Eclogae ex diversis homiliis

Consider how immediately, from a bare word, he breathed again; how he despised himself; how he did not even think he had suffered the things he suffered, saying thus: "Why am I still judged, being admonished by the Lord and reproved, hearing such things, when I am nothing?" Let each of us, then, be zealous for the piety of this holy man, having learned how many good things blossom from endurance. For just as that blessed and noble man stands in the common theater of the world, so he speaks to all through the sufferings that befell him: to bear all things that happen nobly, and to yield to none of the evils that come upon him. For there is not, there is not any human suffering that cannot receive consolation from there. For the sufferings that have been scattered throughout the whole world—these, coming together into one body, fell upon his. What excuse, then, will there be for the one who cannot bear with thanksgiving even a part of the evils inflicted on that man, who appears to bear not merely a part but the whole of all men's evils? But, says someone, "So-and-so, who gave so many alms, was stripped of everything; another, when a fire broke out, lost everything; others fell into shipwrecks and were reduced to poverty; others again, through weakness and disease, enjoyed no help from anyone." And what of this? Remember what happened to Job, and give thanks to the Master, who was able to prevent it and did not prevent it. But you live in poverty and hunger and countless dangers? Remember Lazarus, who wrestled with poverty and desolation and countless other such things, and that after great virtue.

Remember the apostles, who lived in hunger and thirst and nakedness; the prophets, the righteous; and you will find them all, not among the rich nor among those who live in luxury, but among the poor, the afflicted, the constrained. Gathering these things in your own mind, give thanks to the Master, because he made you of this lot, not hating you, but even greatly loving you; since he did not abandon those others to suffer so many terrible things out of hatred, but because he greatly loved them, he made them more radiant through these terrible things. For if men do not allow those who labor on their behalf to depart without wages and recompense, much more would God never choose to deprive those who have labored so greatly of the recompense of their labors; but there must be some other time after death, in which they will receive the recompenses of their labors here. For I have heard many saying: Such a one, a moderate and equitable man, is dragged every day into court by some other lawless and wicked man; another, falsely accused, died unjustly; another, he says, was drowned, another was cast down a precipice; and God allowed these things to happen. Why? Because they were not quickly lifted up into folly by the greatness of the wonders and the achievements, God allows them to be mistreated; and so that others may not have a greater suspicion concerning them than human nature allows, and think them to be gods and not men; and so that the power of God may appear through those who are weakened, prevailing and conquering through those who are bound, and increasing the proclamation;

And so that their endurance might become more evident—since they served God not for reward, but displayed such great gratitude as even after so many evils to show their own goodwill toward him—and so that all who fall into troubles might have sufficient consolation and comfort, looking to them and remembering the evils that befell them; and so that when we exhort you to their virtue and say to each of you, "Imitate Paul, be zealous for Peter," you might not shrink back from imitation, thinking that because of the excess of their achievements they partook of a different nature; and so that when it is necessary to call some blessed and others wretched, we may learn whom we ought to consider blessed, and whom miserable and wretched. But if you wish to learn that it is not doing evil that makes people more powerful, but bearing evil suffered, look at Jacob—how many wrongs he suffered from Laban. Who then became stronger: the one who took him into his hands and did not dare to touch him, but feared and trembled; or this man who, without weapons and armies, became more fearsome to him than countless kings? Was it not this man? For just as the one who treads on fire burns himself, and the one who strikes adamant harms himself, and the one who kicks against the goads bloodies himself, so the one who has practiced doing injustice wrongs himself, and becomes weaker than any clay.

