead considers his own matters as nothing and is concerned for ours—that I have not wronged him, but on the contrary have shown greater slackness toward him than the zeal he has shown for us. What in the world, then, have we wronged you with, since from this point I have decided to embark on the sea of this defense? Is it because we deceived you and concealed our intention? But it was for your gain, you who were deceived, and for those whom we betrayed by deceiving you. For if theft is an evil through and through, and it is not possible to use it for a good purpose at any time, we are ready to pay the penalty C that you yourself wish; or rather, you would never endure to receive a penalty from us, but we would condemn ourselves for these things, as judges do to those who are wronging others, when they are caught by their accusers. But if the matter is not always harmful, but becomes evil or good according to the intention of those who use it, then stop accusing me of being deceived, and show that we contrived this for evil; for as long as this is absent, it would be logical for those who wish to be fair-minded not only to refrain from bringing complaints and charges, but even to applaud the deceiver. For so great D is the profit of opportune deception, and when it is done with a right mind, that many who have not used it have often paid the penalty. And if you wish to examine the generals who have been renowned throughout the ages, you will find that the greater part of their trophies are the successes of deception, and that these men are praised more than those who conquer by open force. For the latter accomplish their wars with greater expense, and of money, and of men, so that nothing more comes to them from the victory, but the winners are in hardly less misery than the defeated, with their armies consumed and their treasuries emptied. Besides this, they do not even allow them to enjoy the entirety of the glory from the victory; for it happens that the fallen enjoy no small part of it, because although they were defeated in body, they conquered in soul; so that, if it were possible not to fall while being struck, or if death had not come and stopped them, they would never have ceased from their zeal. But he who is able to conquer by deception not only brings disaster upon his enemies, but also subjects them to mockery. For it is not as it is there, that both sides equally carry off the praises of strength; so also here, the glory is for those who win by prudence, but—and this is no less than the former—they preserve the joy of the victory intact for the city. For human wisdom is not like the wealth of money and the mass of bodies; for when one uses those things continuously in war, they result in being spent and failing those who possess them, but this, the more one A uses it, the more it is in its nature to increase. And not only in wars, but also in times of peace, one would find the need for deception to be great and necessary, and not only for the affairs of the city, but also in the household, between husband and wife, and wife and husband, and father and son, and friend and friend, and indeed even between father and children. For in truth, the daughter of Saul could not have rescued her own husband from the hands of Saul in any other way than by deceiving her father. And her brother, too, wishing to save from danger the one saved by her, used the same weapons B as the woman.
And BASIL: "But," he says, "none of this applies to me. For I am not your enemy or adversary, nor am I one of those who attempt to do wrong; on the contrary, I have always entrusted all my affairs to your judgment and have always followed you where you commanded."
9. CHRYSOSTOM: But, O most wonderful and kind one, it is because of this that I have already said that it is good to use this not only in war, nor only against enemies, but also in peace and toward one’s nearest and dearest. For that this is useful not only to those who deceive, but also to those who are deceived, approach one of the physicians C and ask them how they rid patients of their disease, and you will hear from them that they are not satisfied with mere skill, but there are times when they also take up deception, and by mixing in the help that comes from it, they bring the sick back to health in this way. For when the peevishness of the sick and the stubbornness of the disease itself do not accept the counsel of the physicians, then it is necessary to don the mask of deception, so that, as on the stage, they might be able to hide the truth of what is happening. And if you wish, I will tell you one story out of many of how I heard of physicians contriving this for children. A fever once fell upon someone suddenly with great intensity, and the flame began to rise; and the patient was turning away from things that were able to extinguish the fire, yet he desired, and insisted greatly D, that all of those entering to see him should open a large bottle of it, and allow him to fill himself with this deadly desire. For it was not only going to kindle the fever, but he was also going to surrender the poor man to madness, if anyone granted him this favor. Here, the art being at a loss and having no device, but being completely cast out, having entered in, deception showed such power as you will presently hear from me. For the physician took an earthenware vessel recently come from the furnace, and dipped it in much wine, and then, pulling it out empty and filling it with water, commanded that the room where the sick person was lying be shaded with many curtains, so that the light might not reveal the trick, and gave it to him to drink as if it were filled with pure wine. The man, before even taking it into his hands, was immediately deceived by the smell that came from it and did not even bother to investigate what was given; but being persuaded by this, and cheated by the darkness, and urged on by his desire, he drained what was given with great eagerness, and having filled himself, immediately shook off the choking, and escaped the looming danger. Did you see the profit of deception? And if one were to wish to count all the tricks of the physicians, the discourse would go on to an infinite length. And one would find that not only those who heal the body, but also those who take care of the maladies of the soul, frequently use this medicine. Thus the blessed one brought over those many myriads of the Jews.
Liber Secundus
Caput 1. Sacerdotium grande esse signum caritatis erga Christum
Paul. With this same intention he circumcised Timothy, writing to the Galatians that Christ shall profit them nothing who are circumcised. For this reason, he who deemed the righteousness from the law a loss A after faith in Christ, became as one under the law. For great is the power of deceit—if only it is not brought forward with a treacherous intention. Or rather, one ought not to call such a thing deceit, but a kind of dispensation, and wisdom, and skill, capable of finding many ways out of dead ends, and of correcting the failings of a soul. For I would not even call Phinehas a murderer, even though with one blow he took away two lives; just as I would not call Elijah such, after the hundred soldiers, and their captains, and the great torrent of blood which he caused to flow from the slaughter of those who were sacrificed to demons. For if we were to allow this, and some one were to strip away the intentions of those who acted and examine the deeds by themselves, B even someone who wished to judge Abraham for child-murder could do so, and could write down his descendant and his offspring as one guilty of wrongdoing and deceit. For in that way, one attained the prerogatives of nature, while the other transferred the wealth of the Egyptians to the army of the Israelites. But these things are not so, they are not so; away with such audacity. For we do not merely release them from blame, but we even admire them for these things, since even God praised them for these things. For that man would be rightly called a deceiver who used the thing unjustly, not he who does this with a sound intention. And often it is necessary to use deceit, and to achieve great things through this skill, while he who proceeded straightforwardly in great matters has brought about the ruin of the one who was not deceived.
BOOK TWO
CONTENTS OF THE SECOND BOOK.
1. That the priesthood is a very great proof of love towards Christ. 2. That its service is greater than others. 3. That it requires a great and admirable soul. 4. That the matter is full of much difficulty and danger. 5. That we fled from the matter on account of love for Christ. 6. A proof of Basil’s virtue, and of his intense love. 7. That we did not flee the ordination because we chose to insult those who had voted for us. 8. That we even freed them from blame by our flight.That it is possible to use the power of deceit for good—or rather, that one ought not even to call such a thing deceit, but a kind of marvelous dispensation—one could speak at greater length; but since what has been said is sufficient for a proof, it would be burdensome and tiresome to add superfluous length to the discourse. It is for you now to show, if we have not used this matter to secure your own profit. And BASIL said, And what profit, he says, has come to us from this dispensation, or wisdom, or whatever you may enjoy calling it, so that we may be persuaded that we have not been deceived by you?
1. JOHN. And what profit, I said, could be greater than this, than that these things should appear being done, which Christ himself said were proofs of love towards Christ? For while conversing with the chief of the apostles, he says, "Peter, do you love me?" and upon his confession, he adds, "If you love me, feed my sheep." The teacher asks the disciple if he is loved by him, not so that he himself might learn (for how could he, who probes the hearts of all?), but so that he might teach us how much he cares for the governance of these flocks. And since this is clear, that other thing will likewise be evident, that a great and unspeakable reward will be laid up for him who labors for these things C which Christ values highly. For if we, when we see some people taking care of our servants or our livestock, take their concern for them as a sign of their love for us, even though all these things can be bought for money, how great a reward will he bestow upon those who shepherd the flock, he who did not buy this with money or any other such thing, but with his own death, and gave his own blood as the price of the flock? For this reason, when the disciple said, "Lord, you know that I love you," and called as witness of his love the one being loved, the Savior did not stop at this, but added also the sign of his love. For he did not wish to demonstrate then how much Peter loved him—for that had already become clear to us from many things—but how much he himself loves his own Church, and he wished for Peter and all of us to learn this, so that we too might bring much diligence to these matters. For why did God not spare his only-begotten Son, but gave up him whom alone he had? So that he might reconcile to himself those who were hostilely disposed towards him, and might make for himself a people for his own possession. Why also did he shed his blood? So that he might acquire these sheep, which he entrusted to Peter and to those after him. Therefore, rightly did Christ say, "Who then is the faithful and wise servant, whom his lord will set over his household?" Once again, the words are those of one in doubt, but he who uttered them was not in doubt; but just as when asking Peter if he was loved, he did not ask because he needed to learn the disciple’s longing, but because he wished to show the greatness of his own love; so also now, when saying "Who then is the faithful and wise servant?" he did not speak because he was ignorant of the faithful and wise one, but because he wished to show the rarity of the matter, and the greatness of this authority. Look, then, at how great the reward is: "He will set him over all his possessions," he says.
B Furthermore, will you still dispute with us that it was not fitting that he who is about to be set over all the possessions of God should do these things, and that he should also possess the qualities that he said Peter would be able to exercise, surpassing the rest of the apostles? For he says to him, "Peter, do you love me more than these? Tend my sheep." Yet, it was possible for him to say to him, "If you love me, practice fasting, sleeping on the ground, intense vigils, stand up for those who are wronged, be as a father to orphans, and instead of a husband to their mother." But now, setting all these things aside, what does he say? "Tend my sheep." For those things which I mentioned before, many of those who are ruled could easily perform—not only men, but also women. But when there is a need to preside over the Church, and to be entrusted with the care of so many souls, the whole female nature must yield to the magnitude of the task, and most men as well; let those be brought forward who by a wide margin surpass everyone, and are as much higher than the others in the virtue of the soul as Saul was in the magnitude of his body than the whole race of the Hebrews, or rather, even much more so. C For let not the measure of shoulder-breadth only be sought here; but as much as the difference between irrational creatures and rational humans, so great must be the difference between the shepherd and those who are shepherded—if I should not say something even greater; for the danger is concerning much greater things. The one who loses sheep, whether through wolves snatching them, or robbers falling upon them, or some pestilence, or some other mishap that has befallen, might perhaps find some forgiveness from the lord of the flock; and if he were to be held accountable, the loss would be merely one of money. But he who is entrusted with humans, the rational flock of Christ, in the first place, does not suffer the loss in terms of money, but in his own soul for the loss of the sheep; and furthermore, he has a struggle much greater and more difficult. For his battle is not against wolves, nor does he fear for the sake of robbers, nor does he care so that he may drive away a plague from the flock; but against whom is the war, and with whom is the wrestling? Hear the blessed Paul saying: "Our wrestling is not against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the world-rulers of the darkness of this age, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places." Do you see the terrible multitude of enemies, and wild phalanxes, not fenced in with iron, but satisfied with their nature instead of all armor? Do you wish to see another camp, cruel and fierce, lying in wait for this flock? And this, too, from the same vantage point. For he who spoke to us about those also points out these enemies to us, speaking as follows: "The works of the flesh are manifest, which are: fornication, adultery, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strifes, jealousies, anger, factions, slanderings, whisperings, puffings up, tumults," and others more numerous than these; for he did not recount everything, but from these he left it to be understood that there are the rest. And in the case of the shepherd of irrational creatures, those who wish to destroy the flock, when they see the one who is set over them fleeing, abandon the battle against him and are satisfied with the plundering of the beasts; but here, even if they seize the whole flock, they do not even then depart from the shepherd, but rather they stand over him and become more emboldened; and they do not stop before they either strike him down or are themselves defeated. D Furthermore, in the case of the sheep, as there are many things that are clear, whether it be famine, or plague, or a wound, or whatever else may happen to be the cause of distress—it is not difficult for him to be able to find relief from those that are troubling them. But there is something else greater than this, which brings about a swift resolution of that sickness. And what is this? With great authority the shepherds compel the sheep to receive the treatment, when they do not submit willingly. For it is easy to bind when it is necessary to burn, and to cut, and to keep inside for a long time, whenever this is advantageous; and to bring one sort of food instead of another, and to forbid water, and to do all other things which they may judge to contribute to their health, they bring about with great ease. 374 The infirmities of human beings, first of all, are not easy for a man to see; for "No one knows the things of a man, except the spirit of the man which is in him." How then could one apply the medicine for the disease, the nature of which he does not know, and often does not even see that he is ailing? And when it becomes manifest, then it provides him with more difficulty. For it is not possible to heal all men with as much authority as the shepherd has over the sheep. For it is possible here, too, both to bind, and to withhold food, and to burn, and to cut; but the authority to receive the treatment lies not in the one who applies the medicine, but in him who is suffering. For that wonderful man also perceived this, and was saying to the Corinthians: "For we do not lord it over your faith, but we are fellow-workers of your joy." For it is not permitted for Christians, above all, to correct the faults of those who sin by force. For the judges from outside, when they take hold of criminals under the laws, show great authority and use it even against those who are unwilling; here, however, it is necessary to make such a person better not by force, but by persuasion. For neither is such great authority given to us by the laws to prevent those who sin, nor, if they gave it, should we know where to use the power, as God crowns those who abstain from wickedness not by necessity, but by choice. For this reason, there is need of much contrivance, so that those who are suffering may be persuaded to voluntarily subject themselves to the treatments given by the priests, and not only this, but also that they may be thankful for the treatment. For if one should ever struggle when bound (for he is the master of this), he has made the evil worse; and if he should dismiss the words that cut like iron, he has added another wound through his contempt, and the pretext for treatment has become the source of a more grievous disease. For there is no one who can compel and heal one against his will. 4. What then should one do? For if you approach more gently, one who is in need of much severity, and do not make the wound deep in one who has need of such, you have removed one part but left another of the wound; and if you do so unsparingly
A you may often drive into despair the one suffering the pain, so that he casts everything aside at once—both the medicine and the bandage—and brings himself to ruin, having broken the yoke and torn asunder the bond. I could name many who have plunged into the depths of evil through being compelled to pay the penalty worthily merited by their sins. For one must not apply discipline simply according to the measure of the transgressions, but must also take into account the disposition of those who sin, lest, in wishing to sew up what is torn, you make the schism worse, and in striving to restore what has fallen, you cause a greater fall. For those who are weak and dissolute and more bound to the luxury of the world, and even those who are still puffed up by birth and influence, [375] if they are brought back to the right path quietly and little by little when they sin, might be able—if not to be made perfect—at least to be changed for part of the evils that possess them; but if one applies instruction all at once, he may deprive them even of the lesser correction. For the soul, once it is forced into shamelessness, falls into insensibility; and it no longer yields to gentle words, nor is it bent by threats, nor prompted by benefits, but becomes far worse than that city which the prophet rebuked when he said: "A harlot’s look became yours, you were unashamed before all." For this reason, the shepherd has need of great discernment and a thousand eyes to observe the state of the soul from every side. For just as many are carried into despair and fall away from the hope of their own salvation because they could not endure the bitter medicines, so there are some who, because they were not given punishment proportional to their sins, turn to neglect and become far worse, and are led on to commit greater sins. Therefore, the priest must leave nothing of this unexamined, but must investigate everything accurately and bring the fitting treatment from himself, so that his zeal does not become vain.
But not in this alone, but also in uniting the severed members of the Church, one might see that he has many difficulties. For the shepherd of sheep has the flock following wherever he may lead; and if he should divert one from the straight path and it feeds on thin and precipitous ground, it suffices to cry out more loudly to drive it together again, and to bring the separated one back to the flock; but if a man should wander away from the straight faith, the shepherd has need of much occupation, and of much endurance and patience. For it is not possible to draw him by force, nor to compel him by fear, but he must lead him back by persuasion again to the truth from which he fell at the beginning. Therefore, a noble soul is required, so that he may not lose heart, so that he may not despair of the salvation of those who are led astray, so that he may continually consider and say: "If at some time God might grant them repentance to the knowledge of truth, and they might recover from the snare of the devil." For these reasons, the Lord, in conversing with the disciples, said: "Who then is the faithful and wise servant?" For he who disciplines himself causes the benefit to rest upon himself alone; but the gain of the pastoral office extends to all the people. And he who distributes money to those in need, or defends those being wronged in some other way, has indeed benefited his neighbor somewhat, yet he is inferior to the priest to the extent that the difference between the body and the soul B. Therefore, it is with reason that the Lord declared the care for the sheep to be the sign of the love for Himself.
BASIL. And you, he says, do you not love Christ? CHRYSOSTOM. I both love Him, and I will never cease from loving Him; but I fear that I may provoke the One who is loved by me.
BASIL. And what kind of enigma could be more obscure than this, he says, if Christ ordered him who loves Him to shepherd His sheep, but you [576] say for this reason you do not shepherd them, because you love the One who gave this order?
CHRYSOSTOM. The argument is no riddle, I said, but is even very clear and simple. For if I were capable of administering this authority as Christ wished, and then I fled, there would be need of being at a loss regarding what I am saying; but since my soul’s weakness renders me useless for this ministry, where is the difficulty in what is said? For I fear that having received Christ’s flock, thriving and well-nourished, and then by unwatchfulness having harmed it, I might provoke against myself God who so loved it that He gave Himself up for its salvation and honor.
BASIL. You are speaking in jest, he says; for if you were in earnest, I do not know how you could have demonstrated to us more justly that we are grieving than by these very words, through which you hastened to ward off the despondency. For I, knowing even before that you deceived me and betrayed me, now know and understand far more, and I understand well, when you have even attempted to shake off the accusations, how you have led me into evils. For if you withdrew yourself from such a ministry because you know that your soul is not sufficient for the weight of the matter, you should have released me first; and if I happened to have much desire for this, it was not that I entrusted all the decision regarding these things to you—but now, having looked only to your own self, you have neglected ours. I wish that you had indeed neglected it; if so, it would be acceptable. But you even plotted as to how we might become easy to seize for those who wish to take us. For you could not even take refuge in the point that the opinion of the many deceived you and persuaded you to suspect great and wonderful things about us. For we are neither among those who are admired and distinguished, nor, even if this were the case, should the opinion of the many have been preferred to the truth. For if we had never given you a demonstration of our association, some reasonable excuse might have seemed yours for casting your vote based on the report of the many; but if even he who knows our affairs best—and you know our soul better than those who gave birth to and reared us—what argument will be plausible to you such that you could persuade those who hear that you did not willingly push us into this danger? But let these things be dismissed now; for we are not forcing you to be judged for these; what will we answer to those who are accusing us? Tell me.
CHRYSOSTOM. Nor shall I, I said, go on to those things before I have settled the matters regarding you, even if you yourself wish to absolve us of the accusations a myriad of times. For you said that you offer us forgiveness for our ignorance, and that you would have absolved us of every accusation if, knowing nothing of your own, we then had led you into the present situation; but since you did not betray us out of ignorance, but while accurately knowing your own affairs, that is why all reasonable excuse and just defense has been taken away from us. But I say the direct opposite: because such things require much examination, and it is not fitting for one who is about to deliver to the priesthood a fit person to be governed by the C
A report alone, but to have examined his affairs most of all, and before all else. For indeed the blessed Paul, when he said, "He must also have a good testimony from those who are outside," does not abolish an exact and rigorous investigation, nor does he set this forward as the primary criterion for the testing of such men. For having discoursed on many things beforehand, he added this later, showing that it is not sufficient in itself for such elections, but that it ought to be taken up in addition to other things. For it often happens that the report of the many is false; but if an accurate examination has preceded it, there is no longer any danger of a suspicion arising from this. For this reason, he places the testimony of those outside after the other requirements. For he did not say simply, "He must have a good testimony," but he added "from those outside," wishing to signify that before the report of those outside, he must be investigated for accuracy. Since, therefore, I knew your affairs better than those who gave birth to you, as you yourself have confessed, for this reason I would be right to be excused from all blame.
BASIL. For this very reason, then, he says, would you not have fled, if someone had wished to enroll you? Or do you not remember that you heard from us, and often, and were taught by our actions, the ignoble nature of my soul? Was it not for this that you were always mocking us for being small-minded, because we easily fall into ordinary concerns?
5. CHRYSOSTOM. I do, in fact, remember hearing these words from you many times, and I would not deny it. But if I ever mocked you, I was doing it in play, not in earnest. B But nevertheless, I am not arguing about these things now, but I ask that you yourself grant me the same fairness when I wish to make mention of some of the goods you possess. For even if you attempt to prove us liars, we will not spare you, but we will show you to be modest, rather than speaking these things according to the truth—not using anyone else, but your own words and deeds as witnesses to the truth of what is being said. But first I wish to ask you this: do you know how great the power of love is? For Christ, having set aside all the miracles that were to be performed by the apostles, said, "By this shall all men know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another." And Paul says that love is the "fulfillment of the law," and that without it none of the gifts are of any profit. This distinct good, this hallmark of the disciples of Christ, which is positioned above the spiritual gifts, I saw bravely planted in your soul, and abounding with much fruit. And BASIL. That I have much care for this matter, he says, and that I make the greatest endeavor for this commandment, I myself confess; but that I have not even halfway accomplished it, you yourself would testify for me, if you were to set aside saying what is pleasing and wish to honor the truth. CHRYSOSTOM. Then I will turn to the proofs, I said, and what I threatened, I will do now, showing C rather that you are modest than wishing to tell the truth. I will tell of a deed that happened recently, so that no one may suspect that by recounting ancient things, I am attempting to cast a veil over the truth with the multitude of time, as forgetfulness does not allow one to examine what was said by us for the sake of giving pleasure.
6. For when one of our friends was being slandered on charges of insolence and folly and was in danger of suffering the ultimate penalty, then, without anyone calling upon you, and without that man who was about to be in danger asking for it, you threw yourself into the midst of the dangers. And this was the deed; but that I may convict you also from your words, and remind you of the very things spoken to you—for since some did not accept this zeal, while others praised and admired it—"And what should I do?" you said to those who were accusing him; "for I do not know how to love in any other way than by laying down my own soul, whenever it is necessary to save one of our friends who is in danger," speaking the things of Christ with different words, but in the same mind, defining the boundaries of perfect love with the words He spoke to His disciples: "For greater love than this," He says, "no one has, than that one should lay down his soul for his friends." If, therefore, it is impossible to find anything greater than this, you have reached its end, and by what you did and by what you said, you have ascended to its summit. For this reason we betrayed you; for this reason we wove that trick. Do we convince you now that we did not drag you into this arena out of malice, nor wishing to throw you into danger, but knowing that it would be useful?
BASIL. And do you think, he says, that the power of love is sufficient for the correction of one's neighbors?
CHRYSOSTOM. For the most part, I said, it could contribute greatly to this; but if you wish for us to bring forward proofs of your wisdom also, we will proceed to this too, and we will show you to be prudent rather than just affectionate.
Upon this, he blushed and turned red (BASIL). Our affairs, he says, let these be passed over now; for I was not asking you for a speech about these things at the beginning. But if you have anything just to say to those outside, I would gladly hear the arguments about this. Therefore, leave this shadow-boxing; tell us what we shall say in defense to the rest, both to those who have honored us and to those who are suffering on their behalf as if they had been insulted.
7. CHRYSOSTOM. And I myself, then, I said, am pressing on to this. For since the argument you had with me has been finished, I will easily turn to this part of the defense. What, then, is the accusation of these people, and what are the charges? They say they have been insulted by us, and have suffered things that are terrible, because we did not accept the honor which they wished to bestow. But I say, first of all, that one ought not to make account of an insult to men when we are forced to offend God through the honor given to them. For I would not say that for those who are indignant, being vexed at these things is without danger, but rather that it carries great harm. For it is necessary, I think, for those who are devoted to God, and looking only to Him, to be so D disposed with piety that they do not even consider such a thing an insult, even if they should happen to be dishonored ten thousand times. That not even a thought of anything of the sort has been attempted by me is clear from this. For if I had acted out of arrogance and love of glory, as you often say that some slander others, [379] for this...
I would be the one to vote for the accusers, having despised men who are wonderful and great, and furthermore, benefactors. For if to wrong those who have done no wrong is worthy of punishment, how ought one to honor those who have chosen to honor us of their own accord? For one could not even say that, having received small or great benefits from me, they had repaid those favors. How great a punishment, then, would one deserve for repaying them with the opposite? But if we never even let such a thought enter our minds, and if we avoided the heavy burden with a different intention, why do they—if they are unwilling to approve—complain, while omitting to acknowledge that we spared A our own souls? For I was so far from insulting those men that I would even say I honored them by my refusal. And do not be surprised if this statement is paradoxical; for I shall quickly provide the solution to this as well.
For at that time, if not all, then at least those for whom it is pleasant to speak well, would have had much to suspect and to say concerning me, who was ordained, and concerning those who chose me: for instance, that they look toward wealth, that they admire nobility of birth, that they were led to this because they were flattered by us; and if they were even persuaded by money, I cannot say if anyone was also suspecting this B. And yet Christ called fishermen and tentmakers and tax-collectors to this authority; but these men contemptuously reject those who are supported by their own daily labor; yet if someone should touch upon secular learning and be supported by inherited wealth, they accept and admire him. For why, indeed, did they overlook those who endured thousands of labors for the needs of the Church, but suddenly dragged into this honor one who had never tasted such toils, and who had squandered his whole life in the vanity of secular learning? I could have said these things and more, had we accepted C the authority. But not now; for every pretext for slander is cut off from them, and they have no accusation of flattery against me, nor of greed against them, unless some should wish to be simply insane. For how would someone who is flattering and spending money in order to attain honor leave it to others when the time came to receive it? For that would be the same as if someone, having endured many toils in the fields so that his crop might be heavy with much fruit and his winepresses might overflow with wine, after thousands of labors and the great expenditure of money, should, when the time came to glean and harvest, give up the crop to others. Do you see that at that time what was being said was and was far from the truth, but yet those who wished to slander 380 them had a pretext, as if they had not made the choice with proper discernment? But we have not allowed them now even to gape or simply open their mouths. And what might have been said at the beginning would have been of this nature, and even more than this. But after having taken hold of the ministry, we would not have sufficed to make apology daily to those who blamed us, even if everything had been done by us without error, let alone that we would have been compelled D to err in many things due to inexperience and youth. But now we have delivered them even from this accusation, whereas then we would have covered them with ten thousand reproaches. For what would they not have said? "They have entrusted matters so wonderful and great to foolish children, they have ruined the flock of God, the affairs of Christians have become a game and a mockery." But now, "all iniquity shall stop her mouth." For even if they should say these things because of you, yet you will quickly teach them through your deeds that one should not judge wisdom by age, nor judge the elder by his grey hair, nor entirely exclude the young man from such a ministry, but rather the neophyte. But there is a great distance between the two.
THIRD BOOK
CONTENTS OF THE THIRD BOOK
α΄. That those who suspected we refused through pride harmed their own opinion. β΄. That we did not flee through vainglory. γ΄. That if we desired glory, we ought to have chosen the office. δ΄. That the priesthood is fearful, and the new is much more fearful than the old worship. ε΄. That the authority and honor of priests are great. Ϛ΄. That ministries are the greatest gifts from God. ζ΄. That even Paul was fearful when looking at the magnitude of the office. η΄. That one is often led to sin when one has come into the midst, if he be not very noble. θ΄. That one is caught by vainglory and its bitter consequences. ι΄. That the priesthood is not the cause of these, but our own sloth. ια΄. That the desire for authority must be cast out from the priest’s soul.
α΄. Concerning, then, the insult to those who had honored us, and that we fled this honor wishing not to put them to shame, we might have these things to say, which we have stated; but that we were not puffed up by any pride—even this I shall now try to make plain to you to the best of my power. For if the choice of a generalship or a kingdom were set before us, if I had this intention, one might reasonably suppose this; or rather, no one would have judged us of pride, but all would have judged us of folly; but of the priesthood...
which stands so far above kingship as the difference between spirit and flesh, will any dare to accuse us of pride? And how is it not absurd to blame those who disdain small things as being out of their minds, while as for those who do this in regard to things that are far superior, to hold them exempt from the charges of madness, but to subject them to charges of pride? Just as if one were to accuse a man who despised a herd of cattle and did not wish to be a cowherd, not of pride, but of madness, yet of the man who does not accept the kingship of the entire inhabited world and the becoming lord of all the armies everywhere, one were to say—instead of that he is insane—that he is puffed up. A But these things are not so, they are not, nor do those who say these things slander us so much as they slander themselves. For the mere thought that it is possible for human nature to disdain that dignity is a sign, on the part of those who put it forth, of the opinion they hold concerning the matter. For if they did not think that it was not a thing of small consequence, and one about which there is little talk, it would not have occurred to them to suspect this. For why did no one ever dare to suspect such a thing concerning the dignity of the angels, and say that there is a human soul that, out of arrogance, would not choose to come to the dignity of that nature? For we imagine some great things concerning those powers, and this does not allow us to believe B that a man can think anything greater than that dignity. So that one would more justly accuse those who charge us with this of arrogance. For they would never have suspected this about others, if they themselves had not first condemned the matter as being of no account. And if they say that I have done this looking toward glory, they will be convicted of contradicting themselves and fighting openly; for I do not know what other arguments they could have sought before these, if they wished to free us from the charges of vainglory.
β'. For if this desire had ever entered into me, it would have been better to accept rather than to flee. Why? Because this would have brought us much glory. For to be at that age, and to have departed but a short time before from worldly cares, C suddenly to be thought by all to be so admirable that one is preferred to those who have spent all their time in such labors, and to receive more votes than all of them, would have convinced everyone to suspect some great and wonderful things about us, and would have rendered us solemn and conspicuous. But now, except for a few, the greater part of the Church does not even know us by name; so that it will not even be clear to all that we have declined, but only to a few, whom I do not think even all of them know the truth. And it is likely that many of these think that we were not chosen at all, or that we were pushed aside after the election, having been judged unsuitable, not that we fled willingly.
ɣ'. BASIL. But those who know the truth will admire you. CHRYSOST. And yet you said that these were the ones who slander us as being vainglorious and proud. From where, then, is one to hope for praise? From the many? But they do not know the truth. D Or from the few? But even there the matter is turned against us. For you did not enter here for the sake of any other thing, but that you might learn what defense to make before them. And why do I now speak precisely about these things? For that, even if all knew the truth, one ought not to judge us of arrogance or ambition even so, wait a little, and you shall know this clearly. And in addition to this, again, that: that not only on those who dare this daring—if indeed there is such a man (for I myself am not persuaded)—but also on those who suspect it about others, a danger will lie, and not a small one.
δ'. For the priesthood is performed on earth, but maintains the rank of the heavenly orders; and very reasonably so. For it is not a man, not an angel, not an archangel, not any other created power, but the Paraclete Himself who established this procedure, and persuaded those still remaining in the flesh to imagine the ministry of the angels. Therefore, the priest must be as pure as if he were standing among those powers in heaven itself. For the things before grace were indeed fearful and dreadful, such as the bells, the sounds, the stones on the breastplate, the stones of the ephod, the mitre, the tiara, the long robe, the golden plate, the holy of holies, and the much inner stillness. But if one examines the things of grace, he will find that those fearful and dreadful things are small, and the statement made concerning the law was true here too, "That which has been glorified has not been glorified in this part by reason of the glory that excels." For when you see the Lord sacrificed and lying there, and the priest standing over the sacrifice, and praying, and all being reddened with that precious blood, do you still think that you are among men, and standing on earth, but do you not immediately move to the heavens, and casting out every fleshly thought from the soul, with naked soul and pure mind see the things in heaven? O of the wonder! O of the philanthropy of God! He who sits above with the Father, at that hour is held by the hands of all, and gives Himself to those who desire to embrace and take hold of Him. And all do this through the eyes of faith. Does this appear to you worthy of being despised, or of such a nature that anyone could be exalted against it? Do you wish, from another miracle of this holiness, to see the excellence? Depict for me Elijah with your eyes, and the infinite crowd standing around, and the sacrifice lying upon the stones, and all the rest in silence and great quietness, and only the prophet praying; then suddenly the fire cast from the heavens upon the victim: these things are wonderful and full of all astonishment. Pass then from there to the things now being performed, and you will see not only wonderful things, but things that transcend all astonishment. For the priest stands, not bringing down fire, but the Holy Spirit; and he makes the supplication for a long time, not that a lamp sent down from above might consume the things set forth, but that the grace falling upon the sacrifice might through it ignite the souls of all, and show them clearer than silver purified by fire. From this most dreadful, then, of mysteries, who, unless he is greatly mad or beside himself,
could fail to despise these things? Or are you ignorant that no human soul could ever have endured that fire of the sacrifice, but would have been utterly consumed, had not the help of the grace of God been great?
[ε'] For if one were to consider how great a thing it is for a man—still entangled in flesh and blood—to be able to draw near to that blessed and undefiled nature, he would then know well of what honor the grace of the Spirit has deemed the priests worthy. For through them these things are performed, as are other rites that in no way fall short of these in dignity and in the account of our salvation. For those who dwell on earth, and have their habitation in it, have been commissioned to manage the things in heaven, and have received an authority which God did not bestow upon angels or archangels. For it was not said to them: "Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven." Those who rule on the earth do indeed have the authority to bind, but of bodies only; this bond, however, touches the soul itself, and reaches through the heavens. And whatever the priests do below, God confirms above, and the Master ratifies the judgment of the servants. For what is this but that He has given them the entire heavenly authority? "For whose sins you forgive," He says, "they are forgiven, and whose sins you retain, they are retained." What authority could be greater than this? "The Father has given all judgment to the Son;" but I see that all of this has been committed to them by the Son. For it is as if they had already been transferred to heaven, and had transcended human nature, and were set free from our passions, that they were brought to this office. Furthermore, if a king should bestow this honor upon one of his subjects, so that he could cast into prison whomsoever he wished, and release them again, this man becomes an object of envy and wonder to all. But he who has received from God an authority so much greater, by as much as heaven is more precious than earth and souls than bodies, has this honor seemed to some so small that anyone could even conceive that one might despise such a gift? Away with such madness! For it is clear madness to despise so great an office, without which it is impossible for us either to obtain salvation or to reach the promised goods. For if no one can enter into the kingdom of heaven unless he be regenerated through water and the Spirit, and he who does not eat the flesh of the Lord and drink His blood is excluded from eternal life, and all these things are performed by no other, but only by those holy hands—I speak of the priest—how could anyone, apart from them, be able to escape the fire of hell or attain the crowns that are laid up?
[Ϛ'] For they are our fathers, they are those who have been entrusted with spiritual pangs and have been commissioned with the birth that is through baptism; through them we put on Christ, we are buried together with the Son of God, and we become members of that blessed Head. So that they may justly be considered not only more to be feared than rulers and kings, but even more honorable than fathers. For the latter begat us of blood and the will of the flesh, but these are the authors of our birth from God, of that blessed regeneration, of true liberty, and of adoption according to grace. The priests of the Jews had the authority to cleanse the leprosy of the body—or rather, they did not cleanse it at all, but merely had the authority to examine those who were already cleansed; and you know how much the priestly office was sought after then. But these have received the authority, not to examine the leprosy of the body, but to cleanse entirely, not the leprosy, but the uncleanness of the soul. So that those who despise them might be far more profane than the company of Dathan, and worthy of greater punishment. For while the others took upon themselves an office that did not belong to them, they still had a wondrous opinion of it, which they showed by striving for it with great eagerness. But these men, at a time when the matter has been ordered for the better and has received such increase, act in opposition to those; yet they have dared to commit a crime much greater than theirs. For it is not the same thing to seek an office that does not belong to one as it is to despise such great goods; the latter is as much worse than the former as the distance between spitting upon them and admiring them. Who, then, is a soul so wretched as to despise such goods? I, for one, would not say that such a person exists, unless one were suffering from a demonic frenzy. But I shall return again to where I began; for God has given to the priests a power greater than that of natural parents, not only in chastising but in doing good; and the difference between the two is as great as between the present life and the future. For the latter beget us into this life, the former into the next; and while the former could not defend their children from bodily death, nor ward off an approaching disease, the latter have often saved the soul that was ailing and on the point of perishing, making the punishment milder for some, and for others preventing them from falling into it at all, not only by teaching and admonishing, but by helping through prayers. For not only when they regenerate us, but also after this, they have the authority to forgive sins. "Is anyone among you sick?" He says, "let him call for the elders of the Church, and let them pray over him, having anointed him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer of faith will save the sick, and the Lord will raise him up; and if he has committed sins, they will be forgiven him." Furthermore, natural parents, if their children happen to offend against some of those in power who have great influence here, have no means of helping them; but the priests, when they offend not rulers or kings, but God Himself, have often reconciled Him to them. Will anyone, then, still dare to judge us guilty of arrogance after this? For I believe that, from what has been said, such reverence will take hold of the souls of my hearers that they will no longer judge those who flee from this office as acting out of arrogance and boldness, but rather those who of their own accord approach it and strive to acquire this honor for themselves. For if those who are entrusted with the government of cities, when they are not wise and extremely sharp-witted, have both overturned cities and perished themselves, how much power, do you think, both from him and from above, does the one who has been allotted the task of adorning the bride of Christ need, that he may not fail?
