Contra ludos et theatra

Of Our Father among the Saints John Chrysostom, Archbishop of Constantinople, a Homily Against Those Who Have Left the Church and Deserted to the Horse Races and Theatres. 1. Are these things tolerable? Are these things endurable? For I wish to bring a charge against you on your own behalf. Thus also God did to the Hebrews; for bringing a charge against them on their own behalf, he said: My people, what have I done to you, and how have I grieved you, or how have I troubled you? Answer me. And again: What fault did your fathers find in me? This then I also will imitate, and I will say to you again: Are these things tolerable? Are these things endurable? After long courses of discourses, and so much teaching, some have left us and deserted to the spectacle of the racing horses, and have become so frenzied that they have filled the whole city with shouting and disorderly clamor, bringing forth much laughter, or rather lamentation. I, sitting at home and hearing the voice bursting forth, suffered more severely than those tossed by waves. For just as they, when the waves dash against the sides of the ship, fear for their very lives, so also those cries dashed against me more violently, and I bowed my head to the ground and covered myself; while those above were behaving so unseemly, those below in the middle of the marketplace were applauding the charioteers and shouting more violently than they. But what shall we say? Or how shall we defend ourselves, if some stranger from somewhere should stand by and accuse us, saying: Is this the city of the apostles? Is this the city that received such a teacher? Is this the Christ-loving people, the unfeigned theater, the spiritual one?

tolerable? Did you not respect even that day, on which the symbols of our race's salvation were being accomplished? But on the Preparation, when your Lord was being crucified for the world, and such a sacrifice was being offered, and paradise was being opened, and the thief was being restored to his ancient fatherland, the curse was being dissolved, and sin was being obliterated, and the long-standing war was being ended, and the reconciliation of God with men was taking place, and everything was being transformed—on that day, when you ought to have been fasting and giving glory, and sending up prayers of thanksgiving for the good things of the world to the one who accomplished them—then did you, abandoning church and spiritual sacrifice, and the assembly of brethren, and the dignity of fasting, become a captive of the devil and get carried off to that spectacle? Are these things tolerable? Are these things bearable? For I will not cease saying these things repeatedly, consoling my own grief with this—by not suppressing it in silence, but by bringing it into the open and placing it before your eyes. How shall we be able to render God propitious from now on? How shall we reconcile him when he is angry? Three days ago, a downpour and rain burst forth, sweeping everything away, snatching the table of the farmers from their very mouths, as it were, laying low the ripening ears of grain, rotting all the rest with the excess of the wet substance. Liturgies and supplications, and our whole city like a torrent, were running to the places of the apostles, and we were taking as advocates the holy Peter and the blessed Andrew, the pair of apostles, Paul and Timothy.

After those things, when the anger had been released, and having crossed a sea and dared the waves, we were running to the leaders, Peter the foundation of the faith, Paul the vessel of election, celebrating a spiritual festival and proclaiming their contests, the trophies and victories over the demons. And neither struck with fear at what was happening, nor taught by the greatness of the apostolic achievements, do you suddenly, with one day intervening, leap and shout, overlooking your own soul being carried off captive by the passions? If you wished to see a race of irrational beings, why did you not yoke the irrational passions within you, anger and desire, and place upon them the yoke of philosophy, the good and light one, and set over them right reason, and drive toward the prize of the higher calling, running not from filth to filth, but from earth to heaven? For this form of horse-racing has much benefit along with pleasure. But leaving your own affairs to be carried along simply and as chance dictates, you sat for the victory of others, wasting such a day in vain and for evil. Do you not know that just as we, entrusting silver to our own servants, demand an accounting from them even to a single obol, so also God will demand from us an account of the days of our life, how we spent each day? What then will we say? What defense will we make, when we are called to account for that day? The sun rose for you, and the moon lit the night, and the varied chorus of stars shone forth.