At one time even the blessed David fell from his homeland, and was in danger concerning his freedom and his very life, and when the army had transferred its allegiance to that dissolute young man, that tyrant and parricide, he wandered through the desert, and he did not grow irritated, nor was he embittered against God, nor did he say: What is this? Has God allowed the child to rise up against the one who begot him? And yet even if he had grounds for a just complaint, it should not have happened even so; but now, though he had been wronged by us not in a small matter nor a great one, he goes about desiring to stain his right hand with his father's blood; and God sees these things and endures them? But he said none of these things. And what is greater and more wonderful, when he was wandering and had lost everything, a certain wicked and foul man, Shimei, attacked him, calling him a murderer and impious and countless other evils; and not even so did he become savage, but when the general asked to be permitted to cross over and cut off that man's head, he not only did not permit it, but even grew indignant, saying: What have I to do with you, son of Zeruiah? Let him curse, so that the Lord may look upon my humiliation and repay me with good things in return for his cursing. Do you see how the righteous man knew that to bear insults nobly becomes an occasion of greater approval? For so it is: whenever, having been insulted and having suffered countless terrible things, we bear those who reproach us nobly, we draw down far greater favor from God. Moses also wished to help someone who was being wronged, and he risked the utmost, and fell from his homeland; and God allowed it, so that you might learn the endurance of the saints.

For if we had foreseen that we would suffer nothing terrible, and had in that frame of mind taken hold of spiritual things, we would have seemed to be doing nothing great. This is what the three children also said: "There is a God in heaven able to deliver us out of your hands; and if not, be it known to you, O king, that we do not serve your gods, and we do not worship the golden image which you have set up." And you likewise, whenever you are about to do any of the things that are according to God, foresee many dangers, many losses, many deaths, and do not be surprised or disturbed when these things happen. For, it says, "My child, if you come to serve the Lord, prepare your soul for temptation." No one who chooses to box without wounds expects to be crowned. When, therefore, you have done some good and receive the opposite in return, or see another suffering this, rejoice and be glad; for the matter becomes a source of greater enjoyment. Do not then collapse in your zeal, do not become more sluggish, but rather set to work with greater zeal; and even if you see the devil cutting you off ten thousand times, never withdraw; since the apostles too, when they preached while being flogged and continually dwelling in prisons, not only after release from dangers but even in the very dangers themselves, proclaimed the proclamation of the truth with greater zeal. And one may see Paul in that very prison, in those very chains, instructing, initiating into the mysteries, and again doing this same thing in the courtroom. And behold for me that blessed soul—in what things he boasts: in chains, in afflictions, in fetters, in marks.

For he says, "I am going to Jerusalem, bound in the Spirit, not knowing what will happen to me there; except that the Spirit testifies to me in every city, saying that bonds and afflictions await me." Why then do you go away, if bonds and afflictions await you? For this very reason, that I may be bound for Christ, that I may die for him. For I am ready not only to be bound, but also to die for the name of my Lord. What then is this? Are you not ashamed, do you not fear, going about the whole world as a prisoner? Are you not afraid lest someone condemn your God as weak? Lest someone for this reason not come near? He says, my bonds are not such as that; I know how to shine even in palaces. So that, he says, my bonds became manifest in the whole praetorium, and most of the brothers in the Lord, trusting in my bonds, dared more abundantly to speak the word without fear. Do you see the power of bonds rather than the resurrection of the dead? He was bound in Rome, and drew most to himself; he was bound in Jerusalem, and while bound, addressing the people, he struck the king with amazement, and brought the ruler to fear; for having become afraid, he released him. Bound, he sailed, and loosed the shipwreck, and fettered the storm; while he was in bonds, that beast fastened on him, and fell off having done no harm. And the spectacle is everywhere seen to happen. He had been scourged, and scourged severely; for they laid many blows on him, it says; and he was bound, and this again severely; for they cast him into the inner prison, and with greater security—

And while he was in such circumstances, at midnight, when even those who are very much at ease are asleep, he was singing and hymning God. What could be more adamantine than this soul? He was mindful that even the children sang in the fire and in the furnace. Perhaps he was reasoning, "I have suffered nothing of the sort." But the account, doing well, has carried us out again to other bonds and another prison. What shall I suffer? I wish to be silent, but I cannot; I have found another prison far more wondrous and astonishing than that one. I wish to break off the discourse, and it does not permit it; I cannot stop, I cannot be silent. Many things flow around me; I do not know which to speak first, which second. Therefore I beg that no one demand order from me, for great is the kinship of the matters. Long has Paul's chain become, and for this reason it has held us fast; but not for this reason shall I be silent. For if he himself did not fall silent in prison nor under scourges, shall I be silent, sitting while it is day and speaking with great ease? And how would this make sense? Many indeed, in many places, are the tokens of Paul's wonders, but they are not so desirable as the marks. And he does not so much gladden us in the Scriptures by working wonders as by suffering ill, being scourged, dragged, stoned. For having stoned him, it says, they dragged him outside the city; and again: Having beaten him