A
7. No one loved Christ more than Paul, no one displayed greater zeal than he, no one was deemed worthy of greater grace; yet, after so many advantages, he still fears and trembles for this rule and for those governed by him. For I fear, he says, lest by any means, as the serpent beguiled Eve through his subtilty, so your minds should be corrupted from the simplicity that is in Christ. And again: I was with you in fear and in much trembling. A man caught up to the third heaven, and having shared in the ineffable mysteries with God, and having endured as many deaths as he lived days after he believed; a man who did not even wish to use the authority given to him by Christ, so that he might not cause any of those who believed to stumble. If, therefore, he who transcends the commandments of God, and seeks nowhere his own, but the things of those who are governed, was thus always trembling as he looked toward the magnitude of the rule, what shall we suffer who seek our own in many places, we who not only do not transcend the commandments of Christ, but even transgress them by a far greater margin? Who is weak, he says, and I am not weak? Who is offended, and I do not burn? Such must be the priest, or rather, not only such; for these things are small and nothing in comparison with what I am about to say. And what is this? I could wish, he says, that I myself were accursed from Christ for my brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh. If anyone can utter this utterance, if anyone has a soul reaching to this prayer, he would be rightly accused if he fled; but if anyone falls as far short of that virtue as we do, he is rightly accused not when he flees, but when he accepts. For not even if the choice of a military rank were set before one, and then the masters who have the power to grant the honor were to drag a coppersmith, or a cobbler, or some craftsman of this kind into the midst and hand over the army, would I commend that wretched man for not fleeing and for doing everything so as not to throw himself into an overt evil. For if simply being called a shepherd and handling the matter as it happens were enough, and there were no danger, let anyone who wishes blame me for vainglory. But if the one who undertakes this care must have great discernment, and great grace from God even before discernment, and rectitude of character, and purity of life, and virtue greater than that which is human, then do not deny me pardon, as I do not wish to perish in vain and to no purpose. For if someone were leading a ship with ten thousand oars, filled with rowers and laden with expensive cargo, and then, having sat at the helm, were to order me to cross the Aegean or the Tyrrhenian Sea, I would have jumped overboard at the very first word; and if someone had asked, "Why?" I would have said, "So that I might not sink the ship." Then, where the damage is in money and the danger extends to physical death, no one will blame those who use great foresight; but where it is not this sea that awaits the shipwrecked, but the abyss of fire, and the death that awaits them is not one that separates the soul from the body, but one that sends it together with the body into eternal punishment, in this case, do you grow angry and hate me because we did not rashly throw ourselves into such great evil?
8. No, I beg and beseech you. I know my own soul, B this weak and small one; I know the magnitude of that ministry and the great difficulty of the matter. For more winds than those that disturb the sea toss and cause waves to storm the soul of the priest.
9. And first of all, there is the most terrible rock of vainglory, more treacherous than the Sirons about which the myth-makers tell tales. Many have indeed been able to sail past this and escape unharmed; but for me, this is so difficult that not even now, when there is no need for me to steer toward that abyss, am I able to remain free from that evil. And if someone entrusts this oversight to another, he will, as it were, having bound his hands behind his back, deliver him to the beasts living on that rock to rend him apart every single day. And what are these beasts? Anger, despondency, envy, strife, slanders, accusations, lying, hypocrisy, plots, C angers against those who have done no wrong, pleasures at the scandals of those who serve, sorrow at their prosperity, lust for praise, desire for honor (this is that which most of all turns the human soul upside down), teachings for the sake of pleasure, servile flatteries, ignoble abasements, contempt for the poor, pandering to the rich, senseless and harmful honors that bring danger of grace both to those who provide and to those who receive them, servile fear—and that which is fit only for the lowest slaves—the abolition of frankness. The outward form of humility is widely displayed, but there is no truth anywhere; rebukes and reprimands are nowhere to be found, or rather, they are used against the humble beyond measure, whereas against those who are invested with power, no one even dares to part their lips. For all these things, and more than these, that rock feeds as beasts; and those who are once caught by them are necessarily dragged down into such slavery that they often act even to please women—things that it is not even good to mention. For though the divine law has expelled them from this ministry, they force themselves inside. D And since they avail nothing by themselves, they do everything through others; and they have been invested with such power that they even choose and cast out priests whomsoever they wish; and that which is said in the proverb can be seen happening: "The governed lead their governors." And would that they were men, but they are those whom it is not even permitted to teach. What do I say "to teach"? The blessed Paul did not even allow them to speak in the Church. And I heard someone saying that they have even granted them such frankness that they even rebuke those who preside over the Churches, and attack them more bitterly than masters attack their own servants.
10. And let no one think that I am subjecting all to the aforementioned charges; for there are, there are many who have been carried over these nets, and more who have been caught. But I would not blame the priesthood itself for these evils, may I never be so mad! For all who have sense say that it is not the iron that is to blame for murders, nor wine for drunkenness, nor strength for insolence, nor manliness for irrational daring, but those who do not use the gifts given by God to their proper purpose, and they punish them. Since, indeed, the priesthood...
A is not itself the cause of the evils we have mentioned, but rather we who have defiled it with so many stains, at least as far as it concerns us, by handing it over to any chance person; for they, neither having first examined their own souls nor looking to the magnitude of the matter, accept gladly what is given, but when they come to the business, being blinded by their lack of experience, they fill those souls entrusted to them with countless evils. This indeed, just this, was about to happen to us, had not God quickly snatched us from those dangers, sparing both His Church and our own soul. For from where, tell me, do you think such great disturbances arise in the Churches? I, at least, do not think from anywhere else but from the fact that the choosing and elections of the leaders are done simply and as it happens. For the head ought to be strongest, so that it may be able to manage the evil vapors arising B from below from the rest of the body and set them in order as is necessary. For when it happens to be weak of itself, not being able to repel those disease-bearing attacks, it becomes even weaker than it is, and destroys the rest of the body along with itself. That this might not happen now, God kept us in the rank of the feet, which we were allotted from the beginning. For there are many things, O Basil, in addition to those mentioned, many things besides, that the one in the priesthood ought to have, which we do not have; and before all others, this: one must have a soul that is pure from the desire for the matter on all sides; for if, by chance, he is affectionately disposed toward this authority, having attained it, he kindles a stronger flame, and being 588 overpowered, he endures myriads of terrible things to keep it secure, even if it is necessary to flatter, even if to endure something ignoble and unworthy, even to spend much money C. For that some have even filled the Churches with murders and turned cities upside down fighting for this authority, I pass over now, lest I seem to some to be saying things that are unbelievable. Yet one ought, I think, to have such reverence for the matter that he would avoid the magnitude of the authority, and after being in it, not await the judgments of others if it should happen that he had committed a sin sufficient for deposition, but to have forestalled it and cast himself out of office. For in this way it would be likely to attract mercy from God; but to cling to it against what is proper is to deprive oneself of all forgiveness, and to kindle the wrath of God even more, having added a second, more grievous transgression.
11. But no one will ever endure this. For it is truly terrible, terrible even to crave this honor. And I do not say these things in opposition to the blessed Paul, but rather in full harmony with his words. For what does he say? "If any man aspires to the office of overseer, he desires a good work." But I say that to desire not the work, but the authority and the power, is terrible. And I think this desire ought to be thrust out of the soul with all diligence, and not even to allow the authority itself to be grasped by it, so that with freedom D everything might be done by him. For he who does not desire to be shown in this power does not even fear its removal, and not fearing, he would be able to do everything with the freedom befitting Christians; whereas those who fear and tremble to be brought down from it endure a bitter slavery and one full of many evils, and are often forced to offend men and God. But the soul ought not to be disposed in this way, but, just as we see brave soldiers in wars both fighting eagerly and falling bravely, so too those who come to this administration, both to serve as priests and to be released from the authority, as is proper for Christian men, knowing that such a removal brings no less a crown than the authority. For when someone undergoes something of this kind for the sake of suffering nothing improper or unworthy of that honor, he provides punishment for those who unjustly deposed him, and for himself a greater reward [f]. "For blessed are you," He says, "when they reproach and persecute you, and say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake; rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in the heavens." And these things, when it is from those of equal rank out of envy, or for the sake of others, or for enmity, or when one is cast out through some other incorrect reasoning; but when it happens that one undergoes this even from enemies, I do not believe there is any need of argument to show the gain, as much as those people pile up for him through their own wickedness. This, therefore, one must look around for from every side and examine precisely [g], lest some spark of that desire be smoldering unnoticed. For it is a thing to be desired, even for those who are pure from the passion from the beginning, when they fall into authority, [589] to be able to escape it. But if anyone fosters this terrible and savage beast in himself even before obtaining the honor, it is not even possible to say into what a furnace he will cast himself after obtaining it. And we (and do not think that in our humility we would ever wish to lie to you) possess this desire in abundance, and among all other things, this also no less frightened us, and turned our soul toward this. For just as those in love with bodies, as long as it is permitted to be near those loved, have a more difficult trial of the passion, but when they take themselves as far as possible from the objects of their longing, they have also driven away the madness; so too for those who desire this authority, when they are near it, the evil becomes unbearable, but when they despair, they have extinguished the desire along with the expectation by which they were held.
12. This, then, is one reason that is not small. But even if it happened to be alone by itself, it would be enough to keep us from this honor; but now another, no less than this, is added. And what is this? The priest must be sober, and discerning, and possess eyes on all sides, as one living not for himself alone, but for such a great multitude. That we are sluggish and lax and scarcely sufficient for our own salvation, you yourself would admit, the one who, most of all, is eager to hide our evils because of your friendship. For do not speak to me here of fasting, nor of vigils, nor of sleeping on the ground, and the rest of the body's hardships—you know how far we are from these. And if, indeed, in
matters of such precision we had succeeded, even so with our present sluggishness we would scarcely have the strength to benefit anyone through this stewardship. For while these things might provide great benefit to a man shut up in a small room and concerned only with his own affairs, what reliable gain—if he not happen to possess a vigorous and most strong soul—could he contribute to the improvement of others when he is being torn apart by such a multitude and holds individual cares for each of those under his rule?
C ιγ. And do not be surprised if, despite such perseverance, I seek another test of the courage in the soul. For to disdain food and drink and soft bedding is something we see is not even a task for many, especially for those who are disposed more rustically and have been reared so from their earliest age, and for many others whose bodily constitution and habit soften the harshness found in such toils. But to bear insults, and abuse, and heavy language, and the taunts of inferiors—both those spoken simply and those spoken in judgment—and complaints made uselessly and in vain by those who rule and those who are ruled, is not [a task] for the many to endure, but perhaps for one or two. And one might see those who are strong in the former matters dizzying before these as if they were wilder than the fiercest beasts. We shall exclude such men most of all from the precincts of the priesthood. For while it would harm the common interest of the Church nothing if the leader were not to go without food, nor go unshod; yet a savage temper works D great calamities both for the one who possesses it and for his neighbors. And for those who do not do such things, no threat from God lies in wait; but for those who are simply irascible, Gehenna and the fire of Gehenna are threatened. Just as, therefore, he who craves empty glory, if he gets hold of the rule over many, provides more fuel for the fire, so he who is unable to control his temper when by himself and in his conversations with a few, but is easily carried away—when he is entrusted with the care of an entire multitude, he would neither be able himself to live in peace, nor does he fail to inflict countless evils upon those entrusted to him.
ιδ. For nothing so clouds the purity of the mind and the brightness of the intellect as an unordered temper, and one carried along with great momentum. For temper, he says, A destroys even the wise. For just as in a night battle, the eye of the soul, rendered dark, is not able to discern friends from enemies, nor the honorable from the dishonorable, but treats one and all in the same way, while easily enduring to suffer any evil in order to fulfill the soul's pleasure—for the heating of the temper is a kind of pleasure, and it tyrannizes the soul more harshly than pleasure, disturbing its entire healthy state, overturning it—[it] easily raises it to madness, and unto untimely enmities, and irrational hate, and simple clashes, and causes it to clash incessantly and in vain. And it forces it both to say and to do many other such things, with the soul being dragged along by the great rushing of the passion, having nowhere to rest its own strength so as to resist such an impulse.
BASIL. But I will no longer endure you being ironic any further. For who does not know, he says, how far you are from this disease? CHRYSOSTOM. What then, B I said, O blessed one, do you wish to bring me near the pyre and provoke the beast that is at rest? Or are you ignorant that we have not accomplished this by our own virtue, but by loving solitude? And that such a man, disposed in this way, remaining by himself, and using only one or two friends, has been able to escape the conflagration from that source—much less if he had fallen into the abyss of such great cares? For then he would not drag only himself, but many others as well with him toward the precipice of destruction, and would make them more sluggish in the cultivation of gentleness. For it is natural for the multitude of those governed, for the most part, to look upon the ways of their rulers as if toward some archetypal image, and to conform themselves to them. How then could someone stop their inflammations if he himself is swelling C with them? Who would desire to speedily become moderate among the multitude, seeing the ruler angry? For it is not, it is not possible that the failings of priests be hidden; rather, even small ones quickly become manifest. For indeed an athlete, so long as he remains at home and is not matched against anyone, can remain hidden, even if he happens to be very weak; but when he strips for the contests, he is easily put to the test. So then, also of men, those who live this private and unencumbered life have their solitude as a veil for their own sins; but when they are brought into the midst, they are compelled to surrender their tranquility like a garment, and to show their souls naked to all through their external movements. Just as, therefore, their accomplishments benefited many by calling them to an equal zeal, so also their offenses made them more sluggish regarding the practice of virtue, and caused them to grow lazy toward the toils [undertaken] for the sake of D great things. Therefore, the beauty of his soul must shine forth from all sides, so that he may be able both to gladden and to illuminate the souls of those who see him at the same time. For the sins of ordinary men, as if committed in some darkness, destroyed only those who performed them; but the offense of a renowned man, known to many, brings a common harm to all, making those who had flagged in their sweat for the sake of goodness more slack, and provoking those who wished to pay attention to themselves unto despair. And apart from these things, the failings of the lowly, even if they come into the middle, have struck no one with a significant blow; but those who are seated at the summit of this honor, first of all are manifest to all; then, even if they stumble in the most minor matters, the minor things appear great to the others. For it is not by the magnitude of what has occurred, but by the dignity of the one who has failed, that everyone measures the sin. And the priest must be fenced in on all sides as if with some adamantine armor by intense zeal and continuous wakefulness regarding his life, looking round on all sides, lest someone find a naked and neglected place and strike a vital blow. For everyone stands around ready to wound and cast down, not only enemies and foes, but even many of those who pretend friendship. Such souls, therefore, must be chosen as the grace of God once showed the bodies of those saints in the Babylonian furnace. For the fuel of this fire is not vine-twigs and pitch and tow, but much more than these
For it says: "The bishop must be holding fast the faithful word as he has been taught, that he may be able, by sound doctrine, both to exhort and to convict those who contradict." How then shall one who is a layman, as these men say, be able to convict those who contradict, and to stop their mouths? And what need is there to pay attention to reading and to the Scriptures, if one must embrace such ignorance? These are pretenses and excuses, and veils for sloth and cowardice. But, he says, these things are enjoined for priests—for our discourse is now concerning priests. And that this is also for those who are ruled, hear what he again urges to others in another Epistle: "Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom." And again: "Let your speech always be with grace, seasoned with salt, that you may know how you ought to answer each one." And it is said that we must be "ready for an apology to all." And writing to the Thessalonians, he says: "Edify one another, even as you also do." And when he discourses concerning priests: "Let the elders who rule well be counted worthy of double honor, especially those who labor in the word and doctrine." For this is the most perfect 414 standard of doctrine, when through what they do, and through what they say, they lead the disciples toward the blessed life which Christ ordained. For doing is not sufficient toward teaching. And the statement is not mine, but that of the Savior Himself: "For whoever," He says, "shall do and teach, he shall be called great." If doing were the same as teaching, the second would have been added in vain; for it would have been enough to say "whoever shall do" alone. But now, by separating both, He shows that one thing belongs to works, and the other to the word, and that each needs the other for perfect edification. Or do you not hear what the chosen vessel of Christ says to the elders of the Ephesians: "Therefore watch, remembering that for three years, night and day, I did not cease to warn every one of you with tears." For what need of tears, or of admonition through words, if one’s life were so shining as to be enough for us? But toward the working of the commandments this man might be able to contribute a great part for us; for I would not say that he attains the whole solely by that.
9. But when a struggle is stirred up over dogmas, and all fight from the same Scriptures, what power will the life be able to show here? What is the use of the many labors, when after those hardships one, through great inexperience, falls into heresy and is cut off from the body of the Church? Which I know many have suffered. What profit is there for him in his endurance? None; just as there is none in having sound faith if the conduct is corrupted. Because of these things, more than all else, he who is chosen to teach others must be experienced in such struggles. For even if he himself stands in safety, suffering no harm from those who contradict, yet the multitude of the simpler folk, who are subject to him, when they see their leader defeated and having nothing to say against the opponents, they do not blame his weakness for the defeat, but the unsoundness of the dogma; and through the inexperience of the one, the common crowd is carried away to final destruction. For even if they do not entirely side with the opponents, yet they are forced to doubt concerning those things about which they had confidence, and to those whom they approached with unshaken faith, they can no longer attend with the same steadfastness; but such a storm is settled in their souls from the defeat of the teacher, so that the evil ends in shipwreck. And how great a destruction, and how much fire is heaped upon his miserable head for each of those perishing souls, you will have no need to learn from me, as you know all things accurately yourself. Is this not madness, is this not vainglory, not to wish to become the cause of destruction to so many, nor to bring upon myself a punishment greater than the one waiting for me there? And who would say these things? No one, unless someone might wish to complain in vain, and to philosophize over other men’s misfortunes.
BOOK FIVE
413 WHAT IS CONTAINED IN THE FIFTH BOOK. 1. That common sermons require much labor and zeal. 2. That he who is appointed to this must disdain praises, and be able to speak. 3. That if he does not possess both, he will be useless to the multitude. 4. That such a man must especially disdain envy. 5. That he who knows how to speak needs more zeal than the ignorant one. 6. That one should neither entirely disdain nor entirely care for the irrational vote of the many. 7. That one should regulate one's words only toward what is pleasing to God. 8. That he who does not disdain praises will undergo many terrible things.
1. How much experience a teacher needs for the struggles on behalf of the truth has been sufficiently demonstrated to us; but I have something else to say beyond these things, which is the cause of ten thousand dangers. Or rather, I would not say that the thing itself is the cause, but those who do not know how to use it well; since the thing itself is a proxy for salvation and many good things, when it finds those who minister it to be men diligent and good. What, then, is this? The great labor consumed in the discourses held publicly to the people. For first, the greater part of the flock do not wish to be disposed toward the speakers as toward teachers, but, having overstepped the rank of disciples, they take on the rank of spectators at the games held outside. And just as there the multitude is divided, and some assign themselves to this one, others to that; so indeed here, being divided, some are with this one, others with that, listening to what is said for the sake of favor or out of antipathy. And not only is this the difficulty, but another no less than this. For if it happens that some of the
unrelated to them, others of A much greater [matters] than their own power, are entrusted with the governance, they make it so that the Church differs in no way from a whirlpool. I for my part used to laugh at the rulers of the world because they made their distribution of honors not based on the virtue within the souls, but on money and length of service and human patronage. But when I heard that this madness had also rioted into our own affairs, I no longer considered the matter a terrible thing in the same way. For what is surprising if men of the world—people who pine for the glory that comes from the many and who do everything for the sake of money—should err in such matters, when even those who profess to have been delivered from all these things are disposed no better than they? Instead of having the struggle for heavenly things, with as much sense of purpose as if they were dealing with a few feet of earth or something similar, they simply take common men from the street and set them over matters for which the one-begotten Child of God did not refuse to empty out his own glory, to become a man, to take on the form of a servant, to be spat upon, to be buffeted, and to suffer an ignominious death through the flesh? And not only do they stop at these things, but they add others more absurd; for they do not only approve the unworthy, but they also cast out those who are suitable. For as if it were necessary to afflict the safety of the Church from both sides, or as if the first excuse were not enough to kindle the wrath of God, they have joined a second one to it, which is no less severe. For I believe it is equally terrible to block the useful and to force the worthless inside. And B this is done so that the flock of Christ might have no comfort and be unable to catch its breath from anywhere. Are these things, then, not worthy of ten thousand thunderbolts? Are they not worthy of a more severe hell, and not just this one which has been threatened against us? But nevertheless, He who does not wish for the death of the sinner, but that he should turn and live, continues to endure and bear such great evils. And how could anyone admire His philanthropy? How could one be astonished at His mercy? Those who belong to Christ destroy the things of Christ more than enemies and foes, and yet the Good One still shows kindness and calls them to repentance. Glory to You, O Lord, glory to You! What an abyss of philanthropy is with You! What a wealth of longsuffering! Those who, because of Your name, were once lowly and dishonorable have become honorable and objects of admiration, and they use that honor against Him who honored them; they dare the undareable and commit outrage against the holy things, pushing aside and casting out the zealous so that, in great quiet and final impunity, the wicked may overturn everything they wish. And if you wish to learn the causes of this terrible thing, you will find them similar to the previous ones; for they possess a single root and, as one might say, a single mother: envy. Yet these are not of one form, but have branched out. For one is to be cast out, he says, because he is young; another because he does not know how to flatter; another because he struck against so-and-so; another—so that this person might not be grieved—sees the one given by him rejected, but this other man approved; another because he is kind and gentle; another because he is terrible to those who sin; and another because of some other such reason. For they are never at a loss for excuses as numerous as they wish; rather, they can even blame the multitude of those who exist, when they have C no other. But they could also find other excuses if they wished, in order that this honor should not be reached all at once, but quietly and little by little and at other times. But I will gladly ask here: what then must a bishop do, contending with so many winds? How will he stand against so many waves, how will he repel all these onsets? For if he manages the matter with upright reason, everyone becomes an enemy and foe to him and to those who have been chosen; and they do everything out of contentiousness against him, throwing up factions every single day, and heaping ten thousand jeers upon those chosen until they either cast them out or bring in their own. And it becomes like a ship’s captain who has pirates sailing inside his vessel, plotting against him and against his sailors and passengers constantly and every hour. But if he prefers favor toward them over his own salvation, accepting those he should not, he will have God as his enemy instead of them—what could be worse than that?—and his relations with them will be more difficult than before, with everyone working together against each other and becoming all the more powerful through this. For just as when wild winds collide from opposite directions, the sea that was until then calm suddenly rages and heaps up and destroys those sailing upon it, so too does the peace of the Church, having received corrupt men, become filled with confusion and many shipwrecks.
Caput 16. Quantam oporteat esse eum, qui tantis tempestatibus opponitur
16. Consider, then, what kind of person he must be who is destined to withstand such a storm, and to arrange such hindrances to the common good in a good way. For he must be at once dignified and free from arrogance, a person of fear and of tenderness, one of commanding presence and yet sociable, both incorruptible and a healer, lowly and yet not a slave, severe and yet gentle—so that he may be able to battle easily against all these things. And he must be able to push forward with great authority the suitable person, even if everyone opposes it, and, with the same authority, not receive the one who is not like that, even if everyone is breathing in unison [in favor of him], but to look only to one thing: the building up of the Church, and to do nothing out of enmity or favor. Do we seem to you to have rightly declined the ministry of this matter? And yet I have not yet gone through everything for you; for I have other things to say. But do not grow weary of a friend and a genuine man who wishes to persuade you concerning the things you accuse; for you endure it. For these things are not only useful for your defense on our behalf, but perhaps no small profit will also contribute to the very administration of the matter. For it is necessary that he who is about to come onto this path of life should first have examined everything well, so that he may then take up the ministry. Why so? Because, if for no other reason, at least not to be surprised when such things befall him will be the lot of one who clearly knows all things. Do you wish, then, that we come first to the care of the widows, or to the guardianship of the virgins, or to the difficulty of the judicial part? For in each of these there is a different worry, and greater than the worry is the fear. And first, so that we may make our beginning from that which is thought to be more trivial than the others: the care of the widows seems to those who oversee them to provide worry only until the expenditure of the money; but the matter is not like that at all, for it requires much investigation even here.
A
When it is necessary to list them, to register them simply and as it happens caused ten thousand evils. For they destroyed households, broke up marriages, and were often caught in theft, in pettiness, and other such shameful things. Yet, to have such persons supported by the funds of the Church brings punishment from God and the utmost condemnation from men, and it makes those who wish to do good more hesitant. For who would ever choose to give money which he has been ordered to give to Christ, if it is to be spent on those who slander the name of Christ? For this reason, great and precise investigation must be made, so that one does not damage the table of the needy only with those already mentioned, but also with those who are able to be self-sufficient.
After this investigation, another worry of no small account succeeds, namely that for them, the rations of food should flow in all at once, as if from springs, and never fail. For involuntary poverty is a sort of insatiable evil, and querulous and ungrateful. And much understanding and much diligence are needed, so as to stop their mouths, taking away every pretext for accusation. Now many, when they see someone who is superior to money, immediately declare him to be suitable for this administration. But I do not think that this generosity is ever sufficient for him alone, but he must possess it before others; for without this, he would be a plunderer rather than a protector, a wolf instead of a shepherd; and after this, one must look to see if he possesses another quality. This is the cause of all good things for men: longsuffering, settling and conveying the soul as if into a private harbor. B
For the race of widows, both because of poverty, and because of age, and because of their nature, makes use of a certain immoderate frankness—for so it is better to say—and they cry out untimely, and find fault in vain, and lament over matters for which they ought to be grateful, and accuse regarding matters for which they ought to be receptive. And the one who presides must bear everything bravely, and be provoked neither by untimely annoyances nor by irrational complaints. For it is right that that race be pitied for what they suffer, not insulted; since to trample upon their misfortunes, and in that pain caused by poverty to add that from abuse would be a matter of the utmost cruelty. For this reason, a certain very wise man, looking toward both the greed and the arrogance of human nature, and having learned that the nature of poverty is terrible, both in casting down a most noble soul and in persuading one to be shameless regarding their own needs often—so that one who is asked does not become angry, nor become an enemy of the one he is obligated to help, provoked by the continuous importunity—he provides that he should be gentle and accessible to the one in need, saying: *Incline thine ear to the poor without grief, and answer him in peace with meekness* (Ecclus. IV, 8). Leaving aside the one who provokes (for what could one say to one who is laid low?), he converses with the one capable of bearing that person’s weakness, exhorting him with the mildness of the look and the gentleness of words to raise him up before the giving. But if someone does not take what he receives, but surrounds them with ten thousand reproaches and insults and is provoked against them, he has not only not relieved the despair caused by poverty by giving, but has even added C to the evil by his insults. For even if they are forced to be very shameless through the necessity of the belly, yet they are pained by this necessity. When, therefore, because of the fear of hunger they are compelled to beg, and because of begging they are shamed, and because of being shamed they are again insulted, a complex power of despair, bringing and casting much darkness upon their soul, descends upon them. And he who cares for these must be so longsuffering that he may not only not increase their despair with his irritation, but also calm the greater part of what is already there through consolation. For just as one who is insulted in the midst of great abundance does not feel the benefit of the money because of the blow from the insult; so also, this one, having heard a gentle word and received what is given with consolation, rejoices more, and the gift itself becomes doubled in that manner. And these things I do not say from myself, but from that one who advised the former-mentioned things. *For, my child, he says, in thy good deeds do not give a blemish, and in every gift a pain of words* (Ecclus. XVIII, 15). *Shall not the dew relieve the burning? So is a word better than a gift* (Ecclus. XVIII, 16–17). *For behold, a word is better than a good gift; and both are with a man who is shown favor* (Ecclus. XVIII, 17). D
And he who presides over these must be not only gentle and longsuffering, but no less skilled in administration; for if this is absent, the money of the poor again reverts to the same loss. For already one, having been entrusted with this ministry, and having gathered much gold, did not consume it himself, but neither did he spend it on those in need except for a few; but having buried the greater part, he kept it until a harsh time set in and delivered it into the hands of enemies. Great foresight is needed, therefore, so that one neither exceeds nor falls short of the Church’s capacity, but scatters all that is procured to the needy quickly, while gathering the treasures of the Church in the intentions of those who are governed. And the hospitality toward strangers, and the treatments for the sick—how much expense of money do you think they require, and how much precision and understanding on the part of those who oversee them? For there is a need that the one who oversees be a provider with reverence and prudence, so that he prepares those who possess the means to give from what they have, both eagerly and without grief, so that in providing for the rest of the sick, he does not strike the souls of those who provide. And the eagerness and the diligence must be shown to be much greater here; for the sick are somehow difficult and sluggish; and if precision and care are not brought in from everywhere, that little thing overlooked is enough to cause great evils to the sufferer.
17. The fearful responsibility of governing virgins
17. In the care of virgins, the fear is so much greater, by how much the possession is more precious, and this flock is more kingly than the others. For already into the choir of these holy ones, ten thousand times ten thousand evils have crept; and the mourning here is greater. And just as it is not the same to wrong a free maiden and her maid, so neither a virgin and a widow. For the latter, to chatter, and to quarrel with one another, and to flatter, and to be shameless, and to be seen everywhere, and to go roaming about the market, has become indifferent; but the virgin has divested herself for greater things, and has aspired to the highest philosophy, and to show the life of the angels.
And she should neither make unnecessary or frequent excursions, nor is she permitted to speak words rashly and in vain; indeed, she should not even know the names of slander or flattery. For this reason, she is in need of the safest protection and of greater assistance. For the enemy of holiness is always standing over them and lying in wait, ready to swallow them up if anyone should slip and fall; and there are many people, too, who plot against them, and in addition to all these, the madness of their own nature; and, in short, she is arrayed for a two-fold battle, one against the one attacking from without, and the other against the one troubling her from within. Because of these things, for the one who oversees her, deep is the fear, and greater the danger and pain, if any of the unwanted things—which may it not happen—should ever occur. D For if for a father, a daughter is a secret anxiety, and the concern for her drives away sleep, where there is such fear about infertility or passing her prime or being despised, what will he suffer who has none of these, but who is concerned with other things far greater than these? For it is not a husband who is being rejected here, but Christ Himself; nor does the infertility end in reproach, but the evil ends in the destruction of the soul. For every tree, He says, that does not produce good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. And if she is despised by the Bridegroom, it is not enough to receive a bill of divorce and depart, but the punishment provides eternal torment for the hatred [she has incurred]. And the father according to the flesh has many things that make the guarding of his daughter easy; for both the mother, the nurse, a multitude of handmaidens, and the safety of the house assist the parent in the keeping of the virgin. For he does not allow her to go into the market frequently; nor, whenever she does go in, is she forced to be seen by any of those she happens upon, as the darkness of evening obscures the one who does not wish to be seen, just as much as the walls of the house. And apart from these things, she is removed from every occasion, so that she would never be forced to come into the sight of men; for neither the care of necessities, nor the insults of those acting unjustly, nor anything else of this kind puts her in need of such an encounter, the father becoming everything for her. But she has only one concern: to neither do nor say anything unworthy of the modesty that befits her. But here, there are many things that make the guarding difficult for the father, or rather, even impossible; for he could not keep her inside with him; for such cohabitation is neither seemly nor safe. For even if they themselves suffer no harm, but remain with their holiness preserved intact, they will not give a lesser account for the souls they have scandalized than if they had happened to commit sins against each other. And since this is not possible, it is not easy to discern the movements of the soul, and to prune what is borne in disorder, while training what is in order and rhythm, and leading it to what is better; nor is it easy to keep a scrutinizing eye on her exits. For poverty and the lack of protection do not allow him to be an accurate examiner of the decorum that befits her. For whenever she is forced to manage everything herself, she has many excuses for excursions, if she wishes not to be prudent. And the one who commands her must remain at home at all times, and after pruning away these excuses, and providing for the self-sufficiency of her necessities, and for the one who will serve her in these matters; he must also prevent her from [attending] funerals and vigils. For that serpent, full of wiles, knows how to scatter his poison even through good deeds. And the virgin must be fenced off on all sides, and rarely go out of the house during the whole year, whenever unavoidable and necessary occasions compel her. But if someone says that it is not the bishop's task to handle these things, let him know well that the cares and the causes of what happens in each instance have their reference to him. And it is far more profitable for him, by managing everything himself, to be rid of the accusations which he is under necessity to endure on account of the sins of others, than to be released from the service and tremble at the accounts for what others have done. Moreover, the one who does these things through himself completes everything with much ease; but the one who is compelled to do this while persuading everyone's opinion does not have as much relief from being released from the personal labor as he has troubles and tumults on account of those who oppose him and fight against his decisions. But I could not list all the cares on behalf of the virgins. For even when they are to be enrolled, those who have been entrusted with this administration do not have to provide for ordinary matters.
Caput 17. Quantus sit in gubernatione virginum timor; Liber Quartus; Caput 1. Qui vi ad clerum trahuntur non ideo pœnæ immunes
The part concerning judgments has countless burdens, and much occupation, and difficulties such that even those sitting to judge outsiders do not bear them; for even to find justice itself is a task, and having found it, not to corrupt it is difficult. Nor is it only occupation and difficulty, but there is also no small danger involved. For already some of the weaker ones, having fallen into the affairs, since they did not obtain protection, have made shipwreck concerning the faith. For many of those who have been wronged, no less than those who have wronged them, hate those who do not help them; and they do not wish to consider either the distortion of affairs, or the harshness of the times, or the measure of priestly power, or anything else of this kind; but they are inexorable judges, knowing only one defense: their release from the evils that afflict them. And the one who is unable to provide this, even if he speaks countless excuses, will never escape their judgment. And since I have mentioned protection, come, let me also reveal to you another cause of complaints. For if the one who holds the episcopacy does not go around the houses more than the market-goers every day, untold grounds for offense arise from this. For not only those who are sick, but also those who are well, desire to be visited, not because their piety calls them to this, but because the majority are striving more for honor and rank. And if it ever happens that one of the wealthier and more powerful, due to some pressing need, is seen [by the bishop] more frequently for the common gain of the Church, immediately from this, the reputation of fawning and flattery is cast upon him. And why do I speak of protection and visits? For from greetings alone, they bring such a burden of accusations that [the bishop] is often weighed down and falls into despair; and already they are held accountable even for a glance. For the things done by them simply are thoroughly examined by the majority, and a measure...
I should be the first to arrive to pass judgment on the accusers, I would have committed a most grievous injury, having spurned such wonderful and great men, and in addition to them, benefactors. For if it is worthy of punishment to harm those who have done no wrong, how must one honor those who have chosen to honor one of their own accord? For no one could say that, because they received some small or great benefit from me, they were merely paying back the return for those benefits. How much would it not be worthy of punishment to repay them with the opposite? But if we never even let this enter our minds, but rather avoided the heavy burden with a different intention, why do our accusers, failing to show leniency if they are unwilling to show approval, charge us with having spared our own souls? For I was so far from insulting those men that I would say I had even honored them by my refusal. And do not marvel if what I say is paradoxical; for I shall bring forward a swift resolution to this as well.
At that time, indeed, even if not everyone, yet those who find pleasure in speaking ill would have had much both to suspect and to say concerning me, who had been ordained, and concerning those who had chosen me; for instance, that they look toward wealth, that they admire nobility of birth, that, persuaded by flattery from us, they brought us forward to this position; and if anyone were even suspecting that it was because they were persuaded by money, I have not the means to say. And Christ called fishermen, tentmakers, and tax collectors to this authority; but these men hold in contempt those who are nourished by their daily labor; but if someone should touch upon the learning of the outsiders and be nourished in idleness, this person they welcome and admire. For why on earth did they overlook the thousands who endure sweat for the needs of the Church, and drag a man who has never tasted of such labors, but has spent his whole life in the vain toil of external learning, suddenly into this honor?
