De studio praesentium

Homily 5. A homily by the same author, delivered in the church of Saint Eirene, concerning both the zeal of those present and the indolence of those absent, and about psalmody, and about the fact that there is no impediment for women by nature in the courses of virtue. 1. How most pleasant is the reading of the Scriptures, more pleasant than any meadow and more delightful than a garden, especially when knowledge is joined to the reading. For a meadow, with its beauty of flowers, the foliage of trees, the rose, the ivy, and the myrtle, delights the eye, and after a few days have passed, it withers; but knowledge of the Scriptures fortifies the mind, purifies the conscience, uproots the ignoble passions, plants virtue, elevates the reason, does not allow one to be overwhelmed by unexpected circumstances, renders one superior to the arrows of the devil, transports one to heaven itself, releases the soul from the bonds of the body, makes the wings light, and every good thing one might mention it instills into the mind of the hearers. Therefore I never cease to lament those who are absent and to count you who are present blessed, because you are gathering a treasure that cannot be consumed, a wealth that cannot be spent, a possession that knows no envy, and having been filled with much joy, you depart home. For nothing could produce such pleasure as a pure conscience; and a conscience becomes pure, even if it is weighed down by countless sins, when it enjoys constant hearing.

For it does not add to previous transgressions, but rather consumes what is present and renders the soul more sluggish toward attempting the same things again. For this reason, I entreat your love to continually chant these things to those who are absent, and to quickly lead them back to the common mother, and to make them partakers of the spiritual gains; for this fellowship produces not a diminution, but an increase. But, alas for the tyranny of money! It leads astray the majority of our brethren; for nothing else draws them away from here than that grievous disease and that never-extinguished furnace; this mistress, more barbarous than any barbarian, more savage than any wild beast, more fierce than demons, taking her captives, carries them about now in the marketplace, imposing harsh commands, and allowing not even a brief respite from ruinous labors. But what will they do when the fearful day arrives, the incorruptible vote, and the judge who cannot be deceived? When the curtains of the heavens are drawn together, and the host of angels descends with the judge? When all things appear naked and exposed? For then neither the cleverness of orators, nor an abundance of wealth, nor anything else will be able to corrupt justice. For when the incorruptible judge, who knows all things clearly, stands before the eyes, the sins themselves are depicted as if in some image.

then neither king nor private citizen appears, neither poor nor rich, neither wise nor ignorant, but all these masks are stripped away, and each is shown by the sight of what has been done. There is no diadem to be seen placed around the head, nor purple robe thrown about the shoulders; there is no one borne on chariots with countless lictors clearing the marketplace; but all these things are removed, and each is brought in naked, having as his basis either betrayal or salvation from his deeds. For just as each of these things has been done, so the vote is cast. May many good things befall you, because you listen to these words with such eagerness; for each one's groan and the striking of the forehead show me the fruit of these seeds. For this reason I bewail those who are absent, because, though able to enjoy such care, they are entangled in sores and daily wounds, and do not even know that they are sick; hence it is difficult to heal them. For who will converse with them about these things? The wives who live with them? But their sole concern is to trouble their husbands about gold and garments and extravagance and the management of the household. But the servants? How could they, who possess no freedom of speech and have only one zeal themselves, to fulfill their service? But the judges? But they have no other concern than the management of public affairs. But the kings and those who wear diadems? But even for them, all their labor, all their zeal is about rule and power and money. But themselves for themselves?

How can those who have no time even to breathe because of the press of business, but spend both night and day consumed by these things, be more pitiable than those who receive countless wounds but do not come here, where they could learn that even if they have wounds, it is possible to be rid of them and to obtain health? When, then, will these people care for their own soul? For it is a great thing even for those who regularly attend church, enjoy spiritual teaching, and receive such care, to be able to overcome and bridle their evil desires, and to look toward the practice of virtue. 2. But so that we may not, by constantly reproaching those people, deprive you of what you are accustomed to, come, let us again set before you the customary table and relate to you the profit of psalmody itself. For behold, the psalm, entering, has blended the different voices and prepared a single harmonious song to be raised, and young and old, rich and poor, women and men, slaves and free, we have all raised one melody. For if a citharode, by blending the different strings with the precision of his art, makes the many one while they remain many, what wonder is it if the power of the psalm and of the spiritual song has accomplished this same thing? For it has not only mixed us who are present, but has also mingled the departed with the living; for that blessed prophet also sang with us.