And after inflicting many blows they threw them into prison. How great a boast, how great a pleasure, how great an honor, how great a splendor it is to know that one has been bound for Christ! But observe the wonder: And the prison, it says, was shaken while Paul was bound, and everyone's chains were loosed. Did you see the nature of chains loosing chains? And the jailer, having awakened and seen the doors of the prison opened, drew his sword and was about to kill himself. What then did Paul do? He cried out with a loud voice, saying: Do yourself no harm, for we are all here. Do you see his freedom from vainglory, his freedom from arrogance, and his affection? He did not say, "These things have happened because of us," but as though he were one of the prisoners, he says: For we are all here. For if he had kept silent and had not restrained that man's hands by his loud voice, he would have driven the sword through his throat; but he shouted because he had been thrown into the inner prison: "You have done this to yourself," he says, "by throwing into the inner cell those who were going to free you from danger." Did you see the love of humanity and the care of Paul? He chose rather to be bound and to be in danger himself than to overlook that man perishing. Who would not be struck with amazement at the power of the chains that were wrapped around him? Because it led those who had bound him to the feet of the bound man, and made them subject to him; for the jailer, it says, fell down before Paul; and the one who had been loosed was at the feet of the one who was bound, and the one who had bound him was begging the one who had been bound to be released from his fear. Was it not you who bound him, tell me? Was it not you who threw him into the inner prison? Was it not you who secured his feet in the stocks? Why do you tremble? Why are you in turmoil? Why do you weep?

Why did you draw the sword? I did not know, he says, that such great power belongs to the prisoners of Christ. What are you saying? He received authority to open the heavens, and was he not going to open a prison? He was loosing those bound by demons, and was iron going to prevail over him? He who looses souls that are bound, would he not have been able to loose his own body? He who through his garments loosed others from those bonds and freed them from demons, would he not have loosed himself by his own power? For this reason he was first bound, and then he loosed those who were bound, so that you might learn that the servants of Christ, when bound, have far greater strength than those who are loosed. For thus the strength of the saint is shown to be more brilliant, when even while bound he prevails over those who are loosed. When, then, the bound man looses not only himself but also those who are bound, what is the benefit of the walls? What more is gained by casting him into the inner prison, when he has opened even the outer one? But let us hear him boasting of this very thing and saying: I therefore beseech you, I the prisoner in the Lord. For it is a great dignity and a mighty one, greater than kingship and consulship and all things, to be bound for Christ; for nothing is so brilliant as a prisoner for Christ, as the chains placed around those holy hands. This is more brilliant and more venerable by far than being an apostle, than being a teacher, than being an evangelist. If anyone loves Christ, he knows what is said; if anyone is mad and inflamed for the Master, he knows the power of chains; he would choose to be a prisoner for Christ rather than to dwell in the heavens.

Perhaps this is even more glorious than sitting at his right hand, and more venerable and blessed than sitting on twelve thrones. If someone were to grant me all of heaven, or that chain with which Paul's hands were bound, I would have preferred that chain. If someone were to set me on high with the angels, or with Paul in chains, I would have chosen the prison. If someone were to make me one of those powers around the throne, or such a prisoner, I would rather have chosen to become such a prisoner; for nothing is better than to suffer ill for Christ's sake. If someone gave me the power to raise the dead now, I would not have chosen this, but the chain; for nothing is more blessed than that chain. I wish I could be now in those places where those bonds remain, and see the chains that demons fear and shudder at, and angels reverence. If I were free from the cares of the Church and had a body in good health, I would not have declined to make so great a journey, just to see the chains alone, and the prison where Paul was bound. O blessed bonds! O blessed hands, which that chain adorned when it was placed around Paul! His hands were not so precious when they raised the lame man in Lystra as when they wore the bonds. If I had lived in those times, then above all I would have embraced them and put them to my eyes; I would not have stopped kissing the hands that were deemed worthy to be bound for my Master's sake.