I would have had these things, and more than these, to say, had we accepted the ministry. But not now; for every pretext for slander against them is cut off, and they have neither flattery to charge against me nor mercenary gain against them, unless some should simply wish to be mad. For how would he who flatters and spends money in order to obtain honor, when he had to obtain it, leave it to others? For this would be similar to if someone, having endured many labors upon the land so that his field might be heavy with much fruit, and his winepresses overflow with wine, after a thousand sweats and the great expense of money, when it was time to glean and harvest, should at that point yield the crops' yield to others. You see that at that time, even if what was said was far from the truth, yet those who wished to slander them had a pretext, as though they had not made the choice through a correct judgment of reasons. But we have now not allowed them even to gape or simply to open their mouths. And the things said at the beginning would have been of such a sort, and more than these. But after taking up the ministry, we would not have sufficed to make apology daily to those who accused us, even if everything were done by us without sin, let alone when we would have been compelled to err in many things through both inexperience and age. But now we have relieved them of even this accusation, whereas then we would have involved them in a thousand reproaches. For what would they not have said? They entrusted matters so wonderful and great to foolish children, they ruined the flock of God, the things of the Christians have become playthings and a laughingstock! But now, *Every iniquity shall stop her mouth* (Ps. CVII, 42). For even if they should say these things on account of you, yet you will quickly teach them through your deeds that it is not right to judge understanding by age, nor to approve the old man by the gray hair, nor by all means to exclude the youth from such a ministry, but rather the novice. But great is the distance between both.
BOOK THREE.
CONCERNING WHAT IS CONTAINED IN THE THIRD BOOK. a'. That those who suspected that we declined from arrogance were mistaken in their own understanding. b'. That we did not flee even because of vainglory. c'. That if we were desiring glory, we ought to have chosen the matter instead. d'. That the priesthood is fearful, and the new is far more fearful than the ancient worship. e'. That the power and honor of the priests is great. f'. That the ministries are among the greatest gifts from God. g'. That even Paul was fearful, looking to the magnitude of the authority. h'. That often one is led to sin, having come into the midst, unless one is very courageous. i'. That vainglory and one who is caught by this is in a terrible state. j'. That the priesthood is not the cause of these things, but our own sloth. k'. That the desire for authority must be expelled from the soul of the priests.a'. Regarding, then, the insult toward those who had honored us, and that we fled this honor because we were unwilling to put them to shame, we might have these things to say, which we have stated; but that we were not puffed up by any arrogance, A even this I will now attempt to make clear to you to the best of my ability. For if the choice of a generalship or of a kingdom had been set before us, if I had had this opinion, one might reasonably have suspected this, or then no one would have judged us of arrogance, but everyone of folly; but of the priesthood...
403 he became king, not by his own seeking, but he went forth to search for the donkeys, and in regard to these he was coming to ask the prophet, but he discoursed with him about the kingdom. And not even then did he rush forward, although hearing it from the prophet’s own mouth, but he even shrank back and declined, saying: "Who am I, and what is my father’s house?" What then? Since he made poor use of the honor given him by God, was he able to free himself from the anger of Him who had made him king by these words? And yet he might have said to Samuel when he rebuked him: "For did I rush toward the kingdom? Did I leap upon this power? I wished to live the life of a private citizen, free of troubles and quiet, but you drew me to this office. Remaining in that humility, I would easily have avoided these stumbles. For I would not surely have been sent on this task, being one of the many and obscure, nor would God have entrusted to me the war against the Amalekites; and not having been entrusted with it, I would never have committed this sin." But all these things are weak for a defense, and not only weak, but even dangerous, and rather kindling the wrath of God. For he who has been honored with a dignity must not put forward the greatness of the honor as a defense for his sins, but must use God’s great care for him for the advancement of a greater improvement. But because he had obtained a higher office, the fact that he thought it was permitted for him to sin, showed nothing other than that he sought to make God’s own philanthropy the cause of his own sins—which it is always the custom of the impious and those who manage their own lives lazily to say. But it is not right for us to be so disposed, nor to fall into the same madness as they, but everywhere to strive to contribute what is in our power, and to have a tongue and mind of good report. For not even Eli—that we may leave the kingdom and come now to the priesthood, about which our discourse is—strove to acquire the office. What then did this help him when he sinned? And what do I say "acquire"? For it was not even possible for him to escape, if he had wished, because of the necessity of the law; for he was of the tribe of Levi, and the office had to be received through the lineage descending from above. But yet, even he paid no small penalty for the wantonness of his children. And what of the first man who became the priest of the Jews, about whom God spoke so much to Moses? Since he was not able alone to stand against the madness of such a multitude, did he not come near to being destroyed, had not the intercession of his brother appeased the wrath of God? And since we have remembered Moses, it is good to demonstrate the truth of the argument from the things that happened to him. For this very blessed Moses was so far from grabbing the leadership of the Jews that he even refused it when it was offered, and when God ordered him to accept, he refused, and provoked the One commanding him. And not only then, but even after he came to the office, he would gladly have died to be released from it; "Kill me," he says, "if you are going to do this to me." What then? Since he sinned at the water, were these continuous refusals able to plead for him and persuade God to grant pardon? And from where else was he deprived of the promised land? From nowhere else, as we all know, but because of this sin, 404 through which that wonderful man was not able to attain to the things of those he led; but after many contests and hardships, after that unspeakable error, and the wars and the trophies, he died outside the land for which he had labored so much; and having endured the things of the open sea, he did not enjoy the good things of the harbor. You see how, not only for those who seize it, but not even for those who come to this through the zeal of others, is any defense left in cases where they stumble. For where those who refused the one who was ordaining them for God many times paid such a penalty, and nothing was able to save either Aaron, or Eli, or that blessed man, the saint, the prophet, the wonderful one, the meekest of all those on the earth, he who spoke to God as a friend, we—who are so far lacking in his virtue—would have leisure to be able to suffice for a defense, being conscious to ourselves of having sought nothing for this office? And especially when many of these ordinations do not come from divine grace, but also from the ambition of men. God chose Judas, and enrolled him in that holy choir, and entrusted the apostolic dignity to him along with the others; and He gave him something even more than the rest, the administration of the funds. What then? Because he used both of these things in opposition—the one he was trusted to preach he betrayed, and the one he was entrusted to manage well, these he spent wickedly—did he escape the punishment? For this very reason he wrought for himself a more grievous penalty; and very rightly so. For one must not make use of the honors given by God for offending God, but for pleasing Him more. But the one who, because he has been honored more than others, for this reason thinks to escape when he ought to be punished, acts in a manner similar to one of the unbelieving Jews who, having heard Christ saying that, "If I had not come and spoken to them, they would not have had sin; and if I had not done the signs among them, which no one else did, they would not have had sin," would reproach the Savior and Benefactor, saying: "For why did you come and speak? And why did you do signs, so that you might punish us more?" But these words are [the words] of madness and extreme derangement. For the Physician did not come to condemn you, but rather to heal; not that He might overlook you while sick, but that He might deliver you completely from the sickness. But you have willingly deprived yourself of His hands; accept then a more grievous punishment. For just as if you had yielded to the treatment, you would have been freed from the former evils, so because you fled when you saw Him arrive, you will no longer be able to wash away even these, and not being able, you will pay the penalty for them as well; and for what you made your zeal toward Him vain, so far as in you lies, for these reasons we do not endure an equal judgment before being honored by God and after the honors, but one much more severe later. For he who does not even become good by being treated well is the more righteously to be punished. Since then this defense has been shown to us to be weak, and not only does it not save those who take refuge in it, but it even betrays them more, we must procure another security. What, then, is this? BASIL said, "As for me, I am not even able to be within myself now, so fearful and trembling have you made me with these words." CHRYSOSTOM: "I beg and beseech you," I said, "do not throw yourself down so much. For there is, there is a security for us who are weak, never to fall, and for you who are strong..."
to have the hopes of salvation not suspended upon anything after the grace of God, except to 405 do nothing unworthy of this gift and of God who gave it." For those who, after attaining this office through their own eagerness, have abused the matter through sloth, or wickedness, or even through inexperience, would be worthy of the greatest punishment. Yet, it does not follow that any pardon is left for those who have not been eager; rather, even these are deprived of every excuse. For I think it is necessary, even if ten thousand people call and compel one, not to look to them, but first to examine one's own soul and, having scrutinized everything accurately, only then to yield to those who apply force. Truly, at present, no one would dare to promise to build a house, among those who are not builders, nor would anyone attempt to touch the bodies of the sick among those who do not know how to heal; indeed, even if many should push them by force, they would decline, and would not blush for their ignorance. Yet, when someone is about to be entrusted with the care of so many souls, he does not first examine himself, but, even if he were the most inexperienced of all, he will accept the ministry because so-and-so commands, and so-and-so compels, and to avoid offending so-and-so! And how will he not cast himself into an obvious evil along with them? For while he could have been saved by himself, now he destroys others along with himself. For from where is it possible to hope for salvation? From where is it possible to obtain pardon? Who will intercede for us at that time? The ones who are now offering violence and dragging us by necessity? But who will save these very people at that time? For they themselves also stand in need of others in order to escape the fire.
That I am not saying these things to frighten you now, but as the matter stands in truth, hear what the blessed Paul says to his disciple Timothy, his genuine and beloved child: "Lay hands suddenly on no man, neither be partaker of other men's sins." Do you see how we have freed from all blame, and not only from blame but also from punishment, those who propose to lead us into this?
B b'. For just as to those who have been chosen it is not sufficient for a defense to say, "I did not come forward of my own accord, nor, having foreknown it, did I fail to flee," so neither does it profit the ordainers at all if they say they were ignorant of the one they ordained; rather, for this very reason the crime becomes even greater, because they brought forward those whom they were ignorant of; and the apology that seems to exist increases the accusation. For how is it not absurd that, while those wishing to purchase a slave demand to see physicians, and ask for guarantors of the sale, and inquire of neighbors, and after all these things still do not feel confident, but even ask for a long time for trial—yet, when writing someone into so great a ministry, they should simply and randomly, if it seems good to so-and-so, approve him for the favor or hostility of others, without making any other examination? Who then will intercede for us at that time, when those who ought to stand [as our protectors] are themselves in need of protectors? It is necessary, then, for the one who is about to ordain to make a great investigation, but for the one being ordained to make a far greater one. For even if he has as partners in his punishment those 406 who chose him in the things in which he sins, nevertheless he himself is not exempt from the penalty, but indeed gives an even greater one, unless the electors acted contrary to what seemed reasonable to them due to some human cause. For if they should be C detected in this, and knowing the unworthy one, brought him forward for some pretext, the punishments for them are equal—or perhaps even greater for the one who installed an unfit person. For he who provided the authority to one who wishes to destroy the Church, he would be the cause of the things daringly committed by that person. But if he is not held accountable to any of these, but says he was deceived by the opinion of the multitude, he would not even then remain unpunished, but undergoes a slightly lesser penalty than the one he ordained. Why so? Because it is likely that those who chose him were deceived by false reputation, and so came to this; but the one chosen could no longer say, "I was ignorant of myself," as others might. As he is about to be punished more severely than those who brought him forward, so he needs to make his own self-examination more carefully; and even if they drag him unwillingly, he must teach the one approaching him accurately the reasons by which, having stopped those who are deceived and having proven himself unworthy of the trial, he will escape the weight of such great matters. For why, when a plan is proposed concerning military service, and trade, and farming, and other worldly matters, would neither the husbandman choose to sail, nor the soldier to farm, nor the pilot to serve in the army, even if someone should threaten ten thousand deaths? Is it not clear that it is because each one foresees the danger resulting from inexperience? Then, where the loss concerns small things, shall we use such great care, and not yield to the necessity of those using force; but where the punishment is eternal for those who do not know how to handle the priesthood, shall we simply and randomly undertake such a great danger, putting forward the force of others? But he who will be judging us at that time will not tolerate these things. For it was necessary to show much greater security concerning spiritual things than concerning carnal ones; but now we do not even find that we are providing equal care. For tell me, if, suspecting a man to be a carpenter when he is not a carpenter, we were to call him to the work, and he were to agree, and then, having taken hold of the material prepared for the building, he destroy the wood and destroy the stones, and work the house in such a way that it would collapse immediately, would the fact that he was compelled by others and did not come of his own accord suffice for his defense? No way; and quite reasonably and justly. For he ought, even if others call him, to jump away. Then, for the one destroying wood and stones there will be no refuge to avoid paying the penalty; but the one destroying souls, and building carelessly—does he think the necessity of others is enough for him D to escape? And how is this not very foolish? For I do not yet add that no one will be able to compel one who does not wish it. But let it be that he has endured ten thousand instances of force, and manifold devices, 407 in order to fall; will this then exempt him from the punishment? Do not, I beg you, do not deceive ourselves to such a degree, nor pretend to be ignorant of things clear even to mere children. For surely this pretense of ignorance will not be able to help us at the time of the accounting. You did not strive to accept this authority yourself, conscious of weakness in yourself? Well and good. It was necessary, then, with the same intent, to jump away even if others called. Or, when no one was calling, were you weak and unfit; but when those appeared who were to give the honor, did you suddenly become strong? These are jokes and nonsense, and worthy of the ultimate punishment. For it is for this reason that the Lord also warns not to...
ought first to lay the foundation, before he considers his own power, lest he should give to those present a myriad of pretexts for mocking him. A But for him, the damage goes only as far as laughter; here, however, the punishment is fire unquenchable, and the worm that dies not, and the gnashing of teeth, and the outer darkness, and being cut in two, and being placed with the hypocrites. But those who accuse us do not wish to see any of these things; for otherwise they would have ceased to reproach one who does not wish to be destroyed in vain. The deliberation before us is not concerning the stewardship of wheat and barley, nor of oxen and sheep, nor of other things of this sort, but concerning the very body of Jesus. For the Church of Christ, according to the blessed Paul, is the body of Christ (Coloss. 1. 18); and it behoves him who has been entrusted with this B to exercise it into great well-being and indescribable beauty, looking around everywhere—lest somewhere a spot, or a wrinkle, or some other blemish of this kind should defile the bloom and that comeliness. And what else is it to display it, to the extent of human power, as worthy of the Head set over it, the undefiled and blessed One? If for those who have taken pains with athletic fitness there is need of physicians, and of trainers, and of a regulated diet, and of constant exercise, and of a myriad of other observations (for even a chance thing overlooked among them has overturned and cast down all things), how shall they who have been allotted the duty of healing this body—which has the contest not against bodies, but against the invisible powers—be able to keep it entire and healthy, unless they greatly surpass human virtue, and know every treatment suitable for the soul?
3. Or art thou ignorant that this body is subject to more diseases and snares than our own flesh, and that it is more quickly corrupted and more slowly restored to health? And for those who heal those bodies, there is a variety of medicines C discovered, and different constructions of instruments, and foods, and suitable nourishing for the sick; and the nature of the air often suffices alone for the health of the invalid; and there is even where sleep falling at an opportune moment has relieved the physician of all toil. But here, nothing of these things can be devised; but one machine and one method of treatment has been given after the labor, namely, instruction through the word. This is the instrument, this is food, this is the best tempering of the air; this is in place of medicine, this is in place of fire, this is in place of iron; and if it be necessary to cauterize or to cut, it is necessary to use this; and if this avails nothing, all the rest results in nothing. By this we raise up the soul that is lying prostrate, and we calm it when it is inflamed, and we prune away the superfluous, and we fill in what is lacking, and we perform all the other things that contribute to the health of the soul for us. D For as regards an excellent manner of life, another life could lead one into an equal zeal; but when the soul is sick with bastard doctrines, there is great need of the word here, not only for the safety of one's own, but also against external wars. For if someone should possess the sword of the Spirit, and the shield of faith, so as to be able to work wonders, and through these miracles to stop the mouths of the shameless, he would have no need of help through the word; or rather, not even then is its nature useless, but rather very necessary. For indeed the blessed Paul handled it, though he was everywhere admired because of signs. And another of those from that choir exhorts one to take care of this power, saying: "Be ready for an apology to everyone who asks you for an account concerning the hope that is in you" (1 Petr. 3. 15). And all together at that time committed the stewardship of the widows to those around Stephen for no other reason than that they themselves might have leisure for the ministry of the word (Act. 6. 2). However, we shall not seek it in like manner, having the strength that comes from signs. But if of that power not even a trace is left, and many enemies are standing by on every side and are continuous, by this it is necessary for us henceforth to be fenced, both that we may not be struck by the darts of the enemies, and that we may rather strike them.
4. Wherefore great diligence must be taken, so that the word of Christ may dwell in us richly (Coloss. 3. 16). For our preparation is not for one kind of battle, but this war is varied, and is composed of different enemies. For neither do all use the same weapons, nor have they practiced attacking us in one way. And it behoves him who is about to undertake the battle against all to know the arts of all, and the same man to be archer and slinger, and commander and captain, and soldier and general, and infantry and cavalry, and sea-fighter and siege-fighter. For in military wars, whatever task each one takes upon himself, against this he defends himself against the attackers; here, however, this is not so; but unless he who is about to conquer is skilled in the forms of the art, the devil knows how to bring in his pirates even through one part, when it happens to be neglected, to carry off the sheep; but not when he perceives the shepherd coming with all of intelligence, and knowing all his snares well. Wherefore it is necessary to be well fenced from all parts. For a city, as long as it happens to be surrounded on all sides, mocks those besieging it, remaining in great safety; but if someone should cut through the wall even to the measure of a small gate, no benefit of the surrounding wall remains to it, even though the rest is all standing safely. Thus then also the city of God, whenever the sagacity and prudence of the shepherd surrounds it on all sides as a wall, all the machines end in shame and laughter for the enemies, and those living within remain unharmed; but when someone is able to break it down in part, even if he does not cast down the whole, through the part he damages all the rest, so to speak. For what if he strives well against the Gentiles, but Jews despoil him? Or if he prevails over both of these, but Manichaeans plunder him? And after overcoming these, those who introduce fate, standing B within, slaughter the sheep? And what need is there to recount all the heresies of the devil? Which if the shepherd does not know how to drive off well, the wolf could devour the greater part of the sheep even through one. And in the case of soldiers, one must always expect from those standing and fighting both the victory and the defeat; here, however, it is much the contrary. For often the battle against others has caused those who have not entered the fray at all, nor labored in the least, but are resting and sitting, to win; and the one not well trained in the exercise, being pierced by his own sword
A while having experience in these matters, becomes a laughingstock to his friends and to his enemies. For example—and I shall try to make clear to you by an example what I mean—those who have succeeded to the madness of Valentinus and Marcion, and all who suffer from the same disease as they, cast out the Law given by God to Moses from the catalogue of the divine Scriptures. The Jews, on the other hand, honor it so highly that even when the time forbids it, they are eager to observe everything, contrary to what seems good to God. But the Church of God, fleeing the intemperance of both, has walked the middle path; she is neither persuaded to submit to its yoke, nor does she endure denouncing it, but even praises it as having ceased, because it once served a purpose for a time. Therefore, he who is to contend against both must know this balance. B For if, wishing to instruct the Jews that they are no longer in the time of the old legislation, one begins to denounce it without restraint, he gives no small handle to those of the heretics who wish to disparage it; and if, in his eagerness to silence these, he praises it beyond measure and admires it as if it were necessary in the present time, he has opened the mouths of the Jews. Again, those who are maddened by the insanity of Sabellius, and those who rage with that of Arius, have both fallen from the sound faith through intemperance; and the name of Christian is applied to both. But if one were to examine their dogmas, C he would find the former to be no better than the Jews, except that they differ only over names, while the latter have a great similarity to the heresy of Paul of Samosata; and both are outside the truth. Therefore, the danger here too is great, and the way is narrow and constricted, hemmed in by precipices on both sides; and there is no small fear lest one, wishing to strike the one, be struck by the other. For if one says one Godhead, Sabellius 410 immediately drags the expression to his own debauchery; and if one divides it again, saying that the Father is one, the Son another, and the Holy Spirit another, Arius stands ready, dragging the difference in the persons to a change of substance. But one must turn away from and flee D both the impious confusion of the former and the frantic division of the latter, confessing one Godhead of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, but also adding the three hypostases; for in this way we shall be able to wall off the assaults of both. And it would be possible for you to recount many other entanglements against which, if one does not fight nobly and accurately, he will depart having received a thousand wounds.
5. What shall one say of the cavils from those within? For these are not slighter than the assaults from without; rather, they provide even more sweat for the teacher. A For some, out of curiosity, wish to inquire aimlessly and at random into things which it is neither possible to gain by learning, nor possible to learn at all. Others, again, demand of him an account of God’s judgments and are intent on measuring the great abyss—for "Thy judgments," it says, "are a great abyss." Regarding faith and conduct, you would find few who are diligent; but the majority are those who pry into and seek out things which it is neither possible to find, nor pleasing to God that they be sought. B For when we force ourselves to learn the things which He Himself did not wish us to know, we shall neither know them—for how could we, when God does not will it?—and the danger of our seeking will be all that remains for us. Yet, even when such things are the case, when someone with authority silences those who investigate these impossible questions, he has brought upon himself a reputation for conceit and ignorance. Therefore, it is necessary to use much prudence here as well, so that the presiding priest may both lead them away from these absurd questions C and escape the aforementioned causes. For all these things, nothing else has been given but the help of the word; and if he is bereft of this power, the souls of the men ordered under him—the weaker and more curious ones, I mean—will be in no better state than ships storm-tossed perpetually. Therefore, the priest must do everything to acquire this strength.
And Basil says, "What then? Did not Paul, you say, strive to have this virtue perfected in him, nor is he ashamed at the poverty of his speech, but even explicitly confesses himself to be an D unlearned man, even while writing to the Corinthians, who are admired for their speaking and think highly of themselves for this?"
6. CHRYSOSTOM. This, I said, is the very thing which has destroyed many and made them more slothful regarding true teaching. For since they have not been able to examine accurately the depth of the apostolic mind, nor grasp the meaning of the words, they have passed all their time dozing and yawning and honoring this ignorance—not the one that Paul says he is "unlearned" in, but one from which he was as far removed as no other man under this heaven. 411 But let this discussion await a time; for now, I say this: let us suppose him to be unlearned in this respect, which they themselves want—what then is this to the men of the present day? For he had a power much greater and more abundant than that of mere speech, which was able to accomplish things; for merely by appearing and keeping silent, he was fearful to the demons. But those of today, all gathered together with thousands of prayers and tears, would not be able to do what the handkerchiefs of Paul sometimes achieved. And Paul, by prayer, raised the dead and performed other such miracles that he was even thought to be a god by those on the outside; and before he departed from this life, he was deemed worthy to be caught up to the third heaven and to share in words which it is not permitted for human nature to hear. But those who live now— (and I can say nothing harsh or heavy; for I do not say these things to attack them now, but in admiration)—how do they not shudder when comparing themselves to such a man? For if, even leaving aside the miracles, we should come to the life of the blessed one, and examine his angelic conduct, and in this even more than in the signs you will see the athlete of Christ victorious. For what could one say of his zeal, his gentleness, 412 his constant dangers, his successive anxieties, his unceasing unrest on behalf of the Churches, his sympathy for the weak, his many tribulations, his newer persecutions, his daily deaths? For what place of the inhabited world, what continent, what sea, has not known the struggles of this righteous man? Even the uninhabited world knew him, having received him often as he faced danger. For he endured every kind of plot,
A and in every way he strode toward victory; for he never ceased, whether struggling or being crowned. But for my part, I do not know how I was led to insult the man. For all his accomplishments surpass speech, and they surpass our speech by as much as we ourselves are known to be deficient in speaking. Yet even so—for the blessed one will judge us not by the outcome, but by the intention—I will not desist until I say this, which is as much superior to what has been said as he himself is superior to all men. What, then, is this? After so many accomplishments, after ten thousand crowns, he prayed to depart into hell and to be delivered to eternal punishment, for the sake of the Jews—the very ones who had often stoned him and killed him, at least as far as they were concerned—that they might be saved and draw near to Christ. Who has longed for Christ like this? If indeed "longing" is the right word, and not something much more than longing. Are we, then, to compare ourselves to him after such grace as he received from above, after such virtue as he demonstrated from his own resources? And what could be more audacious than this? B That he was not an "unlearned man" (idiōtēs), as these people think, this too I shall endeavor to prove. For they call an "unlearned man" not only one who is untrained in the artifice of secular speech, but also one who does not know how to fight for the doctrines of the truth; and they think rightly. But Paul said that he was an unlearned man in neither, only in the one; and by making this qualification he made the definition precise, saying that he was "unlearned in speech," but not in knowledge. If I were demanding the fluency of Isocrates, or the weightiness of Demosthenes, or the gravity of Thucydides, or the sublimity of Plato, I would have to bring forward this testimony of Paul; but now I set all those things aside, and the elaborate ornamentation of secular speech, and I care nothing for style or diction. Let it be permitted even to be poor in speech, and for the structure of the words to be simple and natural, provided that no one is an "unlearned man" in knowledge and in the accuracy of the doctrines; nor, in order to cover his own laziness, should one deprive that blessed man of the greatest of good things and the pinnacle of his praises.
7. Paul was eminent not only in miracles but in the art of speaking
C Why then, tell me, did he confound the Jews living in Damascus, when he had not yet begun performing signs? Why did he prevail over the Hellenists? And why was he sent away to Tarsus? Was it not because he was conquering by superior force of argument, and pressing them to such a degree that they were even driven to fury, not bearing the defeat? For at that time he had not yet begun to work miracles, nor would anyone be able to say that the crowds considered him admirable because of his reputation for wonders, and that those who fought against him were stung by the high opinion in which the man was held; for up to that point he was prevailing by speech alone. And in Antioch, when he was contending against those who were attempting to Judaize, what was the source of his struggle and debating? And that Areopagite, from that most superstitious city, did he not follow him along with his wife because of his public speaking alone? And Eutychus, how did he fall from the window? Was it not because he was occupied with the word of his teaching until the deep of night? What of what happened in Thessalonica and in Corinth? What about what happened in D Ephesus and in Rome itself? Did he not spend entire days and nights in succession on the explanation of the Scriptures? What could one say of his debates against the Epicureans and the Stoics? For if we were to wish to recount everything, our discourse would fall into a great length. When, therefore, he appears to have been using speech abundantly both before the signs and in the midst of them, how will they still dare to call "unlearned" the man who was most especially admired by all for his debating and public speaking? For why did the Lycaonians perceive him to be Hermes? For to be thought of as gods themselves came about from the signs, but that he in particular was Hermes did not come about from those, but from his speech. And in what way did this blessed man surpass the other apostles? And whence is he in everyone’s mouth throughout the whole inhabited world? Whence is he admired not only by us, but also by Jews and Greeks, most of all? Is it not from the virtue of his Epistles, through which he has benefited and will continue to benefit not only the faithful of that time, but also those who have come into being from that day to this, and those who are yet to be until the final coming of Christ? And he will not cease doing this as long as the race of men remains. For just as a wall constructed of adamant, so his writings fortify the Churches of the inhabited world everywhere; and like some most noble champion, he stands even now in the midst, taking captive every thought to the obedience of Christ and destroying speculations and every lofty thing raised up against the knowledge of God. And all these things he accomplishes through the Epistles which he has left us, A filled with marvelous and divine wisdom. His writings are fit for us not only for the refutation of spurious doctrines and the safeguarding of the genuine, but they also contribute no small part to living well. For those who preside over the Churches even now make use of these to regulate and mold the chaste virgin whom he betrothed to Christ, and to lead her toward spiritual beauty. By these, too, the diseases that attack her are warded off, and the health that she receives is maintained. Such are the medicines this "unlearned man" left us, possessing such power, the experience of which those who use them constantly know well. And that he himself made this part a subject of much diligence is evident from these things.
8. Paul wishes this also to be practiced by us
B Hear also what he says in his letter to the disciple: "Give attention to reading, to exhortation, to teaching." And he adds the fruit of this, saying: "For in doing this you will save both yourself and those who hear you." And again: "A servant of the Lord must not quarrel, but be gentle to all, able to teach, patient when wronged." And proceeding further he says: "But you, remain in the things which you have learned and have been assured of, knowing from whom you have learned them, and that from childhood you have known the holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise unto salvation." And again: "All Scripture is breathed out by God," he says, "and is profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete." Hear also, when he is discussing with Titus the appointment of bishops, what he sets forth.
For, he says, the bishop must be holding fast to the faithful word as he has been taught, so that he may be able both to exhort A with sound doctrine and to convict those who contradict. How then, being a layman, as these men say, will he be able to convict those who contradict and stop their mouths? And what need is there to attend to reading and to the Scriptures if one must embrace this layman-status? These are excuses and pretenses, and masks for laziness and sloth. But, he says, these things are prescribed for the priests; for our argument now concerns priests. But that this applies to those who are governed as well, listen to what he again enjoins upon others in another Epistle: "Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom." And again: "Let your speech always be with grace, seasoned with salt, that you may know how you ought to answer each one." And it is said that all should be ready for an apology. And writing to the Thessalonians, he says, "Edify one another, even as you also do." But when he speaks of priests, "Let the elders who rule well be counted worthy of double honor, especially those who labor in word and doctrine." For this is the most perfect 414 boundary of teaching, when, by what they do and by what they say, they lead their disciples toward the blessed life which Christ has ordained. For doing is not sufficient for teaching. And the word is not mine, but that of the Savior Himself: "For whoever," He says, "shall do and teach, he shall be called great." If doing were the same as teaching, the second would be superfluous; for it would have sufficed to say, "Whoever shall do" only; but now, by distinguishing both, He shows that one belongs to works, the other to the word, and that each requires the other for perfect edification. Or do you not hear what the elect vessel of Christ says to the elders of the Ephesians? "Therefore watch, remembering that for three years night and day I did not cease to admonish every one of you with tears." For what need is there of tears, or of admonition through words, if his apostolic life were shining so brightly for him? But as for the practice of the commandments, he might be able to contribute a great part for us; for I would not say that he alone perfects everything there.
B 9. But when a struggle is stirred up concerning doctrines, and all contend from the same Scriptures, what power will such a life be able to demonstrate there? What is the benefit of many toils, when after those labors someone, through great inexperience, having fallen into heresy, is cut off from the body of the Church? Which I know many have suffered. What profit is there for him in endurance? None; just as there is none for sound faith, if the conduct is corrupted. For this very reason, one who is tasked with teaching others must be, most of all, experienced in such struggles. For even if he himself stands in safety, suffering no harm from those who contradict, yet the multitude of the simpler ones, who are arranged under him, when they see their leader defeated and having nothing to say to those who contradict, do not blame the weakness of the one who is defeated C, but the rottenness of the doctrine; and because of the inexperience of one man, the great crowd is carried down into ultimate destruction. For even if they do not entirely befriend the opponents, yet they are forced to doubt concerning those things about which they had confidence, and those things to which they approached with unswerving faith, they can no longer attend to with the same steadfastness; but such a storm is brought into their souls from the defeat of the teacher, that the evil ends even in shipwreck. And how great is the destruction, and how much fire is gathered unto that wretched head for each one of these who are perishing, you will have no need to learn from me, as you know everything precisely yourself. Is this then not madness, this not vanity, not to be willing to be the cause of such destruction for so many, nor to procure for myself a greater punishment than that which is now stored up there? And who could say these things? No one, unless one were to wish to blame in vain, and to philosophize upon the misfortunes of others.
FIFTH BOOK
[415] CONTENTS OF THE FIFTH BOOK.
1. That public homilies require much labor and diligence. 2. That he who is appointed to this must despise praises and be able to speak. 3. That if he lacks both, he will be useless to the multitude. 4. That he must especially despise envy. 5. That he who knows how to speak has need of more diligence than the unlearned. 6. That one must neither fully despise nor fully care for the irrational vote of the many. 7. That one must regulate words only toward that which pleases God. 8. That he who does not despise praises will undergo many evils.
1. How much experience a teacher needs for the struggles on behalf of the truth has been sufficiently demonstrated by us; but I have something else to say beyond these things, which is the cause of myriad dangers. Or rather, I would not say that this is the cause, but those who do not know how to use it D well; since the thing itself becomes a provider of salvation and many goods, when it finds those who are ministered to as men who are earnest and good. What then is this? The great labor consumed upon the discourses held publicly to the people. For first of all, the majority of those who are governed do not desire to be disposed toward the speakers as toward teachers, but, having passed beyond the order of students, they take up the rank of spectators of those who are sitting in the contests outside. And just as there the multitude is divided, and some attach themselves to this one, others to that one; so indeed here, being divided, some are on the side of this one, others on the side of that one, listening to what is said either for favor or for hatred. And this is not the only difficult thing, but another no less than this. For if it happens that some of those
who are being spoken of have some part of the labors of others woven into their own discourses, they undergo greater reproaches than those who steal money; and often, without having received anything from anyone, but merely by being suspected, they suffer the fate of those who have been caught. A And why do I speak of the labors of others? He cannot constantly use his own discoveries upon himself. For the multitude are not accustomed to listen for their own benefit, but for pleasure, just like those sitting as judges of tragedians or lyre players. And the power of the discourse, which we just described, becomes so desirable here that it is not even so for sophists when they are forced to contend with one another.
B A noble soul is therefore needed here as well, and one far surpassing our own insignificance, in order to curb the unruly and useless pleasure of the crowd, and to be able to turn the hearing toward what is more beneficial, so that the people may follow and yield to him, rather than he being led by their desires. It is impossible to attain this except through these two things: the disdain for praise and the power of speech. For if the one is absent, the remaining one becomes useless by the severance of the other. For if while holding praise in contempt, he does not offer teaching seasoned with grace and salt, he becomes an object of contempt to the majority, having gained nothing from that greatness of soul; and if he successfully manages this part, but happens to be overcome by the glory that comes from applause, his situation falls back into the same state of harm, both for himself and for the people, since he practiced speaking for the sake of the hearers rather than for their benefit, due to his desire for praise. And just as he who neither experiences any reaction to acclamations, nor knows how to speak, neither yields to the pleasures of the multitude, nor can bestow any significant benefit, because he has nothing to say; so also is he who is drawn by the desire for praise: having the means by which he could make the many better, he provides instead those things that are able to delight them, buying by these means the tumults of the applause.
C The excellent leader must therefore be strong from both sides, so that one does not overthrow the other. For when he stands in the midst and says things capable of stinging those who live sluggishly, if he then stumbles and is interrupted, and is forced to blush because of his poverty [of speech], the gain from what was said immediately dissipates. For those who have been rebuked, feeling pain at what was said, and having no other way to avenge themselves against him, pelt him with taunts of ignorance, thinking by these to cast a shadow over their own reproaches. Therefore, like an excellent charioteer, it is necessary that he arrive at precision in both of these virtues, so that he may use both for the necessity at hand. For when he himself becomes blameless to all, then he will be able to use such authority as he wishes both to punish and to relax those who are set under him; but before this, it is not easy to do these things. And greatness of soul must not be shown only until D the contempt of praise, but must also proceed further, so that the profit may not again be incomplete.
4. What other thing, then, must he also disdain? Envy and jealousy. He must neither fear and tremble excessively at untimely accusations (for it is necessary for the one who is in charge to endure unreasonable blame), nor must he simply overlook those brought against us by whoever happens to bring them, but should try to dispel them quickly. For nothing increases a reputation, whether evil or good, so much as the unruly crowd; for it is accustomed to listen and speak without judgment, simply blurting out whatever comes to mind, paying no regard to the truth. For these reasons, one must not disdain the many, but immediately cut off the evil suspicions at their inception, convincing those who are making accusations, even if they should be the most irrational of all, and omitting nothing at all that can dispel an ill reputation. But if, even when we have done everything, those who are venting their complaints do not wish to be convinced, then it is time to feel contempt. For if one is quick to humble himself before these occurrences, he will never be able to accomplish anything noble and admirable; for despondency and constant worries are terrible things for casting down the strength of the soul and leading it to the utmost weakness. Therefore, the priest must be disposed toward those under his charge just as a father would be disposed toward very young children; and just as we do not take heed of them when they are insulting, or striking, or wailing, nor, when they laugh and rejoice with us, do we ever think of it as a great thing, so also must he neither be puffed up by their praises, nor cast down by their reproaches when they happen untimely. But this is difficult, O blessed one, and perhaps, I think, even impossible. For not to rejoice in being praised is something I do not know if any man has ever achieved; and it is likely that he who rejoices in them also desires to enjoy them; and it is of necessity that he who desires to enjoy them in any case must also be grieved, turn away, be troubled, and suffer pain in their failure. For just as those who rejoice in wealth are grieved when they fall into poverty, and those who are accustomed to luxury would not endure to live simply; so also those who are in love with praises, not only when they are blamed for no reason, but also when they are not praised constantly, are corrupted in their soul as if by some famine, and especially when they happen to have been nurtured on them, or if they hear others being praised. And for one who has entered the struggle of teaching with this desire, how many troubles and how many pains do you think he has? Neither can the sea ever be without waves, nor his soul without cares and grief.
