Consolatoria ad aegrotum

Of the Same Author: A Consolatory Homily to One Who Is Ill. Father, give the blessing. The life of human beings is short, and the brightness of the toilsome existence is brief; glory is a spider's web, easily dissolved; the illusion of life is a dream, but the rest of the righteous is most blessed. The repose in the heavens is boundless; the gifts of the unfading and ambitious are fittingly so. For where nature is unchangeable, there the giving is also unceasing. Therefore, their struggle here is temporary, but their victory there, with the prizes, is everlasting. For we sweat as in a wrestling-ground in life, wrestling with afflictions, and nature has many antagonists. Pleasures weaken the steadfast, luxuries alter the courageous, despondencies unnerve the sinews, slanders pour forth insults, flatteries attach plots, fears trip into despair, and in such a storm nature is ceaselessly buffeted. For not only are the painful things of life burdensome, but even the things that seem pleasant cause distress by their change, and we travel a life almost full of afflictions and tears; and if you wish to know, learn the painful things of life. Man is sown in the womb, but affliction preceded the sowing. The seed was cast into the furrow of nature; if we only consider it, we blush at the beginnings of generation. What was cast was changed into blood, the blood was thickened into flesh, the flesh was formed over time, what was formed was ensouled beyond reason, the ensouled was nourished by natural means, the embryo leaps, being confined, and is vexed at the prison of nature.

but the time of birth came at last, the barriers of the birth pangs were loosed, the gates of nature were opened, the womb released the one it held; the wrestler of affliction slipped out into life, the tongue of creation breathed the air, and what after this? The first sound—it wept. It is enough to know life from its prelude. The infant fell to the earth and did not laugh; but immediately upon falling, it took up its labors and weeps. For it knew that it had been shipwrecked into a sea of afflictions. It was reared with tears, weaned unwillingly, advanced to boyhood, and feared parents or servants. It became a youth and was handed over to teachers for learning. See a fear that allows no respite. It was idle, it was whipped, it kept vigil, but it learned, it advanced headlong, it was perfected in letters, it displayed success, it shone through every form of speech, it was filled with legal experience, it advanced in age to manhood, it gave itself over to military service. Again a beginning of greater afflictions. It fears rulers, it is suspicious of plots, it is riveted to gain, it rages for gain, it keeps vigil, it lives in lawsuits, it travels abroad for audits, not being dragged, for it follows unwillingly, it labors beyond its strength, it worries by night, it stands by day like a slave. For need has sold freedom. Then after this, having often toiled and pleased, it was deemed worthy of honors, was raised to the height of office, it presides over nations, it commands armies, it vies for the consulship, it amassed wealth.

But time ran together with the labors, and old age overtook the dignity, and before he could enjoy the wealth, he was snatched away from life, and in the very harbor he suffered shipwreck. For death follows, mocking the vain hopes of mortals. Such is the life of men: an unstable sea, uneven air, an unreliable dream, a passing stream, dispersing smoke, a leaping shadow, a sea troubled by waves; the storm is fearful, the voyage perilous, and we passengers doze. For the sea of life is fearful and wild, and hopes are vain, like squalls that dash against the rocks. Griefs howl like waves, plots hide like sunken rocks, enemies gape around like dogs, plunderers lie in wait like pirates, old age comes on like a storm, death stands by like a shipwreck. You have seen the storm, steer through your winter, watch how you sail, and do not let your own vessel be swamped, either by wealth from injustice or by the cargo of passions. For this reason the blessed Paul now cries out: "Piety is a great source of revenue." A heavenly wealth, a treasury of mysteries, a sea of wisdom, knowledge of truth, worship of the uncreated Trinity, a mirror of the virginal mystery, faith that does not meddle, a confession that shuns inquiry, a holy proclamation, offered through the tongue, entering through hearing, rooted in the soul, and granting the illumination of the Trinity. Piety with self-sufficiency is a great source of revenue.