Winds blew for you, rivers ran; seeds sprouted for you, and plants grew, and the course of nature kept its proper order, and day appeared and night passed; and all these things happened for you. And you, while the creatures serve you, do you fulfill the devil’s desire? And having rented such a great house from God—I mean this world—you did not pay the rent. And the previous day was not enough for you, but also the second day, when you should have rested a little from the evil that arises, you again went up to the theaters, running from smoke into fire, casting yourself into another, more grievous abyss. Old men disgraced their gray hair, and young men cast down their youth, and fathers led their children, from the very start immersing their inexperienced age into the abysses of wickedness, so that one would not err in calling such men child-killers instead of fathers, destroying the souls of those they begot through vice. And what vice? someone says. For this is why I grieve, that even while sick, you do not know that you are sick, so that you might seek the physician. You have become filled with adultery, and you ask, what vice? Or did you not hear Christ saying, “He who looks at a woman with desire has already committed adultery with her”? What then if I do not look with desire? he says. And how will you be able to persuade me? For he who does not restrain himself from watching, but puts such great eagerness into such a thing, how after watching will he be able to remain unstained? For is your body stone? Is it iron? You are clothed in flesh, human flesh, which is kindled by desire more fiercely than grass.

And why do I speak of the theater? Often in the marketplace, if we encounter a woman, we are disturbed. But you, sitting up there, where there is such great incitement to indecency, seeing a prostitute woman with her head uncovered, entering with great shamelessness, wearing golden garments, acting effeminately, behaving wantonly, singing lewd songs, with broken melodies, uttering shameful words, behaving in such indecent ways—if you, who have witnessed this, would consider it, do you stoop down? Do you dare to say that you suffer nothing human? For is your body made of stone? Is it made of iron? For I will not refrain from saying the same things again. Are you more philosophical than those great and noble men who were brought down by mere sight? Have you not heard what Solomon says: "Will someone walk on coals of fire and not burn his feet? Will someone place fire in his bosom and not burn his garments?" So it is with one who enters into another man's wife. For even if you did not physically embrace the prostitute, you consorted with desire, and in your intention you committed the sin. And not only at that time, but also from the theater

Once she has departed, her image remains fixed in your soul—her words, her postures, her glances, her gait, her rhythm, her attire, her licentious limbs—and you withdraw, having received countless wounds. Is it not from this that households are overturned? Is it not from this that self-control is lost? Is it not from this that marriages are dissolved? Is it not from this that wars and battles arise? Is it not from this that there come distastes beyond all reason? For when you go back up, having been filled with her and made a captive, your wife seems more disagreeable, your children more burdensome, your servants more oppressive, your house superfluous, and your usual cares appear to vex you in the management of necessary affairs, and each person who approaches seems irksome and oppressive. 3. And the cause is this: you do not go up into your house alone, but you have the prostitute with you—not going up openly and manifestly, which would be lighter, for your wife would quickly drive her out—but seated in your mind and conscience, kindling within you a Babylonian furnace, or rather one far more severe. For it is not tow, naphtha, and pitch, but the things I have mentioned that become fuel for the fire, and everything is turned upside down. And just as those who are feverish, having nothing to charge against those who serve them, are, because of the evil of their disease, discontented with everyone—rejecting food, reviling physicians, being vexed with their own household, and raging against those who attend them—so too those who suffer from this grievous disease are altered, become disgusted, always gazing at that woman. O what grievous things! A wolf and a lion and the other wild beasts, when shot at, flee the hunter.

a man, the most rational of beings, once wounded, pursues the one who wounded him, so as to receive a far more grievous shaft, and to take pleasure in the wound—which is indeed the bitterest of all things, and renders the disease incurable. For he who does not hate the sore, nor wishes to be rid of it, how could he ever seek the physician? For this reason I am grieved and cut to the heart, that you receive such great harm and depart from there, and for the sake of a small pleasure you endure perpetual pain. For even before Gehenna and punishment, you here exact the utmost penalty from yourselves. Or is it not, tell me, the utmost punishment to nourish such a desire, to be perpetually inflamed, to carry about everywhere a furnace of illicit love, and the accusation of conscience? For how will you set foot upon those sacred thresholds? How will you touch the heavenly table? How will you hear the discourse on chastity, when you are full of sores and such wounds, and have your mind enslaved to passion? And why need I mention the rest? From what is now being done by us, it is possible to see the pain in your minds. For now, indeed, I see you striking your foreheads in the midst of these words, and I am very grateful to you, that you are such a compassionate people. But I suppose that many of those who have committed no sin do this, grieving over the wounds of their brethren. For this reason I am grieved and distressed, that the devil is ravaging such a flock. But if you so wish, we shall quickly block his entrance. How and in what manner? If we should see the sick restored to health.

