Quod rebus mundanis adhaerendum non sit

Homily 21. On not being nailed down to worldly things, and on the fire that broke out outside the Church. I thought, beloved, that by applying the goad of my discourse more sharply each time, I would seem to you to be a troublesome person, displaying a kind of excessive frankness, unbecoming to a stranger and to a man entangled in similar accusations. But you, from my reproofs, have been stirred to goodwill, and have made the wounds from my tongue the fuel for even greater desire. And this is nothing strange. For you are wise in spiritual matters. "Reprove a wise man, and he will love you," says Solomon somewhere in his own words. Therefore, brothers, I have come again to the same exhortation now, wishing to lead you away from the devil's nets, as far as I am able. For the enemy of the truth, beloved, wages a great and varied war against us every day. And he wages it, as you know, by making our own desires into weapons against us, always taking strength from us to harm us. For since the Master has bound the greater part of his power with indissoluble laws and has not allowed him, by a single onslaught, to wipe out the race from the earth, the envious one henceforth steals his victory over us from our own folly. And just as wicked and covetous men, whose work and choice it is to grow rich from the property of others, but who lack the power to use force openly, are accustomed to lie in wait on the roads,

And if they see some place around them, either broken by deep ravines or shaded by the density of plants, diving into this and cutting off the long-range view of travelers by such screens, they suddenly leap upon them, so that no one is able to see the snares of danger before falling into them. Thus the enemy, hostile and adversarial to us from above, running under the shadows of worldly pleasures, which along the road of this life are naturally able to hide a robber and make the plotter go unnoticed, from there sows the snares of destruction for us unawares. Therefore we must, if we wish to run the appointed road of life safely, and present to Christ both soul and body free from the shame of wounds, and receive the crowns of victory, always keep the eyes of the soul awake and turn them everywhere, and suspect all that is pleasant, and immediately pass by, and fix our thought on nothing, not even if gold should appear lying in abundance, ready to come into the hands of those who wish it (For wealth, it is said, if it flows, do not set your heart upon it); not even if the land should sprout every luxury and display costly tents (For our citizenship is in heaven, from which we also await Christ the Savior); not even if there are dances, revels, drinking bouts, and tables accompanied by flutes (For vanity, it is said, of vanities, all is vanity); not even if the beauties of bodies are presented, inhabited by wicked souls (For from the face of a woman flee as from the face of a serpent, says the Wise One).

nor if there are powers and tyrannies, and swarms of bodyguards or flatterers; nor if there is a high and splendid throne, having yoked nations and cities into voluntary slavery (For all flesh is as grass, and all human glory as the flower of grass; the grass has withered, and the flower has fallen). For beneath all these so delightful things the common enemy lies in wait, watching for the time when, having been lured by what is seen, we may turn aside from the straight path and incline ourselves toward his ambush. And there is great fear that, having run heedlessly toward them and having considered the pleasure from enjoyment as nothing harmful, we may swallow the hook of deceit hidden in the first taste; and then, partly willingly and partly unwillingly, be bound by it, and, dragged by the pleasures, be led unawares to the terrible den of the robber, death. Therefore it is necessary and beneficial for all, brothers, that, like travelers or runners who have prepared ourselves and from every side have contrived lightness for our souls for this race, we press on unswervingly toward the end of the road. And let no one suppose that I am a maker of new names because I have now called human life a road, since the prophet David also named life thus; at one time saying somewhere: Blessed are the blameless on the road, those who walk in the law of the Lord; at another time crying out to his own Master: Remove the road of injustice from me, and by your law have mercy on me. And sometimes, hymning the swift help of God against those who insult, and bringing it to the lyre with pleasure, he said: And who is God except our God?