5. For even when he has great power in speaking (and this one would find in few), not even then is he constantly free from making it an object of display. Since speech is a matter not of nature, but of learning, even if one reaches the peak of it, it then leaves him desolate unless he cultivates this power with constant zeal and exercise. So the labor is greater for the more learned than for the more ignorant.
A For the loss is not the same for these as it is for those, but it is greater in proportion to the difference between the two possessions. One could not blame the latter, since they offer nothing worthy of mention; but as for the former, if they do not always provide something greater than the reputation which everyone holds of them, many accusations follow from all sides. In addition to this, the former might receive great praise even for small things, while the latter’s work, unless it is truly admirable and astonishing, is not only bereft of eulogy but has many who complain against it. B For the hearers do not judge what is said, as they do the reputations of those who speak. Thus, when someone excels all others in speaking, he has the greatest need of diligent effort of all; for that common condition of human nature—the failure to succeed in everything perfectly—is not permitted to him. But if what is said does not correspond in every way to the grandeur of the opinion held of him, he departs having received countless scoffs and complaints from the many. C And no one considers within himself that despondency and anxiety and worry, and often even anger, have darkened the clarity of his mind and prevented what was produced from emerging purely; and that, being human, it is impossible for a man to be the same at all times, nor to succeed in everything, but it is likely that he will sometimes falter and be shown to have less than his own inherent power. None of these things, as I said, are they willing to consider; rather, they bring their charges as if they were judging an angel. And besides, by nature a man overlooks his neighbor’s achievements, even if they are many and great; but if a fault appears anywhere, even if it is a random one, or one that has occurred after a long time, he perceives it quickly, holds onto it readily, and remembers it forever; and this small and trivial thing has often diminished the reputation of many great ones.
D 6. You see, dear friend, that the one who is capable of speaking needs more zeal, and in addition to zeal, such long-suffering as none of those whom I mentioned to you before required. For many attach themselves to him constantly, pointlessly and for no reason, and having nothing to blame him for except the fact that he is held in high esteem by all, they conceive a hatred for him. And he must bravely endure their bitter envy. For they are unable to conceal this accursed hatred which they gather for no reason; they revile and complain and slander in private, and act maliciously in public. A soul that begins to feel pain and becomes aggravated at each of these things would not be long in being corrupted by grief. For they do not only defend themselves against him, but they also attempt to do this through others; and they often choose those who are unable to say anything, and they puff them up with praises and admire them beyond their merit—some doing this out of madness alone, others out of ignorance and envy, so that they may pull down his reputation, not because they demonstrate the other to be admirable when he is not. And his struggle is not only against these A but often against the inexperience of the whole crowd. For since it is not possible that all those in the assembly are drawn from men of stature, but it happens that the greater part of the Church is gathered from the simple-minded, and the rest—who themselves are more intelligent than those, but much further removed from being able to judge speeches than all the others—are such that only one or two have attained this virtue, it is necessary for the one who has spoken best to carry away fewer rounds of applause, or sometimes even to depart without having been praised at all. B And one must be bravely prepared for these irregularities, and show indulgence to those who suffer this out of ignorance, while weeping for those who endure it out of envy as being wretched and pitiable, and yet never consider his own power to have been diminished by either of these. For if a painter who is excellent and surpasses all in his art were to see his portrait, drawn with great precision, mocked by those who are ignorant of the art, he ought not to collapse and believe his painting to be worthless because of the judgment of those who do not know, just as he also should not consider a truly worthless one to be something admirable and desirable because of the astonishment of the unskilled.
7. Let the excellent creator himself be the judge of his own handiwork, and let him weigh the results as good or bad when the mind that brought them into being possesses these votes; but the opinion of those outside, which is wandering and unskilled, should never be brought into his mind. C Therefore, let not one who has undertaken the struggle of teaching pay attention to the plaudits of outsiders, nor let him cast down his own soul because of them; but, fashioning his words as would please God—for this, and not applause or eulogies, must be his sole standard and rule for his own excellent creation—if he is indeed praised by men, let him not drive away the eulogies, but if the hearers do not provide them, let him not seek them, nor feel pain; for a sufficient consolation for his labors, and greater than all else, is when he can be conscious to himself that he is composing and regulating his teaching for the sake of pleasing God.
8. For if he happens to be caught by the desire for the praises of the irrational, then his many labors are of no profit to him, nor is his power in speaking. For the soul that cannot bear the foolish censures of the many is unstrung, and casts aside its zeal for speaking. D For this reason, it is necessary above all to be trained to despise praises; for it is not enough to know how to speak to preserve this power, unless this is also present. If one wishes to examine precisely the man who is established even in the lack of this virtue, he will find him needing to despise praises no less than this man. For he will be forced to commit many errors, having become inferior to the reputation of the many. For, lacking the strength to be equal to those who are well-regarded in the virtue of speaking, he will not refrain from plotting and being envious of them, and complaining pointlessly, and behaving immodestly in many such ways, but he will dare all, even if it is necessary to lose his soul, in order to bring their reputation down into the wretchedness of his own baseness. And in addition to these, he will desist from the labors of working, like as if a numbness had been cast upon his soul. For to labor much and reap fewer eulogies is enough to cast down and turn toward deep sleep one who is unable to despise eulogies. For just as the farmer, when he is working in thin-soiled land and is forced to plow through rocks…
[GREEK COLUMN] to cultivate, he quickly desists from the toil, unless he possesses great zeal for the matter, or has the fear of famine hanging over him. For if those who are able to speak with great authority [420] require such exercise for the preservation of their estate, how great a hardship, how great a clamour, how much confusion will he endure, who has gathered nothing at all, but is compelled to practice in the very midst of the contests, in order that he might be able to gather some small thing with great toil? And if one of those placed under him, and who has attained a lower rank, is able in this respect to appear more distinguished than him, a certain divine soul is required in this case, so that he is not overcome by envy, nor falls into despondency. For to be surpassed by those who are inferior, while one is established in a higher rank, and to bear it nobly, would require not an ordinary soul, nor even one like ours, but one of adamant. And if the one who excels is gentle and very moderate, the passion becomes tolerable in some way; but if he is also bold and arrogant and vainglorious, one must pray for death for that man every day; so bitterly will he make his life, openly trampling upon him, secretly mocking him, tearing away much of his authority, wishing himself to be everything. Yet in all such cases, the greatest security is possessed by the freedom of speech in speaking, and the zeal of the multitude for him, and being loved by all who are ruled. Or do you not know how great a love of words has now rushed into the souls of Christians, and that, most of all, those who practice these things are held in honor, not only among those outside B but also among those who are of the same faith? How then could anyone endure such shame, when, while he himself is speaking, all are silent, and consider themselves C to be burdened, and await the end of the discourse as if a certain respite from toils; but as for the other, even when he speaks at length, they listen with patience, and when he is about to stop they are displeased, and when he wishes to be silent they are provoked? For these things, even if they seem to you now to be small and contemptible, because they are untried, are nevertheless sufficient to extinguish zeal and to dissolve the strength of the soul, unless one has snatched himself away from all human passions, and practices to be disposed in the same way as the bodiless powers, who are not hunted by envy, nor by the love of glory, nor by any other such malady. If, therefore, there is any man such as to be able to trample upon this long-hunted and unconquerable and untamed beast—the praise of the many—and to cut off its many heads, or rather, not even to allow it to grow in the beginning, he will be able easily to repel these many assaults, and to enjoy a calm harbor; yet even if he is not rid of this, he scatters from his own soul a varied war, and constant clamor, and despondencies, and the mob of other passions. D Why is it necessary to recount the remaining difficulties, which no one could either tell or learn, unless he has himself been in the midst of the actual events?
BOOK SIX
[421] CONTENTS OF THE SIXTH BOOK. 1. That priests are subject to judgment for the sins of others. 2. That monks require greater precision. 3. That the monk enjoys greater ease than one who presides over the church. 4. That the priest has been entrusted with the care of the world (things that are frightening). 5. That the priest must be suitable for all things. 6. That monastic life is not as much of a sign of endurance as presiding well over a multitude. 7. That the exercise is not for the same purpose for him who is by himself and for him who is occupied in the midst. 8. That those who are by themselves reach the point of perfection more easily than those who care for many. 9. That one must not despise the opinion of citizens, even if it is false. 10. That it is a great thing to save oneself. 11. That much more grievous punishment remains for the sins of priests than for those of laymen. 12. That there is a representation of examples and of the pain caused by the expectation of the priesthood, and of the fear. 13. That the temptation of the devil is more grievous than any war.1. And matters here are such as you have heard; but how shall we bear those there, when for every one of those entrusted to us we are compelled to render an account? For the loss is not just up to the point of shame, but an eternal punishment awaits. The statement, "Obey those who lead you and submit, for they keep watch over your souls, as those who will render an account," if I have spoken of it before, yet I will not be silent even now; for the fear of this threat constantly shakes my soul. For if it is better for the one who causes only one, and the least, to stumble, to have a millstone hung about his neck and to be cast into the sea, and all who strike the conscience of the brethren sin against Christ himself; they who destroy not only one or two or three, but such great multitudes, what on earth will they suffer, and what punishment will they pay? For it is not possible to plead lack of experience, nor to take refuge in ignorance, nor to set forth necessity and force; but a layman would have sooner, if it were possible, used this refuge for his own sins, than those who preside for the sins of others. Why so? Because he who is appointed to correct the ignorance of others, and to announce the coming of the devilish war, will not be able to plead ignorance, nor say, "I did not hear the trumpet, I did not foresee the war." For it is for this that he was seated, as Ezekiel says, so that he might sound the trumpet for others, and announce the coming hardships. And for this reason, the punishment is inexorable, even if only one soul happens to be lost. For if, when the sword is coming, he does not blow the trumpet to the people, nor give warning, he says, and the sword coming takes away a soul, that one is taken away through its own iniquity, but I will seek its blood from the hand of the watchman. Cease, therefore, from pushing us into so inescapable a penalty. For our concern is not for a generalship, nor...
A for a kingdom, but for a matter that requires angelic virtue.
β'. For it is necessary that the priest’s soul be purer than the very rays of the sun, so that the Holy Spirit may never leave him destitute, and he may be able to say, "It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me." For if those who dwell in the desert, and are removed from the city and the marketplace and the tumults that arise from them, and who enjoy calm and havens at all times, are unwilling to feel secure B in the safety of that manner of life, but add ten thousand other safeguards—fencing themselves around on every side, and striving with great precision both to say and do everything so that they may be able to approach God with boldness and sincere purity, as far as human power allows—how much strength and force do you think the priest needs, so that he may be able to snatch his soul from every defilement and keep the spiritual beauty unharmed? For he needs much greater purity than they; and he who needs more is subject to more necessities than they, which can soil him if he does not, by continual vigilance and great strain, make his soul inaccessible to them. For the beauty of faces, and the effeminacy of movements, and the affectation of gait, and the inflection of voice, and the painting of the eyes, and the tinting of the cheeks, and the composition of braids, C and the dyeing of hair, and the luxury of garments, and the variety of gold, and the beauty of jewels, and the fragrance of perfumes, and all other things that the female sex practices are sufficient to disturb a soul if it has not toughened itself through a great austerity of temperance. But that one should be disturbed by these is not at all surprising; but that the devil should be able to strike and pierce the souls of men even through things contrary to these, this is a matter full of great astonishment and perplexity. For some, having fled these snares, have been captured by those who stand far removed from them. For both a neglected appearance, and unkempt hair, and dirty clothing, and an unadorned form, and a simple character, and an artless word, and an unpracticed gait, and an unshaped voice, and living in poverty, and being despised, and being unprotected, and solitude, first lead the one who looks on to pity, and from that to the last perdition.
γ'. And many, having escaped the former nets—those constructed through golds, and perfumes, and garments, and the rest that I mentioned—have easily fallen into these, which are so far removed from them, and have perished. When, therefore, both through poverty and through wealth, and through adornment and through a form that is carelessly disposed, and through manners both practiced and artless, and simply through all those things that I have numbered, the war is fanned in the soul of the one who is watched, and the engines D hem him in on all sides; from where will he be able to breathe, with so many traps set around him? What escape can he find—I do not say so as to not be captured by force (for this is not very difficult), but even to maintain the peace of his minor thoughts, avoiding the causes of ten thousand evils? For those that arise from women corrupt the rigor of temperance, and often cast one down, whenever one does not know how to be watchful at all times against such ambushes; while those that come from men, if one does not receive them with a great deal of magnanimity, he is caught by two contrary passions: by the servility of flattery and the folly of arrogance, being forced to bow to those who court him, and because of the honors from them, becoming puffed up against those who are lesser, and being pushed into the pit of mindlessness. These things have been stated by us; but how much harm they have, no one could effectively know without experience. For it is not only these, but things far more numerous and more dangerous than these, that must necessarily befall one who moves in the midst of the world. But he who chooses the desert has complete freedom from all these; and if at any time a strange thought suggests something of the sort to him, the fancy is weak and able to be quickly extinguished, because the fuel from observation is not applied to the flame from without. And the monk fears only for himself; but if he should be forced to take thought for others, it is for a very small number; and if there were even more, they are still fewer than those in the churches, and they provide cares for their superior that are much lighter—not only because of their small number, but because they are all removed from worldly affairs, and they have neither children, nor a wife, nor anything else of the sort to fret about. This has made them very obedient to their superiors and allowed the community to have a common dwelling, so as to be able to accurately observe and correct their failings, which is no small thing for the progress in virtue—the constant supervision of teachers.
δ'. But the greater number of those ranged under the priest are fettered by worldly cares, and this makes them more sluggish toward the work of spiritual things. Whence it is necessary for the teacher to sow, one might say, every day, so that by frequency the word may be able to be held fast by those who hear it. For excessive wealth, and the magnitude of power, and the listlessness that comes from luxury, and many other things in addition to these, choke the seeds that are sown; and often the density of the thorns does not even allow what is sown to reach the surface. And now, even an excess of affliction, the necessity of poverty, and constant insults, and other such things contrary to the former, lead one away from zeal for divine things; and of the sins, not even the hundredth part is possible to become manifest to them; for how, when most of them they do not even know by sight? And the matters regarding the people have such difficulty for him; but if one were to examine those regarding God, he will find these to be nothing; so much more and more precise is the zeal that those require. For the one who acts as an ambassador for the whole city—and what do I say, city? for the whole world—and begs God to be propitious to the sins of all, not only of the living, but also of the departed, what sort of man must he be?
I deem that even the boldness of Moses and Elijah is not yet enough for such intercession. For as one who has been entrusted with the whole world, and is himself a father to all, he approaches God in such a manner, praying that the wars A of all men everywhere may be extinguished, that troubles may be resolved, and asking for peace, for prosperous seasons, and for a speedy deliverance from all the evils hanging over each person, both privately and publicly. And it is necessary that he should differ from all those for whom he prays, in every respect, as much as it is fitting for one who is set in authority to differ from those under his protection.
But when he calls upon the Holy Spirit and brings about the most dread sacrifice, and is continuously in touch with the common Master of all, where shall we rank him, tell me? What purity and what piety shall we require of him? For consider what sort of hands must those be that administer these things, what sort of tongue that pours forth those words, and whose soul must be purer and holier than that one which has received so great a Spirit. At that moment, angels also stand by the priest, and the entire assembly of the heavenly powers cries out, and the place surrounding B the altar is filled to the honor of Him who is lying there. And this is sufficient to be convinced of, even from the things which are being performed. I have also heard someone relate once that a certain elder, a marvelous man, and one accustomed to seeing visions, mentioned that he had been counted worthy of such a sighting, and that at that time he suddenly saw a multitude of angels, as much as he was capable of seeing, clad in bright robes, and circling the altar and bending downward, just as one might see soldiers standing in the presence of a king. And I am persuaded. And another, too, related to me—not having learned it from someone else, but having been counted worthy to see and hear it himself—that when those who are about to depart from this life have been partakers of the mysteries in a pure conscience, when they are about to breathe their last, angels escort them and lead them away from here because of the things they have received. But you, do you not yet tremble to introduce such a soul to so holy a rite, and to promote to the dignity of the priests him who is clothed in filthy garments, if indeed Christ has cast him out from the rest of the company of the guests? For like light illuminating the world, the soul of the priest must shine; but ours has so much darkness wrapped around it from an evil conscience, that it is always sinking down and is never able to gaze with boldness upon its own Master. The priests of the earth are salt; 425 but who, except for those who are accustomed to love us beyond measure, would easily endure our folly and our inexperience in all things? For he needs to be not only as pure as befits one who has been counted worthy of such a ministry, but also very prudent and experienced in many things, and he must know everything worldly, of those who are tossed about in the midst of affairs, no less than those who have withdrawn from them, and more even than the monks who have taken to the mountains. For since it is necessary for him to converse with men, and they have wives, and bring up children, and possess servants, and are clothed in much wealth, and conduct public business, and are in positions of power, he must be versatile; I mean not crafty, not deceitful, not a flatterer, not a hypocrite, but full of much liberty and boldness, and also knowing how to descend for the sake of utility when the nature of the matter requires it, and to be kind and strict at the same time. For it is not possible to treat all those under one’s authority in one way; since even with physicians it is not good to treat all those who are sick with one remedy, nor for a pilot to know only one way of fighting against the winds. For this ship also is continuously surrounded by storms; and these storms do not attack only from without, but are also generated from within; and there is need of much condescension and precision.
Caput 5 et 6. Sacerdotem ad omnia aptum esse debere; major virtus in episcopo, quam in monacho requiritur.
5. But all these various things look to one end: the glory of God and the building up of the Church. Great is the struggle of the monks, and much is their toil; but if any one were to compare the labors of those men with a well-governed priesthood, he would find the difference to be as great as that which exists between a private citizen and a king. For there, even if the labor is great, the contest is a common one of the soul and the body—or rather, the greater part of it is achieved by the constitution of the body; and even if this is not strong, the zeal remains by itself, not having the power to proceed into action. For the intense fasting, and sleeping on the ground, and vigils, and neglecting to wash, and much sweat, and the rest that they practice for the harassment of the body, all pass away, as the one to be punished is not strong. But here the art is that of the soul, and it requires nothing of the well-being of the body in order to show its virtue. For what does bodily strength contribute to us in order that we may be neither arrogant, nor irascible, nor rash, but sober, temperate, and decent, and all the other things through which the blessed Paul completed the image of the best priest? But one could not say this regarding the virtue of the monk; but just as magicians need many tools, and wheels, and ropes, and swords, while the philosopher possesses the whole art lying within his soul, needing nothing from without; so it is here too. For the monk requires both bodily comfort and places 426 suitable for his life, so that they may not be too far removed from the conversation of men, and might have the quiet that comes from the wilderness, and furthermore, that they might not lack the best mixture of the seasons; for nothing is so unbearable to one who is worn out by fastings as the irregularity of the weather. As for the contention that they are forced to do all things themselves, I have no need to speak now. But the priest will not need any of these things for himself, but is undistracted and common to all who suffer no harm, having all knowledge stored away in the treasures of his soul. But if someone thinks that remaining to oneself and avoiding the conversation of the many...
A is a sufficient proof of endurance, he may perhaps say that this is a sign of it, but it is not a sufficient proof of all the courage that is in the soul. For the one who sits at the helm within the harbors does not yet give an accurate test of his art; but everyone would say that he who has been able to save the ship in the midst of the deep and the storm is an excellent pilot.
B 6. Therefore, we should not wonder at the monk either—not even to an excessive degree—because he remains to himself and is not disturbed, nor does he commit many or great sins; for he does not have those things that irritate and stir up the soul. But if a man has surrendered himself entirely to the multitudes, and has been forced to bear the sins of many, and yet has remained unswerving and firm, steering his soul as if in a calm during a storm, he would be worthy of being applauded and admired by all; for he has displayed a sufficient test of his own courage. Do not, therefore, yourself wonder if we, by fleeing the marketplace and the crowds of the many, do not have many who accuse us; for if I did not sin while sleeping, or did not fall while not wrestling, or was not struck while not fighting, one should not wonder. For tell me, who could speak against and reveal my wickedness? This ceiling and this small room? But they could not break into speech. Or my mother, who knows my affairs better than anyone? But, in fact, I have nothing in common even with her, nor have we ever come to a dispute. And if this had even happened, there is no mother so lacking in affection and so hateful to her child C as to slander and defame him before all—everyone whom she travailed with, brought forth, and reared—without any compelling excuse or force from anyone. Since, indeed, if someone wanted to test our soul for accuracy, he would find many things in it to be rotten, nor are you yourself ignorant of this, even though you are accustomed more than all others to lift us up with praises before everyone. And that I do not say these things now while using false modesty, remind yourself how often I said to you—a conversation of such a kind having frequently occurred between us—that if anyone were to put before me a choice of where I should rather prefer to be distinguished, in the administration of the Church or in the life of the monks, I would have chosen the former by a myriad of votes. For I never ceased to congratulate those who were able to preside well over that ministry. And that, in fact, what I congratulated I would not have avoided, had I been sufficiently capable of fulfilling it, no one will gainsay. But what am I to do? For nothing is as useless for the administration of the Church as this very idleness and lack of practice—which some think to be a sort of wonderful asceticism—but I use it, as it were, as a screen D for my own baseness, covering up the majority of my shortcomings with it and not allowing them to be seen. For the man who has grown accustomed to enjoying such ease and living in great tranquility, even if he is of a great nature, is disturbed and troubled by the lack of training, and cuts off no small part of his own power that is unexercised. And when he is simultaneously of a slow mind and inexperienced in such discourses and struggles—which is our case—he will differ in no way from stones, having accepted this office. For this reason, few from that wrestling school appear in these struggles; but the majority are exposed and fall, and endure things that are unpleasant and harsh. And nothing is unreasonable in this. For when the struggles and the exercises are not about the same things, the competitor who is untrained is no different from anyone else. One who comes into this stadium must especially despise glory, be above anger, and be full of much prudence. But for this man who loves the solitary life, no [E] object of training is presented. For he has neither many who irritate him, so that he may practice taming the power of his anger; nor those who praise and applaud him, so that he may be trained to loathe such praises from the many; and the prudence required in the Churches is not a matter of much concern to them. Therefore, when they come to the struggles for which they have not practiced the experience, they are at a loss, they grow dizzy, they fall into helplessness [F], and in addition to making no progress toward virtue, they often lose even what they had when they came.
7. And BASIL. What then? Shall we appoint to the administration of the Church those who are involved in the midst of things, and care for worldly matters, and have been worn down by battles and quarrels, and are full of myriad cunning, and know how to live in luxury? CHRYS. Speak well, I said, O blessed one. For these [G] should not even enter into the mind when there is a consideration of priests; but if anyone, while associating and living with everyone, could keep his purity and his imperturbability, and his holiness and his endurance and his sobriety, and the other goods pertaining to monks, more intact and unshaken than those isolated ones [H]; then—he who has many shortcomings but is able to cover them by seclusion and make them inactive by not mixing himself with anyone—coming into the midst, he will gain nothing else than to become an object of ridicule, and he will be in greater danger; which we almost suffered if the providence of God had not quickly removed the fire from our head. 428 For it is not possible for one so disposed to remain hidden when he stands in the open, but he is always tested [I], and just as fire tests metallic ores, so the trial of the clergy distinguishes the souls of men, and whether one is irascible, or small-minded, or a lover of glory, or a boaster, or whatever else, it reveals [J] all, and quickly lays bare his shortcomings; and it does not only lay them bare, but makes them even harsher and stronger. For even bodily wounds become difficult to heal by being rubbed, and the passions of the soul, by being pricked and irritated, are accustomed to grow more savage, and force those who have them to sin more. For it stirs the one who is not attentive toward a love of glory, and toward boasting, and toward the desire for money; and it draws him down toward luxury and toward comfort and sloth, and little by little toward things beyond these, and the evils born from these. For there are many things in the midst that can dissolve the precision of the soul and cut off [K] the race toward God; and first of all, the conversations with women. For it is not possible for the one who presides and
and overlook the women—who, being more prone to sin, especially require greater foresight; rather, one who has been allotted the charge of presiding over the episcopate must care for their well-being just as much as for that of the men. For it is necessary to visit them when they are sick, to console them when they grieve, to rebuke them when they are slothful, and to assist them when they are burdened. But when these things are done, the evil one would find many opportunities to slip in, unless one has fortified himself with strict vigilance. For even a glance strikes and disturbs the soul—not only that of a profligate woman, but that of a sober one too—and flatteries soften, and honors enslave; and fervent love, that very cause of all good things, has become the cause of countless evils to those who have not used it rightly. Furthermore, incessant cares have blunted the sharpness of the mind and made the winged spirit heavier than lead; and anger, too, when it has descended like smoke, has taken hold of everything within. What indeed could one say about the remaining injuries—the insults, the reproaches, the criticisms from superiors, from inferiors, from the sensible, and from the foolish?
9. For this very class of people, those who are deprived of sound judgment, is indeed prone to fault-finding, and would never easily endure an apology. But he who presides well must not disdain even these things, but must resolve the matters they complain about with great kindness and gentleness, rather sympathizing with them in their unreasonable criticism than being indignant and angry. For if the blessed Paul feared to fall under the suspicion of theft among his disciples, and for this reason took others into the ministry of funds—"in order," he says, "that no one should blame us in this abundance which is administered by us" (2 Cor. 8:20)—how must we not do everything so as to remove evil suspicions, even if they are false, even if they happen to be unreasonable, and even if they are far removed from our reputation? For we are by no means as far from any other sin as Paul was from theft. But though he was so far removed from this evil deed, he did not for all that neglect the suspicion of the many, although it was highly unreasonable and insane; for it would have been madness to suspect such a thing concerning that blessed and admirable head. Yet, none the less, he removed the causes of even this suspicion, so unreasonable and one which no one not deranged would have suspected; and he did not despise the folly of the many, nor say: "To whom would it ever occur to suspect such things about us, when all honor and admire us both for our signs and for the kindness in our life?" On the contrary, he both anticipated and expected this evil suspicion, and plucked it out by the roots; or rather, he did not even allow it to grow in the first place. Why? "For we take thought," he says, "for what is good, not only before the Lord, but also before men" (Rom. 12:17). Such diligence, or rather even greater, must be employed, so that we may not only stem and hinder reputations that are not good when they are raised, but also foresee them from afar, whence they might arise, and nip the pretexts from which they are born in the bud, and not wait for them to become established and be bruited about on the mouths of the many. For at that point it is neither easy to make them vanish—it is indeed highly difficult, or perhaps impossible—nor is it without injury to have this happen after the damage to the many. But for how long shall I not cease from pursuing the unreachable? For to recount all the difficulties there is nothing other than measuring the deep. For when a man himself is pure from every passion—which is among the impossibilities—in order to correct the failings of others, he is compelled to endure countless grievous things; and when one’s own ailments are added, behold the abyss of labors and cares, and how much he who wishes to overcome both his own evils and those of others is compelled to suffer.
10. And BASIL said: "But now, you have no struggle with these labors, nor do you have [these] cares, being by yourself." CHRYSOSTOM: "I have them, even now," I said; "for how is it possible, being a man and living this laborious life, to be free from cares and struggle? But it is not the same to fall into an infinite sea and to sail along a river; so great is the difference between these and those cares. For now, if I could be of use to others, I myself would wish it, and this would be a task for much prayer; but if it is not possible to benefit another, I shall be satisfied at least, if it be possible for me to save myself and deliver myself from the surge." Then, "Do you think this is a great thing," said BASIL, "and do you think you will be saved at all, while being useful to no one else?" CHRYSOSTOM: "Well and rightly," I said, "have you spoken; for I myself cannot believe that it is possible to be saved while exercising no effort toward one's neighbor's salvation. For that wretched man was not benefited one bit by not diminishing the talent, but he was even destroyed by not having increased it and brought it back doubled (Matt. 25:24). Nevertheless, I think my punishment will be more moderate for being accused of why I did not save others, than if I had destroyed both others and myself, becoming much worse after such an honor. For now I believe my punishment will be only as great as the magnitude of my sins requires; but after receiving the authority, [it would be] not only double or triple, but many times greater, by having scandalized more people, and by having stumbled against the God who honored me after a greater honor."
11. For this reason, too, in accusing the Israelites more harshly, He shows them to be worthy of greater punishment because they sinned after the honors bestowed upon them by Him, saying at one time: "You only have I known out of all the families of the earth; therefore I will punish you for your iniquities" (Amos 3:2); and at another: "I took from your sons for prophets, and from your young men for sanctification" (Id. 2:11). And before the prophets, wishing to show in the case of the sacrifices that sins incur a much greater punishment when committed by priests than when committed by private individuals, He commands...
that the sacrifice be offered for the priests as much as for the entire people. This denotes nothing else but that the wounds of the priest stand in need of greater help, and as much as the wounds of the entire people put together. And they would not require greater help if they were not more grievous; and they become more grievous, not by their nature, but by the dignity of the priest who presumes to commit them. And why do I speak of the men who are pursuing this ministry? For the daughters of the priests, who have no share in the priesthood, nevertheless, because of their paternal status, undergo a much more bitter punishment for their transgressions; and though the offense is equal for them as for the daughters of commoners, for both are defined as fornication, the penalty is far more severe for the former.
B 12. Do you see with what excess God demonstrates to you that He demands of the ruler a much greater punishment than of the ruled? For surely He who punishes the daughter of such a one more severely than others, because of him, and who will exact an account from him, as the cause of this addition of torments, not only to the many, but much more severely, does so! And very reasonably. For the harm does not stop with him alone, but also casts down the souls of the weaker ones who look to him. This is also what Ezekiel wished to teach when he distinguishes between the judgment of the rams and the sheep. Are we then to be thought to harbor a groundless fear? In addition to what has been said, even if I have need of much labor now so as not to be completely defeated by the passions of the soul, still I endure the labor and do not flee the struggle. For indeed, I am ensnared by vainglory even now, yet I frequently recover, and I perceive that I have been ensnared; and there are times when I even rebuke my enslaved soul. Improper desires indeed attack me even now, but they kindle a slower flame, as the eyes do not have external fuel for the fire from without; and as for speaking ill of someone, and hearing him spoken of, I have been delivered completely from this, as those who engage in such talk are not present; for surely these walls could not emit a voice. But it is not equally possible to escape anger, even though those who provoke it are not present. For the memory of improper men frequently coming to mind, and of what they have done, makes my heart swell, yet not to the very end; for we quickly suppress it when it becomes inflamed, and we persuade it to be quiet, saying that it is most discordant and of the utmost misery to abandon one's own evils to busy oneself with the affairs of one's neighbor. But when I have gone into the multitude and been caught in the myriad disturbances, I shall not be able to enjoy this admonition, nor to find the reasonings that govern these things; but just as those being pushed off cliffs by some current or by other means C are able to foresee the destruction in which they end, but have no way of devising any help for themselves, so I too, having fallen into the great tumult of the passions, shall be able to look upon the punishment increasing for me with each passing day, but to come to myself as I do now, and to rebuke these raging diseases from all sides, will no longer be as easy for me as it was before. For I have a soul that is weak and small and easily overcome, not only by these passions but also by envy, which is more bitter than all; and it knows not how to bear either insults or honors with moderation, but is pushed to excess by both—the former raise it up, and the latter cast it down. Just as wild beasts, when they are well-bodied and vigorous, prevail over those who fight against them, and most of all when they are weak and inexperienced, but if someone were to waste them with hunger, he both tames their anger and extinguishes the greater part of their strength, so that even one who is not very brave can take up the struggle and war against them; so too with the passions of the soul: one man, by making himself weak, puts them under the control of right reason; while another, by carefully nurturing them, makes the fight against them more difficult for himself, and makes them so formidable to himself that he lives his entire time in slavery and cowardice. What then is the food of these wild beasts? For vainglory, it is honors and praises; for arrogance, it is power and the magnitude of authority; for jealousy, it is the successes of one's neighbors; for avarice, it is the gifts provided by those who give; for licentiousness, it is luxury and the constant meetings with women, and one thing for another. But all these things will attack me fiercely when I have come into the public eye, and they will tear my soul apart, and they will be formidable, and will make the war against them more difficult for me. But here, as I sit, though they will be subjected with much force, they will nevertheless be subjected by the grace of God, and they will fare no better from their barking. For this reason, I keep to this little room, and I am both D inaccessible and untalkative and uncommunicative, and I endure to hear a myriad of other such reproaches; I would gladly have brushed them off, but I am bitten and pained by being unable to do so. For it is not easy for me to be sociable and at the same time to remain in the present security. For this reason I entreat you, who have been seized by such great difficulty, to pity me rather than to slander me; but I have not yet persuaded you. So it is time for me at last to reveal even this, which I had kept secret. And perhaps it will seem unbelievable to many; but I shall not be ashamed to bring even this into the open. For even if what is said were a proof of an evil conscience and a myriad of sins, what more can come to us from the ignorance of men, before God, who is to judge us and who knows all things accurately? What then is the secret? From that day on which you placed this suspicion in me, my body has frequently been in danger of being completely paralyzed; so much fear, so much despondency has seized my soul. For thinking of the glory of the Bride of Christ, her holiness, her spiritual beauty, her discernment, her propriety, and considering my own evils, I did not cease to mourn for her, and to lament for myself, and groaning constantly and being perplexed, I said these things to myself: Who then advised this? What has the Church of God sinned so much? Who has so greatly provoked her Master, that she should be handed over to the most unworthy of all...
A and to endure such shame?" Reflecting on these things often to myself, and being unable even to bear the thought of so monstrous a thing, I lay there bereft of my senses, able neither to see nor to hear anything. But when this helplessness gave way (for there were times when it would subside), sorrow and despondency would succeed it; and after the satiety of tears, fear would enter in again, confusing and harrying and shattering my mind. In such a tempest I lived the time that is past; but you were unaware, and imagined that I was passing my time in tranquility. But now I shall try to reveal to you the wintry storm of my soul; for perhaps, having revealed it, you will forgive my charges and drop them. How, then, shall I reveal it to you? If you wished to see it clearly, it could not be done in any other way than by laying bare my very heart; but since that is impossible, I shall try, through a certain dim image, as best I can, to show you the smoke of my despondency for the moment; and you, from that image, gather the despondency alone. Suppose there is a young girl, the daughter of a king who rules over the whole earth beneath the sun, and that this maiden possesses beauty beyond measure, such as even transcends human nature, and by this she surpasses the entire race of women by a vast distance, and her virtue of soul is such that she leaves the race of men, both those who have been and those who are to be, far behind by a great measure; and she has surpassed all bounds of philosophy by the grace of her character, while the beauty of her appearance has hidden all the physical attractions of body B—now, suppose the suitor of this maiden, not only because of these things, is inflamed with love for the maiden, but even without these qualities feels something toward her, and by this passion surpasses the most frenzied of all lovers who have ever existed; and then, in the midst of being burned by this love, he were to hear from somewhere that his admirable beloved is about to be wed to one of the base and cast-off men, a creature ignoble and crippled in body and the most depraved of all existing creatures. Have I presented a small part of my anguish to you, and is it enough to stop the image there? For the sake of the despondency, I suppose it is enough; for it was for this reason alone that we took it up. But so that I may show you the measure of the fear and astonishment, let us proceed to another description. Let there be an army gathered from infantry, cavalry, and marines, and let the number of triremes cover the sea, and the multitudes of the infantry and the phalanxes of infantry and cavalry cover the plains and the mountain peaks. And let the bronze of the weapons shine back at the sun, and the glitter of the helmets and shields be cast back by the rays sent down from them; and let the clangor of the spears and the neighing of the horses reach even to the heaven itself, so that neither sea nor land is seen, but bronze and iron everywhere. And let enemies be drawn up against them—some wild and savage men—and let the time of the engagement be already at hand. Then, let someone seize a lad who has been brought up in the fields and who knows only the pipe and the shepherd's crook, and let him C be completely unarmed; let him be instructed to don bronze armor, and let him be led about the entire camp, and let him be shown the companies and the captains, archers, slingers, commanders, generals, heavy infantry, cavalry, javelin-throwers, triremes, trierarchs, the trapped soldiers there, and the multitude of machines stored in the ships; and let him also be shown the entire battle-line of the enemies, and certain ghastly appearances, and the strange equipment of weapons, and an infinite multitude, and ravines and deep precipices and mountainous defiles. And let him be shown, furthermore, among the opponents, horses flying through some magic and infantry being carried through the air, and every power and appearance of sorcery. And let him be told too of the calamities of war, the cloud of javelins, the snowfalls of arrows, that thick mist and the invisibility, the darkest night which the multitude of arrows creates, turning back the rays with its density, the dust no less than the darkness dimming the eyes, the torrents of blood, the wails of those falling, the shouts of those standing, the heaps of the slain, wheels baptized in blood, horses carried headlong with their riders by the multitude of the fallen dead, the earth having everything in confusion—blood and bows and arrows, horses' hooves and human heads lying together—and arms and brains clinging to swords, a javelin head in a neck, a greave, and a chest cut open [454], a shattered eye, and a piercing wound; let him be told also of the sufferings of the navy: triremes some burning D in the midst of the waters, others sinking with the soldiers themselves, the sound of the waters, the noise of the sailors, the cry of the soldiers, the foam mixing the waves and the blood together and coming upon all the ships alike, the dead on the decks, those being drowned, those swimming, those cast out upon the shores, those inside being overwhelmed by the waves and blocking the path with their ships. And having taught him accurately all the tragedies of war, let him add the horrors of captivity, and slavery more grievous than any death. And having said these things, let him be ordered to mount a horse immediately and to act as general for that whole army. Do you think that the telling alone will be enough for that lad, or will he not, at the first sight, immediately give up his soul?