And yet in royal courts this is not the case, but the one who wears the diadem sits, and all stand in silence, even though they hold the highest offices. Here it is not so, but the prophet speaks, and we all respond, and we all join in the echo; and one cannot see here a slave, nor a free man, nor a rich man and a poor man, nor a ruler and a private citizen; but all this unevenness of life has been driven away, and one chorus has been formed from all, and there is great equality of speech, and the earth imitates the heaven. Such is the nobility of the Church. For one cannot say that the master chants with great freedom, while the servant is silenced; nor again that the rich man moves his tongue, while the poor man is condemned to speechlessness; nor again that the man speaks freely, while the woman is silent and stands voiceless; but all, enjoying the same equality of honor, offer the common sacrifice, the common offering; and this one has no more than that one, nor that one than this one, but all are in the same honor, and one voice from different tongues is sent up to the Creator of the universe. The difference lies not in the slave and the free man, not in the rich man and the poor man, not in the woman and the man, but in the disposition, in the zeal and the indolence, in the vice and the virtue. For thus I can call the poor man rich, and the rich man poor, and the woman a man, and the man a woman, and the ignorant man wise, and the wise man ignorant, not confusing the nature of things, but introducing the best standard, which corrects everything.

And how could it happen, he says, that a man becomes a woman, or a woman a man? It is not a change of nature, but of choice. For when I see a man wearing gold, adorning himself, arranging his hair, reeking of perfumes, with a soft robe and a gait that is womanish, devoted to luxury, how could I call this man a man, who has betrayed the nobility of his nature and adapted himself to the female? For if Paul does not deem even a woman who does these things worthy to be counted among the living, but banishes her from the chorus of the breathing and places her among the dead, saying, "The woman who lives in luxury is dead while alive," how could a man who does these things be counted in the order of men, when a woman who does them has lost even living? Do not show me a man by his cloak, nor by his belt, nor by his strutting about the house and being fearsome and threatening, but by the philosophy of his mind, when he restrains his passions, when he overcomes the diseases of the soul, when he rules his own inner household—I mean that of the soul—and is not swept away by improper thoughts; this is especially a man. But if he devotes himself to drunkenness and debauchery, and spends and wastes the day on revels and carousing, becoming softer than any wax under the influence of passion, how shall I call such a one a man—the captive, the slave bought with silver, the one who yields to all passions, the one broken, the one enervated, the one dissipated, the one cast down by all, the one unable even to stand in the line of battle?

Do you not know that our war and battle array is not against our fellow human beings, but against the invisible powers, against the phalanxes of demons, according to the blessed Paul: "Our struggle is not against blood and flesh, but against the principalities, against the powers"? For this is especially the mark of a man. So then, the one who adorns himself, but does not act like a young man, who beautifies himself, but does not show manliness, how could he stand in the battle line? Or how could he be called a man, being more effeminate than any woman? In the same way, just as I would not call that one a man, but more effeminate than a woman, so also I would call the woman who shows manliness more steadfast than any man, if she seizes the spiritual weapons, puts on the breastplate of righteousness, places the helmet of salvation upon her head, holds forth the shield of faith, girds herself with the belt of truth, and takes the sword of the Spirit, and stands in the battle line, shining from her weapons, becoming higher than the heavens in her spirit, breaking up the phalanxes of demons, destroying the tyranny of the devil, piercing the passions, causing more frequent falls than in wars, not of men, but of base thoughts. For woman and man are divided in bodily matters, and to the one are assigned the loom, the distaff, the basket, and staying at home, and keeping to the chamber, and raising children, while to the man are assigned courts, councils, and

marketplace, wars, battles, and battle lines; but in the contests of piety the stadium is common, the struggles are common. Likewise, women also strip down and are not expelled from the contest, but they also take their places in the battle line, are crowned, and proclaimed, and they have prizes, rewards, crowns, and even glorious trophies among them, and continuous and successive victories. And so that you may not think these words are mere boasting or empty sound, but may clearly know that women are not only braver than men, but also, so to speak, are transferred to the impassibility of the angels as far as possible, let the woman be brought forward—a woman by nature, but having touched the heavens by the intensity of her philosophy—the mother of the Maccabees, who bound on twice seven crowns. And bring forward any soldier you wish, a hero, most warlike, most courageous, most high-minded, bring him forward in speech, and you will see the woman as much higher as the vaults of the heavens are distant from the earth. For the soldier and hero fears only one blow, and the swift death that comes from it; but she stood like a mountain being mined, enduring in her soul more grievous pains for each child than the tortures they received in their sides. For she was a mother, and a widow, and had reached extreme old age. You know this, all who have become fathers and all who have been released from the pangs of childbirth, how these are more severe than any goad. And no arrow so sharp brings such piercing pain to the wounded as each of these pierced her soul.

Consider, then, how great it was to see, for each of the children, a single body being divided by iron and fire, and the long double courses being laid out; how she saw, how she heard, how she received the savor from those bodies, seeing countless deaths being brought upon each of the children. But she stood like an immovable rock, not shaken by the waves, but dissolving the waves into foam, like iron, like adamant; rather, whatever I might say, I have no worthy name to assign to the endurance of this woman. Shall we call this woman a woman, or a man at all, but rather not even higher than men themselves from her great abundance? What then, when you see another woman from early youth, with a tender body, spending sleepless nights, days without food, strangling the desire of the belly, casting down the love of money, deadening the body, crucifying the flesh, considering present things as nothing, walking low and even touching the arches, trampling on power, laughing at glory, spitting on renown, wearing a sack instead of fine linen, having collars around her neck, spreading ashes as a bed, using the floor as a couch, and asking for nothing more, shut up in a narrow cell, conversing with prophets, practicing a life that is a meditation on death, dead before her end, consumed by hunger and sleeplessness and squalor, and dishonoring the fantasies of the present life more than rotting leaves; will you call this woman a woman, tell me?