God, who girds me with strength, has set my path blameless. I consider it fitting to call the sojourn of men on earth, whether admired or base, by this name. For just as those who complete a continuous journey, exchanging the steps of their feet in rivalry with one another for the race, always making the former step that was planted on the ground the latter by the swift transposition of the other, easily reach the end of the road, so those who were brought into life by the Creator, immediately at the beginning stepping upon the divisions of time, always leaving the former behind as the latter, arrive at the end of life. Or does it not seem to you also that this present life is spread out like a continuous road, a journey divided by the stages of life as by stations, providing for each the beginning of the journey from the pangs of mothers, and showing the end of the race as the tents of the tombs, and leading all to those, some more quickly, some more slowly, some traveling through all the intervals of time, others not even lingering at the first stages of life? Now the other roads, which lead from city to city, can be avoided, and one who does not wish to may not travel them; but this road, even if we wish to delay the race, seizes us by force and drags those upon it to the end appointed by the Master. And it is not possible, beloved, for one who has once passed through the gate that leads to this life and set foot on this road, not also to come to its end.

Each of us, after escaping the maternal womb, is immediately bound to the streams of time and swept along, always leaving behind the day that has been lived, and never able to return to yesterday, even if one should wish to. Yet we delight in being carried forward, and in changing our ages, as if we were gaining something, we rejoice; and we consider it blessed when from a child one becomes a man, and from a man an elder. But we are unaware that we are losing as much of life each time as we have lived, and we do not perceive that our life is being consumed, even though we always measure it from what has passed and flowed by. Nor do we consider that it is uncertain how much time the one who sent us on this journey will grant to the course, and when he will open the gates of entry for each of the runners, and that we must be prepared day by day for the departure from here, and await the nod of the Master with eyes fixed. For let your loins be girded, he says, and your lamps burning; and you are like men awaiting their own lord, when

He will depart from the marriage, so that, when he comes and knocks, they may open to him immediately. Nor are we willing to examine precisely which light burdens for such a journey can accompany us and be transferred with those who gather them, and make that life joyful for us, becoming the property of those who have acquired them; and which are heavy and troublesome and fastened to the earth, and are not naturally capable of being appropriated by men once and for all, nor are they permitted to follow those who possess them through that narrow gate. But what we ought to have gathered, we have left behind; and what it is proper to disregard, these we gather; and we pay no attention to those things which can be united with us and truly become a natural ornament for both soul and body; but we attempt to amass those things which remain perpetually alien, imprinting only shame upon us, laboring in vain and toiling at a task, as if someone, deceiving himself, should wish to draw water into a perforated jar. For this, I think, is known even to all infants, that none of the pleasant things in life, over which the majority are frenzied, is truly ours, nor is it naturally capable of becoming so; but all alike appear alien, both to those who seem to enjoy them and to those who do not approach them. For even if some should amass an immense amount of gold in life, it does not remain their own perpetually; but either, while they are still living, it slips away from them as they clutch it from all sides, flowing to those more powerful, or, when they are already at the point of death, it abandons them, and is unwilling to travel with those who have acquired it.

But those who are dragged by the one who forcibly separates the souls from this wretched flesh toward the necessary journey often turn back to their possessions, weeping over the labors spent on them from youth; wealth passes into the hands of others, having only inflicted upon them the toil of accumulation and the reproach of greed. Even if someone were to acquire countless acres of land, magnificent houses, herds of all kinds of animals, and encompass all dominion among men, he does not enjoy them forever; after being named for a brief time from these, he will again yield his prosperity to others, sinking into a small plot of earth himself, and often even before the tomb and before his departure from here, he will see his good fortune passing to others, perhaps even to enemies. Or do we not know how many fields, how many houses, how many nations and cities, while their owners still lived, have changed the names of their masters? And how some who once served have ascended to the throne of power, while those called lords and masters have been content to stand among the ruled and have bowed to their own slaves, as if in the turns of dice, when their affairs were suddenly overturned? As for the things devised for us in eating and drinking, and all that wealth, in its insolence, has contrived beyond necessity for the service of the ungrateful and insatiable belly, when would they ever become ours, even if poured in continually?

Even those things which we deposit in the passage only for a brief pleasure of taste, we immediately find burdensome and superfluous, and we hasten to expel them, as if, should they linger in the bowels, we would be in the greatest danger concerning life. Indeed, for many, satiety has brought death and has become the procurer of enjoying nothing further. And wanton beds, and profane embraces, and all the works of a raging and deranged soul—are they not clearly a manifest injury to nature, an evident harm, and a real alienation and diminution of each one's own, the body being diminished in the mixtures, and the most genuine and sustaining nourishment of the members being plundered? Therefore, immediately after the act, when the sting of the flesh has withered, and the mind, having come to the abominable end it attempted, as if from drunkenness or some storm, should it gain leisure to reflect on where it is, a strong repentance for the intemperance enters. For it perceives the body has become weaker, sluggish for the necessary work, and altogether feeble.

