De patientia sermo

On patience, and not weeping bitterly for the departed. Let us today enter into the discourse of teaching more diligently than on previous days; for discourse often knows how to console pain, and moderate teaching can dissolve despondency. For I see many of those who were with you yesterday are not now with you, but have either been summoned to the Master, or lie on beds, and all of them await death. Therefore I also see from you much lamentation, great turmoil in the city, much disturbance in the Church, immoderate tears of the mourners, and the habits and affairs of the many are unseemly. For I have often exhorted and reminded you about this matter—I mean, to bear with patience and thanksgiving the falling asleep of children, relatives, and kin, and not to behave so unseemly, nor to reckon those who depart to God as lost; and especially when some infants and those undefiled have left life. Therefore let us not groan for them, but rather lament ourselves, who live in sins. For if we do not become sober today, when shall we ever turn back? If the death of your brother does not chasten you, who will turn you back? If seeing a corpse lying does not correct your life, when will you ever propitiate God? Behold, then, we see; behold, we learn by this very experience. Therefore let us spare ourselves, I beg, and not be disturbed idly and in vain, nor imagine ourselves immortal. For the path of death is one, and there is no other path; the cup is common and given to all; the hour is unique, and it is a grievous hour.

the only bridge, and having no passage; the debt of all, the only first offering, and the end of all; the divine sword, and not receiving a face. For death does not tremble before a king, does not honor a high priest, does not pity gray hair, does not have mercy on beauty, does not spare youth, does not feel compassion for an only child, is not bent by tears, does not fear a ruler, is not afraid of tyrants, is not bought with money, does not consider anyone's person, nor again is it face to face, but death comes equally to all. Those who are with us today, tomorrow are there before us; those who greet us in a friendly manner today, tomorrow are sent off by us pitiably; those who are in life today, tomorrow are in the tomb; those who are visible today, tomorrow are worm-eaten; those who are perfumed today, tomorrow are stinking; those who are reveling here today, tomorrow are mourning there; and, to speak simply, those who are being feasted today, tomorrow are being condemned there. Whom we often seek, and not knowing their repose, we say to one another: Where is so-and-so the ruler? and we hear: He has passed on; and, Where is that potentate? we ask each other, and we learn: He died; and, Where is the proud king? There, it is said, he has gone ahead; and, Where is such-and-such a companion? He has crossed over there. There, where?

Where the Judge of judges is; there, where the one more powerful than the fearful is stronger; there, where the eternal King and inexorable Judge is. There? Where then, or how, or in what place, or in what manner do those who have been received find themselves? No one has been able to say; but we know only this, that there, where the only eternal and only immortal one is, where the only good and only philanthropic one is, the maker of souls and bodies. Into that great and fearful tribunal, where there is no laughter, but lamentation; where there is no adornment, but darkness; where there is no distraction, but examination; where there is no abuse, but defense; where there is no becoming rich, but trembling; where there is no partiality, but just judgment; where we all stand naked, slaves and free, well-born and obscure, sinners and righteous, rich and poor; some ashamed, others crowned. Where there is the pomp of kings? Where the arrogance of rulers? Where the heartlessness of the wealthy? Where the partiality of judges? Where the much-fancied beauty of youth? Youth, the senseless, having long hopes of life; youth, the seditious heart, the much-caring pleasure; youth, which falls many times and often, which flatters the flesh badly; youth, flattered to deception, the mud, the wretched, the easily-withered grass, the ready-to-perish ear of grain; youth, the easily-forgotten dream, the insubstantial shadow; youth, the godless head, the painless heart, the raised eye, the lamp ready to be extinguished.

youth, the boiling of the blood and the habit of stains; youth, the unbridled horse and fit for every destruction. Yet the one who is haughty here is pitiable there; the one who is drunk here is in need of a drop of water there; the one who is ready for abuse here has his tongue burning there; the one who is clad in silk garments here stands naked there. Do not say to me: Give me today, and take tomorrow; for I do not observe you here, what you are, but I await you there, where you are. Do not say to me: God is philanthropic, and even if I sin, he sympathizes with me; but also see this, that here he pities, there he examines; here he overlooks, there he investigates; here he awaits repentance, there he delivers to the fire. Where is the wise man there, brothers? Where is the potentate? Where is the turmoil? Where are the finest costly things? Where are the dinners? Where are those who drink wine with drums and dances? Where is the parasitism and the theaters, and these things while our brothers are hungry and thirsty, unfortunate and suffering, naked, weeping, longing for death, and seeking it out of despair? Alas! The cup that is frightful to all becomes desirable to those in need, and the life that is desired by all has become hated by them, and this light that is desirable to us has become abominable to them! Blessed is God who works all things for benefit. Death is not evil, O brothers, but also beneficial. The word is not mine: Death is rest for a man, the divine Job declared.