For nothing is richer than self-sufficiency: a simple life, carefree rest, wealth free from envy, need with ease, burden without oppression, life without lack, enjoyment without insolence. Those who practice self-sufficiency flee the storm of wealth. For the rich man fears everything: the days as times of judgment, the evenings as opportunities for robbers, the nights as scourges of cares, the early mornings as attacks of flatterers. And he fears not only time but also place. He shudders at the diggings of thieves, the plots of burglars, the false accusations of the violent, the accusations of those who have been wronged, the plunderings of the more powerful, the wicked deeds of servants, the meddling of informers, the ingratitude of tax collectors, the designs of neighbors, the rottenness of walls, the collapses of houses, the invasions of barbarians, the deceits of fellow citizens, the verdicts of judges, the loss after possession, the removal after acquisition. Man, if the storm of possession is so great, where is the spring of enjoyment? Piety with self-sufficiency is a great source of revenue. It is not confined to the present life, he says. For the possession is immortal, since it is not captured by wealth that is spent. Say, O Paul, We brought nothing into the world. The equality of our entry suffices to banish the inequality of the pride of our way of life. We brought nothing into the world; we came forth naked from our mother's womb. You entered having nothing, greedy one: not gold, for it is mined from the earth; not silver, for it was not sown with you; not clothing, for it is an invention of the weaving art.

not possessions, which wealth has amassed and hands have built; not rank, except only that according to the image; not power, which time destroys and death reaps. Naked you entered the world; would that you might also depart from life naked of sins! We brought nothing into life, but neither can we carry anything out. And do we carry out nothing, O Paul, of the things of life? Nothing of the things of life, except only virtues, if we have practiced them. We carry out temperance, if we have flourished in it. We carry out almsgiving, if we have been rich in it. These are advocates for the soul, anchors of life. Here wealth remains, gold is seized, silver is divided, possessions are sold, glory is forgotten, power ceases, fear is extinguished. For with the tent of life, its outward show is dissolved. What then? Having sustenance and shelter, let us be content with these. I flee the superfluous as useless, and I seek the necessary as blameless. There the rich man stands naked; if he has virtues, he is rich there as well; if he is naked of these, he is a perpetual pauper. For nothing is richer than virtuous poverty. Peter was poor, but he despoiled death. John was poor, but he straightened the feet of the lame. Philip was poor, but he saw the Father in the Son. Matthew was poor, for he stripped off wealth along with his extortion. Thomas was poor, but he dug up an inexhaustible treasure, the side of the Lord. Paul was poor, but

heir of paradise. The Master is poor in flesh; for in divinity he is immeasurably rich. For behold, today he poured forth the wealth of healing, freed Peter's mother-in-law from disease, and banished the fever by his touch. He raised the sick woman without making the rounds; no material was seen, and healing was improvised. He expended rich labors, and there was no one to pity. But here, when the physician of nature alone stood by, the storm of the body was dissolved. And behold the wonder: he healed three at once—two men and one woman: Lazarus, the widow's son, and Jairus's daughter. And hear why; for the word is secret. In order to show that he is the Master of law and grace, he thus preserves the same image in others. For just as there he set three leaders over the people—Moses, Aaron, and Miriam—listen to him crying out among the prophets: "My people, what have I done to you, or how have I wronged you? Answer me, for I sent before you Moses, Aaron, and Miriam." Moses for the face of the law, Aaron for the face of the prophets, and Miriam for the face of the Church, which the impurity of idols had blinded, and the philanthropy of the Incarnate One healed. Therefore the Church, like Miriam, freed from the spiritual Pharaoh, the devil, and from the tyranny of demons, seeing the old man drowned, as if Egypt, beneath the sea of the font, taking up the timbrel of thanksgiving and fitting the strings of the virtues to the wood of the cross, strikes up and cries: "Let us sing to the Lord; for he has been gloriously glorified.

He came down from heaven, and was not separated from the Father; he was born in a cave, and did not vacate the throne; he was laid in a manger, and did not empty the paternal bosom; he was incarnate from a virgin and born, and remained, as God, without a father; he descended, and was not separated from the things above; he ascended, and made no addition to the Trinity; he appeared in the form of a slave, and did not lose his equality of honor with the Father; but he is the Word, and the Image, and the Radiance, and the Character. Word, for he never departs from the mind; Image, not a wax-melted tablet, but a seal of equal type; Radiance, for the light is coeternal with the sun; Character, for he who has seen the Son has seen the Father. To him is the glory and the power together with his only-begotten Son and his life-giving Spirit, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.