This, then, is what the trainers, having observed, have written as the law of temperance in the wrestling schools, guarding the bodies of the young men inviolate from pleasures, and not permitting them, even while contending, so much as to glance at shining forms, if they wish to have their heads crowned, since incontinence brings ridicule in wrestling, not a crown. These things, as entirely alien and superfluous, and capable of becoming the property of no one, it is good to pass by, closing the eyes. But of what is truly our own, it is fitting to take great care. And what is truly our own? The soul, by which we live, being a certain subtle and intellectual thing, and needing nothing of that which weighs down; and the body, the vehicle given to it for life by the Creator. For this is man: a mind bound in a fitting and suitable flesh. This is molded by the all-wise craftsman of the universe in our mother's wombs. This is brought into the light from those dark chambers by the time of birth. This was appointed to rule over the things on earth. For this, creation is spread out as a training ground for virtue. For this, a law lies, to imitate the Creator as far as possible, and to sketch on earth the good order of the heavens. This, when called from here, departs. This stands before the tribunal of the God who sent it. This is judged; this receives the recompense for what it has done in this life. And the virtues, too, one would find becoming our possessions, when they are woven together with our nature through care; and they are unwilling to leave us laboring on earth, unless we of our own accord drive them away by the inducements of worse things.

They hasten there, running ahead, and rank the one who has acquired it among the angels, and shine through eternity beneath the eyes of the Creator. But wealth, and power, and renown, and luxury, and the whole such throng, which daily increases from our folly, neither came with us into life, nor departs with anyone; rather, what was long ago said of the just man stands fixed and prevails for every man: "Naked I came out of my mother's womb, naked I shall depart." Therefore, the one who deliberates best will care for the soul as much as possible, and will try through all means to preserve it pure and genuine; but as for the flesh—whether it wastes away from hunger, or struggles against frost and heat, or is pained by diseases, or suffers some violence from others—he will make little account of it, crying out with Paul's voice at each of the hardships, and declaring: "Even if our outer man is being destroyed, the inner man is renewed day by day." And seeing the dangers that come for the sake of life, he will not appear afraid, but will say to himself with confidence: "We know that if our earthly house of the tent is dissolved, we have a building from God, a house not made by hands, eternal in the heavens." But if someone wishes also to spare the body, as the only necessary possession for the soul and as its coworker for living on earth, he will turn a little to its needs, only so as to hold it together and keep it strengthened for the service of the soul through moderate care, but not to allow it to prance about from satiety.

But if it should ever see him inflamed with desires for more and beyond what is beneficial, it will cry out to him, legislating with the words of Paul: "We brought nothing into this world; clearly, we can take nothing out either. Having sustenance and shelter, let us be content with these." For by continually chanting and crying out these things to him, it will render him docile and light, always ready for the heavenly journey, and will rather gain him as a fellow worker for what lies ahead. But if it allows him to be insolent and to glut himself daily with everything, like some untamed beast, then later, dragged down by his violent pulls toward the earth, he will lie groaning in vain. And when brought before the Master and asked for the fruit of the journey on earth that was granted to him, then having nothing to give, he will lament long and dwell in perpetual darkness, blaming much his luxury and its deception, by which he was robbed of the time of salvation, yet gaining nothing further from his tears.

For in Hades, who will make confession to you? says David. Let us flee, then, as quickly as possible, lest we willingly suffocate ourselves. But if someone has long since been ensnared, either gathering the dust of unjust wealth upon himself and binding his mind with its cares, or attaching to his nature the foul stain of licentiousness, hard to wash away, or filling himself with other charges—this person, while there is still time, before he comes to utter ruin, let him set aside the greater part of his burdens, and before the vessel becomes submerged, let him jettison the cargo which he has not rightfully collected, and imitate the workers of the sea. For there, even if they happen to be carrying some necessities on the ship, and a boiling swell from the deep rises up against them and threatens to overwhelm the ship, pressed down by the load, they, as quickly as they can, remove the greater part of the weight and unsparingly pour the cargo into the sea, so as to raise the ship above the wave and give escape from the danger to their souls, if possible, and to their bodies. Much more, then, than those men, it befits us to deliberate and act accordingly. For they, whatever they throw away, immediately lose, and thereafter poverty constrains them; but we, to the extent that we drain off the evil cargo, will heap up greater and better wealth for our souls.

