Chrysostom’s love for his flock; the piety of the people of Antioch; the fruit of disasters. — Although A adverse health prevented me from joining you in the spiritual choir, the labor of the journey did not exhaust you. For even if the hardship of the road brought you here covered in much sweat, the teaching of the Word has turned my illness into health and has comforted your labor through psalmody. Therefore, I who am ill have neither bound my tongue in silence, nor have you, though weary, departed from hearing; but the word appeared and the pain retreated, the teaching appeared and the toil fled. For illness and pain belong to the body, but teaching is the achievement and healing of the soul. And by as much as the soul is better than the body, by so much are the achievements of the former more precious. Therefore, not only when illness hindered me, but also with ten thousand other obstacles arising, I did not cease to entwine myself with your love, nor was I deprived even today of this beautiful feast. But up until now we were nailed to our bed, yet God did not allow us to be utterly destroyed by famine. For just as for you, not hearing is a famine, so for me, not speaking is a famine. In this same way, a mother who is ill would often choose to have her breast pulled by her child rather than see him pining away with hunger; let my body also be pulled. B For who would not gladly pour out even his blood for you, men burning with such piety, with such love of hearing, and in so small a moment of time demonstrating repentance? You know no distinction between day and night, but you make each time a day, not by changing the air, but by illuminating the nights with all-night vigils; for you, the nights are sleepless, and the tyranny of sleep is dissolved; for longing for Christ has conquered the deficiency of nature. You have been delivered from being human in your bodies by imitating the Powers, displaying wakefulness, a tightened fast, such toil of journeying—toil according to nature, but relief according to your disposition. This is the fruit of fears, this is the progress of the earthquake, a progress that is never spent, a progress that makes the poor more prosperous and makes the rich wealthy; it knows no poverty, it knows no wealth. The earthquake came and removed the inequality of life. Where now are those who were clothed in silk? Where is the gold? All those things are gone and have been torn away more cheaply than a spider's web, and have been proven more fleeting than the flowers of spring. But since I see your mind is prepared, I wish to set before you a more bountiful table. I see your bodies are weary, but your soul is flourishing. There are many fountains of sweat, but they wipe away the conscience. For if athletes are drenched in blood for crowns of laurel—given today and withered tomorrow—much more must you, having entered into the struggle for virtues, not give in nor be softened in the labors for the sake of virtue. Your theater is a crown to me, and every one C of you is a listener equal to the entire city. For some have crowned the craters, others have gathered satanic banquets, others have prepared an abundant table; but you have celebrated such a great all-night vigil, and have cleansed the entire city with the base of your holy feet, having measured the marketplace with your walking, and having made the air holy. For the air also becomes holy through psalmody, as you heard God saying to Moses today: *The place in which you stand is holy* (Exod. 3. 5). You have hallowed the ground, the marketplace, you have made the city a church for us. And just as a torrent flowing alongside and carried with a great current overturns everything, so indeed this spiritual torrent, the river of God, who gladdens the city of God (Ps. 45. 5; 64. 10), has been filled with waters and has cleansed the mire of impiety. No one is licentious—or rather, even if someone is licentious, he is transformed. He hears the voice and the mind is rearranged; the melody enters, and the impiety is transformed; the passions of greed flee. If they do not flee, yet just as wild beasts hibernate in winter, so the licentious mind is buried, and just as snakes, when the cold freezes their bodies, sink into the depths, so these passions, these ignoble and slavish ones, are covered over as if into an abyss. Indeed, even those who carry them are themselves ashamed; for they carry them, but they are dead. For instead of winter, your melody becomes for them the season. The voice enters into the ear of the greedy man, and if it does not cast out the passion, it deadens the passion; it enters into the ear of the licentious and proud man, and if it does not kill the licentiousness and pride, it buries the licentiousness and the pride. D It is no small thing that wickedness is not spoken of with boldness. I said yesterday that the fruit from earthquakes is great. Have you seen the Master’s philanthropy, shaking the city and steadying the mind, rocking the foundations and fixing the thoughts, making the city fragile and strengthening the resolution? Consider His philanthropy: He shook it a little, and fixed it continually. The earthquake lasted for two days, but let the piety remain for all time; you were pained for a little while, but you were rooted continually. For I know well that your piety took root in the fear of God; even if there is relief, the fruit remains. No longer are there thorns that choke, nor rain that floods and washes away; fear has tilled you well, it has become an ally of my words. I am silent and the foundations speak; I am silent and the earthquake sends forth a voice more brilliant than a trumpet, saying these things: *The Lord is compassionate and merciful, long-suffering and rich in mercy* (Ps. 102. 8-9); I have appeared, not that I might bury you, but that I might strengthen you. The earthquake says these things and sends forth a voice: I have frightened you, not that I might grieve you, but that I might make you more precise. Pay attention to the word with precision; since the word grew weak, the punishment cried out; since the teaching labored,
[LATIN COLUMN] 715 S. JOHN CHRYSOSTOM, ARCHBISHOP OF CONSTANTINOPLE. A Fear came to my aid, as the doctrine was losing its strength. I come to you now to speak for a little while, and I offer what is mine; when I have tightened the reins upon you, then I will yield to the discourse, so that the word may not toil in vain: I find stones and sprouting thorns, and I clear the field, so that the word may cast the seed with a lavish hand.