If we were to spread the nets of teaching and go around seeking those captured by wild beasts, we would snatch them even from the very throat of the lion. Do not tell me: "Those who have been led astray are few." Even if there are only ten, the loss is not trivial; even if five, even if two, even if one. For that shepherd too left the ninety-nine sheep for this reason and ran after the one, and did not return until he had brought it back again, and filled the number of one hundred, which was limping because of that one, by the restoration of the one that had strayed. Do not say that it is one; but consider that it is a soul, for which all visible things have come to be; for which there are laws, and punishments, and penalties, and the countless wonders, and the manifold dealings of God; for which He did not even spare the Only-Begotten. Consider how much honor has been staked even for the one, and do not despise his salvation, but go and bring him back to us, and persuade him no longer to fall into the same things, and we shall have a sufficient defense. But if he should not submit, not even when we counsel him, nor when you exhort him, I shall then use the authority which God has given us, not for destruction, but for edification. For this reason I declare beforehand, and cry out with a clear voice, that if anyone after this exhortation and teaching should desert to the lawless corruption of the theaters, I will not receive him within these precincts, I will not impart the mysteries, I will not allow him to touch the sacred table; but just as shepherds separate sheep full of scab from the healthy ones, so that they do not transmit the disease to the rest, so too shall I act.

For in ancient times the leper was commanded to dwell outside the camp, and even if he were a king, he was cast out with his diadem; much more shall we cast out of this sacred camp the one who lepers the soul. For just as I employed exhortation and counsel at the beginning, so now, after so much exhortation and teaching, it is necessary at last to apply the knife as well. For it is now a year since I set foot in your city, and I have not ceased often and continually to exhort you concerning these matters. Since, therefore, some have remained in the putrefaction, come, let us at last apply the incision. For if I do not have a scalpel, I have a word sharper than steel; and if I do not carry fire, I have a teaching hotter than fire, able to burn more vigorously. Do not, then, despise our sentence. For even if we are humble and exceedingly pitiable, nevertheless we have been entrusted by the grace of God with an authority capable of effecting these things. Let such persons, therefore, be cast out, so that those who are healthy among us may become healthier, and those who are sick may recover themselves from their grievous illness. But if you have shuddered on hearing this sentence (for I see that all are gloomy and dejected), let them change, and the terms of the sentence are dissolved. For just as we have received authority to bind, so also to loose, and again to apply it. For we do not wish to cut off our brothers, but to repel the reproach of the Church. For now both Greeks will laugh at us and Jews will mock us, when we so overlook those who are sinning.

Then those people too will greatly praise us and admire the Church, having been shamed by our laws. Therefore, let none of those who persist in the same fornication set foot in the Church, but let them also be rebuked by you, and let them be a common enemy. For if anyone, it says, does not obey our word through the letter, mark this person and do not associate with him. Do this: give him no share in conversation, receive him not into your house, share no table with him, no entrance, no exit, no marketplace; and in this way we shall easily reclaim them. And just as hunters, when pursuing wild beasts that are hard to catch, drive them not from one side but from all sides, and cast them into the net, so too let us drive together those who have become brutish, and quickly cast them into the nets of salvation, we from here, you from there. So that this may happen, be indignant with us, or rather grieve for the laws of God, and for a while turn away from those brothers who are sick with such things and transgressing, so that you may have them forever. For the judgment upon you is not a trivial one, if you overlook such ruin, but you will incur the greatest punishment. For if in the houses of men, when a servant is caught stealing silver or gold, not only the one caught is punished, but also those who knew and did not report it, much more so in the Church. For God will say to you then:

Seeing from my house that it was not silver, nor a golden vessel that was stolen, but that chastity was plundered, and that the one who received the precious body and partook of such a sacrifice went off to the place of the devil and committed such lawless acts, how did you keep silent? How did you endure it? How did you not report it to the priest? And you will be called to account, and not just the ordinary penalties. For this reason, I too, although I am about to cause pain, will spare none of the more burdensome things. For it is far better that we be grieved here and be delivered from the future judgment, than that I gratify you with words and then be punished along with you at that time. For it is not safe, nor without danger, for us to bear such things in silence. For each of you will give account for himself; but I am responsible for the salvation of all. For this reason, I will not cease to do and say everything, even if I must cause pain, even if I appear burdensome, even if I seem offensive, so that I may be able to stand before that fearful tribunal, having no stain or wrinkle, or anything of the sort. And may it be, through the prayers of the saints, that those already corrupted quickly return, and that those who remained unharmed advance further in decorum and chastity; so that you may be saved, and we may rejoice, and God may be glorified now and always, and into the unending ages of ages. Amen.