Homilia de gratiarum actione

On Thanksgiving, a Sermon. You have heard the words of the Apostle, by which he speaks to the Thessalonians, legislating for the whole of life. For his teaching was addressed to those who happened to be with him on each occasion, but the benefit from it extends to the whole of human life. "Rejoice always," he says; "pray without ceasing; give thanks in everything." What then rejoicing itself is, and what its benefit is, and how it is possible to achieve unceasing prayer and to render thanks to God for everything, we will explain a little later, as is possible. But it is necessary to discuss beforehand the objection that meets us from our opponents, who denounce the impossibility of this legislation. For what virtue is it, they say, to pass night and day in a cheerful and radiant state of soul? And how is it possible to accomplish this, when countless unwanted evils surround us, compelling dejection in the soul, from which it is more impossible to rejoice and be cheerful than for a man being fried in a pan not to feel pain, or for a man being pricked not to suffer? Or someone, using this weakness of sickly reasoning as a pretext, makes excuses in his sins, and because of his laziness in keeping the commandments, attempts to turn the blame back on the lawgiver, as if he were prescribing impossibilities. And he says: How is it possible for me to rejoice always, when the causes of joy are not in my control? For the things that produce joy are external, and not stored up within us.

occasion, the presence of a friend, a long-awaited meeting with parents, discoveries of money, honors from people, recovery from severe illness to health, the rest of life's prosperity: a household thriving in all respects, a table laden, companions for joy who are suitable, sounds and sights that bring pleasure, the health of one's closest, and the rest of their life's good fortune. For painful things are not only those that befall us of grievous things, but also those that distress friends and relatives. So from all these it is necessary that the soul's delight and cheerfulness be gathered. And in addition to these, when one can see the downfalls of enemies, the blows of plotters, the requitals of benefactors, and in a word, if neither anything present of difficulty nor anything expected at all disturbs our life, then it is possible for joy to arise in the soul. How then is a command given to us that is not accomplished by choice, but exists as a consequence of other prior things? And how shall I pray unceasingly, when the body's needs necessarily turn the mind's attention toward themselves, it being impossible for the mind to be divided at the same time between two concerns? But I am commanded to give thanks in everything. Shall I give thanks when I am being twisted, tortured, stretched on the wheel, having my eyes gouged out? Shall I give thanks when I am struck with a dishonorable blow by one who hates me, when I am frozen by the cold, choked by hunger, bound on the wood, suddenly bereaved of my children, or even deprived of my wife herself, when I have suddenly fallen from prosperity through shipwrecks, when I have encountered pirates at sea or bandits on land?

having wounds, being falsely accused, telling the truth, dwelling in prison; these and even more than these, they string together, accusing the lawgiver, thinking that they are preparing a defense for their own sins by slandering the ordinances given to us as impossible. What then do we say? That, with the Apostle looking toward other things, and attempting to lift our souls from the lowly to the heights, and to transfer us to a heavenly citizenship, those who do not reach the magnanimity of the lawgiver, writhing around earth and flesh like worms in a swamp, in the passions of the body, demand the possible from the apostolic ordinances. But he calls to always rejoice not the ordinary person, but one such as he himself was, no longer living in the flesh, but having Christ living within himself, since the union with the highest of goods in no way admits sympathy from the annoyances of the flesh. But even if the flesh is cut, the dissolution of continuity remains in the affected part of the body, the transmission of the pain being unable to reach the intellectual part of the soul. For if we have mortified the members that are on the earth, according to the exhortations of the Apostle, and we carry the mortification of Jesus in the body, necessarily the blow from the mortified body will not proceed to the soul, which is released from its connection with it. And dishonors and losses and deaths of loved ones will not ascend to the mind, nor will they overturn the height of the soul toward sympathy with things here.

If those who fall into difficulties share the same mind as the virtuous man, they will not cause grief to another, since they themselves do not bear what befalls them in a grievous manner. But if they live according to the flesh, even so they will not cause grief, but will be deemed pitiable, not so much because of their circumstances as because they do not choose what is proper. A soul, once bound by desire for the Creator and accustomed to delight in the beauties there, will not change its cheerfulness and good spirits under the varied vicissitudes of bodily sufferings; rather, it will make what is grievous to others an addition to its joy. Such was the Apostle, taking pleasure in weaknesses, in afflictions, in persecutions, in necessities, making his own lacks his boasts; in hunger and thirst, in cold and nakedness, in persecutions and straits, at which others are vexed and despair of life, at these he himself rejoiced. Those, then, who are uneducated in the apostolic mind and do not understand that he summons us to the evangelical life, dare to accuse Paul, as though he were prescribing impossibilities for us. But let them be taught how many occasions for rejoicing reasonably lie before us through the great gift of God. We were brought into being, not existing; we were made in the image of the Creator; we have mind and speech completing our nature, through which we have come to know God. And, learning the beauties of creation with skill, through them, as through some letters, we read the great providence and wisdom of God concerning all things. We are capable of distinguishing good from worse.