From the earthquake, how changed are the people of Antioch! B What loss have you suffered from this brief sorrow? You have become angels instead of men; you have been translated to heaven, if not in place, then in habits. And that I do not speak from adulation, the things themselves bear witness. For what was lacking to you for the sake of repentance? You cast out envy, you exterminated ungenerous affections, you sowed virtue, spending the whole night in sacred vigils, with much charity and intense fervor of spirit. No one remembers usury; no one speaks of avarice. Nor are the hands merely cleansed of sins, but the tongue also is free from iniquity and insult; no one offers injury to his neighbor, no one goes to satanic banquets; the houses are clean, the forum purified of filth as evening approaches, seeing nowhere the choirs of youths, or the theatrical songs of singers. There are indeed choirs, but not of lasciviousness; choirs, certainly, but of good deeds. In the forum, it is possible to hear hymns; and from those sitting at home, one psalm-singing, another chanting hymns; night arrives, and all gather into the church, a tranquil port and void of waves. C I thought that after one or two days the vigils would weigh down your bodies; but now, the longer the vigils proceed, the greater the increase of love becomes for you. Those who were chanting have failed, and you act manfully; those who were chanting are weary, and you have been increased in strength and vigor. Where are the rich now, I ask? Let them learn the philosophy of the poor. They sleep, but the poor, placed on the ground, do not sleep, but bend their knees, imitating Paul and Silas (Acts xvi).
D Verily, those men chanted and shook the prison; but you chant and have strengthened the shaken city. The ends of the things are contrary, but both tend toward the glory of God. For that one shook the prison so that he might shake the mind of the unfaithful, so that he might release the keeper of the prison, so that he might announce the word of God; you have strengthened the city so that you might release the wrath of God; and both this and that were dispensed in a varied manner. Yet I rejoice, not because the city has been strengthened, but because it has been strengthened by your prayers, because your psalmody served as foundations. Wrath [was] above, and your voice on the earth; the voice sent from the earth checked the wrath rushing down from above. The heavens were opened, and the sentence had slipped down: the sword [was] sharpened; the city was reduced to the ground, the wrath implacable. We had need of nothing else except repentance, tears, groanings, and all things were resolved. God uttered the sentence, and we have dissolved the wrath. Not at all has he erred who would call you the curators and saviors of the city. Where are the princes? Where those great defenders? You are truly the towers, the wall, the bulwark of the city. They through their own wickedness weakened the city, you through your virtue have strengthened the city. If anyone is asked why the city was shaken, even if he says nothing, it is yet acknowledged that it happened because of sins, avarice, injustice, wickedness, pride, and lies. Whose? The rich men's. Again, if anyone asks whence the city was strengthened, it is acknowledged that it was through psalmody, prayers, and vigils. Whose? The poor men's. The things that shook the city are theirs; those that strengthened it are yours; therefore you have been the saviors and curators. But here let us make an end of the sermon, persisting in vigils and psalmodies, sending forth glory to the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.