13. But do not think that I am inflating the matter with words, nor that, because we are shut up in this body as if in a prison and are unable to see any of the invisible things, you should think that what has been said is something great. For you would have seen something much greater and more terrifying than this battle, if you had ever been able to see with these eyes the darkest battle-line of the devil and his frenzied assault. For there is no bronze there, nor iron, nor horses and chariots and wheels, nor fire and arrows—[nor] these visible things—but other machines much more fearsome than these. These enemies do not need a breastplate, nor a shield, nor swords and spears; but the mere sight of that accursed host is enough to destroy the soul, if it does not happen to be very noble, and does not enjoy much of the providence of God before its own bravery. And if it were possible to strip off this body, or even with this body itself to be able cleanly and fearlessly…
to see his battle array and the war against us—you would see not mountain torrents of blood, nor dead bodies, but so many corpses of souls, and wounds so grievous, that you would deem all that description of the war which I have just recounted to you to be the playthings of children, and child's play rather than war—so many are those who are struck down every day. And the wounds do not produce an equal death; but as great as the difference is between soul and body, so great is the difference between that slaughter and this. For when the soul receives the blow and falls, it does not lie there insensate like the body, but it is tortured even then, being consumed by a wicked conscience; and after the departure from here, at the time of judgment, it is delivered over to immortal punishment. And if anyone should be insensible to the wounds of the devil, the evil becomes all the greater for him because of that very insensibility; for he who is not stung by the first blow easily receives B a second, and after that another. For the filthy one does not cease until the last breath, striking whenever he finds a soul prone and despising the previous wounds. And if you wish to examine the manner of the combat, you would see it to be far more violent and complex. For no one knows as many forms of theft and deceit as that filthy one—for this reason, indeed, he possesses the greater power; nor can any one have such implacable hatred toward those most hostile to him as that wicked demon has toward the human race. And if one were to examine the eagerness with which he fights, it would be ridiculous to speak of men in this context; and if one wished to choose the most wrathful and cruel of beasts and set them against his madness, he would find them to be most gentle and tame by comparison—so great is the fury he breathes when attacking our souls. And the time of the battle here on earth is short, and even in that short time there are many intervals. For when night comes on, and when the weariness of slaughter, and the time for food, and many other things come, they naturally allow the soldier to rest, so that he may even take off his armor, and catch his breath, and refresh himself with food and drink, and with many other things recover his former strength. But with the wicked one, it is never possible to lay down one's arms; it is never possible to take sleep if one wishes to remain invulnerable forever. For there is an absolute necessity of one of two things: either to fall and perish disarmed, or to stand C completely armed and vigilant. For he stands at all times with his own battle array, watching for our lethargy and exerting more zeal for our destruction than we do for our own salvation. And the fact that he is not seen by us, and that he attacks suddenly (which is the main cause of countless evils), makes this war far more difficult than that one for those who are not always vigilant. Do you still wish, then, that I should lead the soldiers of Christ in such a situation? But to the devil, that would be leading. For when the one who ought to be ordering and arranging others is himself the most inexperienced and weakest of all, having betrayed those entrusted to him through his inexperience, he has led for the devil rather than for Christ. But why do you groan, why do you weep? For the things concerning me now are not worthy of lamentation, but of gladness and joy. BASIL: Not so, he said, nor are my own; but these things are worthy of countless wailings. For now I have scarcely been able to perceive into what evils you have led me. For I entered to you, needing to learn what I should ever say in my defense to those who accuse me on your behalf; but you send me away, having instilled in me one care after another. For it no longer matters to me what I shall say to them on your behalf, but what I shall say to God on behalf of myself and my own evils. Nevertheless, I beg and beseech you, if you care anything for me, if there is any consolation in Christ, if there is any comfort of love, if there are any bowels of mercy and compassion (for you know that you yourself brought me into this danger more than anyone else)—stretch out a hand, and both say and do D those things which are able to lift us up. And do not endure to abandon us, at least for the briefest moment, but now more than before, let us share our time together. CHRYSOSTOM: I smiled and said, "And what part could I play," I said, "and how could I be of any use to you in such a burden of affairs? But since this is pleasing to you, take heart, O dear friend; for the time when it is permitted for you to catch your breath from the cares there, I will be present, and I will exhort you, and I will not fall short of any of my ability." At these words, he arose with greater tears; and I, embracing him and kissing his head, sent him on his way, exhorting him to bear what had happened with courage. For I believe, I said, in Christ who called you, and who appointed you over his own sheep, that you will obtain such boldness from this ministry that you will receive us into your eternal tabernacle on that day, even though we are in danger.
CHRYSOSTOM'S FIRST HOMILY
When he was ordained presbyter, addressed to himself, to the bishop, and to the multitude of the people.
A Are the things that have happened to us true? Have the events that have occurred really taken place, or have we been deceived? Is the present moment not night and a dream, but is it truly day, and are we all awake? And who could believe these things—that while it is day, and people are sober and awake, a lowly youth, cast aside, has been lifted to such a height of authority? For at night, it is not strange for such things to happen. Indeed, some who were maimed in body, and who did not even have the necessary food, have slept and seen themselves become whole and handsome, enjoying a royal banquet; but the things that appeared were sleep and the deception of dreams. For such is the nature of dreams: it is a cunning and wonderful thing, and it delights in reveling in paradoxes. But these things are not happening by day, nor could one perhaps see this occurring in the reality of the facts themselves. But everything has now happened and come to pass, and it has an end, as you behold—these things which are more unbelievable than dreams. And a city so large and populous, and a populace so wonderful and great, has gaped at our insignificance, as if expecting to hear something great and noble from us.
And yet, even if I had perennial rivers flowing, and fountains of words stored up in my mouth, with so many having run together for this hearing, the stream would have quickly been stayed by fear, and the waters might have been turned back. But when I do not have a measure even of a drop of water, let alone of rivers and fountains, how is there not a fear that even this little outpouring might fail, dried up by fear, and that the same thing might happen which is accustomed to happen to bodies? And what is it that happens to bodies? Often, when we hold things in our hand and tighten our fingers, in our alarm we pour everything out, because our nerves have grown slack and the tension of the flesh has relaxed. This, indeed, is the fear—that this might happen today to our soul, and that the thoughts which we gathered for you with much labor, these few and meager ones, might escape under the strain of our anxiety, vanish, and fly away, leaving our mind desolate.
Therefore I beg all of you alike, governors and governed, that by the same measure of anxiety which you have cast upon us by your gathering for this hearing, you would likewise inspire us with courage through your diligence in prayer, and beseech the One who gives a word to those who preach with great power, to give us also a word in the opening of our mouth. There is surely no labor for you, who are so many and so great, to tighten again the soul of one youth that has been loosened by fear. And you would be right to grant us this request, since it is also for your sake that we have cast ourselves into this; it is for your sake and for the sake of your love—than which nothing is more forceful or tyrannical—that it has persuaded even us, who are not very experienced in speaking, to speak, and has prepared us to strip for the stadium of teaching, even though we have not touched these contests before, but have always been ranked among the listeners, enjoying a life of quiet leisure.
But who is so hard and intractable as to pass by your assembly in silence, and, having found such fervent lovers of hearing, not speak to them, even if he were the most speechless of all men? I wished, therefore, when I was about to utter a word for the first time in the Church, to begin the prelude with God, who has given this tongue to us; for so it was fitting. For it is necessary to offer the first fruits to the Word not only of the threshing floor and the winepress, but also of words—and of words much more than of sheaves. For this fruit is more familiar to us, and more pleasing to the God who is honored. For while the earth brings forth the grape and the ear of corn, and they are nourished by the downpour of rains and the hands of farmers, a sacred hymn is brought forth by the reverence of the soul, is nourished by a good conscience, and is received by God into the storehouses of the heavens. And by as much as the soul is better than the earth, by so much is this offering better than that one. Because of this, one of the prophets, a man wonderful and great—Oshea is his name—exhorting those who have offended God and are about to make Him propitious, tells them to bring with them not herds of cattle, nor measures of fine flour, so many and so much, nor turtledoves and pigeons, nor anything else of that sort, but what? "Bring with you words," he says.
And what sacrifice is a word? Perhaps someone might say. It is the greatest, beloved, and most venerable, and better than all the others. And who says these things? The very one who knows these things most accurately of all, the noble and great David. For when he was once offering thanksgivings to God on the occasion of a victory in war...
he spoke something like this: "Let me praise the name of my God with a song; I will magnify him with praise." Then, to show us the excellence of this sacrifice, he added: "And it shall please God more than a new calf, putting forth horns and hoofs." A Now, I myself wished to bring these sacrifices today, and to stain the spiritual altar with these offerings; but what can I do? A certain wise man stops my mouth and strikes fear into me, saying: "Praise is not seemly in the mouth of a sinner." For just as, in the case of garlands, not only must the flowers be clean, but also the hand that weaves them; so, too, in the case of sacred hymns, not only must the words share in piety, but also the soul that weaves them. But we are in a state of impurity, devoid of boldness, and full of many sins. And it is not only this law that silences those who are so disposed, but also another, more ancient than it and established before it. For David himself, who just now spoke to us about sacrifices, introduced this one as well; for having said, "Praise the Lord from the heavens, praise him in the highest," and after a little while again saying, "Praise the Lord from the earth," and having called upon both parts of creation—the upper and the lower, the sensible and the intelligible, the visible and the invisible, that which is above the heaven and that which is under the heaven—and having established one choir from both, and thus exhorted them to praise the Master of all—nowhere did he call the sinner, but even here he barred the doors to him. B
[439] β'. And in order that what is said may be clearer to you, I will read the psalm to you from the beginning. "Praise the Lord from the heavens," he says, "praise him in the highest; praise him, all his angels; praise him, all his hosts." Did you see the angels praising, did you see the archangels, did you see the Cherubim and the Seraphim, the higher powers? For when he says, "All his hosts," he takes in the whole heavenly throng. Did you perhaps see the sinner mentioned? And how could he be? Was it possible for him to be seen in heaven? He says: "Come then, let me bring you down to the earth, after having transferred you to the other part of the choir; and not even there will you see him again." "Praise the Lord from the earth, you dragons and all abysses, wild beasts and all cattle, creeping things and winged birds." Not in vain, nor at random, did I fall silent while saying these things; but the reasoning of my intellect was confounded, and it became bitter to weep and lament greatly. For what could be more pitiable? Tell me... Scorpions and vipers and dragons are called to the praise of the one who created them, but the sinner alone is left out of this sacred choir; and rightly so.
For sin is a wicked and untamed beast, not showing its malice toward our fellow-servants of the body, but pouring the venom of its wickedness onto the Master's glory. "For your sake," he says, "my name is blasphemed among the Gentiles." For this reason, the prophet drove him out as if from a holy country, the habitable world, and banished him to a foreign land. Thus too, the most excellent musician cuts away a cord of a well-tuned lyre that is out of tune, so that it may not harm the harmony of the other notes. In the same way, a skilled physician excises a rotting limb, so that the injury from it may not spread to the healthiness of the rest of the members. In the same way the prophet acted, having cut away the sinner, as if he were a discordant cord or a diseased limb, from the whole body of creation. C What then should we do? For since we have been cast out, since we have been cut off, it is necessary by all means to be silent. Shall we then be silent? Tell me: will no one permit us to praise our Master? Or did we call upon your prayers in vain? Did we take refuge in your intercessions in vain? Not in vain, God forbid. For I have found, I have found another mode of doxology, in the midst of your own prayers, in this predicament, just like lightning appearing in the darkness: I shall praise my fellow-servants. For it is permitted to praise one's fellow-servants; and when they are praised, the glory will by all means pass to the Master. And that he is glorified from this too, Christ himself shows, saying: "Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven." Behold, then, another mode of doxology, which it is possible for a sinner to speak, without violating the law. D
γ. Whom then, whom of our fellow-servants shall we praise? And whom else, but the common teacher of the fatherland [440] and, through the fatherland, of the entire world? For just as he taught you to stand up for the truth until death, so you taught the other men to prefer the soul to piety no longer. Do you wish us, then, to weave for him from this the crowns of praise? I myself wished to do so, but I see a vast abyss of virtuous deeds, and I fear lest, having been carried down to the bottom, my discourse should be too weak to rise back up. For it is necessary to recount ancient deeds of virtue, sojourns abroad, vigils, cares, decisions, battles, trophies added to trophies, and victories added to victories—matters not only beyond our own tongue, but beyond every, human tongue, requiring an apostolic voice moved by the Spirit, by whom it is possible both to speak and to teach all things. But passing over this part, we shall come to another, safer one, which even a small boat can sail across.
Come then, let us stir up discourses concerning temperance, and let us say how he mastered his stomach, how he despised luxury, how he mocked a sumptuous table, and this while having been raised in a great house. For it is no wonder for one who has lived in poverty to come to this stark and harsh life; for he has poverty as his companion and fellow-traveler, lightening the burden for him every day. But to become master of wealth and not easily cast off the temptations from it—so great a swarm of diseases flies around such a soul. Therefore, just as a dense and gloomy cloud of sufferings, blotting out the light of the mind...
does not permit it to look toward heaven, but forces it to look downward and to gape toward the earth. And there is no other obstacle to the journey toward the heavens such as wealth and the evils that come from wealth. This is not my own teaching, but the vote of Christ Himself, who said: "It is easier for a camel to enter through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of heaven." But behold, this difficult, or rather impossible thing, has become possible; and that which Peter formerly puzzled over to the Master, and sought to learn, we have all known through actual experience, or rather, even more than that. For not only did he ascend into heaven, but he also introduces such a multitude—one who, along with wealth, had other obstacles no less great than this: youth and destitute orphanhood, which are more capable of charming a human soul than any other things, for they possess such incantations, they prepare such potions. Yet he overcame even these, and he laid hold of the heavens, and he transferred himself to the philosophy that is there; and he neither took note of the splendor of the present life, nor did he look to the fame of his ancestors—or rather, he did look to the fame of his ancestors, not those joined to him by the necessity of nature, but those who belonged to him by the choice of piety. A For this reason he became such a man. He looked to the patriarch Abraham, he looked to the great Moses, who, having been reared in a royal house, and having shared a Sybaritic table, and having been caught between the tumults of the Egyptians (and you know what the ways of barbarians are, how full they are of arrogance and vanity), having despised all those things, defected to the clay and the brick-making, desiring to be of the slaves and captives—he, king and son of a king. Therefore, for this reason he returned again with a more splendid appearance than that which he had discarded before. For after his flight and his service with his father-in-law, and his toil in a strange land, he returned as the ruler of the king, or rather, having become a god to the king: "For I have made you," He says, "a god to Pharaoh." And he was more brilliant than the king, not having a diadem, nor clothed in purple, nor driving a golden chariot, but having trampled upon all that vanity. "For all the glory of the king's daughter," he says, "is within." He returned, then, holding a scepter by which he gave orders not only to men, but to sky and earth and sea, and the nature of the winds and waters, and lakes and springs and rivers. For all things, as many as Moses wished, these elements became; and in his hands creation was transformed again, and like some submissive handmaiden, seeing a friend of the Master arrive, everything obeyed and was submissive as if to the Master Himself. Looking toward this man, he too became such, and that being young—if indeed he ever was young; for I am not persuaded, so gray was his wisdom from his very swaddling clothes. But even according to the logic of age, while still young, he laid hold of every philosophy; and having learned that our nature is like a field that is overgrown with wood, he cut away the diseases of the soul with the word of piety as if with a sickle, easily, B providing the ploughed land to the farmer for the sowing of seeds, and receiving everything, he sent it down into the depths; so that, having taken root from below, it neither gave way to the assault of the ray, nor was choked again by thorns. But he healed the soul in this way; and he curbed the agitations of the flesh with the medicines of temperance, just as to an unruly horse, placing upon his body the bridle of fasting, and pulling it back just enough to draw blood from the very mouths of the desires, with the necessary moderation. For he neither strained the body so that the horse, being hobbled, became useless to him for the service, nor did he allow it to fall into excessive vigor, lest, having become over-fleshed again, it might rise up against the reason that was driving it; but he took care both of his health and of his good order. And he was not only such a man while young, but when he had passed that age, and had loosened this care, even now, when he sits in old age as if in a tranquil harbor, he maintains the same care. C For youth, beloved, is like a raging sea, full of wild waves and evil spirits; but old age, as if into a harbor that is without waves, moors the souls of those who have grown old, providing them the security of being able to enjoy the age. Enjoying this now, and sitting in the harbor, as I have already said, he is no less full of struggle than those who are tossing in the midst of the sea; and he received this fear from Paul, who, although he had ascended into heaven, and had run through the region beyond that, and had again touched the third heaven, said: "I fear lest, having preached to others, I myself might become disqualified." For this reason he too set himself in a continuous fear, so that he might be in continuous confidence, and he sits at the helm, not as one ignorant of the stars watching the risings, nor the reefs and crags, but the uprisings of demons, and the wiles of the devil, and the wars of thoughts, and going around the camp in a circle, he establishes everyone in safety. For he does not merely look to how the ship might not be swamped, but he manages everything so that none of those sailing in it might be troubled by any disturbance. Because of him, we all sail his wisdom before a fair wind, having spread the full sails of our ship.
§ 4. And yet when we lost the former father, as also this one he begot for us, our affairs were in a state of desperation. Therefore we lamented piteously, as not expecting another man like him to receive this throne. D But when this one appeared and came into our midst, he caused all that despondency to pass away, like a cloud, and he hid all the gloomy things, not little by little wiping away our grief, but so suddenly, as if that very blessed man himself had risen from the coffin and ascended again onto this throne. But indeed, we have unconsciously, in our desire for the successes of the fathers, extended our words beyond the measure—not beyond the measure of things accomplished by him, for we have not even yet begun those, but beyond what is appropriate for our youth. Come then, just as into
harbor, let us once again rest our words in silence. But they are unwilling to depart, and they are vexed and indignant, desiring, as they do, to be filled completely with the meadow. But this is impossible, my children. Let us, then, cease pursuing what is unattainable; what has been said is enough for our consolation. For even with expensive perfumes, if one does not simply pour out the jar, but merely touches the very surface with one’s fingers, one has scented the air and filled all who are present with the fragrance. This is precisely what has happened now, not because of the power of our words, but because of the virtue of his A accomplishments. Let us depart, then, let us depart having ended in prayer; let us pray that our common mother may remain unshaken and immovable, and that this father, this teacher, this shepherd, this pilot, may be brought forth to a longer life. If there is any concern for you and for us—for we would not dare to rank ourselves among the priests, since it is not right to number the miscarried among the well-born—if there is any concern for you and for me, just as for a pitiable, B miscarried creature, pray that abundant support may come to us from above. For we had need of safety even before, when we were living a life of leisure to ourselves; but now that we have been brought into the midst—how that happened I pass over, whether by human effort or by divine grace; for I will not dispute it, lest someone call me dissembling—but since we have been brought, and have taken upon ourselves this yoke, heavy and hard, we have need of many hands and myriad prayers, so that we may be able to return the deposit C safe to the Master who entrusted it to us on that day, when those who have been entrusted with the talents are called and brought in, and must render an account. Pray, therefore, that we may not be numbered among those who are bound, nor among those who are cast into the darkness, but among those who are able to obtain at least a moderate measure of forgiveness, by the grace and loving-kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and power and worship for ever and ever. Amen.
MONITUM
D [444] He delivered the first homily to the people while Bishop Flavian was absent. From this, he skillfully seizes the opportunity to praise the pastor; afterwards, he begins the long-determined battle against the Anomœans: he mentions that he had taken this up rather slowly because he saw many of the Anomœans attending his sermons and listening with pleasure, and for that reason, he says, so as not to frighten away the prey—inasmuch as he was ensnaring their souls—he restrained his tongue from such contests. Finally, at their own urging to step into the arena, he began to attack the errors of the Anomœans, though with a friendly spirit, not to strike down adversaries, but to raise up those who had fallen.
He delivered the second homily against the Anomœans after an interval of many days; for many things distracted Chrysostom from his intended course: namely, the sermon delivered against the Jews, a contest extremely necessary; and the arrival of certain spiritual Fathers—these, the one who composed the title of the homily says, were certain neighboring bishops; but more on this in the *Life of Chrysostom*: finally, after they had returned home, the holy herald was met by frequent commemorations of the martyrs, upon whose celebration he resumed the interrupted contest.
In the third, he pursues the same argument concerning the incomprehensibility of God against the Anomœans: towards the end, however, he inveighs vehemently against the listeners because, after the sermon to which they had been eagerly attending was finished, they would immediately withdraw and not take part in the holy mysteries that were being celebrated continuously.
In the fourth, after the usual skirmishes against the heretics, he congratulates the assembly for having followed his admonitions and for abandoning the bad habit of leaving before the holy mysteries: he complains, however, that certain purse-snatchers were disturbing the sermon, and he warns them not to carry gold or silver in their purses if they wish to drive away such a plague.
Finally, in the fifth, having briefly reviewed what he had said earlier, he brings forward new arguments against the Anomœans. In these sermons, furthermore, shines forth not only the eloquence of Chrysostom, but also his *energeia*, or the force of his arguments: and the responses to the objections of the heretics are no less to be admired; so that one does not stray from the truth if one ranks these homilies among the most outstanding works of the holy doctor.
We have rejected, moreover, the translation of Theodore Gaza, as it is adorned in a paraphrastic manner and is redundant in words and sometimes in meanings, and we have published a new one.
OF THE SAME, CONCERNING THE INCOMPREHENSIBLE, THE BISHOP BEING ABSENT, AGAINST THE ANOMOEANS.
First Discourse.
α΄. What is this? The shepherd is not present, and the sheep are standing in great order. And this is the achievement of the shepherd, that in his presence and also in his absence he should demonstrate all zeal for the flocks. For indeed, among irrational animals, when the one who leads them out to pasture is not present, the sheep are of necessity forced to remain inside the fold, or, having looked out beyond the enclosure without one to shepherd them, they endure much wandering; but here there is nothing of the sort, but even in the shepherd's absence you have met for your accustomed pastures with great order. Nay, rather, the shepherd is also present, even if not in the flesh, yet in his disposition; even if not by the presence of his body, yet by the good order of his flock. For this reason I am the more astonished at him and consider him blessed, that he has had the strength to implant such zeal in you. For indeed, we admire a general most of all when, even in his absence, his armies are well-ordered. This is what Paul also sought in his disciples, saying: A “Therefore, my brethren, as you have always obeyed, not as in my presence only, but much more in my absence.” Why “much more in my absence”? Because when the shepherd is present, [445] if a wolf should approach the flock, it is easily driven away from the sheep; but if he is not present, the flocks must necessarily be in greater anxiety, there being no one to wall them in. And besides these things, when he is present, he shares with them the rewards for their zeal, but not being present, he allows their achievement to appear unadorned. These things, too, the teacher B says as he speaks to you, and wherever he may be, now he imagines you and your assembly, and he does not look so much upon those who are there, joining him and present, as he looks upon you who are absent. I know his love, that which is fervent, inflamed, warm, and unrestrained, which he has rooted in the great depth of his mind, and which he tends with much zeal. For he knows clearly that this is the main point of all good things, and the root, and the fountain, and the mother, and without this there is no profit for us from the other things; for this is the icon of the disciples of the Lord, the character of the servants of God, the mark of the apostles. “For in this shall all men know,” He says, “that you are my disciples.” In what, tell me? Is it in raising the dead, or cleansing lepers, or casting out demons? Not so, He says, but having passed over all those things, “In this shall all men know,” He says, “that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”
For those indeed are gifts of grace from above alone, but this is also an achievement of human zeal. And it is not so much that the generous are defined from without by the gifts given from above, as by the achievements of their own labors. C For this reason, Christ says His disciples are known not by signs, but by love. For when this is present, no part of philosophy is lacking to him who possesses it, but he has virtue whole, complete, and perfected, just as, when it is absent, he is destitute of all good things. For this reason also Paul raises it up and exalts it in his discourse; or rather, however much he may speak, he does not yet attain to its worth.
β΄. For what could be equal to it, which holds together the prophets and all the law, and without which neither faith, nor knowledge, nor the understanding of mysteries, nor martyrdom itself, nor anything else, will be able to profit him who possesses it? For if I deliver my body, he says, so that it might be burned, but have not love, I am profited nothing; and elsewhere again, that it is greater than all, and the summit of good things, D indicating this, he said: “Whether there be prophecies, they shall be done away, whether there be tongues, they shall cease, whether there be knowledge, it shall be done away; but there remain faith, hope, love, these three things; but the greatest of these is love.” But the question concerning love that the discourse has introduced to us is not a trivial one. For that prophecy should be done away and tongues should cease is nothing grievous; for having provided their own usefulness to us at the proper time, these charisms, having ceased, will be able to do no harm to the Word; lo, for instance, now there is no prophecy, nor a charism of tongues, and the word of piety has been hindered in nothing. But that knowledge also should cease, this is the point being inquired into. For having said [446]: “Whether prophecies shall be done away, whether tongues shall cease,” he added: “Whether knowledge shall be done away.” If knowledge is about to cease, the outcome of these things for us will move not for the better, but for the worse.
Indeed, without it, we should perish entirely as human beings. “For fear God,” it says, “and keep his commandments, for this is every man.” If, therefore, to be a man is to fear God, and fearing God comes from knowledge, and knowledge is about to be done away—as Paul says—then we shall perish completely, knowledge being absent, and all our affairs will depart, nor shall we be any better off than the irrational animals, but rather much worse. For in this do we surpass them, even while we are utterly defeated by them in all other bodily respects. What then is this that Paul says, and concerning what, that “knowledge shall be done away”? He does not speak of complete knowledge, but of partial knowledge, calling that “done away” which advances for the better, so that the partial, being done away, is no longer partial but complete. For just as the childhood of a child is done away—not by the vanishing of his essence, but by the growth of his age and his passing into the perfect man—so also does it happen in the case of knowledge. This small thing, he says, would no longer be small, having become great through subsequent events: this is what “is done away” means. And he explained this more clearly to us through what follows. For lest, having heard that it is “done away,” you might imagine it means a complete destruction, but rather a certain growth and advancement for the better, after saying “it is done away,” he added: “For we know in part and we prophesy in part; but when the perfect comes, then that which is in part shall be done away,” in such a way that it is no longer “in part,” but perfect. Thus, its imperfection is done away, so that it is no longer imperfect but perfect. This “doing away,” therefore, is fulfillment and advancement toward something greater.
[γ.] And consider for me the wisdom of Paul; for he did not say, “We know a part,” but, “We know in part,” indicating that we hold only a portion of the portion. Perhaps you desire to hear how large a portion we hold, and how much is left over, and whether we hold the greater or the lesser part. Well then, in order that you may learn that you hold the lesser, and not simply just the lesser, but as one might say, the hundredth or the ten-thousandth part, hear what follows. Or rather, before reading the apostolic voice to you, I will offer a likeness capable of demonstrating to you—insofar as a likeness is capable—how much is left over and how much is it that we hold now. How great, then, is the difference between the knowledge that is to be given to us in the future and that which we possess now? Just as great as the difference between a perfect man and a nursing infant; exactly that great is the superiority of the future knowledge over the present. And that this is true, and that the former is so much greater than the latter, let Paul himself say again. For having said, “We know in part,” and wishing to show of how small a part, and that we hold the most minimal amount now, he added: “When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away the things of a child.” He contrasts the present knowledge with that of the infant, and the future knowledge with that of the perfect man.
He did not say, “When I was a boy”—for even a twelve-year-old is called a boy—but, “When I was an infant,” 447 indicating to us the one still at the breast and still nursing. For that the Scripture calls this an “infant,” hear the Psalm saying: “O Lord, our Lord, how wonderful is thy name in all the earth! For thy magnificence was set above the heavens; out of the mouth of infants and nursing babes thou hast perfected praise.” Do you see that everywhere he calls the nursing one an “infant”? Then, in the Spirit foreseeing the shamelessness of those who would come after, he was not content with this one example alone, but by a second and a third he rendered this firm for us. For just as Moses, being sent to the Jews, took proof of three signs, so that if they did not believe the first, they might hear the voice of the second, and if they despised even that, they might be shamed into accepting the prophet by the third; so too does this man set forth three examples: one, that of the child, saying, “When I was an infant, I thought as an infant”; a second, that of the mirror; and third, that of the riddle. For having said, “When I was an infant,” he added: “We see now through a glass in a riddle.” See, there is a second example of our present weakness and of the fact that our knowledge is imperfect; and third, again, is the “in a riddle.” For a child sees many things, and hears, and speaks, but sees nothing clearly, nor hears, nor speaks [clearly]; and though he has thoughts, he has nothing articulate. So I too know many things, but I do not understand their manner. That God is everywhere, I know, and that He is entirely everywhere, I know; but how, I do not know. That He is unoriginated and unbegotten and eternal, I know; but how, I do not know. For the intellect does not admit the possibility of knowing how a Being can exist that possesses its existence neither from itself nor from another. I know that He begat a Son, but how, I am ignorant; I know that the Spirit is from Him, but how it is from Him, I do not understand; I eat food, but how it is divided into phlegm, into blood, into juices, into bile, I am ignorant. These things which we see every day as we eat them, we do not understand—and are we to busy ourselves with investigating the essence of God?
[δ.] Where, then, are those who say they have grasped the whole of knowledge, who have fallen into the abyss of ignorance? For those who say that they have grasped the whole in the present life render themselves destitute of the complete knowledge in the future. For I, who say that I know in part, and even if I say that this knowledge is being done away, I am traveling toward the better and more perfect, the partial being done away and becoming more perfect. But he who says he possesses total, complete, and perfect knowledge, and then confesses it is to be done away in the future, declares himself destitute 448 of knowledge—for this one is being done away, and no other, more perfect one is being introduced, since, according to them, this is the perfect one. Do you see how, in contending to have the whole here, they neither possess it here, and cast themselves out of the whole there?
A Thus also Adam fell from the hope of greater honor than that which he possessed; thus it happens also in the case of the covetous; many, frequently desiring greater things, have lost even what they had; thus they, too, expecting to have everything here, fell from the portion they might have had. Therefore I exhort you to flee their madness; for it is the height of madness to contend that one can know what the essence of God is. And that you may learn that this is the extreme of madness, I will make it clear to you from the prophets; for the prophets appear to be ignorant not only of what the essence is, but they are also in doubt with regard to how great his wisdom is; although, indeed, the essence is not derived from the wisdom, but the wisdom from the essence. But when the prophets themselves cannot even grasp this with precision, how great a madness would it be to think that one can subject the essence itself to one's own reasonings? Let us hear, then, what the prophet says regarding this: *Thy knowledge is become wonderful from me.* But let us bring the discourse to a higher point. *I will confess to thee, because thou art fearfully glorified.* What does "fearfully" mean? We marvel at many things now, but not with fear, such as the beauty of columns, the forms of painting, the blooms of bodies; again, we marvel at the magnitude of the sea, and the infinite depth, but with fear, when we look down into the abyss. Thus, then, the prophet also, having looked down toward the infinite and immense sea of God’s wisdom, and having become dizzy, retreated with great fear, marvelling and crying out and saying, *I will confess to thee, because thou art fearfully glorified; thy works are wonderful.* And again: *Thy knowledge is become wonderful from me; it has been strengthened, I cannot attain to it.* B Observe the gratitude of the servant: "I give thee thanks," he says, "for this, that I have an incomprehensible Master." He is not speaking here of the essence; the latter he passed over as being a conceded fact that it is incomprehensible; he says these things regarding God being present everywhere, showing that he does not even know this very thing, how He is present everywhere. For that he is speaking about this, hear what follows: *If I go up into heaven, thou art there; if I go down into hades, thou art present.* Do you see how he is present everywhere? But the prophet does not know, but is dizzy and perplexed and fears only by taking it into his mind. How then is it not the extreme of folly for those who are so far removed from His grace to curiously investigate the essence of God itself? And yet this is the prophet who says: *The unclear and hidden things of thy wisdom thou hast revealed to me.* But nevertheless, having learned the unclear and hidden things of His wisdom, he says regarding this very thing, that it is infinite and incomprehensible. For *Great is the Lord,* he says, *and great is his strength, and of his understanding there is no number,* that is, there is no comprehension. What are you saying? Is the wisdom incomprehensible to the prophet, and is the essence comprehensible to us? Is this madness not manifest? Or does His greatness have no limits, and are you defining His essence?
e'. This also Isaiah, philosophizing, said: *Who shall declare his generation?* He did not say: "Who declares," C but, *Who shall declare,* and he excluded the future. And David says: *Thy knowledge is become wonderful from me*; but Isaiah says it not from himself alone, but that this narrative is excluded from all human nature. But let us see if perhaps Paul knows, as one who has enjoyed greater grace; for he himself is the one who says: *We know in part, and we prophesy in part.* And not only here, but elsewhere, he discourses not about the essence, but about wisdom, and that which appears in providence—I do not mean the general [providence], through which He provides for angels and archangels and the heavenly powers, but examining that part of providence through which He provides for the men on earth, and even that is a part of it. For he does not examine it in its entirety, through which He makes the sun rise, through which He breathes life into souls, through which He fashions bodies, through which He feeds the men on earth, through which He holds the world together, through which He gives the annual fruits; but leaving all these things aside, and having examined a small part of His providence, through which He cast off the Jews, and welcomed those from the Gentiles, and having become dizzy at this very small part, just as if at an infinite sea, and having seen an immense depth, he immediately leaped back and cried out with a loud voice, saying: *O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments.* He did not say, "Incomprehensible," but *Unsearchable.* And if it cannot be searched out, much more is it impossible to be comprehended. *And his ways past finding out.* His ways are past finding out, and is He himself comprehensible? Tell me. And why do I speak of the ways? The rewards that are laid up for us are incomprehensible: *For eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor has it entered into the heart of man, the things which God has prepared for those who love him.* But even His gift is unspeakable: *Thanks be to God,* he says, *for his unspeakable gift,* and *his peace passes all understanding.* D What are you saying? His judgments are unsearchable, His ways are past finding out, His peace passes all understanding, the gift is unspeakable, the things which God has prepared for those who love Him have not entered into the heart of man, His greatness has no limit, His understanding has no number; everything is incomprehensible, and is He alone comprehensible? And what excess of madness would this not have? Restrain the heretic; do not let him depart; say: What does Paul say? *We know in part.* He does not say this about the essence, he says, but about the dispensations. Most of all, if the discourse were about the dispensations, it would be to our greater advantage and thus our triumph; for if the dispensations are incomprehensible, much more is He Himself. But that he is not speaking here about the dispensations, but about God Himself, hear what follows: [450] For having said: *We know in part, and we prophesy in part,* he added: *Now I know in part, but then I shall know fully even as also I have been known.* By whom, then, was he known? By God, or by the dispensations? By God, clearly; Him, therefore, he knows even in part. And he said "in part," not because he knows one part of His essence and is ignorant of another (for God is simple), but because when...
someone knows God, he knows that He is, but is ignorant of what He is in His essence. He knows that He is wise, but he does not know how wise He is. He does not ignore that He is great, but he does not know how great He is, or the extent of His greatness. He knows that He is everywhere, but knows not in what manner. He does not ignore that He provides for all things, and contains and accurately governs all things A, but he does not know in what way He does this. Therefore he said: "We know in part, and we prophesy in part."
