ON THE RETURN OF SAINT JOHN FROM ASIA TO CONSTANTINOPLE
A That great servant of God, the head of the prophets, the traveler of the sea, the shaker of the air, the provider of the table, who was cast away by his mother but saved by his oppressor (indeed, his mother gave him birth, but an Egyptian woman took him and nurtured him), and who was nurtured in Egypt but conversed in the heavens—he who established such a great and mighty trophy—this same man, so great and tall, having left his people for forty days, found them fashioning idols and stirring up seditions. I, however, have been away not for forty days only, but for fifty and a hundred and more, and I have found you rejoicing, philosophizing, and persevering in the fear of God. Am I, then, greater than Moses? God forbid; to say this would be the height of madness. But because this people is more sublime than that, for that reason, when he descended from the mountain, he rebuked Aaron for the sedition of the people, and in his anger, he was enraged against him, asking why he had yielded to their will. But I, arriving, shall weave your praises and crowns. For where there is transgression, there of necessity must follow accountability and sharp reproof; but where there is correction, there follow praises, commendations, and crowns. Therefore, even if I have lingered abroad for a longer time, I do not repent, because I trusted in the affection of your charity and the integrity of your faith. For I knew that a wife betrothed to me is fortified by chastity, just as is accustomed to happen in a secular marriage. For when a husband knows he has a shameless wife, he does not allow her to look out of the house; and even if he is compelled at some time to travel, he is forced to return quickly, as if pricked by a kind of sting of suspicion. But he who has a sober and chaste wife remains away without care, leaving behind as a sufficient defense for his charge the conduct of his spouse. This is what I and Moses have suffered. He, indeed, because he had as a wife a synagogue that could not be improved, left her, and she committed fornication, and God compelled him, saying: "Arise, go down, for your people have acted impiously" (Exod. 32:7). But I received no such command of this kind. And when a slight infirmity of the body happened to me, your absence did not trouble me, but, secure in you, I awaited the remedy of my illness. "For the healthy have no need of a physician, but those who are ill" (Matt. 9:12). For even if I delayed with you for a short while, I do not believe this happened to your detriment, but to your enrichment. For those things which were corrected through me—or rather, more through the grace of God—are your crown, they are your progress. And therefore I rejoice and leap for joy, and I believe that I am as if flying, and I cannot express the magnitude of this joy. What then shall I do? How shall I reveal the exultation of my mind? I call your conscience as a witness, since I see that it is filled with joy from my arrival: which joy is my crown and my boast. For if the presence of one man alone filled such a multitude with such pleasure, how much joy do you think has been accumulated in me from the sight of you? And Jacob, indeed, seeing his one son Joseph, rejoiced in his old age and was refreshed in spirit; but I see not one Joseph, but all of you like him, and I rejoice, because I have received my Paradise, better than that Paradise. For there, indeed, the serpent was lying in wait, but here Christ is celebrating the mysteries; there Eve was deceiving, but here the Church is crowning; there Adam was being seduced, but here the people adhere to God; there were diverse trees, but here are diverse gifts. In that Paradise were withering trees, in this church are life-giving trees; in that Paradise each type of seed persevered in its own state, but in this Paradise, if I find a wild vine, I shall make it a fruitful vine; if I find an oleaster, I shall make it a true olive tree; for such is the nature of this land. On account of these things I rejoice, and I pass over the need for an apology. But as to how the length of so much time led you away, accept my apology, most beloved. If you send a servant somewhere and he does not return, you demand the causes of where he lingered, where he spent so much time; and I am the servant of your charity, for you bought me, not by providing money, but by showing love. I rejoice, indeed, that I am shackled in such service, and I never wish to be loosed from this bondage; for this service is more elegant to me than liberty. This service has placed my seat upon that blessed tribunal; this service is not of necessity, but of will. For who would not most gladly serve your affection, such elegant lovers? Even if I had a heart of stone, you would have made it softer than wax. What shall I say of your longing and favor, which you showed yesterday (a), how your voices penetrated the heavens with joy? Sanctifying the very air, you made the city a Church. I was honored, and God was glorified; the heretics were confounded, but the Church was crowned; for there is great gladness to a mother when her children exult, and great joy to a shepherd when the lambs of his flock exult. I came to the joys of your virtues; I heard that you wrestled with the heretics and that you refuted them because they acted iniquitously regarding baptism. Did I speak in vain when I said that a chaste wife repels adulterers while her husband is away, drives away wolves while the shepherd is away, sailors saved the ship without a helmsman, soldiers won the victory without a leader, disciples progressed without a teacher, children were strengthened without a father? Or rather, not without a father; for your progress is my joy, your glorification is my crown. But we were longing, you say, to celebrate the Pascha with you. I offer satisfaction to your love, since you have already dissolved any anger with your looks. For if a father, receiving a prodigal son, immediately reconciled him and demanded no punishments from him, but immediately embraced him, much more so do children receiving a father. But yet,
(a) On the day after he returned, he delivered this oration.