Fornication, indeed, and all such things, when cast away, perish and proceed toward non-existence, dissolved by tears; but holiness and righteousness are thereafter transferred to that place, light things, not knowing how to be covered by any waves. As for wealth, when rightly cast out, it is not lost to those who cast it out and throw it away; but, as if transferred into other, more secure vessels—the bellies of the poor—it is preserved and arrives at harbors, and is kept for those who cast it out, as an ornament, not a danger. Let us therefore deliberate, beloved, about something humane for ourselves, and let us distribute the burden of prosperity, if we wish at all to make it our own gain, to many who will gladly bear it and enclose it in the inviolable treasuries of the Master's bosom, where moth does not destroy, nor do burglars dig through, nor thieves steal. Let us give authority to wealth that wishes to overflow toward the needy. Let us not overlook the Lazaruses still lying before our eyes, nor begrudge them even the crumbs from our table sufficient for their satiety; nor, emulating that savage rich man, let us pass into the same flame of Gehenna as he. For then we shall beg much of Abraham, much of each of those who have lived rightly; but there will be no profit for us from our cry: "For a brother is not ransomed; will a man be ransomed?" And each of them will cry out to us: "Do not seek philanthropy which you yourself ignored toward others; nor wish to receive so great things, having spared the lesser. Enjoy these things which you gathered in life.

Weep now, since then, when you saw your brother weeping, you did not pity him. These things they will say, and justly, to us. But I fear that they may hurl even harsher words than these at us, since we surpass that rich man in wickedness, as you know. For we do not spare wealth at all, but pass by our brothers who lie thrown on the ground; nor do we, keeping our prosperity for our children or other relatives, close our ears to those in need; but we transfer our expenditure to worse things, making our love of honor a whetstone of wickedness for those who practice it. For how many, and how many kinds, surround the table of some men! Some, with shameful words, flatter the host; others, with unseemly glances and postures, kindle the fire of intemperance; others, by jests at one another, seek to produce laughter for the one who invited them; still others deceive him with false praises. And they gain not only that they have been thus splendidly feasted, but they also bring down their hands filled with costly gifts, and they learn from us that it is more profitable to pursue and do such things than the virtues. But if a poor man stands before us, barely able to speak from hunger, we turn away from our fellow man, we loathe him, we flee with haste, as if fearing that we might share in his misfortune itself by walking more slowly. And if he looks down to the ground, ashamed of his calamity, we say he is a worker of pretense; but if he looks at us boldly because of the heavy goad of hunger, we call him shameless and violent.

And if he happens to be covered in sound garments, having given something to someone, we drive him away as insatiable, and we swear that he is pretending to be poor; but if he is covered in rotten rags, we again drive him away as stinking, and neither that man mixing the name of the Creator with his supplications, nor his constantly adjuring us not to fall into such sufferings, can bend our pitiless resolve. Because of these things, I dread a fire heavier than Gehenna than that rich man did. If, then, the occasion permitted and sufficient ability were at hand, I would have gone through everything about him, as the Scripture showed, and rendered the labor of the words; but now it is time to dismiss you who have labored. But even if we have omitted something through weakness of both thought and tongue, you yourselves, fashioning it for yourselves, apply it like some remedies to the wounds of your souls. For the Scripture says, "Give a wise man an occasion, and he will be wiser." And God is able to cause every grace to abound to you, so that, always having every sufficiency in everything, you may abound in every good work. But indeed, as you see, the discourse having already been brought to harbors for us, some brothers are leading it back again into the course of counsel, bidding us not to pass over the wonders wrought yesterday by the Master, nor to be silent about the trophy which the Savior set up against the rage of the devil, but to give you an occasion for the leaps of hymnody. For again, as you know, the devil displayed his own rage against us, and arming himself with a flame of fire, he attacked the enclosures of the Church.