I do not bless him so greatly because he was caught up into the third heaven and into paradise, as because he was cast into prison; I do not bless him so greatly because he heard unspeakable words, as because he endured chains; for these things are far greater than those. For it is more desirable to me to suffer evil for Christ's sake than to be honored by Christ. Paul, pondering this, said, as is likely: If he himself, having become a slave for my sake and having emptied his glory, did not consider himself to be in glory so greatly as when he was being crucified for me, what ought I not to suffer? Hear him saying: Glorify me, Father. What do you say? You are being led to the cross with robbers and tomb-breakers, to undergo the death of the accursed, you are about to be spat upon and struck, and you call these things glory? Yes, he says; I suffer these things for the sake of those I love, and reasonably I consider them glory. If then my Master, having loved the wretched and miserable, calls the matter glory, and prefers this to the glory on the Father's throne, much more ought I to consider these things so. All men are struck with wonder at Job because of his endurance, because of the purity of his life, because of God's testimony, because of that steadfast battle, because of the wonderful victory after the battle; but what adamantine soul could display Paul's endurance? For he did not conduct himself thus, struggling for many months, but for many years.

not melting clods of earth and gushing with ichor, but continually falling into the very intelligible mouth of the lion, and wrestling with countless temptations, and being reproached not by three or four friends, but by all the unbelievers, spat upon, reviled, and enduring countless showers of temptations, and now racked in body by scourges, now by stones, and wasting away with continual hunger and cold. But was the hospitality of Job great? We will not deny it, but we will find it as much inferior to Paul's as the body is distant from the soul. For what that man did for those maimed in the flesh, this man showed forth for those crippled in the soul; and the one did these things when he had countless sheep and cattle, while this one, possessing nothing more than his body, supplied the needy from that very body, and cries out saying: These hands ministered to my needs and to those who were with me. Let us be zealous for these men, let us all imitate them, so that we too may obtain praises and rewards like theirs, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be the glory forever. Amen.

Homily 23. On almsgiving and hospitality. The word concerning almsgiving, beloved, is fitting not only for the rich but also for the poor; and even if someone is supported by begging, this word is also addressed to him; for no one is so poor, even if he is exceedingly poor, as not to have the means for two small coins. It is possible, then, even from little to give a little and to surpass those who possess much and give more—just as that widow did. For the greatness of almsgiving is judged not by the measure of what is given but by the ability and the intention of those who give. For one must not look at this, that the widow cast in two obols, but that, having only these, she did not spare them, but brought in her entire substance. We need, therefore, not wealth but eagerness. For just as, when this is present, no harm could come from poverty, so, when it is absent, no benefit could come from prosperity. For this reason the rich, being wicked, will be punished more than the poor, because not even in prosperity have they become gentle. For do not tell me that they gave almsgiving; for if they did not give according to the worth of their substance, not even so will they escape punishment. For almsgiving is judged not by the measure of what is given but by the abundance of the intention. And is it possible, he says, for a rich man to be saved? Yes, indeed. Abraham was rich. Did you see his wealth? Look also at his hospitality: And at midday the Lord appeared to him as he sat by the oak of Mamre, and three men. And he rose up (for he did not think that the one present was God—