that the one who has died is justified from sin, and has ceased from the greed of life, and has stopped adding evil to evil, and has given way to increasing his burden, and has rested from provoking his God. Listen attentively: death is a consolation for infants, death is a release for slaves, a refreshment for the weary, a fulfillment for debtors; death is a dissolution for the anxious, a visitation for the oppressed; death is an impediment to sin. If death were not before us, we would devour ourselves; if we did not have a judge coming, we would have no hope of life; if we did not expect punishment, we would by no means cease from evils, nor would we put away the corruption from transgression. Do you see the philanthropy of the Master? The penalty from transgression has become salvific. For if the one who has died is righteous, rejoice, because he goes with confidence to the Master in ease; but if he is also a sinner, do not grieve; he has gained for himself the evils he was about to add. If, then, we remained here, we would rightly lament the dead; but if we all without exception go there, let us not so bewail those who have preceded a little; let us not nullify through evil practices those things which we perform well over the dead. Do you not see what we do for those who have preceded? We send them forth with psalms and hymns, thereby signifying thanksgiving to the Master; and we clothe them in new garments, prefiguring the new garment of our incorruption. We pour myrrh and oil, and the anointing of

trusting that the baptism accompanies them as provision for the journey; we accompany them with incense and candles, showing that, having been freed from the dark life, they have gone to the true light; we arrange the bier lying toward the east, signifying the resurrection to him through this arrangement. Therefore let us who believe in the resurrection not grieve as do the rest who have no hope. For the one who does not hope for the resurrection justly considers the dead as lost. But let the children of the Greeks play these games, let the peoples of the Samaritans do these things; let us listen to Christ and believe that the hour is coming, and it is now, when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live, and those in the tombs will rise, and the earth will be renewed. Therefore, if the dead will rise—as indeed they certainly will rise—let us not behave so disgracefully over those who have fallen asleep, I implore you; let us believers not emulate the unbelievers; let us not tear our garments, but rather let us pierce our own souls, because the same cup awaits us.

Let us not beat our breasts, so that we may not emulate the Greeks; let us not summon the mourning women, so that we may not further provoke the wrath of God; let not us bare the hair of our head, so that we may not put to shame our head, Christ; let us not mourn for many days, so that we may not disbelieve the resurrection; let us not speak any blasphemy with our tongue, so that we may not harm both the departed and ourselves. Have you given a child? Give thanks, sing hymns, worship the one who received what was entrusted to you; glorify the one who chose whom he formed, and received the fruit of your womb unblemished; glorify the one who preserves the offspring of your own bowels; worship, like the great-souled Job; give thanks that you have altogether offered to the Master an unblemished sacrifice, a pure victim, a clean offering, a new Isaac, as once Abraham did. Christ has taken; let us worship; the creator has re-formed what he formed; let us not murmur; the creator has sought his creation; let us not fight; for we are not even able. Have you given a brother? Worship the Christ who received, because he once became mortal for your sake. Have you provided an infant?

Thank him that once for your sake he became an infant in a manger. Did he take a slave from you? Hymn him, because for your sake the creator of all things took on the form of a slave. Have you buried an only-begotten son? Glorify him, fall down, revere him, remember that for your sake God gave up his only-begotten Son to the flesh for death. Have you given a daughter in marriage who was kept in the inner chamber? Give thanks, lest you be vexed and give another. Have you sent before you a wife, the mother of children? Hymn him, be secure, do not offend the Master, lest you also depart. What are you doing, man? For we take up the same point again. You see a corpse lying there, and do you dare to blaspheme? Do you stand by such a mystery, and do you fight against the one who separated the soul? You say, "Give rest," to God, and do you insult God? Why do you judge the judge? Why do you clash with the invincible one? Why do you disturb with anger? Why are you drunk with grief? Do you not see what this great mystery is? Do you not see what a difficult passage awaits us also? And even if it is difficult, we pass through it. Do you not see that the road is heavy? But we all walk through it. Come to your senses, O man. The one who lies there trembles, and do you play? He is examined, and do you make a show? He trembles, and do you not prepare yourself? He is amazed, he is wholly disturbed, seeing things he has never seen, and hearing things he has never heard. Therefore he also sweats, like those who reap in the field, and he bids farewell to all of us, and greets everyone, as long as his tongue can speak. "Farewell," he says, "farewell, brothers, and pray for me.