We have been taught by nature itself to choose what is beneficial and to avoid what is harmful. Having become estranged from God through sin, we were called back again to intimacy, having been delivered from dishonorable slavery by the blood of the Only-begotten. Hopes of resurrection, enjoyments of angelic goods, the kingdom in the heavens, the good things promised, which surpass the power of both thought and speech. How is it that these are not considered sufficient causes for unceasing joy and perpetual gladness, but one thinks that the man who is stuffing his belly, and listening to the flute, and lying stretched out on a soft bed and snoring, lives in a manner worthy of joy? For my part, I would say that lamentation befits such men from those who have sense; but that those who, in hope of the future age, endure the present life, and exchange present things for eternal ones, are to be counted blessed, even if those united to God dwell in flame, as the three youths in Babylon, even if they are confined with lions, even if swallowed by a whale, they ought to be counted blessed by us, and to live in joy, not pained by present circumstances, but rejoicing in the hope of the things reserved for us hereafter. For I think that the good athlete, once he has stripped for the stadium of piety, must bear the blows of his opponents nobly, in hope of the glory that comes from the crowns.

For in athletic contests, those who have become accustomed to toil in the wrestling schools do not shrink back from the pain of the blow, but advance directly against their opponents, eager for victory, disregarding the immediate hardships. So too for the earnest man, even if something rather harsh presents itself, it will not hinder his rejoicing. Because affliction produces endurance; endurance produces testing; testing produces hope; and hope does not disappoint. Hence elsewhere we were commanded by the same Apostle both to endure in affliction and to rejoice in hope. Hope, then, is what makes joy a housemate of the earnest man's soul. But the same Apostle also bids us to weep with those who weep; and writing to the Galatians, he wept over the enemies of the cross of Christ. And why need I mention Jeremiah weeping? Or Ezekiel writing dirges for the rulers at God's command, and many of the saints lamenting? "Alas, mother, what kind of child did you bear me?" and "Alas, that piety has perished from the earth, and there is no one among men who sets things right," and "Alas, that I was born as one gathering stubble in the harvest.

And altogether examine the utterances of the righteous; if you find any of them giving vent to a rather gloomy expression, you will be persuaded that all of them groan over this world and this wretched life in it. "Alas, that my sojourn has been prolonged." For he has a desire to depart and to be with Christ. Therefore, as an obstacle to joy, he resents the extension of this sojourn. And David left for us, in his songs, a lament for his friend Jonathan; with him he also lamented his own enemy. "I grieve for you, my brother Jonathan," and, "Daughters of Israel, lament over Saul." For he laments the one as having died in sin, and Jonathan as having shared his life with him to the end. And why need I mention the rest? But the Lord also wept over Lazarus, and he wept over Jerusalem. And he blesses those who mourn, and again those who weep. And how are these things consistent, they say, with "Rejoice always"? For tears and joy do not have their origin from the same sources. For the one, as from some wound, when the impact of the unwanted strikes the soul and contracts it, the heart's breath being compressed, naturally gives birth to tears; while joy is like a leaping of the soul exulting in things according to its will. Hence the bodily symptoms also differ. For in those who are grieved, the bulk is pale, livid, and chilled; in those who are cheerful, the condition of the body is blooming and ruddy, the soul almost leaping and being thrust outward by pleasure.

To this we will say that even the laments and tears of the saints arose from their love for God. Always gazing upon the Beloved, and increasing for themselves the joy that comes from that source, they managed the affairs of their fellow servants: mourning for those who sinned, correcting them through tears. Just as those standing on the shore, sympathizing with those being immersed in the sea, do not abandon their own safety in their concern for those in danger, so too do those who grieve over the sins of their neighbors not destroy their own joy. On the contrary, they even increase it, being deemed worthy of the Lord's joy for their tears over a brother. Therefore blessed are those who weep, and blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted, and they will laugh. By "laughter" he means not the sound that escapes through the cheeks in the seething of the blood, but the pure and unmixed cheerfulness, free from all gloom. So the Apostle permits weeping with those who weep, since this tear becomes, as it were, a seed and a loan of eternal joy. Ascend in thought and behold the angelic state: if any other state befits them except that of rejoicing and being cheerful, because they have been deemed worthy to stand before God and to enjoy the ineffable beauty of the glory of our Creator. Therefore, urging us toward that life, the Apostle commanded us to rejoice always.