But come, if you please, let us leave Paul and the prophets, and let us ascend into the heavens; maybe there are some there who know the essence of God. But even if there are some there who know, they have nothing in common with us, for the difference between angels and men is great. Yet, so that you may know from a redundant source that no created Power there knows this, let us hear the angels themselves. What, then? Do they discuss that essence there, and hold inquiries among themselves? By no means. But what do they do? They glorify, they adore, they incessantly send forth triumphal and mystical songs with great trembling. And some say: "Glory to God in the highest" (Luke 2:14). The Seraphim say: "Holy, holy, holy" (Isa. 6:3), and they turn away their eyes, since they are not even able to bear that condescension of God. The Cherubim say: "Blessed be the glory of the Lord from His place" (Ezek. 3:12). Not that God has need of a place, God forbid, but that we may speak in human fashion, wherever He may be and however He may be—if, indeed, it is safe to speak thus concerning God, for we possess a human tongue. B Do you see how much fear there is in heaven, and how much contempt on earth? They glorify, these curiously inquire; they praise, these raise many questions; they cover their eyes, these shamelessly attempt to look into the ineffable glory. Who would not groan? Who would not weep for their madness and extreme folly? I wished to speak on this subject at greater length, but since now I have for the first time descended into these struggles, I think it is useful for you to be content with what has been said, lest the abundance of what remains to be said, coming on with great force, might cause you to forget these things. Clearly, if God permits, we shall treat this subject long into the future. I had long desired to bring these words before you, but I was delaying and procrastinating because I saw many who suffer from this disease listening to us with pleasure; and since I desired to draw away that soft prey, I restrained my tongue from these contentions, so that when I had held them more firmly, I might then descend into the arena. But since by the grace of God I heard them urging me to enter into this struggle, I finally, trusting in Him, girded myself for the battle and seized those arms C which "cast down imaginations and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God" (2 Cor. 10:5). I took up these arms, not to strike any adversaries, but to raise up those who have fallen. For the power of such arms is this: to strike the contentious, but to care for those who listen with a benevolent mind; they do not inflict wounds, but they heal wounds.
Therefore, let us not grow fierce toward them, nor let us burst forth in anger, but let us discuss with them with fairness; for nothing is more powerful than fairness and gentleness. For this reason, Paul also orders us to observe this with great care, saying: "The servant of the Lord must not fight, but be gentle toward all" (2 Tim. 2:24). He did not say, "toward your brothers only," but "toward all." And again: "Let your fairness be known" (Phil. 4:5), not to brothers, but to all men. "For what profit is there," he says, "if you love those who love you?" Therefore, if their friendships are harmful and drag you into a communion of impiety, even if they be relatives, you ought to withdraw; if it be an eye, pluck it out. For if, he says, "your right eye causes you to stumble, pluck it out" (Matt. 5:29). D For if he were speaking of the nature of the body, he would be transferring the crime to the nature of the Creator; otherwise, one would not have to pluck out only one, for even if the left were left behind, it would in the same way cause the man to stumble. But so that you may know that the discourse is not about the eye, he added "right," to show that if you possess any friend in the place of a right eye, you should both cast him out and remove him from your friendship if he causes you to stumble. For what does it profit you to have an eye for the ruin of the rest of the body? If, therefore, friendships harm, let us flee and withdraw; but if they bring us no damage to the cause of piety, let us entice and draw them to ourselves; but if you gain nothing from him, and are harmed by him, count it gain that you remain whole through the separation. And flee their friendships if they do harm; flee only, and do not fight, nor contend; thus Paul advises with these words: "If it be possible, as much as lies in you, living at peace with all men" (Rom. 12:18). You are a servant of the God of peace; He who cast out demons and worked infinite good deeds, when they called Him demon-possessed, did not send forth a thunderbolt, did not crush His revilers, did not burn that tongue, so impudent and ungrateful, although He could have done all these things; but He repelled the accusation only by saying: "I do not have a demon, but I honor Him who sent me" (John 8:49). And when the servant of the high priest struck Him, what did He say? "If I have spoken evil, bear witness to the evil; but if well, why do you strike Me?" (John 18:23). He renders an account to the servant, there is no need for a longer speech. Revolve these words alone in your mind, and meditate on them frequently, and say: "If I have spoken evil, bear witness to the evil; but if well, why do you strike Me?" And think of who is speaking, to whom he is speaking, and about what matter; and these words will be for you a certain divine and perpetual song, and they will be able to settle every swelling of the soul. Think of the dignity of Him who was treated with contumely, the vileness of him who harms, the gravity of the contumely. For he did not only treat Him with contumely, but he struck Him; he did not only strike Him, but he also gave Him a slap; and there is nothing more ignominious than such a striking. Yet He bore everything, so that He might lead others to temperance by a greater example. We should not only philosophize in this place, but also when the time is right, we should remember them. Having explained what is said, but...
B showing you the praise in your deeds. For as the wrestler exercises in the wrestling school so that he may demonstrate in the contests the profit of the training he received there, so you, too, when anger arrives, show the profit of the hearing you have received here, and say this word repeatedly: "If I have spoken evilly, bear witness to the evil; but if well, why do you strike me?" Inscribe this upon your mind; for it is for this reason that I repeatedly remind you of these words, so that all that has been spoken might be implanted in your soul, so that the memory might remain indelible, along with the profit from that memory. For if we have these words inscribed upon the breadth of our mind, no one is so stony, so brutal, or so insensitive as to be carried away into anger at some point; for instead of any bridle or any rein, these words will be able to check our tongue, when it is carried away beyond measure and what is fitting; and they will be able to calm our swelling mind, and to cause C us to practice temperance continuously, and to cause peace to dwell in us in its entirety; may we enjoy this always, by the grace and loving-kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father and to the Holy Spirit be glory and power and worship, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.
Of the same, previously having spoken for many days to the Anomœans, then to the Jews, and then having kept silent due to the presence of bishops and the occurrence of many memorials of martyrs, now again to the Anomœans concerning the Incomprehensible. Second Sermon.
1. Come, let us strip for the struggle again against the faithless Anomœans; and if they are indignant at being called faithless, let them flee the thing, and I shall hide the name; let them depart from the faithless mind, and I shall depart from the shameful title. But if they themselves, by their deeds, dishonor the faith and put themselves to shame without hesitation, why are they vexed at us for censuring them in words for what they themselves demonstrate by their deeds? D For previously, when we descended into the stadium of these words, as you remember, and engaged in the same wrestlings, the contests against the Jews immediately received us, and it was not safe to pass over the ailments of our own members. For the words against the Anomœans always have their season; but at that time, if we had not immediately anticipated and snatched those of our brothers who were sickly and suffering from the Judaic disease from the Judaic pyre, no profit would have remained for us from the exhortation, as the sin had progressed among them during the fast. But after the contests against them, again there followed the arrival of many spiritual fathers who had arrived here from everywhere, and not even then was it a seasonable time for our discourse to be stretched out, while all of them were flowing like certain rivers into this spiritual sea; and after their departure, there occurred consecutive and continuous memorials of martyrs, and it was not right to despise the blessing of those athletes. I say these things and recount them, so that you might not think that the delay of our contests against them happened because of some laziness and sloth. Now, therefore, since we have finally been released from the fight against the Jews, and the fathers have returned to their own homelands, and we have sufficiently enjoyed the blessing of the martyrs, come then, let us finally resolve the long-standing labor of our hearing. For I know well that each one of you is in labor no less than I, who am speaking, to hear the words concerning these things; and the cause is that you are Christ-loving; our city is from above, and you have inherited this paternal inheritance, never to overlook the doctrines of piety being falsified. From where is this clear? Some came down from Judæa once upon the ancestors of your people, clouding the pure doctrines of the apostolic teaching, and commanding that one be circumcised and observe the law of Moses. The inhabitants of your city at that time did not bear this innovation in silence; but as noble watchdogs, seeing wolves rushing in and destroying the entire flock, they leaped upon them and did not depart, driving them from every side and pursuing them, until they ensured that decrees were sent out from the apostles everywhere in the world, fencing off such an incursion against the faithful for those men and for all those after them.
2. From where, then, must we begin the words against them? From where else but from the accusation regarding their unbelief? For they do everything and manage everything so that faith might be thrust out of the minds of those who hear—what greater crime of impiety could there be than this? For when God declares something, it is necessary to receive what is said with faith, not to tinker with it boldly. Whoever among them wishes, let him call me faithless; I am not indignant. Why? Because I demonstrate the title by my deeds. And what do I say, "let him call me faithless"? Let him even call me a fool in Christ; and for this, as for a crown, I again rejoice; for I share this title with Paul. For he says, "We are fools for Christ’s sake." This folly is wiser than all wisdom. For the things that the wisdom from without could not find, these the folly according to Christ has set right; this has driven away the darkness of the world, this has brought back the light of knowledge. And what is folly according to Christ? It is when we suppress our own impulses as they rage unseasonably, when we make our mind empty and void of the learning from without, so that, when there is need to receive the things of Christ, we might offer it leisure and swept clean for the reception of the divine words. For indeed, when God declares something that ought not be scrutinized, it must be received by faith. For to tinker with the causes in such cases, and to demand the reasons, and to seek out the manner, is a sign of a bolder and more reckless soul. And I shall attempt to demonstrate this again from the Scriptures themselves. There was a certain Zacharias, a man admirable and great, honored with the high priesthood, by
entrusted with the protection of the whole A people. This Zacharias entered into the Holy of Holies, into those very inner sanctums which all men were forbidden to see at that time (and observe how he was even the equal of the entire multitude, so as to bring prayers for the whole multitude to God, and to make the Master merciful to His servants—do you see the magnitude of his boldness?—being, as it were, a mediator between God and men), and he saw an angel standing within. And since the sight struck the man with terror, the angel said, "Fear not, Zacharias, because your supplication has been heard, and behold, you shall give birth to a son." And what is this sequence? He was praying for the people, he was pleading for their sins, he was asking for forgiveness for his fellow servants, and he says, "Fear not, Zacharias, for your supplication has been heard." And he makes the fact that John would be born to him the proof of his having been heard. And very reasonably too. For since he was praying for the sins of the people B and was about to beget a son who would cry out, "Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world," it is reasonable, he says, that "your supplication has been heard, and you shall beget a son." What then of him? For the point at issue is this, that it is inexcusable to pry into the modes of divine oracles; rather, one ought to accept the decrees by faith. He looked at his own age, at his gray hair, at his body which had grown weak; he looked at the barrenness of his wife, and he disbelieved, and he asked to learn the manner of it, and said, "By what shall I know this? How," he says, "shall this be? Behold, I have grown old and gray-haired, and my wife is barren, advanced in her days; the age is untimely, the nature is useless; how can the promised things stand to reason? I, the sower, am weak; the field is barren." C Does it not seem to some that he is deserving of pardon for seeking the sequence of events and appearing to say something reasonable? But to God he did not seem worthy—and very reasonably so. For when God declares something, one must not introduce calculations, nor the sequence of events, nor the necessity of nature, nor anything else of that sort; for the power of His decree is superior to all these, interrupted by no obstacle. What are you doing, man? God pledges it, and you have recourse to age and put forward old age? For is old age stronger than the promise of God? Is nature more powerful than the Creator of nature? Do you not know that His deeds are stronger than His words? His word set up the heaven; His word brought forth creation; His word made the angels, and do you harbor doubts regarding birth? For this reason the angel was indignant, and did not forgive him even on account of his priesthood; indeed, for this very reason he was punished the more severely. For he who possessed D a degree of honor greater than others was also obliged to excel others in faith. And what is the manner of his punishment? "Behold, you shall be silent and unable to speak." Your tongue, he says, which served the unbelief regarding the words, shall also receive the punishment for that unbelief: "Behold, you shall be silent and not speaking, until these things come to be." Consider the loving-kindness of the Master: "You do not believe me," He says; "now accept the punishment, and when I provide the proof through the events themselves, then I shall dissolve the anger; when you learn that you were justly punished, then I shall release you from the punishment." Let the Anomoeans hear how God is indignant at being scrutinized. But if that man, having disbelieved in a mortal birth, is punished, you, who pry into the ineffable and higher birth, how will you escape punishment, tell me? He did not declare it outright but wished to learn, and he did not obtain pardon; but you, who even insist that you know things which are invisible and incomprehensible to all, what defense will you have? And what punishment will you not draw down upon yourself?
γ'. But let those who speak concerning the birth await the proper times; for the present, however, let us proceed on the path toward the former subject, the remnants of which we previously left off, striving to root out the destructive root, the mother of all evils, and the source from which these doctrines sprouted for them. And what is the root of all evils? Believe me; a shuddering seizes me when I am about to utter it; for I am reluctant to bring forth through the tongue that which they meditate upon in their minds at all times. What, then, is the root of these evils? A man dared to say that, "I know God, as God Himself knows Himself." Do these things, then, require examination? Do these require demonstration? Is not the mere utterance of the words sufficient to show the entirety of their impiety? For this is clearly a kind of madness, an inexcusable insanity, a newer mode of impiety; no one has ever dared to either conceive such a thing in his mind or bring it forth through his tongue. Consider, you wretched and miserable man, who you are, and whom you are scrutinizing; being a man, are you prying into God? For the mere names alone of such folly suffice to show the excess of it: man, being earth and ash, flesh and blood, grass and the flower of grass, a shadow and smoke and vanity, and whatever is more powerless and viler than these. And do not think that what is said is an accusation against human nature; for I myself do not say these things, but the prophets philosophize about them, not dishonoring our race, but curbing the puffing up of the senseless; not disparaging our nature, but humbling the arrogance of those who are crazed. For if, when they had spoken such and so many things, there nevertheless appeared some who surpassed the boastfulness of the devil, if none of these things had been spoken, where would they not have kicked out in their insanity, tell me? If they have the medicine applied and still fester, where would they not have been puffed up with pride and insanity, if they had not declared such and so many things concerning human nature? Hear, then, what the righteous patriarch says about himself: "But I am earth and ash." He was speaking with God, and his boldness did not lift him up; this, indeed, this counselled him to be moderate. But these men, not being worthy even of his shadow, think themselves to be greater than the angels themselves, which is proof of the ultimate madness. God, tell me, do you pry into Him who is without beginning, who is unchanging, who is incorporeal, who is incorruptible, who is everywhere present, and who transcends everything and is above all of creation? Hear what the prophets philosophize about Him, and fear: "The One who looks upon
the earth and makes it tremble." He looked only, and shook such a great and mighty earth. It is He "who touches the mountains, and they smoke," A who shakes the heavens from their foundations, and their pillars tremble; who threatens the sea and dries it up; who says to the abyss, "You shall be laid waste." The sea saw it and fled; the Jordan turned back; the mountains skipped like rams, and the hills like lambs of the flock. All creation is shaken, it fears, it trembles; yet these men alone despise, disregard, and treat with contempt their own salvation—for I would hardly call them the Master of all. Previously, we sought to bring them to their senses by speaking of the powers on high—angels, archangels, Cherubim, Seraphim—but now, by speaking of the insensible creation, and not even from this do they feel ashamed. Do you not see this heaven, how beautiful it is, how great, how it is crowned with the variegated dance of the stars? How long has it endured? For more than five thousand years it has stood, and the abundance B of time has brought no old age upon it. But just as a body that is young and vigorous possesses the peak of its age in full bloom, so also the heaven has preserved the beauty it received from the beginning, and has become no weaker with the passage of time. Yet this heaven—so beautiful, so great, so bright, so adorned, so enduring, standing for so long a time—this God whom you examine and subject to the bounds of your own reasoning, He created just as easily as if one were playing at building a hut. Isaiah hinted at this when he said: "He who established the heaven as an arch, and stretched it out as a tent over the earth." But do you wish to look at the earth as well? He made this, too, as nothing. For concerning the former he says: "He who established the heaven as an arch, and stretched it out as a tent over the earth," but concerning this: "He who holds the circle of the earth, who made the earth as nothing." Do you see how He called even such a great and mighty thing "nothing"?
D 4. Consider, then, the sheer scale of the mountains, the many nations of men, the heights and multitudes of plants, the number of cities, the size of the buildings, and the countless swarms of four-footed animals, wild beasts, and reptiles [457] that it carries upon its back. Yet He made such a thing, and so great a thing, so easily that the prophet, not even finding a sufficient example for this ease, could only say that He made the earth as nothing. For because the scale and beauty of the things seen were not enough to demonstrate the power of the Creator, but fell short by a great measure of the size and strength of Him who had made them, the prophets found another path through which, according to their ability, they were able to show us something more regarding the power of God. What is this path? It is not to present only the scale of the works, but also the manner of creation, so that from both—from the scale of what has been brought into being, and from the ease of the creation itself—we might be able to attain an understanding of God's power as far as our capacity allows. Do not, therefore, examine only the size of what is made, C but also the ease with which the Maker made it. This is not demonstrated on earth alone, but also in the very nature of human beings; for now he says, "He who holds the circle of the earth, and those who dwell in it as locusts," and now he says, "All nations are as a drop from a bucket before Him." Do not pass over the word lightly, but unfold what has been said beautifully and examine it. Reckon all the nations: the Syrians, the Cilicians, the Cappadocians, the Bithynians, those who dwell along the Euxine Sea, the Thracians, the Macedonians, all of Greece, those in the islands, those in Italy, those beyond our own inhabited world, those in the British Isles, the Sauromatae, the Indians, those who inhabit the land of the Persians, and the other infinite races and tribes whose names we do not even know. Still, all these nations, he says, are as a drop from a bucket before Him. How great a part are you of this drop, tell me, that you examine God, to whom all nations are as a drop from a bucket? And what need is there to speak of the nature of heaven, earth, sea, and men? Let us ascend above the heaven in our discourse, and let us come to the angels. For you surely know that a single angel is more than a match for all this visible creation; or rather, he is much more precious. For if the whole world would not be worth one righteous man, as Paul demonstrates by saying, "of whom the world was not worthy," all the more would it never be worth an angel; for the angels are far greater than the righteous. Yet there are ten thousand myriads of angels above, and thousands of thousands of archangels, and thrones, lordships, principalities, and powers, infinite hosts of incorporeal powers, and untold tribes, and He created all these powers with such ease that no words can describe it. For it sufficed for Him to will it, and just as for us the will involves no labor, so neither did the creating of such and so many powers involve labor for Him. And the prophet indicated this when he said: "He did all things whatsoever He willed in heaven and on earth." Do you see that His will alone sufficed [458] not only for the creation of things on earth, but also for the creation of the powers on high? Hearing these things, then, do you not lament for yourself, tell me, and do you not hide yourself, having been lifted to such heights of folly, in that, when you ought to only praise and worship Him, you contend and are busybody enough to investigate Him as if He were one of the most trivial things? For this reason, Paul, who was filled with great wisdom, seeing the incomparable superiority of God and the lowliness of human nature, indignant at those who would examine His dispensations, and complaining with much severity, said: "Indeed, O man, who are you that answers back to God? Who are you? Consider your own nature first; for there is no name to be found that can express your lowliness."
5. But you will say, "I am a man, honored with freedom." But you were honored not so that you might use freedom for contradiction, but so that you might use the honor for obedience to Him who honored you. God honored you not that you might insult Him, but that you might glorify Him; and he who examines His essence insults Him.
A For if not being inquisitive about His promises is to glorify Him, then being pedantic and searching them out is to dishonor not only the pronouncements but the One who has pronounced them. That not being inquisitive about His promises is to glorify Him, hear Paul saying concerning Abraham and his obedience and faith in all things: "For he considered his own body, already dead," and the deadness of Sarah’s womb, "yet he did not waver at the promise of God through unbelief, but was strengthened by faith." Nature and age, he says, cast him into despair, but faith held out fair hopes. "But he was strengthened by faith, giving glory to God," and being fully persuaded that what God has promised, He is able also to perform. Do you see that he who is fully persuaded regarding what God pronounces gives glory to God? If, therefore, he who believes in Him gives glory to God, he who disbelieves in Him turns His dishonor upon his own head. "Who are you, O man, to talk back to God?" Then, wishing to show the interval that exists between man and God, he showed it—not as much as he should have, but still from the given example it is possible to grasp the concept of an even much greater difference. For what does he say? "Will the thing formed say to him who formed it, 'Why have you made me like this?' Does not the potter have power over the clay, from the same lump to make one vessel for honor and another for dishonor?" B What are you saying? Am I supposed to be subject to God as the clay is to the potter? "Yes," he says, "for the interval between man and God is as great as between clay and potter; or rather, the interval is not even that great, but much greater." Now the substance of clay and potter is one, just as it is said in Job: "I also dwell in houses of clay," from which we ourselves are, from the same clay. And if man appears to be better and more handsome than that, it is not a change of nature that has caused the difference, but the wisdom of the craftsman; since you do not differ at all from clay. And if you disbelieve, let the coffins and the sarcophagi persuade you; for having gone to the graves of your ancestors, you will know that these things are so. There is no interval, then, between clay and potter; but the interval of substance between God and men is so great that speech cannot convey it, nor can thought measure it. Just as, therefore, the clay follows the hands of the potter, whithersoever he pulls and turns it, so too be you speechless like the clay whenever God wishes to manage something. C For Paul has not said these things to strip us of our free will (far be it!), nor to do violence to the power of self-determination, but to muzzle our presumption out of the abundance of his greatness; and if it seems good, let us examine this too. What in the world did those people wish to learn, and why did he muzzle them so vehemently? Were they examining the essence? By no means; for no one ever dared to do that, but what was far less: they were inquiring into the economic management of God: for instance, why this one is punished, and why that one is shown mercy; why this one is delivered from punishment, and that one is in dire straits; and the one received pardon, while the other did not. For they were inquiring about these things and such like. And from where is this clear? From the things above: for having said, "Therefore He has mercy on whom He wills, and whom He wills He hardens. You will say to me, 'Why does He yet find fault? For who has resisted His will?'" then he brought in, "Nay, D O man, who are you to talk back to God?" Therefore, Paul muzzles those who seek to be inquisitive about the economic management. Furthermore, he does not even grant them those things; but you, while being pedantic about the blessed essence that manages all things, do you not think yourself worthy of ten thousand thunderbolts? And how is this not the deepest madness? Hear the prophet saying, or rather God through him: "If I am a father, where is my glory? And if I am a Lord, where is my fear?" For he who fears does not inquire, but worships; he is not pedantic, but speaks well and glorifies. Let these things teach you, both the heavenly powers and the blessed Paul; for he does not reprove others with these things while he himself is not so disposed. Hear, then, what he says to the Philippians, showing that he has partial knowledge (just as when writing to the Corinthians he said that "we know in part"), and not yet everything; and he has even now taken hold of it: "Brethren, I do not count myself to have attained." What is clearer than this voice? Louder than a trumpet he shouted to the whole world, teaching them to love and be content with the measure of knowledge given, and never to think they have attained the whole. What are you saying, tell me? Do you have Christ in yourself speaking, and do you say, "I do not count myself to have attained"? For just for this very reason, he says, I said it, because I have Christ speaking in me; He Himself taught me these things. So that even these people, if they were not completely destitute of the help of the Spirit, and had not thrust His every operation from their own soul, would not—upon Paul saying, "I do not count myself to have attained"—have considered themselves to have attained the whole.
460 6. And from where is it clear, he says, that he is saying these things about faith and knowledge and doctrines, and not about life and conduct? Because I consider myself incomplete in life and conduct? To be sure, he made this clear by saying, "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Finally, there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness." But he who is about to receive the crown, and who has finished the race, would not have said, "I do not count myself to have attained." Otherwise, the things to be done and the things not to be done are not hidden from any of mankind, but are clear and known to all: to the barbarians, and to the Persians, and to all the race of men. But that I may make what I am saying clearer, I will read the sequence of the passage itself; for having said, "Beware of the dogs, beware of the evil workers," and having discoursed at length about those who were introducing Jewish doctrines untimelily, he brought in, saying: "But what things were gain to me, these I have counted loss for Christ. Yet indeed I will also count all things to be loss, that I may be found not having my own righteousness which is from the law, but that which is from God, the righteousness which is by faith of Jesus Christ." Then he says of what faith: "That I may know Him and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings." What is "the power of His resurrection"? A kind of new, he says, type of resurrection is shown.
A For many even before Him had often been raised from the dead, but not one like this. For all the others who were raised returned again to the earth, and being delivered for a time from the tyranny of death, they were led back again under his rule. But the body of the Master, having risen, did not return to the earth, but ascended into the heavens, and it destroyed all the tyranny of the enemy, and raised up with itself the whole world, and now it sits upon the royal throne.
Thinking on all these things, then, and showing that no logic will be able to set forth such great and such marvelous things, but that faith alone is able to teach and make them clear, Paul said, "By faith to know the power of His resurrection." For if logic cannot simply set forth a resurrection (for this is greater than human nature and the order of things), what logic will be able to set forth a resurrection that differs so much from the other resurrections? There is none; rather, we have need of faith alone, whereby we might be persuaded that a mortal body also rose, and came into a life immortal, "having no end or cessation." This is what he also signifies elsewhere, saying: "Christ having risen, now dies no more; death no longer has dominion over Him." So the miracle is twofold: both that He rose, and that He rose in this way. For this reason he said, "By faith to know the power of His resurrection." But if it is impossible to discover the resurrection by logic, how much more the birth from above?
Discussing these things, and speaking also about the cross and the passion, Paul committed those things also to the power of faith. Then, having set all these arguments in motion, B [461] advancing further, he said: "Brethren, I do not count myself to have attained." He did not say, "I do not count myself to know," but "to have attained"; he did not testify to himself either complete ignorance or complete knowledge. For to say, "I do not count myself to have attained," signifies that he is still standing on the road, and walking, and proceeding further, but that he has certainly not reached the end.
He also exhorts others to this, saying thus: "As many as are perfect, let us have this mind; and if anything you think otherwise, God will reveal this also to you." Not logic, he said, will teach, but God will reveal. Do you see that his discourse is not about life and conduct, but about doctrines and faith? For conduct and life do not require revelation, but doctrines and knowledge. And elsewhere, declaring this same thing, he said: "If anyone thinks he knows anything, he has not yet known anything." He did not say simply, "He has known nothing," but "as he must know"; for he has knowledge, but not accurate and complete.
7. And that you may learn that this is true, let us not discuss things above, but, if you will, let us bring the argument down to the visible creation. Do you not see this heaven? That it preserves the image of a vault we know, and this very thing we have learned not from logic but from the divine Scriptures; and that it encompasses the whole earth, this also we know, having heard it likewise from them; but what its substance is, we are ignorant. And if anyone should contend and be argumentative, let him say what the substance of the heaven is: is it frozen crystal? Is it condensed cloud? C D is it a thicker air? But no one would be able to say clearly. Do you still, then, tell me, have need of proof in order to learn the madness of those who claim to know God? You cannot tell the nature of the heaven that is seen every day, and yet you claim to know with accuracy the substance of the invisible God? And who is so senseless as not to condemn the extreme madness of those who say these things?
For this very reason I exhort all of you, like those who have fallen into the disease of frenzy and are delirious, to try according to your power to heal them, conversing with them with gentleness and kindness. For this doctrine was born in them out of pride, and there is much swelling in their mind; and inflamed wounds do not even endure the application of a hand, nor do they tolerate a rougher touch. For this reason the wise among physicians soothe such ulcers with a soft sponge. Since, therefore, these people also have an inflamed ulcer in their soul, like a soft sponge, drawing up pleasant and potable water, in this way, having soaked up all that has been said, we try to settle their swelling and to reduce the whole tumor. Even if they insult, even if they kick, even if they spit, even if they do anything whatsoever, do not abandon the treatment, beloved. For those who treat a man who is delirious must endure many such things; but still, it is not right to withdraw, but for these very reasons one should even condemn them and weep, because such is the form of their sickness.
I say these things to the more [462] strong and invulnerable, those who are able to receive no harm from the conversation of such people; but if anyone is weaker, let him flee their company, let him jump away from their gatherings, so that the pretext of friendship might not become a cause of impiety. Paul does the same; he himself mingles with the sick and says: "I became to the Jews as a Jew, to them that are without law as without law." But he leads the disciples and those who are more weakly disposed away, exhorting and teaching them thus: "Evil company corrupts good habits." And again: "Come out from among them, and be separate, says the Lord." For if a physician comes to a sick man, he has often benefited both the other and himself; but the weaker person has harmed both himself and the sick man by mingling with the ill; for he will not be able to benefit the other, and he himself will draw much harm from the sickness. And just as those who look at people with eye infections suffer, by being drawn into that sickness, this is what those who mingle with the blasphemous also endure, if they are weaker—drawing into themselves a large part of the impiety. That we may not, therefore, harm ourselves greatly, let us flee their company, praying only and beseeching the philanthropic God, who wills all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth, to deliver them from their error and from the snare of the devil, and to lead them back to the light of knowledge, to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, with the life-giving and all-holy Spirit, to whom be glory and power, now and always, and to the ages of ages. Amen.
ON THE INCOMPREHENSIBLE. And that not even the condescension of God is endurable to the Seraphim.
Third Discourse.
α΄. The more industrious of farmers, when they see a tree that is barren and wild, doing damage to their labors, and by the roughness of its roots and the heaviness of its shade spoiling the cultivated plants, cut it down with great zeal. Often, too, a wind comes upon them from somewhere and joins in the cutting, and falling upon the branches of the tree, and shaking it with great force, it breaks it and casts it to the ground, and relieves them of the greater part of their labor. Since, therefore, we too are cutting down a wild and barren tree—the heresy of the Anomoeans—let us call upon God to send us the grace of the Spirit, so that, striking it with a force greater than any wind, it may tear the heresy out by the roots, and relieve us of the greater part of the labor. For often ground that has been uncultivated and has not enjoyed the hands of farmers, has erupted with evil weeds, and a multitude of thorns, and wild trees from its own bosom; thus too the soul of the Anomoeans, having been laid waste and not having enjoyed the care of the Scriptures, has erupted from within itself and of its own accord 463 this wild and barren heresy. For this tree did not Paul plant, nor did Apollos water, nor did God give it growth, but the untimely meddlesomeness of reasonings planted it, the pride of conceit watered it, and the love of vain-glory increased it. And we have need of the flame of the Spirit, that we may not only tear up, but also utterly burn away this wicked root. Let us call upon Him, then, the God who is blasphemed by them, but praised by us, and let us entreat Him, so that He may stir up our tongue for a fuller course, and open our understanding for a clearer unfolding of what is said ª. For all our labor is for Him and for His glory, or rather, for our own salvation.
For no one, by dishonoring God, will be able to do Him harm, nor by praising Him will he be able to make Him more brilliant; but He always remains in His own glory, neither increased by praises nor diminished by blasphemies. But as for men, those who glorify Him according to His worth—though to do so according to His worth is impossible for anyone, yet they do so according to their own capacity—reap the benefit that comes from the doxology; while those who blaspheme and treat Him with contempt, do damage to their own salvation. For, *“He who throws a stone into the air, throws it on his own head,”* someone has said concerning those who blaspheme. For just as one who throws a stone towards the heights will not be able to cut the body of the sky, nor reach that height, but receives the blow upon his own head, as the stone returns upon the one who threw it, so too does he who blasphemes that blessed Essence. That Essence he will never harm at all, being far greater and higher than to be able to receive any harm; but he sharpens the sword ᵇ against his own soul, having become ungrateful toward his Benefactor. Let us call upon Him, then, the ineffable, the inconceivable God, the invisible, the incomprehensible, who surpasses the power of human language, who transcends the grasp of mortal understanding, who is unsearchable to the angels, unseen by the Seraphim, incomprehensible to the Cherubim, invisible to Principalities, Powers, 464 and simply to all creation, and known only by the Son and the Holy Spirit. And I know that they will accuse my discourse of arrogance, because I have said that He is incomprehensible even to the powers above; but I, for that very reason, shall accuse them of much madness and insanity. For it is not arrogance to say that the Creator is higher than the comprehension of all created beings, but it is arrogant to say that He who is incomprehensible to the powers above is able to be circumscribed and comprehended by those who live here on the ground ᶜ, and who are so far removed from them, through the weakness of their own reasonings? I, therefore, if I do not demonstrate this which I have promised, would be deserving of the charge of arrogance; but you, if, after I have shown Him to be incomprehensible to the powers above, you still insist and contend that you know Him, into what pits, into what precipices would you be worthy to fall, 464 boasting that you know with precision things invisible to all the incorporeal powers?
β΄. Come then, let us proceed to the proofs themselves at last, turning our discourse back to the prayer; for the sequence of the prayer itself will often provide the demonstration of what we are seeking. Let us call upon Him, then, as *“the King of those who reign, and the Lord of those who exercise lordship, who alone has immortality, and dwells in unapproachable light, whom no one of men has seen, nor can see”*; to whom be honor and power to the ages. Amen. These are not my words, but the words of Paul. And you, observe for me the reverence of his soul and his deep-rooted desire. For, having mentioned God, he did not endure to proceed to the sequence of his teaching until he had rendered the debt owed to Him, concluding his discourse with a doxology. For if *“the memory of the righteous is with praises,”* much more is the memory of God with praise. He does this also in the openings of his epistles; for often, when beginning an epistle, when he mentions God, he does not proceed to his teaching before he has rendered the doxology owed to Him. Listen, then, to how he writes to the Galatians and says: *“Grace to you and peace from God our Father, and the Lord Jesus Christ, who gave Himself for our sins, that He might deliver us from this present evil age according to the will of God and our Father, to whom be glory to the ages. Amen.”* And again elsewhere: *“To the King...*
of kings, he says, and Lord of lords, who alone has immortality, dwelling in light A inaccessible.” Stop here, and ask the heretic what this means, “dwelling in light inaccessible,” and pay attention to the precision of Paul. He did not say, “Being light inaccessible,” but, “Dwelling in light inaccessible,” so that you may learn that if the house is inaccessible, how much more so is the God who dwells within it. He said these things, not that you might suspect a house or a place around God, but that you might learn of His incomprehensibility from the greatness of His abundance. But he did not even say “dwelling in incomprehensible light,” but “inaccessible,” which is a condition far greater than that of the incomprehensible. For the incomprehensible is said to be that which, when searched and sought after, is not grasped by those who search for it; but inaccessible is that which does not even permit itself to be searched after B at all, nor is anyone able to come near it. For example, the sea is called incomprehensible, into which divers lower themselves, and while being carried down to a great depth, they are unable to find the bottom; but that is called inaccessible, to which it is not possible for anyone either to seek the beginning or to investigate it.
[γ.] What would you say to these things? But, he says, it is inaccessible to men, but not to angels, nor to the powers above. Are you then an angel, tell me, and do you rank in the choir of the incorporeal powers? Are you not a man, and of the same substance as I, or have you forgotten your nature? For let us assume that it is inaccessible to men only, though this is not added, nor did Paul say: “To men indeed, He dwells in light inaccessible, but to angels, it is not inaccessible.” Nevertheless, if you wish, let us assume this by way of concession; are you yourself not a man? What then, even if it is not inaccessible to angels, what is this to you who are contentious, curious, and asserting that that substance is comprehensible to human nature? But that you may learn that it is inaccessible not only to men, but also to the powers above, hear what Isaiah says—and when I say Isaiah, I speak of the judgment of the Spirit; for every prophet utters that which is of the energy of the Spirit—: “And it came to pass in the year that king Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne high and lifted up, and the Seraphim stood around Him, C each one having six wings, and with two they covered their faces, and with two their feet.” For what reason, tell me, do they cover their faces and thrust forward their wings? And for what other reason, if not because they could not bear the lightning leaping from the throne and those splendors? And yet, they were not seeing the light uncovered, nor the substance itself in its purity, but what was seen was a condescension. And what is a condescension? It is when God does not appear as He is, but sets Himself forth as he who is able to behold Him is capable of seeing, meting out the manifestation to the weakness of the eyes of those who see. And that it was a condescension, is evident from the words themselves. For he says, “I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne high and lifted up.” But God does not sit; for this is the configuration of bodies; and He is not on a throne, for God is not encompassed by a throne, for the Divine is circumscribed by nothing. But nonetheless, they were unable to bear even the condescension, though they stood near D; for the Seraphim stood around Him. For this very reason, then, they were especially unable to look, because they were near; and he says “near,” not in terms of place, but wishing to show through the Holy Spirit that, although they are nearer to that substance than we are, not even so are they able to behold it. For this reason he says, “And the Seraphim stood around Him,” not again hinting at place, but signifying that by the proximity of place, they are closer to us than it is. For we do not know the incomprehensible, as those powers do, insofar as they are purer, wiser, and more clear-sighted than human nature. For just as a blind man does not know the inaccessibility of the solar rays as one who sees, so we do not know the incomprehensibility of God as they do. For as much as there is a difference between a blind man and one who sees, by so much is there a difference between us and them. So that even if you hear the prophet saying, “I saw the Lord,” do not suspect this, that he saw that substance, but the condescension itself, and this even more dimly than the powers above; for he would not have been able to see as much as the Cherubim.