Again the common mother prevailed, and turned the enemy's device back upon him, and nothing was left to him except to make his enmity public. Grace breathed against the enemy's assaults; the temple remained unharmed. The storm brought by the enemy had no power to shake the rock on which Christ built the fold of his own flock. He who once extinguished the furnace in Babylon has now been stationed with us. How do you think the devil groans today, not having enjoyed the outcome he desired from his undertaking? For the enemy kindled a fire next to the Church, to harm our prosperity; and from all sides the flame, fanned by his violent blasts, overflowed what lay beneath it, consumed the nearby air, forced to touch the palaces, and dragged us into sharing the disaster. But the Savior caused it to flow back upon the one who kindled it, and ordered his madness to contract again into itself. And the enemy prepared the bow of his plot; but he was prevented from releasing the arrow—or rather, he did release it, but it was turned back upon his own head. He himself enjoys those bitter

the tears which he caused us. But let us, brothers, make the wound more burdensome for the enemy, let us intensify his grief. How this is to be done, I shall tell, and you shall act. There are some who were snatched from the dominion of the fire by the Creator, and have no remaining means of livelihood left to them, but have escaped the danger with only their soul and body. Therefore, let those of us who have remained without experience of these hardships offer them a common share of our own prosperity. Let us embrace the brothers who have barely been saved, let each of us say to each: He was dead, and he came back to life; he was lost, and he was found; and let us shelter the kindred body. Let us set our consolation against the enemy's assaults, so that he, though harming, may seem to harm nothing great, and, though waging war, may show no one vanquished, and, though he has stripped the brothers of their prosperity, may appear conquered by our generosity. And you, brothers, who have escaped the danger, do not be excessively distressed by the evils that have befallen you, nor be shaken in your mind, but shake off the mist of grief, and revive your souls by using more courageous reasoning, and make what has happened a pretext for crowns. For if you remain unshaken, you will appear more approved in faith, shining forth like noble gold from the fire, and you will rather increase the enemy's shame, since he could not move even a tear from you through the means by which he plotted. Remind yourselves of the endurance of Job. Say to yourselves what he said: The Lord gave, the Lord took away.

As it seemed good to the Lord, so it came to pass. And let no one be persuaded by what he suffered to reason and say that there is no providence ordering our affairs, nor let him accuse the economy and judgment of the Master; but let him look to that athlete, and make that man his counselor for the better. Let him recount all the contests in order, in which that man distinguished himself, and by how many arrows of the devil he was struck, yet did not receive a mortal wound. For he removed from him the prosperity of his household, and he plotted to bury him under the successive reports of evils. For while the former was still announcing such a calamity, another messenger came, bringing despondency over worse things; the evils were joined one to another, and the misfortunes emulated the onrush of waves, and before the previous tear had ceased, a pretext for another was brought forward. The righteous man stood like a breakwater, receiving the assaults of the storm, and turning the violence of the waves into foam, and he uttered this grateful voice to the Master: The Lord gave, the Lord took away; as it seemed good to the Lord, so it came to pass; and he deemed none of the events worthy of tears. But when someone came announcing that a violent wind had struck the chamber of joy while his sons and daughters were feasting, then only did he rend his garment, showing the sympathy of his nature, and testifying that he was a loving father by what he did. Yet even then, imposing a limit and measure on his grief, and adorning what happened with those pious words, he said:

The Lord gave, the Lord took away; as it seemed good to the Lord, so it came to pass, crying out almost thus: I was called father for as long as the one who made me so wished. He resolved again to strip from me the crown of my offspring; I do not contend with him over what is his own. Let what seems good to the Master prevail; he is the molder of the race, and I am an instrument. Why should I, being a slave, be vexed to no purpose and blame a decree which I cannot undo? With such words the righteous man pierced the devil. But when the enemy saw him again victorious and unable to be shaken by any of these things, he brought against him the device of experience upon the flesh itself, and after scourging the body with unspeakable blows, he caused streams of worms to be given forth from it; and having brought the man down from the thrones of the kingdom, he seated him on a dunghill. But he, even when assailed by such sufferings, remained unmoved; and while his body was being torn apart, he kept the treasure of piety inviolate in the hidden place of the soul. Therefore, having nothing left to do, the enemy came to the memory of the ancient plot, and having drawn the mind of the woman into an impious and blasphemous opinion, he attempted through her to shake the athlete.