I am going on a road I have never traveled, into a world of souls from which no one has returned, to fearsome dwellings where no one accompanies me, to a fearsome judgment seat from which I do not know what will befall me, to strange matters about which no one has given an account. Behold, I seek a helper, and there is no helper; behold, I seek one to ransom me, and there is no one to deliver me; behold, I seek a companion, and there is no one to suffer with me. Where is the father who begot me? Where is the mother who bore me in labor? Where is the brother? When a brother does not ransom a brother, how will one human ransom another? These things the ones who are leaving us say to us, and then they go on their eternal way. For what human is there who will live and not see death? Or who will deliver his soul from the hand of Hades? Blessed is God, that a human, brothers, behold, lies here, and no longer clings to any of life's affairs; behold, he has become still, behold, he has ceased from vanities. A small fever, and everything has become idle; one hour, and the one who appeared becomes as if he had never appeared; one instant, and his spirit will depart, and he will return to his earth, from which he was taken. On that day all our thoughts will perish; at that hour a person will leave behind his father and mother, friends and relatives, sons and daughters, and will go alone, isolated, on his eternal way. Let us join those who travel before us, before we too depart; sit down, and do not disturb the one who lies here; be still, and cease the uproar; calm yourselves, look, and see the great mystery; shudder, and await the same.

Kings, behold, and no longer think highly of yourselves; rulers, look, and no longer be puffed up with pride. See the one lying down, being separated from life, and then do not recognize yourself as king or ruler. For what kind of king is there where he cannot ransom himself? But behold, even he trembles at the cup; behold, he struggles like one of all; behold, he who shortly before was fearsome has become entirely pitiable, a corpse; behold, he is led away like a condemned man, he whom yesterday the condemned trembled at; behold, he was disturbed, behold, he was wholly shaken, behold, all his wisdom and power were swallowed up, behold, he became utterly astounded. For he saw angelic authorities, and forgot his own authority; he saw fearsome armies of angels, and considered his own authority as a spider's web; he saw lordly forms, and his form was altered; he heard the sentence of the soul, and his whole flesh trembled, and what thoughts he has within himself, being amazed and pondering where the pomp of kings is, where the power of rulers is. Alas! Behold, a true order, behold, a mighty power, behold, an unerring authority, behold, fearsome forms, behold, an immortal army. Pondering these things and others like them and even more ineffable, which only those who have gone before and experienced them know, those lying on the bed leap up, wishing to flee but unable to do so.

Some gnash their teeth, others beat their jaws, others piteously roll their eyes, as they see the faculties of the body gradually ceasing, the tongue speaking, and the deposit being securely accomplished, the opposing powers standing by, exacting accounts, accusing, attempting to seize, and then the thief entering and denouncing and tearing the soul from the body. We need many prayers then, many good deeds, much protection from the angels then, much guidance in the ascent through the air. For if, when traveling to a land and a foreign city here, we need a guide, how many helpers and guides do we need to preserve and convey us past the principalities and powers and the invisible world-rulers of this air, whom divine Scripture calls persecutors, tax-collectors, and tribute-gatherers? A good fellow-traveler for us then is almsgiving and compassion, which can guide us without stumbling to the gate of the heavens and preserve us; good advocates for us there are the poor, whom we have pitied here before death. Therefore let us anticipate before we are anticipated, let us run before we are overtaken.

Life is short, but the art is long; the end is near, and fear is great, and there is no one to release us. Let us go forth into the tomb while we are still in the body; let us see where our vain pride has its dwelling; let us see what we become after a little while, and not be deceived; let us see how we are dissolved, and let us correct ourselves; let us see what we come to, and let us take thought for the end. All you who gaze upon beauties, busy yourselves with these things in the tomb; all you who are puffed up over offices and authorities, look into the coffins and fear God; all you who gather up griefs and resentments against one another and do not resolve them, come, see how you are dissolved. Bend down carefully over the coffin; see those lying there who were once kings, see those who were once rulers among the remains, see the fearful spectacle of the remains, and say: Which one there is the king, and which one the ruler? Which one the soldier, and which one the general? Which one the rich man, and which one the poor man? Which one the younger, and which one the elder? Which one the handsome, and which one the Ethiopian? Can you not say that all is dust? All is ash? All is stench? Are not all things once beloved now seen as abominable? O the folly! What is this great mystery concerning me? The one who was dear to me yesterday now lies before me as abominable; what was my limb yesterday I now look upon as foreign; he whom I embraced a short while ago I now do not even wish to touch; I drench him with tears as my own, and I flee from the ichor as not my own. I am compelled to approach the one who stinks from his entrails, but I am hindered by the decay and the worms.