[δ.] And what am I to say about that blessed substance, when it is not even possible for a man to see the substance of an angel without alarm? And that you may learn that this is true, I will set in the midst a friend of God, having much boldness on account of wisdom and righteousness, and witnessed by many other good deeds, the holy Daniel—so that when I show him failing, dissolving, and falling down from the presence of the angel, no one might suppose that he suffered this because of sins or a wicked conscience, but that, the boldness of his soul being shown, the weakness of his nature might be clearly refuted. This Daniel, then, who fasted three weeks of days, and ate no bread of desires, nor did wine and meat and strong drink enter into his mouth, nor did he anoint himself with ointment. And then he saw that vision, when his soul was more fit for the reception of such a contemplation, having become lighter and more spiritual because of the fast. And what does he say? “I lifted up my eyes, and I saw, and behold a man clothed in baddim, that is, in a sacred robe, and his loins were girded with gold of Uphaz, and his body was as a beryl, his face as the appearance of lightning, his eyes as lamps of fire,
and his arms and his legs as the appearance of polished brass, and the voice of his words as the voice of a multitude. And I alone saw this vision, and those who were with me did not see it, but a great trembling fell upon them, and they fled in fear, and strength was not left in me, and my glory was turned into corruption. What is, "My glory was turned into corruption"? The young man was fair; since, therefore, the fear of the angel’s presence affected him just as it does those who are expiring, causing much pallor, and consuming the bloom of the hour, and exhausting all the healthy color of his appearance, for this reason he says, "My glory was turned into corruption." For just as when a charioteer is frightened and lets go of the reins, the horses all rush forward and the whole chariot is overturned; so it is wont to happen to the soul when it is seized by some astonishment and anxiety. For, being terrified, and as it were drawing in its own proper activities away from each of the sense-organs of the body, it leaves the limbs destitute; then those limbs, deprived of the power that held them, fall and are shattered—which is what Daniel also suffered then. What, then, did the angel do? He raised him up and says, "Daniel, man of desires, understand the words which I speak to you, and stand upon your feet, for now I have been sent to you." A And he stood up trembling. And as the angel began to speak with him again, and to say that, "From the day that you gave your heart to be afflicted before God, your words were heard, and I have come because of your words," he fell to the ground again; which is what also happens to those who are fainting. For just as those, when they are aroused and have returned to themselves, and have looked up, being held by us while we sprinkle their faces with cold water, still faint many times in our very hands, so also the prophet was suffering. For the soul, having been frightened and unable to sustain the sight of the presence of a fellow-servant, nor able to bear that light, was troubled, as though it were hastening to tear itself away from some bond of the flesh. But that one still held him. Let those who investigate the Master of the angels hear this. Daniel, if the eyes of lions refrained from him; Daniel, who was able to endure the presence of someone beyond compare in a human body, could not bear the presence of a fellow-servant, but lay breathless. For he says, "My inward parts were turned in my vision, and breath was not left in me." Yet those who have departed so far from virtue and from the righteous one promise to know his very substance with all accuracy, the One who is above all, and primary, and who brought forth the myriads of these angels, B one of whom Daniel could not endure to see.
ε'. But let us bring the argument back to the former proposition, and let us show that God is invisible even to the powers above, and this even when He condescends. For why, tell me, does the Seraphim present his wings? For no other reason at all than that apostolic saying, "Who dwells in light unapproachable," 468 which they proclaim beforehand by their actions, and not they alone, but those even above them, the Cherubim. For these stand near; but those are the thrones of God, not because God needs a throne, but so that through this you may learn the nature of their powers. Hear, therefore, another prophet also discoursing about them. "And the word of the Lord came to Ezekiel the son of Buzi upon the river Chobar." And this one stood by the river Chobar, just as that one stood at that time by the river Tigris. For when God is about to show some wondrous sight to His own servants, He leads them outside the cities into a place free from noise, so that their soul may not be frustrated by any of the things seen or heard, but, enjoying complete peace, may occupy itself with the contemplation of the things seen. What did this one, then, see? "Behold a cloud," he says, "was coming from the north, and brightness around it, and fire flashing, and in its midst as the appearance of electrum, and brightness in it, and in the midst the likeness of four living creatures." And this was their appearance: the likeness of a man upon them. And to one there were four faces, and to one four wings. "And there was height to them," he says, "and they were terrible, and their backs were full of eyes round about, to the four, and the likeness above their heads was like a firmament, as the appearance of terrible crystal, extended over their heads from above, and their wings to each were two, covering their bodies, and above the firmament, as the appearance of a sapphire stone; and the likeness of a throne upon it, and upon the likeness of the throne a likeness as the form of a man upon it. And I saw as the appearance of electrum, from the appearance of his loins and upwards, and from the appearance of his loins and downwards, as the appearance of fire, and his brightness was as the appearance of a rainbow, when it is in the cloud in a day of rain." And after all these things, wishing to show that neither the prophet nor those powers approached that very essence, he says: "This is the vision of the likeness of the glory of the Lord." Do you see both there and here a condescension? But yet, even those powers cover themselves with their wings, for no other reason than this, although these powers are most wise, and most knowing, and most pure. Whence is this clear? From their very names. For just as one is called an angel because he announces the things of God to men, and is called an archangel because he rules over the angels, so also these have names that declare to us their wisdom and their purity; and just as the wings signify the height of their nature (for Gabriel also appears flying, not because there are wings around the angel, but so that you may learn that he has come to human nature from the most high places and abodes above); so, too, in the case of these, the wings signify nothing else but the height of their nature. Just as, therefore, the wings signify the height of the nature, and the throne signifies God resting upon them, and the eyes signify the power of clear-sightedness, and the being near to the throne and the unceasingly singing to Him signifies the watchful and wakeful, so also the names declare, of some, their wisdom, and of others, their purity. For what is Cherubim? "Fulfilled knowledge." But what is Seraphim? "Fiery mouths." Do you see how the names have indicated both purity and wisdom? But if, where there is "fulfilled knowledge," they cannot see the condescension of God with accuracy, where there is "partial knowledge," as Paul says, "We know in part, and through a mirror, and in a riddle," what great folly it would be to think that things which are invisible even to them are known and manifest to us?
A That God is not to be grasped, not only by the Cherubim and the Seraphim, but not by any other created power—this is what I wished to demonstrate now, but our intellect has grown weary, not because of the multitude of what has been said, but because of the dread inspired by it. For the soul trembles and is stunned, having long dwelt upon these lofty contemplations. Therefore, come, let us bring it down from the heavens and soothe it, now that it is stricken with awe, by resorting to our accustomed consolation. And what is this? That those who are suffering from such maladies may one day be healed. For if we are commanded to beseech God on behalf of those in sickness, in the mines, in harsh slavery, and for those who are possessed, how much more so on behalf of these people? Since impiety is even more grievous than the demon; for while the madness of the latter has excuse, the former malady is devoid of all apology. But since I have mentioned the prayer for the possessed, I wish to speak a word to your charity and to cut away a grievous malady of the Church. For it would be absurd to treat those outside with such great care and yet to neglect our own members. What, then, is this malady? This vast multitude, now assembled, so attentive with such precision to what is being said, that I have often longed to see them at that most dread hour and could not, and I have groaned deeply—that when a fellow servant is speaking, there is such great haste and heightened zeal on the part of those pressing upon one another and remaining until the end, yet when Christ is about to appear upon the sacred mysteries, the Church becomes empty and deserted. And what excuse does this merit? By this slothfulness you undo all the praise due to your eagerness for hearing. For who among you would not condemn both yourselves and us, when he sees the fruit of your listening at once slipping away from you? For if you were heeding what is said with precision, you would have demonstrated your zeal through your works. But that you should leap away as soon as you have heard is a sign that you have received nothing of what was said and have stored nothing in your mind. For if the things said were stored within your souls, they would surely have held you fast inside and guided you with greater piety toward the most dread rites. But now, as though you had listened to a cithara player, you leave, empty of all benefit, as soon as the speaker has finished. But what is the cold excuse of the many? "I can pray," he says, "even at home, but it is not possible to hear homilies and teaching at home." You are deceiving yourself, man! For while it is indeed possible to pray at home, it is impossible to pray in the way one does in the Church, where there is so great a multitude of Fathers, where a cry is sent up to God with one accord. You are not heard when you beseech the Master by yourself as you are when you do so with your brothers. For here there is something more: there is unanimity and harmony, the bond of love, and the prayers of the priests. For this purpose the priests stand at the head, so that the prayers of the multitude, being weaker, might take hold of these stronger ones and together ascend with them into heaven. Otherwise, what profit could a homily have when prayer is not yoked with it? First the prayer, and then the word; thus also the apostles say: "But we will keep ourselves in prayer and the ministry of the word." So also does Paul do in the introductions to his epistles, praying that, just as the light of a lamp, so the light of prayer may B pave the way for the word. If you accustom yourself to pray with precision, you will not need instruction from your fellow servants, for God Himself will enlighten your mind without any intermediary. And if the prayer of one person has such power, how much more so that of a multitude! For the cords of that prayer are stronger, and the confidence is by far greater than that which is found in private at home. Whence is this evident? Listen to Paul himself, who says: "He who delivered us from such a great death, and does deliver; in whom we have hope that he will yet deliver us, while you also help together in prayer for us, that for the gift granted to us by many persons, thanks may be given by many on our behalf." Thus also Peter escaped from the prison. For there was fervent prayer being made by the Church for him to God. And if the prayer of the Church helped Peter and brought that pillar out of the prison, how do you despise its power, tell me, and what apology will you have? Hear also God Himself saying that He is persuaded by a multitude beseeching Him with goodwill. For, defending His actions to Jonah, through the plant of the gourd, He says: "You had pity on the gourd, for which you have not labored, nor did you nourish it; and shall I not spare Nineveh, the great city, in which dwell more than twelve times ten thousand men?" Not simply to point to the number, but that you may learn that prayer made with harmony has great power. I wish to make this clear to you also from human history. C D
ζ'. For ten years ago, some were captured on account of a tyranny, as you also know. Then one of those in authority, having been found liable to charges, with a cord on his mouth, was being led along the road to death. Then, truly, the whole city ran to the hippodrome, and they brought out those from the workshops, and the whole populace together rushed and snatched from the king’s wrath the condemned man, even though he was worthy of no forgiveness. Then, while you all ran together with your children and wives, wishing to dissolve the wrath of an earthly king, when you are about to render the King of the heavens merciful—and not to snatch from His wrath one man, as then, nor two or three or a hundred, but all the sinners in the inhabited world and to deliver the possessed from the trap of the devil—you sit outside, and you do not all run together, so that God, having regard for your harmony, might forgive them the punishment and grant you the remission of your sins? For if you should happen to be in the marketplace at that time, or if at home, or if engaged in inevitable affairs, would you not, having broken all your bonds more fiercely than any lion, hasten to the common supplication? What hope of salvation will you have, tell me, at that time, beloved? For not only do men cry out that most dread cry, but even angels fall down before the Master, and archangels beseech Him. They have also the time as their ally, and the Offering as their help. And just as men, having cut off olive branches, wave them at kings, reminding them through the plant of mercy and philanthropy, so also do the angels then, instead of olive branches, offer the very Master’s Body itself, beseeching the Master on behalf of human nature, almost saying, "On behalf of the…"
those for whom thou didst account Thyself worthy to be so loved as to give up Thine own soul; on their behalf we pour out these supplications; on behalf of those for whom Thou didst pour out Thy blood; on behalf of those for whom Thou didst sacrifice this Body." For this reason, the deacon also makes those who are possessed stand by at that time and commands them to bow their heads only, and to offer A their supplications by the posture of their bodies; for it is not permitted for them to pray together with the common assembly of the brothers. For this reason he makes them stand, so that having had mercy on them both in their affliction and in their speechlessness, he may use his own boldness to intercede for them. Therefore, acknowledging all these things, let us hurry to be present at that hour, so that we may obtain mercy and find grace and help in time of need. You praised what was said; with much commotion and applause you received the exhortation. But see that you demonstrate your praises by your deeds; the time for the proof of obedience is not short. After the exhortation comes the prayer. I seek that praise, I seek that applause which is expressed through their very deeds. Exhort one another, therefore, to remain standing, just as you have B remained; and even if someone’s order is disturbed, hold fast with precision, so that having received a double reward—both for your own zeal and for your care for the brothers—you may pour out your supplications with the greater boldness, and having rendered God propitious, you may be able to attain the goods both here and hereafter, by the grace and loving-kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom, to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory and power unto the ages of ages. Amen.
BY THE SAME, ON THE INCOMPREHENSIBLE. AGAINST THE ANOMOEANS. FOURTH DISCOURSE.
1. It would have sufficed that, after having shown to men a short time ago that God is incomprehensible—and even to the Cherubim and Seraphim—we should have been relieved of these matters and stirred nothing further. But since we possess every zeal and eagerness not only to stop the mouths of our opponents but also to make your love wiser, we again lay hold of the same subject and carry our discourse further. For involvement in these matters will both cause you to learn more C and will work out more brilliant victories for us, in that it clears away whatever residue may have been left behind. For one must not merely prune wicked weeds from above (for they sprout again when their roots lie below), but one must tear them up from the very depths and folds of the earth and set them bare before the heat of the sun, so that they may wither easily. Come, therefore, let us lead you back to heaven with our discourse, not prying or busying ourselves with many things, but pressing to put an end to the untimely contentiousness of those who do not know themselves and do not endure to know the limits of human nature. For this very reason, out of great abundance, we demonstrated not only the manifestation of God, but also that it was unbearable to the righteous man of that time, when we read the entire history to you, and we continually showed the blessed Daniel growing pale, trembling, and being in no better state than those D who are in their death throes, his soul hastening to tear asunder the bond of the flesh. For just as a tame and gentle dove, living in some little house, whenever it happens to sense some fear, being frightened, flies to the roof and seeks an exit through some window, seeking to escape its anguish, so indeed did the soul of that blessed man at that time hasten to fly up out of the body and was pressing to get outside on all sides, and it would have flown away and left the body desolate, had the angel not quickly forestalled it and delivered it from its anguish and led it back to its own dwelling again. For this reason we spoke these things then, so that having learned how much an angel differs from a man, and being brought to one's senses by the superiority of a fellow-servant, one might be delivered from the madness against the Master. The righteous man could not bear to see an angel, he who had such boldness—yet those who are so far removed from his virtue do not pry into an angel, but into the Master of the angels Himself. He tamed the fury of lions; we are not even able to get the better of foxes; he tore a dragon in half and mastered the nature of the beast through his boldness toward God; we are afraid even of mere reptiles. He stood before a raging king as one might a lion, and appearing in the midst of the wrath of Nebuchadnezzar, which was being carried more fiercely than any flame against the barbarian camps, he restrained it and enlightened all that was darkened.
But this man, who illumined the angel when he saw he had come to him, was seized by a severe vertigo. What apology, then, will those have who attempt to delve into that blessed nature? We did not even stop our discourse there at that time, but we led the narrative up to those wise powers; we showed the turning away of the eyes, the veiling with the wings, the straightness of the legs, the unceasing cry, and that by all these they manifest to us the astonishment and the awe of those bodiless powers. For in as much as they are wise, in as much as they are nearer to that ineffable and blessed essence, by so much more do they know the incomprehensibility of it; for the heightening of wisdom produces a heightening of reverence. We told you what "inaccessible" means, and that it is much greater than "incomprehensible," and we added the reason: that the incomprehensible appears as such after it has been searched out, but the inaccessible does not even endure searching, nor even approach, from the beginning—when we also needed the image of the sea. We said that He did not say "a light that is inaccessible," but "a Light dwelling in light inaccessible"; and if the dwelling (the light) is inaccessible, much more is God who dwells within it. These...
things Paul said, not in order to circumscribe God within a place, but in order to show forth through his abounding greatness His incomprehensibility and inaccessibility. We brought forward also other powers, the Cherubim, and we showed how there is a firmament above them, how there is a stone of crystal, how the likeness of a throne, and the appearance of a man, and electrum, and fire, and a bow; A and after all these things, the prophet says: "This is the vision of the likeness of the glory of the Lord." And through all these things we demonstrated to you the condescension of God, and that even this itself is unbearable even to the powers above.
473 B I do not recapitulate these things simply, but because I owe you the debt of that promise, I wish to learn with precision what I have paid, and what remains. Those who owe debts act in this way, too, when they bring the written bond into the middle, where the entire account is written, and having shown it to their creditors, they pay what is remaining. And I, therefore, having unfolded as a book the memory of your mind, just as with a finger by means of my discourse, having shown what has been paid, I shall proceed to what remains from now on. What, then, was that which was left over? To show that neither principalities, nor powers, nor lordships, nor if there is any other created power, has the precise comprehension of God. For there are, there are even other powers, whose names we do not even know. Consider the madness of the heretics: they do not even know the names of the slaves, and yet they are busybodies concerning the very essence of the Master. For there are indeed angels, and archangels, and thrones, and lordships, and principalities, and powers; but these are not the only multitudes in the heavens, but there are infinite nations and untold tribes, which no speech can represent. And whence is it clear that there are powers even more numerous than these, whose names we do not even know? Paul, having said these things, says this also, speaking thus regarding Christ: "He seated Him above every principality, and power, and might, and every name that is named, not only in this age, but also in the one to come." See that there are certain names there which are to become known, which are hidden now? For this reason he said: "Not only named in this age, but also in that which is to come." And what is the wonder, if they do not have the precise comprehension of the essence? For this would prove nothing great. For these powers above, these principalities, and powers, and lordships, do not know many of His economies. C And this, again, we shall prove from the very apostolic words, that they learned some of His economies along with us, and did not know them before us; and not only did they learn them with us, but actually through us. "To other generations," he says, "it was not made known, as it has now been revealed to His holy apostles and prophets, that the Gentiles are fellow-heirs and fellow-body and fellow-partakers of His promise" (but the promises had been given to the Jews) "through the Gospel, of which I, Paul, became a minister." And whence is it clear that the powers above learned this only now? For the things spoken are spoken concerning human beings. Listen, then: "To me, the very least," he says, "of all the saints was this grace given, to preach among the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ." What is "unsearchable"? That which cannot be tracked out; and not only that which cannot be found, but not even that which can be tracked. Let them listen again D how frequently and consecutively he gives them notice of these things. For if the riches of Christ are unsearchable, how is the One who bestowed the riches not unsearchable? "And to enlighten all as to what is the economy of the mystery which has been hidden 474 in God, so that the manifold wisdom of God might now be made known to the principalities and powers through the Church." Have you heard how it is "now," not before this, that those powers learned these things? For what a king deliberates, the armor-bearer does not know. "So that the manifold wisdom of God might now be made known to the principalities and powers through the Church." See how much honor came to human nature, that both with us and through us the powers above learned the secrets of the King! But whence is it clear that he speaks concerning those heavenly beings? For he knows how to call both principalities and powers and the demons, saying: "Our struggle is not against blood and flesh, but against principalities, against powers, against the world-rulers of this darkness of this age." Are we then to suppose that he says here also that the demons knew at that time? By no means, but concerning those powers above; for having said "principalities and powers," he added, "in the heavenly places." For those were heavenly principalities and powers, but these are principalities and powers under heaven; for this reason he also calls them world-rulers, showing that heaven is inaccessible to them, and they exhibit all their tyranny only in the present world.
γ'. Do you see how both with us and through us they learned these things? But let us bring the discourse, then, to the payment of the debt, showing that neither principalities nor powers know His essence. Who, then, says these things? No longer Paul, no longer Isaiah, no longer Ezekiel, but another holy vessel, he himself, the son of thunder, the beloved of Christ, John, who reclined upon the Master's breast, and drew the divine springs from thence. What, then, does this one say? "No one has seen God at any time." Truly a son of thunder; for he emitted a voice more brilliant than a trumpet, sufficient to put to shame all those who contend. But let us look also at the objection. What do you say, tell me, John? "No one has seen God at any time"? What, then, shall we do with the prophets who say that they saw God? For Isaiah says, "I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne high and lifted up"; and Daniel again, "I saw until thrones were set, and the Ancient of Days sat"; and Micah, "I saw the Lord God of Israel sitting upon His throne"; and another prophet again, "I saw the Lord standing upon the altar, and He said to me: strike the altar." And it is possible to collect many such testimonies. How, then, does John say that no one has ever seen God? That you may learn that he speaks of His precise comprehension and His clear knowledge. For that all those things were a condescension, and no one of those saw the pure essence, is clear from the fact that each saw Him differently. For God is simple and uncompounded and formless; but these all saw different forms. This, then, he himself was indicating again through another prophet, and convincing them that they did not see the precise essence, saying: "I have multiplied visions, and I was made like in the hands of the prophets." I did not show My essence itself, He says, but I condescended to the
weakness. However, John says that "no one has seen God at any time" not only regarding men; for this was clear even from these things mentioned, from the prophetic utterance—I mean this one which says: "I have multiplied visions, and I was made like in the hands of the prophets" 475—and from the judgment that occurred to Moses. For when he desired to see Him ocularly, God says: "No one shall see My face and live." Thus, this was clear and agreed upon by us. Therefore, He is not saying this only about our nature, but also about the powers above, that "no one has seen God at any time." For this reason, He introduces the Only-Begotten as the teacher of the doctrine. For in order that no one might say, "Whence is this clear?", He added: "The Only-Begotten Son, who is in the bosom of the Father, He hath declared Him," introducing a credible witness and teacher of the doctrine. And yet, if He had wished merely to manifest to us the revelation of Moses, it would have been superfluous to say that the Only-Begotten declared Him; for the Only-Begotten did not Himself declare Him, but even before John said these things, the prophet had made it clear to us, as if having heard from God, that he had heard from the Only-Begotten. But since He was about to reveal to us more than what was said then—that not even the powers above see Him—for this reason He introduces the Only-Begotten as the teacher. Consider "seeing" here to be knowledge. For there are surely no pupils, eyes, and eyelids with the incorporeal powers, but what "sight" is in our case, that is "knowledge" in theirs. So when you hear that "no one has seen God at any time," consider that you are hearing that no one has known God essentially with all precision. And when you hear regarding the Seraphim that they turned away their eyes and screened their vision, and likewise regarding the Cherubim that they did the same, do not imagine eyes or pupils; for this is the configuration of bodies; but believe that by these things the prophet hints at their knowledge. When, therefore, the prophet says that they could not endure to see God descending, he is saying nothing else but that they cannot endure the knowledge of Him when it is made manifest and precise in apprehension, nor do they dare to gaze fixedly at the pure and intact essence, nor even at the condescension itself. And to gaze fixedly is to know. For this reason, the Evangelist, knowing that it is not of human nature to know such things, and that God is not even comprehensible to the powers above, brings forward as a teacher of this doctrine for us Him who sits at His right hand and knows these things precisely; and he did not even say simply, "the Son"—although even if he had said this, it would have been sufficient to stop the mouths of the shameless. For just as many are called christs, but the true Christ is one, and many are called lords, but the Lord is one, and many are called gods, but God is one; so also many are called sons, but the Son is one, and the addition of the definite article is sufficient to show the singular excellence of the Only-Begotten. Nevertheless, he was not satisfied with this, but having said, "No one has seen God at any time," he added, "The Only-Begotten Son, who is in the bosom of the Father, He hath declared Him." He said "Only-Begotten" first, and then "Son"; for because many, through the communion with the name, diminish His glory, thinking Him to be one of the many—for this name "son" 476 is a common name for all—that which is His singular and proper attribute, and belongs to no one else, he placed first, the "Only-Begotten," so that from this you might believe that even this common name is not common, but is His proper and sovereign attribute, and belongs to no one else as it belongs to Him.
4. And that what I say may be clearer, I will state it again more broadly. The name "son" belongs also to men, and it belongs to Christ, but to us it is applied in a catachrestic sense, while to Him it belongs properly; but "Only-Begotten" is His alone and belongs to no one else, not even catachrestically. In order, therefore, that from the appellation which belongs to no one else but Him alone, you might also consider that the other, which belongs to the many, is sovereign when applied to Him, for this reason he said "Only-Begotten" first, and then "Son." And if not even these things are sufficient for you, he says, I say a second, a third thing, coarse indeed and human, but sufficient to lead even those who crawl upon the ground to the idea of the glory of the Only-Begotten. And what is this? "Who is in the bosom of the Father." The terminology is coarse, but it is sufficient to demonstrate the genuineness, if we interpret it in a manner worthy of God. For just as when you hear of a throne, and the session at the right hand, you do not assume a throne, nor a place and a circumscription, but from the appellation of the throne, and the communion in the session, you understand the equality and parity of honor; so also when you hear of the bosom, do not consider it to be a bosom, nor a place, but from the appellation of the bosom understand the closeness and boldness toward the One who has begotten. For the fact of being "in the bosom" declares and presents to us the closeness to the One who begotten far more clearly than the fact of sitting at the right hand. For neither would the Father have endured having the Son in His bosom, if He were not of the same essence, nor would He have endured, being of an inferior nature, to dwell in the paternal bosom. As Son, therefore, and Only-Begotten and dwelling in the paternal bosom, He knows all things of the Father precisely; for this reason the Evangelist needed these words, that he might present the precise knowledge of the Son concerning the Father. For the discourse was about knowledge; for if this is not the case, for what reason has the "bosom" been assumed? For if God is neither a body, as indeed He is not, nor does it declare the genuineness and the closeness toward the One who begotten, the word has been cast in simply and in vain, fulfilling no need for us. But it has not been cast in simply—far be it; for the Spirit utters nothing in vain, but declares the closeness of the Son toward the Father. Since the Evangelist had declared a great thing, that not even the creation above sees Him—that is, knows Him with precision—wishing to provide a credible teacher for the matter, he has placed these words, so that you might believe regarding all things both as Son and as Only-Begotten and as dwelling in the paternal bosom, and no longer doubt anything. And if anyone should not be contentious, nor wish to be shameless, I say that this is also indicative of the eternal. For just as from that utterance spoken to Moses, "I am who I am," we understand the eternal, thus also from this utterance which says, "Who is in the bosom of the Father," it is possible to grasp that He is eternally in the bosom of the 477 Father. That, therefore, the essence of God is incomprehensible to all creation,
through all these things it has been demonstrated to us. It remains, then, for the rest, to show that only the Son and the Holy Spirit understand him with all precision. But having deferred this to another discourse, so that we may not overwhelm the memory of what has been said with a multitude, let us turn the discourse again to our customary exhortation. And what was the exhortation customary to us? To hold to fervent prayer with a sober mind and a wakeful soul. For even when I discoursed about these things a short while ago, I saw that all obeyed willingly. It is unreasonable, therefore, to blame those who are slothful, yet not to praise those who do rightly.
I wish, then, to praise you today, and to give you thanks for that obedience. And the favor will be B if we instruct you as to why that prayer takes place before the others, and for what reason the deacon bids those who are demon-possessed and held in the wicked frenzy to be brought in at that time, and to bow their heads. For what reason, then, does he do this? The operation of demons is a wicked and grievous chain, a chain stronger than any iron. Just as, therefore, when a judge is about to process in and sit upon the high tribunal, the jailers bring out all who dwell in the prison from the building, and set them down before the railings and the curtains of the tribunal, filthy, squalid, disheveled, clothed in rags; so too did the Fathers ordain that, when Christ is about to sit, as it were, upon a high tribunal, and to appear at the mysteries themselves, those who are demon-possessed should be brought in like prisoners—not that they might submit to an accounting for their offenses, like those who are bound, nor that they might undergo punishment and chastisement, but that, with the people and the entire city present within, there might be common supplications concerning them, with all imploring the common Master with one accord on their behalf, and beseeching Him to show mercy with a vehement cry.
5. At that time, therefore, we were blaming those who abandon such prayer, and who spend time outside during that season; but now I wish to blame those who remain inside—not because they remain inside, but because, while remaining, they are in no better condition than those who spend time outside, conversing with one another during that most awesome season. What are you doing, O man? Do you see so many prisoners from among your brothers standing near, and do you converse about matters that have no relevance? Or is the sight alone not sufficient to strike you with awe, and lead you to sympathy? Your brother is in chains, and you are in sloth? And what excuse will you have, tell me, being so unsympathetic, so inhuman, so cruel? Do you not fear that, while you are conversing, or are slothful, or neglectful, some demon might leap out from there and, finding the soul unoccupied and swept clean, might enter in with great audacity, having found the house without doors? For was it not necessary for all in common to shed fountains of tears at that hour, and for the eyes of all to be seen drenching, and for lamentations and wailing to take place on the part of the entire Church? After the communion of the mysteries, after the enjoyment of the laver, C after the pledging yourselves to Christ, that wolf had the power to snatch the lambs from the fold, and to hold them with himself, and you, seeing the calamity, do not weep? And where is this worthy of defense? Will you not suffer with your brother? Even if only for your own sake, fear and rouse yourself. If you saw a neighbor’s house being burned, tell me, even if the neighbor were your deadliest enemy, would you not have run to extinguish the fire, fearing that the fire, walking on its way, might catch at your own thresholds? This is also D your concern regarding those demon-possessed; for the operation of the demons is a kind of fire and a grievous conflagration. Look, then, to it, that the demon, walking on his way, does not also take hold of your soul; and when you see him present, with great readiness take refuge with the Master, so that when the demon sees your fervent and aroused soul, he may henceforth consider your mind to be impassable to him. For if he sees you yawning and slothful, he will quickly hasten in as though to a desolate lodging; but if he sees you taut and aroused, and hanging from the heavens themselves, he will not even dare to look back henceforth. So if you do not care for your brothers, at least spare yourself, and block the entrance against the wicked demon for your soul. But nothing so fences off his approach against us A from without as fervent prayer and intercession. For this very reason, the exhortation given by the deacon to everyone, saying, "Let us stand well," was not ordained simply or in vain, but so that we might stand upright in our thoughts which are dragged upon the ground, that having cast out the relaxation that comes to us from worldly affairs, we might be able to present our soul upright before God. And that this is true, and that the word is directed not to the body but to the soul, commanding it to be straightened, let us hear Paul also using the word in this manner. For writing to men who had fallen down and had become discouraged regarding the bringing on of evils, he said: "Lift up the drooping hands and the paralyzed knees." What, then, could we say? That he speaks concerning the hands and knees of the body? By no means; for he is not discoursing to runners or wrestlers, but he exhorted them to raise up the strength of the thoughts within—which had been beaten down by temptations—through these words. Think near whom you are standing; with whom you are about to call upon God—with the Cherubim. Reflect upon your fellow-dancers, and this will suffice you for soberness, when you consider that, clothed in a body and entangled in flesh, you have been vouchsafed to hymn the common Master of all with the bodiless powers. Let no one, therefore, with relaxed enthusiasm share in those holy and mystical hymns; let no one have worldly thoughts at that season, but having banished all earthly things from the mind, and having transported oneself entirely toward heaven, as if standing near the throne of glory itself, and flying with the Seraphim, let him thus offer the all-holy hymn to the God of glory and majesty. For this reason we are also commanded to "stand well" at that season. For "to stand well" B is nothing else but to stand as it is proper for a human being to stand before God, with fear and trembling, with a sober and aroused soul. For that the word is directed to the soul, Paul himself again clarified this by saying: "So stand fast in the Lord, beloved." Just as an archer, if he intends to shoot his arrows accurately, first attends to his own stance, and having positioned himself with precision over against the mark, he holds to the release of the arrows; so too you, intending to shoot the wicked head of the devil, attend first to the stance of your thoughts, so that, having fixed your own stance upright and unimpeded, you may shoot the arrows accurately against him.
6. And concerning prayer, these things suffice; but since the devil has devised another thing full of much despondency to add to the sloth regarding prayers, this approach of his must also be walled off. What, then, is it that that wicked demon has acted by stealth to bring about? Having seen you thus
A strongly bound as one body, and with great precision intent upon what is said, he did not dare to send down any of his own ministers to draw you away from the hearing of the word, through counsel and exhortation; for he knew that none of you would endure those who suggest these things. But having mingled some robbers and cutpurses among the crowd, he caused them to steal away the gold which many of those gathered here had tied up; and this happened many times and to many people here.
In order, therefore, that not even this should occur, nor the loss of money extinguish your zeal for hearing over time—as many are suffering this—I advise and counsel you all that no one should bring gold when entering here, so that your eagerness for hearing may not become a provision for their wickedness, nor the pleasure that arises within you from time spent here be dimmed by the theft of money. For the devil plotted this, not that he might make you poorer, but that the loss of money, having plunged you into deep annoyance, might draw you away from the zeal for hearing. Even when he stripped Job of all his wealth, it was not that he might make him poorer, but that he might strip him of piety. For the object of his striving was not to take away money (for he knows that this is nothing), but that by the removal of the money he might cast the soul into sin; and if he is not able to do this, he will consider he has accomplished nothing at all. Knowing his intent, therefore, beloved, when your gold is taken away, whether by robbers or by some other pretext, glorify the Lord, and B you will be the greater gainer, and you will give the enemy a double blow, both because you were not vexed and because you gave thanks. For if he sees that you are humbled by the loss of money and is persuaded to be vexed against the Lord, he will never cease doing this. But if he sees that not only do you not blaspheme God who created you, but you even give Him thanks for each of the evils that befall you, he will cease bringing the trials, knowing that the experience of evils for you becomes a cause for thanksgiving and works for you brighter crowns and greater rewards.
Which is just what happened in the case of Job. For when, having taken away his money and struck his body, he saw him becoming thankful, he no longer dared to approach, but went away having suffered a shameful and inexcusable defeat, having worked for God a more brilliant athlete. So we too, knowing these things, if we only fear sin, let us bear other things bravely, whether it be the loss of money, or sickness of the body, or disturbances of circumstances, or insult, or slander, or whatever other evil may be brought upon us. For the nature of these things will not only not harm us, but will be able to benefit us in the greatest ways, if we bear them with thanksgiving, and it will work for us greater rewards. You see, then, how even Job, after having wrapped himself in all the crowns of patience and courage, received back all that he had lost doubled. But you will receive not just doubled and tripled, but a hundredfold, if you bear it bravely, and you will inherit eternal life; of which may it be granted to us all to attain, by the grace and loving-kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the power, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.
CONCERNING THE INCOMPREHENSIBLE
AGAINST THE ANOMOEANS
Homily Five.1. When anyone is about to take up a smaller subject, and one which requires many words, and one which is completed not in a single day, nor two or three, but in many more, I think it is necessary not to impose the teaching all at once and all in one piece upon the mind of the hearers, but by cutting the whole into many parts, to make this burden of the discourse light and easily grasped through the fragmentation. For even the tongue and the hearing and each of our senses have measures and canons and limits set for them, and if anyone tries to exceed these limits, their power C falls short of what it had. For what is sweeter than light, tell me? What is more pleasant than a ray of sun? But yet this sweet and pleasant thing, when it shines into the eyes beyond our measure, becomes burdensome and heavy. For this reason, God ordained that there should be night after day, so that, having taken hold of eyes that have laboured, He might lower the eyelids, put the pupils to sleep, grant rest to the visual power that is weary for us, and prepare it to be more fit for the contemplation of the coming day. For this reason also, wakefulness and sleep, being contrary to each other, become most pleasant to one another through symmetry; and we call the light sweet, and we call sleep, which leads us away from the light, sweet in the same way. Thus D immoderation is everywhere heavy and burdensome, and symmetry is pleasant and useful and agreeable to us.
Because of this, we too, now finishing our fourth or fifth day since we began our discourse concerning the Incomprehensible, have not even today prepared to complete it, but having said what is symmetrical to your love, we have decided to rest your mind again. Where, then, did we leave our discourse previously? For it is necessary to pick it up from there again, since there is one succession of instruction. We said then that the Son of thunder said that no one has ever seen God; the only-begotten Son, who is in the bosom of the Father, He has explained it. Today it is necessary to learn where the only-begotten Son of God himself explained this. He answered, he says, the Jews, and said: Not that anyone has seen the Father, except he who is from God, he has seen the Father. Here again, he means seeing by knowledge. And he did not say simply that no one knows the Father, and keep silent, so that no one might think that this is said only about men, but wishing to show that neither 481 angels, nor archangels, nor…
the powers above, does he make this clear by the sequence of his words. For having said, "Not that any one has ever seen the Father," he added, "except he who is from God, he has seen the Father." For if he had said simply "no one," many of those hearing might perhaps have thought it was said only concerning our nature; but now, having said "no one," and adding "except the Son," by the addition of the Only-Begotten he excluded all creation. What then, he says, and the Holy Spirit? By no means; for this is not a part of creation either; and "no one" is always set there solely in contrast to creation.