And she, having given up on the long time, stood by the just man, bowed down, and clapping her hands at the things that were seen, and reproaching him with the fruits of piety, and recounting the former abundance of her household, and pointing out the present evils, and what a life she had obtained from what, and what reward from the Master she had received for her many sacrifices, she kept uttering words worthy of the faintheartedness of women, but capable of disturbing any man and overturning even a noble mind: "For I go about as a wanderer and a slave, I, the queen, am a servant, and I am forced to look upon the hands of my own servants, and having once nourished many, I am now barely fed from the goods of others." And she said that it would be good and useful, having used impious words, to cut oneself off from the earth, having whetted the sword of the Creator's wrath, or, enduring the horrors, to prolong the toil of struggles for oneself and for the wife who lives with him. But he, distressed at these words as at none of the previous evils, and filling his gaze with anger, and turning to his wife as to an enemy, what does he say? "Why have you spoken like one of the foolish women? Put aside, woman, this counsel. How long will you insult the common life in what you say? You have lied about my conduct, which I did not pray for, and you have slandered my life in what you have spoken. I now consider that I have been impious to half, since marriage made us one body, but you have fallen into blasphemy. If we received the good things from the hand of the Lord, shall we not endure the bad?

Recall the good things that have come to you. Weigh the better against the worse. No human life is entirely blessed. To do well in all things belongs to God alone. But you, if you are pained by present circumstances, console yourself with what has gone before. Now you weep, but you laughed earlier; now you are poor, but you were rich earlier. You have drunk the clear stream of life; endure now drinking this turbid one. Not even the currents of rivers appear clear all the time. Our life, as you know, is a river, flowing ceaselessly and filled with successive waves. Part of it has already flowed away, part is still passing; part has just emerged from the springs, and part is yet to come; and we all hasten to the common sea of death. If we have received good things from the hand of the Lord, shall we not bear the bad? Do we compel the judge to supply us with similar things throughout eternity? Do we teach the Master how he ought to conduct our life? He himself has authority over his own decisions. He arranges our affairs as he wishes. He is wise, and he measures out what is beneficial to his servants.

Do not busy yourself with the Master's judgment. Love only what is administered by his wisdom. Whatever he gives you, receive it with pleasure. Show in painful circumstances that you were worthy of the former joy. Saying these things, Job repelled even this assault of the devil and brought upon him the complete shame of defeat. What then happened from this? The disease fled from him again, as having approached in vain and accomplished nothing more. The flesh blossomed into a second youth; life flourished again with all good things, and wealth flowed in from all sides double upon the house, so that he had one part as if he had lost nothing, and the other existed as a reward for the righteous man's endurance. And why did he receive horses, mules, camels, sheep, fields, and all the luxury of abundance from the double portion, while the number of children sprouted equal to those who had died? Because the irrational livestock and all perishable wealth came to complete destruction; but the children, even when dead, lived in the finest part of nature. So, adorned again with other sons and daughters by the Creator, he had this possession as double. For the living ones were present, providing joy in life to their parents, while those who had gone before awaited the one who planted them; then all will stand around Job, when the judge of human life gathers the universal assembly, when the trumpet, which signals the king's arrival, sounding more vehemently at the tombs, demands the deposit of the bodies.

Then even those who now seem dead will stand before the creator of all things more swiftly than the living. For this reason, I think, having measured out to him double the other wealth, he judged it right that he be content with equal shares for his children. Do you see how many good things the righteous Job gathered for himself from his endurance? And you, therefore, if any hardship has approached you from the fire kindled yesterday by the machination of the demons, endure this, and lull the distress from the suffering with better reasonings; and as it is written, "Cast your care upon the Lord, and he himself will nourish you." Glory belongs to him for ever and ever. Amen.