But with regard to the Lord weeping over Lazarus and over the city, we have this to say: that he also ate and drank, not because he himself needed these things, but in order to leave for you measures and limits of the necessary affections of the soul. Thus, then, he also wept, correcting the excessive emotionality and abasement of those given to lamentation and fondness for mourning. For if anything else, even weeping requires proportion from reason: over what things it should occur, and to what extent, and when, and how it is fitting. That the Lord's tear was not emotional but instructive is clear from this: "Lazarus, our friend, has fallen asleep, but I am going to awaken him." Who among us laments a sleeping friend whom he expects to awaken shortly? "Lazarus, come out!" And the dead man was brought to life; and the bound man walked. A wonder within a wonder: to have his feet bound with bandages and not be hindered in movement. For the strengthening force was greater than the hindering one. How, then, did he who was about to perform such deeds judge the event worthy of tears? Or is it clear that, supporting our weakness from all sides, he encompassed the necessary affections with certain measures and limits: avoiding the unsympathetic as bestial, and rejecting the fondness for grief and excessive mourning as ignoble. Therefore, having wept over his friend, he both demonstrated his fellowship with human nature and freed us from excesses on either side, permitting us neither to be enervated by the affections nor to be insensible to painful things.

Just as the Lord submitted to hunger, when the solid food was breathed out for him, and he accepted thirst, when the moisture in the body was consumed; and he grew weary, when the muscles and sinews were overstretched from the journey—not because the divinity was subdued by the fatigue, but because the body received the natural consequences that follow from its constitution—so also he accepted weeping, allowing the natural affection to arise in the flesh. This occurs when the hollows of the brain, filled with the vapors arising from grief, discharge the weight of the fluid through certain channels, as it were, the pores around the eyes. Hence, certain sounds, and dizziness, and darkening occur upon unexpected hearing of sorrowful things, the head being whirled about by the vapors which the contraction of the heat to the depths sends up. Then, I think, just as a cloud dissolves into a drizzle, so the thickness of the vapors dissolves into a tear. Hence there is also a certain pleasure for those grieving in their lamentation, as the burden is imperceptibly emptied from them through weeping. The truth of this account is confirmed by the experience of what happens. For we have known many in irremediable calamities who forcibly held back their tears, and then some fell into incurable afflictions, apoplexy or paralysis, while others even completely expired, as if their strength, like a weak support, had been broken by the weight of grief. For what is seen in the case of a flame—that it is suffocated by its own smoke when it does not escape but is coiled around it—this, they say, also happens to the power that governs the living being.

for they are withered by painful things, and extinguished, with no outward exhalation taking place. Therefore, let those who love grief not put forward the Lord’s tear as a defense of their own passion. For just as the food which the Lord ate is not for us an occasion for self-indulgence—on the contrary, it is the highest standard of self-control and sufficiency—so also the tear is not a legislation for mourning, but a most seemly measure set forth, and an exact canon, according to which it was fitting to bear grievous things with dignity and decorum, abiding by the limits of nature. Neither for women nor for men is it permitted to be fond of mourning and full of tears, but only to frown at grievous things and to let fall a small tear, and that quietly, not bellowing or wailing, nor rending one’s garment, nor pouring dust over oneself, nor doing any other such unseemly thing as is practiced by those who are uneducated in heavenly matters. For one purified by divine teaching must be fenced, as by a strong wall, with right reason, and must manfully and steadfastly repel the assaults of such passions, and not, as into some lurking place, receive the throng of passions flowing in through the lowly and yielding part of the soul. For it is of an unmanly soul, having no strength from hope in God, to be violently broken down and to succumb to grievous things. For just as worms are engendered especially in the softer woods, so griefs take root in the softer characters of men. For was not Job adamantine in heart?

For were his bowels not made of stone? Ten of his children fell in a brief moment of time, crushed by a single blow in the house of festivity, at the time of enjoyment, when the devil shook down the building upon them. He saw a table mixed with blood; he saw children born at different times but meeting the end of life in common. He did not lament, he did not tear his hair, he did not utter any ignoble cry, but he spoke that famous and universally praised thanksgiving: "The Lord gave, the Lord took away; as it seemed good to the Lord, so it happened; blessed be the name of the Lord." Was the man without sympathy? And how? For he says of himself: "I wept for every one who was afflicted." But was he lying when he said these things? And indeed truth bears witness for him that, besides his other virtues, he was also truthful: "For he was," it says, "a blameless man, just, God-fearing, truthful." But you, with certain songs composed for gloom, sing dirges, and with mournful melodies you practice melting your own soul; and just as it is characteristic of tragedians to have their fiction and the costume with which they enter the theaters, so you think it fitting for the mourner to have a proper appearance—a black garment, unkempt hair, darkness in the house, filth, dust, a gloomy song, always preserving the fresh wound of grief in the soul. Leave these things to those who have no hope. But you have been taught concerning those who have fallen asleep in Christ, that "it is sown in corruption, it is raised in incorruption; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in strength.