For how? He worshiped and said, "If you have judged me worthy, that you may enter into the tent of my servants." Do you see what the old man was doing at midday? Not sitting under a roof, but as a stranger and traveler—the rich and noble man—leaving his house, wife, children, servants, he went out to fish, spreading the net of hospitality, lest perhaps a stranger, lest perhaps a traveler, pass by his house. And see what he does. He does not entrust it to a servant, although he had three hundred and eighteen (for he knew that the race of servants is lazy), lest perhaps the servant doze off, and the stranger pass by, and we lose the catch; but he himself sat, receiving the hot ray as dew in the heat; and the shade for him was the desire of hospitality. See Abraham; see the rich man. Do you deem it worth your while even to see a poor man at all? Even to answer him? Even to converse with him? Do you wish to imitate Abraham? I do not forbid it, but I even wish it; although we are required to do greater things than Abraham. And what, he says, did Abraham have? He was hospitable. And Abraham arose, he says, and worshiped, not even knowing who those present were. For if he had known, he was doing nothing wonderful, because he was serving God; but the ignorance of those who had come shows his eagerness for hospitality to be greater. And he calls Sarah too, making her a partner in hospitality: "Let the things of marriage," he says, "be common, and the things of virtue; hurry and knead three measures of fine flour." And he did not say something like this: "I drew these hopes so that you might make me a miller-woman and a baker, me who has so much wealth?

You have three hundred and eighteen servants, and you did not come to give orders to them, but you thrust me into this service? But he hears, "Hurry," and he snatches up the command. Where are the women now? Do they receive such commands? Bring out her hand for me, and you see it gilded on the outside, but within possessing a siege. Of how many poor men does your hand bear the greed? Bring out your hand for me, show me what it is clothed in: greed. Bring out Sarah's hand; what is it clothed in? Hospitality, almsgiving, love, love of the poor. Hurry and knead three measures of fine flour. And he himself ran to the herd of cattle. They divide the labor, so that they may divide the crown. Then he sacrificed the calf. At once the old man became a runner; for the tension of his flesh was not slackened, but the mind of his philosophy was strengthened; his eagerness conquered nature. The master of three hundred and eighteen servants, carrying a calf, was not weighed down by the burden, but was lightened in mind and eagerness. The race was set before the old man. How great the labor? But he did not feel the labor, because of the hope of the gain. What then did the one who arrived say? At this time I will come, and Sarah will have a son. Do you see what fruit the table sprouted? How good? How quick? How ripe? How the cluster was darkening and complete? Such are the fruits of hospitality. Let us not, then, think that our substance is diminished when we provide almsgiving; for it is not diminished, but increased; it is not spent, but abounds, and what happens is a kind of business and sowing.

But rather, this is more profitable and safer than both of these. For commerce is subject to winds and the waves of the sea and to many shipwrecks; and seeds are subject to droughts and floods and other irregularities of the air. But the money that is deposited into the hand of the Lord is above every plot, and no one can snatch from the hand of the one who has received the things given once for all, but they remain, producing for us much and unspeakable fruit, and bringing a rich harvest in due season. For if a man will not overlook it when he has received, but will repay the favor, much more will Christ. For he who gives even without receiving, how will he not give after receiving? Hear Solomon: "He who has mercy on the poor," he says, "lends to God." Did you see the strange and paradoxical nature of the loan? One is the one who receives, and another is the one who makes himself liable for the loan. Why did he not say, "He who has mercy on the poor gives to God," but "lends"? So that you might not think the recompense is simple. Scripture knows our greed; it has observed that our insatiability, looking toward covetousness, seeks the surplus, and that nowhere does a man with money wish to lend to the poor without security, or a pledge, or collateral, or a guarantor. And since God knows that without these no one lends, nor looks to benevolence, but looks only to profit, and the poor man is destitute of all these things—having no security, for he possesses nothing; bringing no collateral, for he has been stripped bare; providing no one to speak on his behalf, for he is disbelieved because of his poverty—