I think of the image of the one lying there a short while ago, but nowhere do I see it in him. Where is the beauty of the face? Behold, it has blackened. Where are the darting and comely eyes? Behold, they have wasted away. Where is the comeliness of the hair? Behold, it has fallen off. Where is the uplifted neck? Behold, it is crushed. Where is the swift tongue? Behold, it has fallen silent. Where is the adornment of the hands? Behold, it is undone. Where is the stature of the body? Behold, it has flowed away. Where is the luxury of the garments? Behold, they have rotted. Where are the perfumes and spices? Behold, they have lost their scent. Where is the folly of youth? Behold, it has passed. And in short, where is the much-vaunted man? Behold, again the dust has become dust. Yet do not stop your reasoning at the tomb, but from there pass on to the resurrection; and consider at the same time and believe, that the one now lying there will again rise, and the tongue now silent will then speak again, when every knee of the heavenly, earthly, and subterranean beings is bent to God, and every tongue will confess. And as Daniel says, I watched until thrones were set, and the Ancient of Days sat down. His throne is a flame of fire, his wheels are blazing fire; a river of fire flowed before him; a thousand thousands stood by him, and ten thousand thousands ministered to him. He held court, and books were opened. Great indeed is the fear there, great the trembling, indescribable the necessity, unceasing the weeping, unending the groans.

When he suddenly arrives upon a high and lofty throne, then the heaven is rolled up like a scroll, the stars are scattered, the powers of the angels run before him, the tombs are opened, the bodies arise, the springs are dried up, the abysses are shaken, the whole earth is convulsed. What must we be like then? What must we be like, indeed, when we give account for our deeds, for our thoughts, for idle speech, for things done by night, for things done by day, for voluntary and involuntary actions? This is what we must be anxious about, this is what it is good to consider night and day. What reasonable thing shall we say then? What defense shall we make, tell me, O man? Behold, you live in luxury for fifty years or a hundred, and you are rich, and you beget children, and you provide dowries and marry off sons and daughters, and you rule and reign over nations and peoples; and after this comes death, and after death a judgment that has no end and no repentance. For there is no one, it is said, who remembers you in death; and in Hades, who will make confession for you? Truly, no one. For even if we are disturbed a thousand times and pray much, yet there is no one to deliver us. For this reason especially we count as blessed those who die as infants; for this reason we all say: Would that we had died as infants! Therefore, when we see in our own children what we ourselves desire, let us not be disheartened. For the cup of death is dangerous for us, but for infants it is saving; and what is dreadful to all is praiseworthy for them; and what we have as the beginning of punishment there is for them the beginning of salvation. For over what shall they be called to account, who have never experienced sin at all?

for what purpose should those who have not yet attained knowledge of good or evil be punished? O blessed sleep of blessed infants! O death of the uncorrupted, which is the beginning of truly eternal life! O end that is the beginning of unending joy! But what do the faint-hearted say? I had a child, they say, an only son, at once beautiful and well-born. He was the succession of my lineage, he was the heir of my estate, he was the comfort of my despondency, he was the staff of my old age, he was the boast of my fatherland, he was the branch of my root, wholly radiant in appearance, wholly gentle and clever, affable, desired by his own and by strangers, by those who saw and by those who heard. This one, so great, was suddenly snatched from my hands and carried off, and he who was seen a short while ago is no longer present to be beheld, but having left the one who begot him, he has gone to the one who formed him; having abandoned me who nurtured him, he has departed to the one who called him; having been separated from his mother's womb, he has descended into the tomb of the earth, the mother of all.

