De terrae motu

Homily after the Earthquake. Even though illness prevented us from dancing with you the spiritual dance, yet the toil of the journey did not dissolve you. For even if the toil brought you here drenched with much sweat, yet the teaching of the word both changed our illness into health and comforted your labor through psalmody. For this reason, neither did I, though ill, bind my tongue with silence, nor did you, though weary, desist from listening; but as soon as the word appeared, the pain departed; as soon as the teaching appeared, the toil fled. For illness and pain belong to the body, but teaching is an achievement and healing of the soul. And to the extent that the soul is superior to the body, to that extent its achievements are more honorable. For this reason, not only when illness hindered, but even when countless other obstacles arose, I did not desist from embracing your love, nor was I deprived even today of this beautiful feast. But until now we were nailed to the bed, yet God did not allow us to be completely destroyed by famine. For just as for you not hearing is famine, so for me not speaking is famine. Thus a mother, often ill, would choose to have her breast drained by her child rather than see him wasting away from hunger; let my body also be drained. For who would not gladly pour out even his blood for you, men so fervent in piety, so fervent in love of listening, who have shown such repentance from a small turn of fortune?

You do not know day and night, but you make each time into day, not by changing the air, but by illuminating the nights with all-night vigils; nights are sleepless for you, and the tyranny of sleep has been dissolved; for the longing for Christ has overcome the weakness of nature. You have ceased to be human in body by imitating powers, displaying wakefulness, intense fasting, such toil of travel, toil according to nature, ease according to choice. This is the fruit of the fears, this is the progress of the earthquake, a progress never exhausted, a progress that makes even the poor more prosperous and enriches the rich; it knows no poverty, it knows no wealth. The earthquake came and cast out the unevenness of life. Where now are those clad in silks? Where is the gold? All those things are gone, torn apart more cheaply than a spider's web, and proven more fleeting than spring flowers. But since I see your mind prepared, I wish to set before you a more abundant table. I see your bodies weary, but your soul youthful. There are many streams of sweat, but they cleanse the conscience. For if athletes are drenched in blood for leaves of laurel, given today and withered tomorrow, much more must you, who have entered the contest of virtues, not yield in your labors for virtue, nor grow soft. Your assembly is a crown for me, and one of you as a hearer is equal to the whole city.

Some crowned mixing-bowls, others gathered Satanic drinking-parties, others prepared a lavish table; but you accomplished such an all-night vigil, and you purified the entire city by the foundation of your holy feet, measuring the marketplace with your walk, and making the air holy. For the air becomes holy from psalmody, as you heard today when God said to Moses: "The place where you stand is holy ground." You sanctified the ground, the marketplace, you made the city a church for us. And just as a winter torrent flowing by, carried by a great current, overturns everything, so also the spiritual winter torrent, the river of God, which gladdens the city of God, was filled with waters and cleansed the filth of impiety. No one is licentious; rather, even if someone is licentious, he changes. He hears the voice, and his mind is reshaped; the melody enters, and impiety changes; the passions of greed flee.

For even if it does not flee, yet just as wild beasts burrow in winter, so the licentious mind buries itself, and just as snakes, when the frost stiffens their bodies, sink downwards, so these passions, the ignoble and slavish ones, are concealed as if into some depth. Indeed, even those who carry them are ashamed; they carry them, but they are dead. For instead of winter, your singing becomes for them. The voice enters the ear of the greedy man; even if it does not expel the passion, it deadens the passion. It enters the ear of the licentious and arrogant man; even if it does not kill the licentiousness and arrogance, it buries the licentiousness and arrogance. And it is no small thing that vice is not openly paraded. I said also yesterday that the fruit from the earthquakes is great. Do you see the philanthropy of the Master, who shakes a city and steadies the mind, who unsettles foundations and fixes thoughts, who makes the city unsound and strengthens the resolve? Consider his philanthropy: he shook a little, and he fixed permanently. The earthquake lasted two days, but let piety remain for all time. You were grieved for a short time, but you were rooted permanently. For I know well that your piety took root through the fear of God; and even if relief comes, the fruit remains.

No longer are there thorns that choke, nor a downpour that washes away; fear has cultivated you well, it has become an ally of my words. I am silent, and the foundations speak; I am still, and the earthquake utters a voice brighter than a trumpet, saying this: "The Lord is compassionate and merciful, long-suffering and very merciful; I have come, not to bury you, but to strengthen you." This the earthquake says, and it gives forth a voice: "I have frightened you, not to grieve you, but to make you more exact." Pay close attention to the word: since the word has grown weak, punishment has cried out; since teaching has grown weary, fear has come to its aid. I come to you for a little while, discoursing thus, and I do my part: when I have tightened you, then I hand you over to the word, so that the word may not grow weary; finding stones and sprouting thorns, I make the field clean, so that the word may sow the seeds with a generous hand. What harm have you suffered, having been grieved for a little while? You have become angels instead of men; you have been transported to heaven, if not in place, then in manner. And that I say this not flatteringly, the facts bear witness. For what have you left undone in the matter of repentance? You have cast out envy, you have banished the ignoble passions, you have planted virtue, having spent the whole night strenuously in holy vigils, with great love and intense disposition.

No one remembers interest, no one talks about greed, not only are hands clean of sins, but the tongue is also free from lawlessness and abuse; no one insults his neighbor, no one goes to Satanic banquets; the houses are clean, the marketplace is wiped clean; evening falls, and nowhere are there choruses of youths singing theater songs. But there are choruses, not of licentiousness, but choruses of good deeds; and in the marketplace one can hear hymnody, and in the homes of those seated, one is playing the psaltery, another is singing hymns; night falls, and everyone goes to the church, the waveless harbor, the calm free from waves. I thought that after the first and second day the vigil had exhausted your bodies; but now, the more the vigil is prolonged, the more your desire increases. Those who sang to you have grown weary, and you are renewed; those who sang to you have become weak, and you have been strengthened. Where now are the rich, tell me? Let them learn the philosophy of the poor. They sleep, but the poor do not sleep on the ground, but bend their knees, imitating Paul and Silas. But they sang and shook the prison, while you sing and have steadied the shaken city.

Contrary to the outcomes of events, both are for the glory of God. For that one shook the prison in order to shake the mind of the unbelievers, to release the jailer, to proclaim the word of God; you have steadied the city in order to dissolve the wrath of God; both those things and these were managed in different ways. But nevertheless I rejoice, not because the city stood, but because it stood through your prayers, because your psalm-singing has become foundations. From above came the wrath, and from below your voice; the voice sent up from below checked the wrath flowing from above. The heavens were opened, and a sentence was brought down, a sword sharpened; the city was on the ground, the wrath inexorable. We had need of nothing but repentance, but tears and groans, and everything was dissolved; God pronounced, and we dissolved the wrath. No one would err in calling you guardians and saviors of the city. Where are the rulers? Where are the great saviors? Truly you are the towers, and the wall, and the security of the city. For those, through their own wickedness, corrupted the city; you, through your own virtue, have steadied the city. And if someone is asked why the city was shaken, even if that one does not speak, it is agreed that it was because of the sins, because of the greed, because of the injustices, because of the lawlessness, because of the pride, because of the pleasures, because of the falsehood. And whose? Of the rich.

If someone is asked again why the city stood firm, it is agreed that it was because of the psalmody, because of the prayers, because of the all-night vigils. And to whom do these belong? To the poor. Those things that shook the city belonged to them, but those that steadied it are yours; thus you have become saviors and guardians. But let us conclude the discourse here, persisting in the all-night vigils, in the psalmody, sending up glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.