When he saw the one in danger through his poverty, and the one who had money in danger through his inhumanity, he placed himself in the middle, as a guarantor for the poor man and as a pledge for the lender. "He who has mercy on the poor," it says, "lends to God." And yet, if we must lend, we scrutinize those who give much and look around for those who are grateful; but here we do the opposite: God, who is grateful and repays a hundredfold, we let go, while those who will not repay us even the principal—these we seek out. For what will the belly repay us, consuming more? Dung and corruption. What will vainglory repay? Envy and malice. What will stinginess repay? Anxiety and care. What will debauchery repay? Gehenna and the venomous worm. For these are the debtors of the rich; paying them the interest on the principal, they receive the evils of this life and the terrors that are expected. For what reason, then, do you not give to the one who will certainly give, and give more? Perhaps because he gives after a long time. And yet he gives even here; for he is truthful who says, "Seek the kingdom of heaven, and all these things will be added to you." Besides this, receiving after a long time increases your wealth for you; for the interest becomes greater. For we see lenders doing this also in the case of those who borrow, lending more readily to those who repay after a long time. For the one who repays the whole immediately has checked the course of the interest; but the one who has held on for a longer time has also made the interest greater.

Then, in the case of men we are not vexed at the delay, but we even contrive to make it longer; but in the case of God shall we be so fainthearted? He who has mercy on the poor lends to God. And do you borrow from me, Lord, the alms given to the poor? In order that you may one day repay me these things, give me the time of the recompense; appoint the deadline of the repayment. When and where do I repay you the debt? When the Son of Man sits upon the throne of his glory, and sets the sheep on his right and the goats on his left; and he will say to those on his right: Come, you who are blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For what? Because I was hungry, and you gave me to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave me to drink; I was naked, and you clothed me. And why, O Lord, do you bring to mind no other ways but that of almsgiving? I do not judge, he says, the sin, but the inhumanity; I do not judge those who have sinned, but those who have not repented; I condemn you for inhumanity, because having so great and such a remedy

You have let slip so great a benefit—almsgiving, the means of salvation, in which all sins are blotted out. For you did not receive money so that you might spend it on luxury, but so that you might expend it on almsgiving. Do you think your goods are your own? You have been entrusted with the goods of the poor, even if you acquired them by righteous labors, even if by ancestral inheritance. For do not suppose that because out of great loving-kindness you have been commanded to give from what is yours, these things are therefore your own; nor make the abundance of his loving-kindness a pretext for ingratitude. Was God unable to take them away from you? But he does not do this, making you the master of generosity toward those in need. For what reason, then, have you not given? Do you not believe that you will receive again? And how could that make sense? For he who gave to one who had not given, how much more will he give after you have received? For this reason God allowed you to have more than others, not so that you might spend it on fornication and drunkenness and gluttony and costly clothing and other self-indulgence, but so that you might distribute it to those in need. For if you spend anything beyond necessity on yourself, beyond what is required, you will render the most severe accounts there. But I know many who have come to such a degree of savagery as to overlook the poor starving through a little hesitation, and even to say to them: I have no servant with me now; I am far from my house; none of those here is known to me. O the cruelty! O the insolence! Even if one had to walk ten stades, one should not hesitate even so, because the reward is greater. For when you give, you receive a reward only for what is given;

When you go yourself, the reward for this too is laid up for you. Indeed, we marvel at the patriarch Abraham especially for this reason: though he had three hundred and eighteen household servants, he commanded none of them, but himself ran to the cattle and seized the calf. So do not be ashamed to serve the poor man with your own hand. Christ is not ashamed to stretch out his hand and receive through the poor man, and are you ashamed to stretch out your hand and give money? How is this not worthy of shame? For if a mere cup of cold water procures the kingdom of heaven, tell me, how much fruit will it bear to make a man a table-companion and a sharer of one's table and to give rest to the poor? Let us not, then, be ashamed of services to the poor, nor decline to serve them ourselves; for our hands are sanctified by such ministry. And even if we raise them in prayer after that service, God, seeing them, is moved the more and grants the petition. For to give money belongs to many; but to serve the needy ourselves, and to do this with eagerness, requires a great and philosophic soul. If you saw someone helping you in the affairs of life, or assisting you in court, or in any other such matter, you meet him and receive him with great goodwill, and kiss his hands, and pay out silver, and act the part of his servants; but if you see Christ entering, do you hesitate and shrink back from serving him? If you do not receive the stranger as Christ, you will not receive him.