But will he not also release her from the order of men and place her in the chorus of angels, because in a woman's nature she displays such philosophy? 4. And who will contradict these things? There is no one. Hear what kind of women there were even among the apostles; hear Paul writing to the Romans and saying: "I commend to you Phoebe our sister, who is a deacon of the church in Cenchreae, who became a patron of many and of myself." What are you saying, O Paul? A woman became your patron, and are you not ashamed and blushing to say these things? "I am not ashamed," he says, "but I even boast; and my Lord was not ashamed to have a mother a woman; she became my patron, not simply because she was a woman, but because she was a philosopher and abounding in piety. And how did she become Paul's patron?

For what need had Paul, who ran throughout the world, who wore his body in vain, who trampled on the necessities of nature, who drove out demons, who corrected diseases through his garments, whose voice and shadow the devil trembled at, who was honored as an angel among the faithful, whom even wild beasts respected, whom the sea was ashamed of and after receiving him for a day and a night did not drown him, the citizen of paradise, who was snatched up to the third heaven, who shared in the secrets with God, who labored more than all the apostles, the vessel of election, the bridesmaid of the Church, the herald of the nations, who ran over land and sea and everywhere set up trophies of his own courage, who continually wrestled with hunger and thirst, who fought with nakedness and cold, and said, "Up to this very hour we are hungry and thirsty and naked," who was dead to the world, who considered the world dead, the citizen of the heavens, the mad lover of Christ, hotter than fire, more resilient than iron, harder than adamant—this man is not ashamed to say about a woman that she became a patroness of many, and even of me? And he does not only say it, but also writes it; and he does not simply write it, but when writing to such a great populace of the Romans, who were inflamed and proud because of their external dignities, he wrote these things; and he wrote them not only to them, but he also wished this to become known to the generations after them. For if he had not wished it, he would not have included this in the letter.

Now, wishing to consign the matter to perpetual memory, he even addresses the woman by name, and rouses everyone to her support, and calls her his own patroness, and is not ashamed nor blushes. So great a thing is a philosophical soul even in a woman's body. I say this so that a woman may not make the excuse, saying that because she is a woman she has not attained a full measure of piety. For behold, this woman is a woman, and her nature was not an obstacle, but she was deemed worthy to become Paul's patroness, and is proclaimed throughout the whole world. How did she become his patroness? Did she perhaps rescue him from dangers? Did she sit by him when he was bound, comfort him in chains, provide relief from his necessary needs, restrain those who plotted against him, give herself over to death, so as to snatch that holy man from the circumstances that were carrying him away? For this reason he also praises the woman after her, saying thus: Greet Priscilla and Aquila. Observe again here the woman shining; for though they are a pair, the woman is placed before the man; for he did not say, Aquila and Priscilla, but, Priscilla and Aquila. Who were these? Tentmakers by trade, standing at their workshop; but neither their trade nor their poverty was an obstacle; but this blessed man, running through the whole city, used to lodge in their little room. For what reason and why?

Not because it had columns, nor because it had pavements and a floor adorned with mosaics, nor because it had a gilded roof, nor because it had herds of slaves, nor because it had a retinue of eunuchs, but because of all these things especially the chamber was clean; because a woman and a man, gathering their labor from righteous sources, made their house a church, not plundering, nor coveting, but using the service of the body for necessary sustenance. For this reason especially Paul considered this dwelling suitable for lodging. And so that you may learn that it was because he approved of the virtue of their soul that he stayed there, listen to what follows. "Who," he says, "for the sake of my soul, put their own necks at risk; to whom not only I give thanks, but also all the Churches of the Gentiles." Do you see that neither female nature, nor skill, nor poverty hindered the course of virtue? Do you see a woman and a man who were hosts, receiving the Apostle not only with a table but also with blood? For what if they were not slaughtered? But they fulfilled their own part, and while living became martyrs, and many times martyrs, always arraying themselves to be slain for Paul. For he did not say, "Who spent money, who opened their house," but, what was greatest of all, he puts murder, slaughter, into the midst, so as to say that they chose even to be beheaded for me. Let those who now are wealthy and barely give a penny to the saints hear: those people gave even their blood, and stripped off their very life, in order to save and serve the saint.

But those who are present would not readily give even the smallest portion of their own property to those in need. Yet Priscilla and Aquila gave both their wealth and their bodies, and even their very lives. Do you see how great a thing it is when a woman philosophizes, how great when a man lives in poverty and at a trade? Let us emulate these, let us imitate them, and, disregarding what is present, let us give everything for the sake of what is pleasing to God, so that we may attain the good things to come, by the grace and loving kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom and with whom glory is to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.