And neither, if something is said about the Father, is the Son excluded, nor, if about the Son, does it cast out the Spirit. And in order that I may here make this very thing clear, that the word "no one" is not said for the setting aside of the Spirit, but for the contrast with creation, let us hear what Paul says, discoursing to the Corinthians concerning this very knowledge which he claims belongs to the Son alone. What then does he say? "For who knows" the things of a man, except the spirit of a man which is in him? Even so the things of God no one knows, except the Spirit of God. As therefore here the term "no one" being used does not cast out the Son, so also in the case of Christ the word "no one" B being placed does not cast out the Holy Spirit. Whence it is clear that what has been said is true. For if, in saying that "no one has seen the Father, except he who is from God," the Spirit were cast out, Paul would have said in vain that, just as a man knows his own things, so also does the Holy Spirit know the things of God with precision. So also the word "one" is used; for it has the same strength and power as this. Consider, however: "One God," he says, "the Father, from whom are all things, and one Lord Jesus Christ, through whom are all things." For if the fact that the Father is called one God casts out the Son from the Godhead, then the fact that the Son is called one Lord casts out the Father from the lordship. But surely the statement that "one Lord is Jesus Christ" does not cast out the Father from the lordship; therefore, the statement that "one God is the Father" does not cast out the Son from the Godhead.
ii. But if they should say again that the Father is called one God for this reason, because the Son is indeed God, but not such a God as the Father is, it follows that we must say, from the very premises which they themselves lay down (for we would not say it), that for this reason the Son is called one Lord, because the Father is indeed Lord, but not such a Lord as the Son is. But if this is impious, the former argument would not hold either; but as the term "one Lord" does not cast out the Father from the precise lordship, nor does it confine it to the Son alone, so neither does the term "one God" cast out the Son from the true and genuine and pure C Godhead, nor does it demonstrate it to be the Father's alone. For that the Son is God, and such a God as the Father is, while remaining the Son, is clear from this addition. For if this name "God" were of the Father alone, and could not signify to us another hypostasis, but only that unbegotten and first one, as peculiar and distinctive to it alone, the addition of "the Father" would be superfluous; for it would suffice to say "one God," and we would recognize who was meant. But since the name "God" is common to the Father and the Son, and in saying "one God" he did not make clear whom he meant, for this reason he needed the addition of "the Father," in order to show that he is speaking of the first and unbegotten hypostasis, since the designation of "God" was not sufficient to point it out, because this is common to him with the Son. For of names, some are common, some are proper; common, in order to show the inalterability of the essence, but proper, in order to characterize the distinctness of the hypostases.
The term "Father" and "Son," therefore, is proper to each hypostasis, but "God" and "Lord" is common. Since, then, he has put the common name "one God," he needed also that which is distinctive, so that you might recognize whom he means, so that we might not fall into the madness of Sabellius. For that neither the name "God" is greater than "Lord," nor "Lord" less than "God," is clear from this. In the whole of the Old Testament the Father is constantly called Lord: "The Lord thy God," he says, "the Lord is one"; and again, "Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and Him only shalt thou serve"; and again, "Great is our Lord, and great is his power, and of his understanding there is no number"; and again, "Let them know that thy name is Lord; thou alone art the highest over all the earth." Yet if it were less than "God" and unworthy of that essence, it should not have been said, "Let them know that thy name is Lord." Again, if "God" were greater and more D venerable than "Lord," the Son, who according to them is lesser, should not be called by the name appropriate to the Father, which was his alone. But these things are not so; they are not. For neither is the Son inferior to the Father, nor is the name "Lord" cheaper than "God." For this reason Scripture uses these titles indiscriminately for both the Father and the Son. Therefore, just as you have heard the Father called Lord, come, let us show you the Son also called God. "Behold, the virgin shall have in her womb, and shall bring forth a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel, which is being interpreted, God with us." Do you see how the name "Lord" is given to the Father, and the name "God" to the Son? For just as he says there, "Let them know that thy name is Lord," so also he says here, "They shall call his name Emmanuel." And again, "A child is born to us, a son is given to us, and his name is called Angel of great counsel, God the mighty, potentate." And consider for me the understanding of the prophets, and their spiritual wisdom. For in order that, having not simply said God, they might not be thought to speak of the Father, they mention the dispensation first; for the Father was not born through a virgin, nor did he become a child. Again, another prophet says something like this about him: "This is our God, no other shall be reckoned alongside him." And concerning whom does he say this? Is it not concerning the Father? By no means; for hear how he also made mention of the dispensation; for having said, "This is our God,"
he did not stop there, but added, A "He discovered every path of knowledge, and gave it to Jacob his servant, and to Israel who was loved by him. Afterward he appeared on earth and lived with men." And Paul says: B "Of whom is Christ according to the flesh, who is over all God, blessed for ever, amen." And again: "No fornicator or covetous man hath any inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and of God." And again: "According to the appearing of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ." And John also calls him thus, saying: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God."
3. Yes, you say; but show me that point where Scripture, while associating him with the Father, calls the Father Lord. Now I do not demonstrate this alone, but also that it calls the Father Lord, and the Son Lord, and that it calls the Father God, and the Son God, placing both names together. Where then is this to be found? When conversing with the Jews at one time, Christ says: "What think you of Christ? Whose son is he? They say to him, David's. He says to them: How then does David in spirit call him Lord, saying: The Lord said to my Lord, sit at my right hand?" Lo, Lord and Lord. Do you wish to learn where Scripture, placing them together, calls both the Father and the Son God? Hear both the prophet David and the apostle Paul declaring this to us: "Thy throne, O God, is for ever and ever; a sceptre of righteousness is the sceptre of thy kingdom. Thou hast loved righteousness and hated iniquity; therefore God, thy God, hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows." And Paul again brought forward this testimony, C saying that: "To his angels indeed he says: Who makes his angels spirits; but to the Son: Thy throne, O God, is for ever and ever." Why then, he says, did he here call the Father God, and the Son Lord?
It was not simply or without reason that he did this here, but because his discourse was directed toward Greeks suffering from the ailment of polytheism. In order, then, that they might not say that, while reproaching us for calling many gods and many lords, he himself is caught in these same charges by saying gods, and not God; for this reason, condescending to their weakness, he calls the Son by another name that possesses the same power. And that this is true, let us read the passage from the beginning, and you will know clearly that what is said is not our conjecture: "But concerning things sacrificed to idols, we know that we all have knowledge. Knowledge puffs up, but love edifies. Concerning then the eating of things sacrificed to idols, we know that no idol is anything in the world, and that there is no God but one." Do you see that he is speaking these things while directing them toward those who think there are many gods? "For even if there are so-called gods, [and many lords,] whether in heaven or on earth" (he struggles again against them) "just as there are many gods and many lords, that is, so-called; but to us there is one God the Father, of whom are all things, and one Lord Jesus Christ, through whom are all things." For this reason he added "one," so that they might not think that polytheism was being reintroduced, and he called the Father "one" God, not casting the Son out of the Godhead, just as he also called the Son "one" Lord, not casting the Father out of the Lordship, but correcting their weakness and wishing to give them no handle. This, then, also was the reason why the Son of God was not recognized by the Jews clearly and openly through the prophets, but rather obscurely and rarely. For having just been delivered from the polytheistic error, if they had heard God and God again, they would have reverted to the same sickness. For this reason, up and down, the prophets continually say that God is one, and besides him there is none; not rejecting the Son—God forbid—but wishing to heal their weakness, and to persuade them for the time being to be rid of the suspicion of the many gods which are not. Whenever, then, you hear "one" and "no one," and all such things, do not diminish the glory of the Trinity, but learn through these words its distinction in relation to creation; since elsewhere he also says: "For who has known the mind of the Lord?" And that this is the meaning here, and that he casts out neither the Son nor the Spirit from knowledge, was previously demonstrated in the things said above, when we brought forward the testimony which says: D "For who knows the things of a man, save the spirit of a man which is in him? So also the things of God no one knows, save the Spirit of God." And again Christ says: "No one knows the Son, save the Father, nor does anyone know the Father, save the Son." So too here: "Not that anyone has seen the Father, save he who is of God; he has seen the Father." For he said that he knows him with precision, and he has set down the cause for which he knows. And what is the cause? "His being of him"; and proof of his being of him is again his knowing him with precision. For this reason he knows him clearly, since he is of him, and the sign of his being of him is the knowing him clearly. For one substance would not be able to know well a substance that excels it, even if the distance is small. Hear then what the prophet says concerning the angels, and concerning human nature, that the difference between this and that is small. For having said, "What is man, that thou art mindful of him, or the son of man, that thou visitest him?" he added, "Thou hast made him a little lower than the angels." But yet, even if the distance is small, because there is distance at all, we do not know the substance of the angels with precision, and even if we philosophize ten thousand things, we are unable to discover it.
4. And what do I say of angels, when we do not even know the substance of our own soul well, or rather not at all? But if they contend to know, ask what the soul's substance is: is it air, or spirit, or wind, or fire? But they will say none of these, for these are all bodies, but it is incorporeal. Then they do not know the angels, nor their own souls, but they contend to know with precision the Master and Creator of all? And what could be worse than this madness? And what do I say, what is the substance the soul is? How
can one say A it is extended in the bulk of the body? But this is irrational, for it is a property of bodies; that this is not the case for the soul is evident from the fact that often, even when hands and feet have been cut off, it remains whole, having suffered no amputation through the mutilation of the body. But is it in the whole body, or is it contained in a certain part? Must the remaining limbs, then, necessarily be dead? For that which is without a soul is entirely dead. But this, too, cannot be said; rather, we know that it is in our body, but we do not know how it is. For this reason, God has B withheld the knowledge of this from us, from superabundant wisdom, checking and restraining us, persuading us to remain below, and not to be busy-bodies nor to meddle with what is above us. But so that we might not construct such things from our own reasonings, come, let us return the discourse to Scripture. "No one has seen the Father," he says, "unless he who is from God, he has seen the Father." And what is this, he says? For this statement has not yet testified to precise knowledge for him. But that the creation does not know him, he has shown by saying, "Not that anyone has seen the Father"; and that the Son knows him, he has also shown by adding, "Unless he who is from God, he has seen the Father." That he knows him precisely, however, and in such a way as he himself knows himself, this has not yet been demonstrated. For it is possible, he says, that even creation does not know him clearly, nor the Son, but—though it knows the former more clearly—that not even he has the precise apprehension. For that he sees him as he is and knows him, he has said, but that he knows him precisely, and in the same way as he knows himself, he has not yet C declared. Do you wish us to confirm this from the Scriptures, and from the very voice of Christ? Let us hear then what he says to the Jews: "As the Father knows me, I also know the Father." What more precise knowledge than this do you desire? Ask the opponent: Does the Father know the Son precisely, and does he have all his knowledge precisely, and does nothing of what pertains to the Son escape him, but is the apprehension complete? Yes, he says. Therefore, when you hear that the Son also knows him just as he knows the Son, seek nothing more, since the knowledge is equalized with such precision. For, indeed, revealing this very thing elsewhere, he said: "No one knows the Son except the Father, nor does anyone know the Father except the Son, and to whom the Son wills to reveal him." He reveals, however, not as much as he himself knows, but as much as we can contain. For if Paul does this, how much more Christ? For he also says to his own disciples: "I was not able to speak to you as to spiritual, but as to carnal; as to infants in Christ I fed you with milk, not with meat; for you were not yet able." But this, he says, he said only to the Corinthians. What then, if we should show that even other things, which no human being ever learned, he knew, and departed having known them alone of all men? And where can this be found? In the Epistle to the Corinthians; for this is he who says, D "I have heard ineffable words, which it is not permitted for a man to speak." But nevertheless, even this man, who had heard ineffable words which it is not permitted for a man to speak, has partial knowledge, and falls far short of that which is to come. For he who said these things also said, "We know in part, and we prophesy in part"; and, "When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I thought as a child, I reasoned as a child"; and, "Now I see through a mirror in an enigma, but then face to face." So from these things, their whole conspiracy is clearly refuted; for when that very substance is unknown—not that it is, but what it is—it would be of the utmost madness to assign a name to it. Although, if it were clear and known, even so it would not be safe for us to impose designations upon the Master's substance of our own initiative and from ourselves. For if Paul did not dare to impose names upon the powers above, but, by saying, that "He seated Christ above every principality and authority and power, and every name that is named, not only in this age, but also in the one to come," and by teaching us that there are certain names of the powers which we shall then know, did not dare to place other names in place of those, nor to meddle with those very things, who would deserve pardon, or what defense could those have who dare such things concerning the Master's substance? But when even the substance itself is unknown, they ought to turn away from them just as from those who are deranged. That God is unbegotten is manifest; but that this is the name of his substance, no prophet said, no apostle 487 hinted, no evangelist; and with good reason. For those who do not know the substance itself, how were they to speak its name?
e'. And what do I say concerning the divine Scriptures, where there is such flagrancy of absurdity, and such excess of lawlessness, that even the Greeks who wandered from the truth never attempted to say any such thing? For no one even of them dared to set forth a definition of the divine substance, and to encompass it in one name. And what do I say "divine substance," where, when they were philosophizing about the nature of incorporeal beings, they did not even set forth a finished definition of this, but rather a certain faint explanation and description than a definition? But what is their wise discourse? "Do you not know, therefore, what you worship?" he says. Truly, one ought not even answer this, such a demonstration having been made from the Scriptures that it is impossible to know what God is in his substance; but since we are not speaking out of enmity, but in order to correct them, come, let us show that not to know what God is in his substance, but to contend to know it, this is what it is to not know God. For tell me, if two men are contending with one another to know the size of the heaven, the one says it is impossible for a human eye to comprehend it, and the other contends that it is possible, by the
A measure of a span to map out one who measures all things himself; whom shall we say knows the size of the heaven—the one who contends that he knows how many spans it has, or the one who acknowledges that he is ignorant of it? If, then, in the case of the heaven, the one who concedes to its magnitude is the one who knows its size better, shall we not use this same caution in the case of God? And how is this not the very depth of madness? For that we are required to know only this—that God exists—and not to pry into His essence, hear what Paul says: *For he who comes to God must believe that He exists* (Heb. XI, 6). And again, the prophet, finding fault with someone for impiety, does not find fault in this—that he does not know what God is—but because he does not know that God exists. For he said, he says, *The fool has said in his heart, There is no God* (Ps. XIII, 1). Just as, then, it is not ignorance of what God is in His essence that makes that man impious, but ignorance of the fact that God exists, so it is sufficient for piety to know that God exists.
But they have another argument they have rehearsed. What is this? It has been said, they say, *God is Spirit* (John IV, 24). Does this, tell me, declare His essence? And who will tolerate these things, if he has approached the doors of the Divine Scriptures even in the slightest? For on this logic, God will also be fire; for just as it is written that God is Spirit, so it is written that *Our God is a consuming fire* (Heb. XII, 29), and again, *A fountain of living water* (Jer. II, 13). Yet He will not be only spirit and fountain and fire, but also soul, and wind, and human mind, and other things far more absurd than these; for it is not necessary to go through everything with arguments, nor to imitate their madness. For this "spirit" signifies many things—for example, our soul, just as Paul B also says: *Deliver such a one to Satan, that the spirit may be saved* (1 Cor. V, 5); and the wind, as the prophet says: *With a violent spirit you shall shatter them* (Ps. II, 9). And the spiritual gift is also called this; for *The Spirit Himself bears witness with our spirit*, he says (Rom. VIII, 16); and again, *I will pray with the spirit, I will pray also with the mind* (1 Cor. XIV, 15). And anger is also called this; for Isaiah also says: *Were you not the one deliberating with your harsh spirit to slay them?* And the help from God is also called spirit; for *The Spirit before our face is Christ the Lord* (Lam. IV, 20). If, then, according to them, God is to be all these things, He will be composed of so many elements.
But, so that we may not be talking nonsense, bringing into the middle things that do not even require refutation, let us finish here the argument against them and turn the whole focus to prayer, by so much more praying and beseeching God on their behalf—the more they act impiously—that they might one day depart from their madness. For this is acceptable before our Savior God, *who desires all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth* (1 Tim. II, 4).
C 6. Let us not, therefore, cease to make supplications on their behalf. For prayer is a great weapon, an inexhaustible treasure, a wealth that is never spent, a harbor that is without waves, a cause of tranquility, and of ten thousand goods; it is the root, the source, and the mother, and is mightier than the kingdom itself. Often, then, when a man wearing the diadem is burning with fever and lying on his bed, inflamed, while doctors, guards, attendants, and generals stand by, neither the skill of the physicians, nor the presence of friends, nor the service of servants, nor the abundance of medicines, nor the luxury of the arrangements, nor the excess of wealth, nor anything else human has the power to solace the sickness D that lies upon him. But if one should enter who has boldness before God, and should merely touch his body and make a pure prayer for him, he has put to flight the entire sickness. And that which wealth could not achieve, nor the multitude of those serving, nor the knowledge gained by experience, nor the weight of the kingdom, the prayer of one poor and often destitute man has achieved. And I mean by prayer not this idle kind, which is full of sloth, but that which is done with intensity, with a pained soul, with a focused mind. For this is what ascends to heaven, and just like water, as long as it is borne along on flat territory and enjoys much openness, does not rise to a height; but when the hands of conduits tighten underneath and press it as it is constricted, it is shot toward the height more sharply than any arrow. So indeed does the human mind, as long as it enjoys much ease, dissipate and flow away; but when a distress of circumstances constricts it from below, being well-pressed, it sends up pure and strained prayers toward the height. And that you may learn that those which are made with distress are those that would be most heard, hear what the prophet says: *I cried to the Lord in my being distressed, and He heard me* (Ps. CXIX, 1). Let us, therefore, heat up our conscience, let us distress the soul with the memory of sins—let us distress it, not so that we might constrict it, but so that we might make it ready to be heard, so that we might make it sober and vigilant, and able to touch the very heavens. Nothing so puts to flight sloth and listlessness as pain and distress, which gather the mind from every side and turn it back to itself. He who is thus distressed and praying will be able to introduce into his soul great delight after the prayer. And just like the gathering of clouds at the beginning makes the air gloomy, but when it has let out the rain in successive drops, having laid aside all the downpour, it makes the air calm and radiant, so indeed does sorrow, as long as it is twisted within, darken our reasoning; but when it is emptied through the words of prayer and the tears that accompany them, and breathes out into the open, it imparts great radiance to the soul, with the perception of God being released into the mind of the one praying just like a beam of light. But what is the cold argument of many? "I am without boldness," he says, "I am full of shame, I am not able to even open my mouth." This is a Satanic caution; these are pretexts for sloth; for the devil wishes to close to you the doors of access to God. Are you without boldness? It is a great boldness—a great benefit—the very thing of thinking that you are without boldness, just as, therefore, it is the ultimate shame and condemnation to think that one has boldness. For even if you have many accomplishments, and are not conscious of anything evil in yourself, if you think you have boldness, you have fallen away from the entire prayer; but if you bear ten thousand loads of sins upon your conscience, and only persuade yourself of this—that you are the last of all—you will have great boldness before God.
A For this is not humility, to think oneself a sinner while being one. Humility is when a person, being conscious of many and great things, imagines nothing great about himself; when one follows Paul, and though able to say, "I am conscious of nothing against myself," says again, "Yet I am not thereby justified," and again, "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am first." This is humility: to be high by reason of one's achievements, yet to humble oneself in mind. But nevertheless, God, because of His ineffable philanthropy, receives and accepts not only those who are humble, but even those who honestly declare their sins, and becomes merciful and favorable to those who are so disposed. And that you might know how great a good it is to imagine nothing great about yourself, construct two chariots in your discourse: yoke justice and arrogance together, and sin with humility, and you will see the chariot of sin surpassing justice—not by its own power, but by the strength of its yoke-fellow, humility—and the other, conversely, falling short, not because of the weakness of justice, but because of the weight and bulk of arrogance. For just as humility, by the exceeding height of its nature, overcomes the heaviness of sin and reaches even to heaven, so also arrogance, because of its great weight and bulk, is strong enough to prevail over even the lightest justice and easily drag it down.
B 490 (7) And that this chariot is swifter than the other, call to mind the Pharisee and the publican. The Pharisee yoked justice and arrogance, saying thus: "I thank thee, O God, that I am not as the rest of men, extortioners, covetous, nor even as this publican." O the madness! The whole nature of men did not carry his arrogance, but he even leapt upon the publican standing near him with much folly. What then of that other? He did not beat away the insults, he did not grieve at the accusation, but accepted what was said with good sense; and the enemy’s arrow became for him a remedy and a healing, and the reproach a crown, and the accusation a garland. So great is the good of humility, so great is the profit, in not being bitten by the insults of others, nor setting oneself in enmity against the outrages of one's neighbors. For it is possible even from these to harvest a great and noble good, which indeed happened in the case of the publican. For having accepted the insults, he cast off his sins, and saying, "God, be merciful to me a sinner," he went down justified above the other; and words overcame deeds, and utterances vanquished actions. For the one C paraded his justice, and fasting, and tithes; but this one spoke mere words, and put aside all his sins. For God heard not only the words, but also looked upon the disposition with which he put them forward; and having found it humbled and contrite, He had mercy and showed His philanthropy. But I say these things not that we might sin, but that we might act with humility. For if a man who was a publican, the ultimate type of wickedness, not having practiced humility but only good sense, and having stated his sins as they were and confessed them, drew down such favor from God, how much D more will those who have achieved great good works, while thinking nothing great of themselves, draw down His help? For this reason I exhort and implore and beseech you to confess to God continually. For I am not leading you into a theater of your fellow servants, nor do I force you to reveal your sins to men; unfold your conscience before God, and to Him show your wounds, and from Him ask for the medicines; show them to One who does not reproach, but heals—for even if you are silent, He knows everything. Speak, therefore, that you may gain; speak, that having put aside all your sins here, you may depart thither clean and free from offenses, and be rid of that unbearable exposure.
The three children were in the furnace, and they committed their soul for the sake of their confession to the Master; yet after such and such great achievements they say: "We have no mouth to open; shame and reproach have we become to thy servants and to those who worship thee." Why then do you open your mouth? "In order to say this very thing," he says, "that we have no mouth to open," and by this very thing we draw the Master [491] to ourselves. The power of prayer quenched the power of fire, bridled the fury of lions, dissolved wars, stopped battles, calmed storms, drove away demons, opened the gates of heaven, broke the bonds of death, banished diseases, repelled outrages, established cities when they were shaking, and prayer dispelled absolutely all the evils that were falling from above and the plots from men. And by prayer I mean again, not that which simply lies on the lips, but that which ascends from the depth of the mind. For just as those trees which send their roots deep down, even if they receive the assaults of ten thousand winds, are not snapped, nor are they uprooted, the roots being tightly bound with precision to the depth of the earth; so also, prayers sent up from the depth of the mind, being rooted with security, stretch toward the height, and are not turned aside by any assault of thought. For this reason the prophet also says, "Out of the depths have I cried to thee, O Lord." I say these things not that you might merely praise them, but that you might also put them into effect. For if to speak out one's own misfortunes to men, and to recount with tragedy the evils that have overtaken one, brings some consolation to the grieving—as if a kind of relief comes through the word—much more, if you communicate the passions of your own soul to the Master, will you receive some solace and great consolation. For a man is often burdened by one who laments and mourns to him, and he fends him off and pushes him away; but God is not so, but He both approaches and draws you in, and even if you occupy yourself in communicating your misfortunes to Him, He loves you all the more then, and inclines to your supplications. This, then...
≫ A is what Christ was showing when He said: "Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest." He calls us, then—let us not disobey; He draws us to Himself—let us not leap away. Even if we have ten thousand sins, let us run to Him all the more, for it is such as these that He calls. "For I came not," He says, "to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance." And here, too, He speaks of those who are burdened, those who have labored, those who are weary from the weight of their sins. For God is called the God of consolation B and the God of mercy, because this is His perpetual work: to console and comfort those who are in pain and affliction, even if they have ten thousand sins. Let us only offer ourselves, let us only run to Him, and let us not withdraw. Through experience itself we shall know the truth of these words, and nothing in existence will be able to grieve us, if we have C fervent and refined prayer; for whatever may befall us, we shall easily repel it through this. And what is wonderful, if the power of prayer knows how to dissolve human circumstances, when it even extinguishes and easily obliterates the very nature of sins? In order, therefore, that we may travel through our present life with ease, and lay aside such sins as we have contracted, and stand with confidence before the judgment seat of Christ, let us perpetually prepare this remedy for ourselves, compounding it from tears, D eagerness, perseverance, and endurance. For in this way we shall both enjoy constant health and attain the goods to come; may we all be granted to attain these, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father be glory, together with the Holy Spirit, now and forever, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.
NOTICE
[The preceding homily] exhorts the people to celebrate the Nativity of Christ duly, and after having prescribed the manner of penitence and repentance to sinners, it concludes with a prayer. Furthermore, mention is made of this Philogonius, who from a lawyer became bishop of Antioch around the year of Christ 320, at the rise of Arianism, by Athanasius in his *Epistle to the Bishops of Egypt and Libya*, p. 278, where he enumerates him among the orthodox and apostolic men who wrote for the Catholic faith. He was the twenty-first bishop of Antioch, having Vitalis as his predecessor and Paulinus as his successor, whom Eustathius followed. See more regarding him in the later notes. We have edited Erasmus's interpretation, corrected in many places, alongside the Greek text.
[The author] delivered the following *Homily on the Consubstantial*, against the Anomoeans, as he himself indicates in number 2, a few days after having preached on the same subject, namely at the beginning of the year 387, and as far as can be conjectured, on the fifth of January, when the circus games were celebrated. Moreover, in the year 387, that day fell on a Sunday.
On the following day, in order to refute the Anomoeans—who were seizing an opportunity to oppose Him from the petition of the sons of Zebedee and Christ's response, "But to sit at my right hand or at my left is not mine to give to you"—he delivered the homily which, for the reasons mentioned, is inscribed as the eighth. Fronto Ducæus rendered both into Latin, which we have edited with very few changes.
On the Blessed Philogonius, who became Bishop from being a lawyer, and that there is nothing equal to caring for common interests for the sake of obtaining favor with God, and that approaching the divine mysteries negligently carries an unbearable punishment, even if we dare to do this once a year. It was spoken five days before the Nativity of Christ.
Homily Sixth.
1. I had indeed prepared myself today to strip for the contests against the heretics and to render you the remainder of the debt; but the day of the blessed Philogonius, whose feast we are celebrating, has called our tongue [493] to the narrative of his achievements. And it is necessary to obey by all means. For if he who speaks ill of his father or mother dies, it is clear that he who speaks well will certainly enjoy life, and if our natural parents deserve to enjoy such benevolence from us, much more do our spiritual parents, especially when praise makes the departed no more brilliant, but makes us who are gathered here, both those speaking and those listening, better. For the one who has ascended to heaven would have no need of human
praise to reach a more exalted and blessed lot; we, however, who for the time being linger here and are in need of much consolation from every side, have need of his eulogies, so that we may be stirred up to the same zeal. For this reason some wise man also exhorts us, saying: A *Memory of the just is with eulogies*, not that the departed are benefited by this, but that those who offer the eulogies are greatly profited by it. Since, therefore, the gain for us from the matter is so great, let us be persuaded and let us not contradict; for the season is also suited for such a narrative. For today the blessed one has crossed over to the undisturbed life, and has anchored his vessel where it is no longer possible to fear shipwreck, nor any dejection and pain. And what is wonderful if that place is clear of dejection, where Paul, addressing those who are still living, says: *Always rejoice, pray without ceasing*? But if here, where there are diseases, and injuries, and untimely deaths, and slanders, and envies, and dejections, and angers, and evil desires, and myriad plots, and daily cares, and continuous and successive evils that from every side bring on sorrows, Paul said it was possible to be always rejoicing, if one, having looked up a little from the surge of worldly things, would properly regulate his own life, how much more after the departure from here is it easy to attain this good, when all these things have been removed, and diseases and passions and the occasion for sins, when there is no "mine" and "thine," that chilly word, and all things that bring evils into our life and have begotten myriads of wars! Therefore I particularly bless this saint, because even though he has departed and left the city that is with us, yet he has ascended to another city, that of God, and, having left behind this Church, has entered into that of B the firstborn who are written in the heavens, and, having left these feasts, has passed over to the assembly of the angels. For that there is also a city above, and a Church, and an assembly, hear Paul saying: *You have approached the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and the Church of the firstborn written in the heavens, and to the assembly of myriads of angels.* But he calls the things there an "assembly" not only because of the multitude of the powers above, but also because of the abundance of good things, and the continuous joy and gladness; for an assembly is accustomed to be made, not by anything else, but by the multitude of those gathered, and by the abundance of merchandise, when wheat and barley and all kinds of forms of produce, and flocks of sheep, and herds of oxen, and garments, and other such things are brought in, the ones selling and the others buying. And what of these things is in the heavens, he says? None of these things, but things much more solemn than these. For not wheat and barley and forms of produce, but the fruit there is everywhere of the Spirit: love and joy and gladness and peace and goodness and gentleness with much abundance; not flocks of sheep and herds of oxen, but spirits C of just men made perfect, and the virtues of souls, and the achievements of character are everywhere in the heavens to be seen; not garments and wrappings, but crowns of gold more precious than everything, and prizes and rewards and the ten thousand good things laid up for those who achieve. And the multitude of those gathering is much more solemn and greater; for it is not of men from the city and from the region, but where there are myriads of angels, there are thousands of archangels, elsewhere a company of prophets, elsewhere choirs of martyrs, ranks of apostles, assemblies of the just, various gatherings of all those who have been well-pleasing. Truly a wonderful assembly it is, and what is greater than all, that in the midst of the assembly the King of all these moves; for having said, *To myriads of angels in assembly*, he added, *And to God the Judge of all*. Who has ever seen a king present at an assembly? Here, indeed, no one has ever seen him, but there those who are present behold him, as it is possible for them to see, both present and gracing all who assemble with the brightness of his own glory. And these assemblies here, as the day passes, are often dissolved, but that one is not so. For it does not await the periods of months, nor the cycles of years, nor the numbering of days, but stands continuously, and all the good things in it have no end, know no limit, cannot grow old nor wither; but are ageless and immortal. No noise is there as here, no disturbance, but a great order of all things with the appropriate seemliness, as in some lyre, with rhythm sending up the all-harmonious melody and music sweeter than all other to the Master of both creations, and the soul there, as in holy of holies and certain divine mysteries, is perfected in the divine mystery.
Homily VI
II. To this blessed and ageless lot has the blessed Philogonius crossed over today. What speech then could be equal to a man deemed worthy of such blessedness? There is none. Why then, tell me, shall we be silent because of this? And for what reason have we gathered? But shall we say that we will not be able to reach the greatness of his deeds? For this very reason, it is necessary to speak, since this too is a very great part of a eulogy, when words are not able to be made equal to deeds. For whose achievements are above mortal nature, it is manifest that the eulogies are also above human tongue. Yet our words will not be held back by this, but will imitate the same Master; for he also, to the widow having cast in only two lepta, did not give a reward of only two lepta. Why? Because he did not attend to the quantity of the money, but to the wealth of the disposition. For if you examine the money, the poverty is great; but if you unfold the intention, you will see an ineffable treasury of magnanimity. So that if our words are small and mean, they are what we have; and if they fall short of the magnanimity of the noble and just Philogonius, yet even this would be the greatest token of his magnanimity, that he does not despise even the small, but
does the same for the wealthy. For even those, having received small things from the poor of which they have no need, add their own, bestowing in return honors upon those who offered what they had. Thus, even this man, having received from us an offering of words, which he does not need, will return to us in exchange the blessing of deeds, of which we are always in need. Where, then, must we begin our eulogies? Where else but from the authority which the grace of the Spirit entrusted to him? For secular authorities would not necessarily be a proof of the virtue of those entrusted with them, but are often even accusers of their wickedness. Why so? Because the offices and solicitations and flatteries of friends, and many other things even more shameful than these, are wont to procure such authorities. But when God ordains and votes, and that hand touches the holy head, the vote is incorrupt, the judgment is above suspicion, and the dignity of the ordainer becomes an indisputable proof of the one ordained.
That God ordained him is clear from the very manner of his election. For, having been snatched from the midst of the marketplace, he was brought to this throne; so grave and brilliant he showed his previous life to be, even while having a wife and daughter, and moving within the law courts. He shone so much more brightly than the sun that he immediately appeared worthy of this office; and he was led from the tribunal A of the judge to the holy tribunal. And whereas before he pleaded for men against men who were plotting against them, making those being wronged stronger than those doing the wrong, here, having arrived, he pleaded for men against the demons who were assaulting them. And what a great proof of virtue it is to be deemed worthy of such an office from the grace of God, hear what Christ says when He asks Peter after He rose from the dead: For since He asked him, "Peter, do you love me?" and when he said, "You, Lord, know that I love you," Christ did not say: "Cast away your riches, practice fasting, hardship, raise the dead, drive away demons"—none of these things, nor any of the other signs or achievements did He bring forward. But, passing over all those, He says, "If you love me, feed my sheep." He said this not only wishing to show us the greatest sign of his love for Him, but also of the affection which He shows for the sheep; and already he has made this the greatest sign of his favor toward Him, saying as it were, "He who loves my sheep, loves me." Behold, then, how much Christ endured for this flock: He became man, He took the form of a servant, He was spat upon, He was struck, and in the end, He did not refuse even death, and that an ignominious death; for upon the cross He poured out the blood. So if anyone wishes to be approved by Him, let him care for these sheep, let him seek the common good, let him care for his own brothers; for there is no achievement more precious to God than this. For this reason, He says elsewhere: "Simon, Simon, behold, Satan demanded to have you, that he might sift you like wheat, but I have prayed for you that your faith may not fail." What return, then, do you give me for this care and providence? What return does He seek? This very same thing again; for He says, "And you, when you have turned, strengthen your brothers." Thus Paul also says: "Become imitators of me, as I am of Christ." How did you become an imitator of Christ? "By trying to please everyone in everything, not seeking my own profit, but that of the many, that they might be saved." And elsewhere he says: "For Christ did not please himself, but the many." And there would be no badge or character of one who is a believer and who loves Christ as great as this: to care for the brothers and to be concerned for their salvation.
B Γ'. Let all the monks also hear this, both those who have occupied the summits of the mountains and those who through all things have crucified themselves to the world, that they may, according to their own strength, support those who stand at the head of the churches, and fortify them with prayers, harmony, and love, knowing that if they do not support those who are appointed by the grace of God and who have taken upon themselves the cares of so many, even while sitting far away, the capital of their life is lost, and all their wisdom is mutilated. But that this is the greatest proof of affection for Christ, is manifest from this. Let us see, too, how he conducted this episcopacy—or rather, there is no need of words here anymore, nor of our voice; your own zeal demonstrates this itself. For just as one who enters into a vineyard and sees the vines teeming with leaves, heavy with fruit, and walled in on every side with ridges and fences, will have no need of any word or further proof to learn the virtue of the vine dresser and the husbandman, so too here, one who enters and sees these spiritual vines and your fruit will have need of no word or teaching to learn about your leader. Just as Paul also says: "You are our letter, written C and read." For the river shows the spring, and the fruit shows the root. It was necessary, then, to speak also of the time when he was entrusted with this authority; for this too is no small part of a eulogy, but is quite enough to show the man’s virtue. For the difficulty was great then, just as the persecution had ceased, and the remains of that most grievous storm were still lingering, and many things were in need of correction. And it was necessary to add to these things again, how the heresy of the heretics was cut short upon taking its beginning in his time, his wisdom having foreseen everything beforehand. But nevertheless, our discourse hastens to another necessary subject. Therefore, leaving these things to be told by our common father and emulator of the blessed Philogonius, as he knows all the ancient things more accurately than we do, we shall walk onto another path of discourse D. For a feast is about to approach, which is the most solemn and awesome of all feasts, and one would not be wrong to call it the metropolis of all feasts. And what is this? The birth of Christ according to the flesh.
δ'. For from this, the Theophany, the holy Passover, the Ascension, and Pentecost took their beginning and their foundation. For if Christ had not been born according to the flesh, He would not have been baptized, which is the Theophany; He would not have been crucified, which is the Passover; He would not (have...)