A body is sown as psychic, and a body is raised as spiritual. Why then do you weep for the one who has departed to change his garment? Neither lament yourself as deprived of some helper for life: For it is better, it is said, to hope in the Lord than to hope in a human being. Nor mourn for him as having suffered terrible things. For a little later, the trumpet from the heavens will rouse him, and you will see him standing before the tribunal of Christ. Therefore, abandon these lowly and uneducated cries: "Woe is me for the unexpected evils!" and "Who would have thought this would happen?" and "When would I have expected to hide in the earth the head most dear to me?" For even if we hear another saying these things, it befits us to blush, we who have been taught the necessary affections of nature both from the memory of past events and from the experience of present ones. Therefore, neither untimely deaths nor any other misfortunes that fall unexpectedly will ever astonish us, who are being educated by the word of piety. For example: I had a son, a young man, the sole successor of my life, the comfort of my old age, the ornament of my family, the flower of his peers, the support of my household; he was at the very most charming time of life. This one has been snatched away; he has become earth and dust, he who shortly before was uttering a sweet sound to hear and was a most delightful sight to the eyes of his parent. What then shall I do? Shall I tear my garment, and stoop to roll on the ground, and lament, and be indignant, and show myself to those present like a child crying out and convulsing from blows?

Or, attending to the necessity of what occurs, that the law of death is inexorable, passing through every age alike, and dissolving all composite things in succession, shall I not be astonished at what has happened? Nor shall my mind be overturned, as if struck by an unexpected blow, having been long instructed that, being mortal, I had a mortal child, and that nothing human is secure, nor is it natural for anything to remain permanently with its possessors? But even great and renowned cities, distinguished by the splendor of their constructions, the power of their inhabitants, and the remaining abundance in both country and marketplace, now bear only the symbols of their ancient dignity in ruins. And a ship, often saved from the sea, having sailed swiftly countless times and conveyed countless cargo to merchants, was destroyed by a single gust of wind. And armies, having often prevailed in battles against their enemies, when their good fortune turned, became a pitiful sight and story. And entire nations and islands, having advanced to great power, having raised many trophies on land and sea, having amassed great wealth from spoils, were either consumed by time or, becoming captives, exchanged freedom for slavery. And in short, whatever you might mention among the greatest and most unbearable evils, life already has examples beforehand. Just as we distinguish weights by the inclinations of the balance, and test the difference of gold by rubbing it on the touchstone—

Thus, by recalling the measures set before us by the Lord, we would never fall outside the boundaries of temperance. Therefore, whenever something unwanted befalls you, first of all, do not let your mind suffer disturbance, being prepared beforehand, and then lighten the present circumstances by hope for the future. For just as those with weak eyes, turning their gaze away from excessively bright objects, rest it upon flowers and grass, so too must the soul not constantly look upon the painful, nor cling to present distresses, but turn its eye toward the contemplation of things truly good. In this way, you will achieve constant joy: if your life always looks toward God, and the hope of recompense lightens the sorrows of life. Were you dishonored? But look to the glory stored up in heaven through endurance. Did you suffer loss? But gaze upon the heavenly wealth and the treasure you have stored up for yourself through good works. Were you exiled from your homeland? But you have a homeland, the heavenly Jerusalem. Did you lose a child?

But you have angels, with whom you will dance around the throne of God, and you will rejoice in eternal gladness. Thus, by setting the expected goods against the present annoyances, you will preserve for yourself the freedom from pain and the tranquility of soul to which the legislation of the Apostle summons us. Let neither the cheerful aspects of human affairs produce in your soul immoderate exultation, nor let the painful ones, through dejection and withdrawal, humble its pride and loftiness. For if you are not so educated beforehand concerning the things of life, you will never live a waveless and untroubled life. And this will be easily accomplished for you if you have the commandment as a housemate, always urging you to rejoice: dismissing the vexations of the flesh, while gathering the joys of the soul; and, surpassing the perception of present things, stretching your thought toward the hope of eternal things, the mere imagination of which suffices to fill the soul with gladness and to settle angelic exultation in our hearts—in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom belong glory and power for the ages. Amen.