I will not weep for him, tell me? Shall I not lament, nor seek him as the apple of my eye? I cannot, he says, I cannot; for even if you bring me countless doctrines, even if you try ten thousand times to persuade me not to mourn for parents over their own children, you will not convince me, by God who ordained it thus, and bound together the bond of nature, and kindled the fire toward children concerning the bowels of the parents. I do not say this, man, nor do I legislate this, nor that one should not weep at all over children; for even if I said it, I would be saying something impossible. For I too am persuaded by the laws of nature, and I do not resist the occasion of compassion; since I too am mortal, since I too was born of a mother, and am of the same nature. I know the lament of fathers, I know the groaning of mothers, I know their sea of despondency, I know their distress of turmoil; I understand their inner fantasy concerning children, how they paint the absent child as present within themselves, contemplating their image with tears, setting before their eyes all their habits and words and deeds. But the admirable Job was not thus; for when his children and servants and oxen and camels and all that belonged to him were destroyed, he was not disturbed, he did not blaspheme, as the many do, but he arose, and falling to the ground, from which he was taken, worshipping the Master he said: I came naked from my mother's womb, naked I shall depart there. The Lord gave, the Lord took away; as it seemed good to the Lord, so it happened. May the name of the Lord be blessed for ever.

I am a slave, and I am subject, and I do not resist the one who made me; for the matter is not strange—the children have died. But they have not perished. For what shepherd does not have authority over his own flock? The good shepherd chose his sheep. Soon we too shall depart. Let us imitate him, and not lament so immoderately. Let us weep as believers, and not behave disgracefully as unbelievers; let us weep as Christ wept for Lazarus—for He wept, showing you measures and limits. For how could He weep, who was about to raise him shortly? But so that you might learn how much to weep, that we might both exhibit the compassion of nature and repel the imitation of unbelievers. Moreover, let us also pray for this: that we may be of the same portion as those who depart from life at the age of virtue, and that when we go there, we may not see our own children at ease while we are in unbearable punishment. For those who were separated as infants from the filth and corruption of this grievous and much-lamented flesh utter such words—if not in speech, then in deed—to their parents: Do not weep for us, fathers, for you accomplish nothing; for you wished to keep us with you in this vain life, where all is unpleasant and painful, where all is untrustworthy and unstable, where nothing is lasting or secure; but our Master and God, loving us, snatched us from the vain life as from the mouth of a lion; separating us from the sins of this age as roses from thorns.

as most beloved lambs, the good shepherd separated us from you, as from darkness into light. And we dwell in the land of the living, where all is calm and free from strife, where all is bright and pleasing to God, where no one does injustice nor is tyrannized, where there is no sin nor blackening, where there is unapproachable light and ineffable joy, where there is no toil nor tears, where there is no care nor anxiety, no groaning nor lamentation, but only God being praised and glorified. The holy angels separated us peacefully from the body; we passed without disturbance through the principalities and powers of the air, for we had good guides. For they did not find in us what they sought, they saw in us nothing of what they hoped for. They saw the body spotless, and were put to shame; they saw the soul guileless and pure, and were confounded; they saw the tongue spotless and pure and blameless, and were silenced; we passed by and held them in contempt; we went through them and sang triumph over them; the snare was broken, and we were delivered. Blessed is God, who did not give us as prey to their teeth. Whence also the angels who met us rejoiced, the righteous greeted us, the holy ones delighted, saying, "Welcome, the lambs of Christ." The delight of paradise was opened to us, the bosom of Abraham was shown to us; for the Master received us graciously; he uttered a cheerful voice to us; he looked upon us with a cheerful eye; therefore he also enrolled us in the book of life. For we spoke to a philanthropic judge: "Lord, righteous judge, you have deprived us of earthly things, do not deprive us of heavenly things.

You separated us from our parents; do not separate us from the saints. We have your seal of baptism intact, we have presented your body unstained because of our great infancy. Do not therefore begrudge us our salvation, blameless before its time, nor weep that we were transferred from the worse to the better, since we received the imperishable instead of the perishable. We sing hymns with angels, we dance with the saints; and we also intercede for you who are in sins. We have been numbered among the infants slain by Herod for Christ's sake; we rejoice with the sons of Job. Therefore do not be anxious about us, but rather lament yourselves; and consider the defense of your own end. And knowing and firmly believing that our Master chose us for our benefit and enrolled us in the portion of the saved, whenever young children, pure and undefiled, come from you to us here, rejoice and be glad, and with the righteous Job sing: The Lord gave, the Lord took away; as it seemed good to the Lord, so it came to pass; may the name of the Lord be blessed from now on and unto the age of ages. Amen.