If you receive him as Christ, do not be ashamed to wash Christ's feet. But while the festival is still before us, let us buy alms—or rather, through alms let us buy salvation. You clothe a poor Christ when you clothe the poor. For if a cup of cold water earns a reward, are garments and money given for beneficence not rewarded? On the contrary, they are rewarded abundantly. For if where the gift costs nothing, the grace of the beneficence is so great, where there is abundance of garments, supply of money, and plenty of other goods, how great a reward must one expect from the righteous judge? I know that you have often learned these and similar things; but would that, having learned them often, we had done the good even a few times. For it is great folly, when one wishes to buy a field, to seek out fertile land; but when heaven is set before us instead of earth, and it is possible to acquire a plot there, to remain on the earth and endure its labors. Tell me, if someone told you that after a year this city will fall—the

But not so with this man. Would you have built houses in a house that is about to fall? Let us not, then, build in this world; for it will fall a little later and be destroyed. But why do I say it will fall? Before its fall we ourselves are being destroyed, and we shall suffer terrible things. Rather, let us build for ourselves a building in the heavens, where we have no need of carpenters or builders, but the hands of the poor build such buildings as these; and not only this, but they also procure for us the kingdom of heaven and give us boldness before God—such is the height of almsgiving. And just as when a queen enters, none of those who guard the doors dares to question who she is and from where, but all receive her with joy, so too almsgiving sets those who practice it unhindered beside the royal throne; for God loves it, and it always stands near him, and whatever favor it asks, it immediately receives. Such is the abundance of almsgiving, that it not only cleanses away sins but also puts death itself to flight. And who, someone says, by showing almsgiving has become stronger than death? And yet we see all people becoming subject to the tyranny of death. Do not be troubled, but learn from the very facts how the power of almsgiving conquered its tyranny. For there was a certain woman, Tabitha, who made it her work each day to gather the wealth that comes from almsgiving; and she used to clothe the widows, it says, and provided them with all their other wealth. And it came about that she fell sick and died.

What then of the women who enjoyed her care and were sheltered in body by her? In time they repaid their benefactress; for standing around the Apostle they showed the garments, and all that she had made with them, and they poured out tears, and brought him to compassion. What then did Peter do? He knelt down, it says, and prayed, and turning to the body he said: Tabitha, arise. And she opened her eyes, and seeing Peter she sat up; and giving her his hand he raised her up; and calling the widows and those standing by, he presented her alive. Do you see how great is the reward of good works done for widows? For tell me, what did she give the widows so great as what they repaid her? For the greatness of almsgiving is not judged by the quantity of what is given, but by the readiness of those who give. Truly the feet of saints are mighty when they enter a house; they sanctify the very floor, they bring in treasures of countless good things, they correct a crippled nature, they loose famine and bring in great abundance. For the feet of Elijah, entering the house of the widow, displayed a new and wondrous manner of beneficence: they made the house of the widow a field, and the water-jar a threshing floor. A new manner of sowing and reaping came to be then. How? He sowed into the mouth of the righteous man, and what was cast down was reaped from the water-jar with great abundance; he sowed meal, and he reaped meal.

She had no need of oxen and a yoke and a plough and a furrow, nor of rain and air and a sickle, nor of a threshing floor and sheaves, nor of winds separating the chaff from the grain, nor of a mill grinding it, but in a single moment of time she found the completion of all these things at the water jar. Such are the gifts of the saints; such things do the feet of the saints bestow, and indeed far more than these. And if I were not making my discourse long, I would have enumerated many such gifts. But just as, when honored, they bring such gifts, so when dishonored they bring great punishment and an inexorable fire. But that was Peter, he says, and that was Elijah. What do you say? Tell me: even if it was Peter and Elijah, did they not share the same nature? Were they not brought into this life through the same road? Were they not nourished with the same food? Did they not make use of the same things? Did not some of them even have wives and children, while others had trades for a living, and others were brought down even into the very pit of wickedness? But they enjoyed much grace, he says. But if indeed the dead

If we were commanded to raise the dead, and to open the eyes of the blind, and to cleanse lepers and make the lame stand upright, and to cast out demons, and to heal the other diseases of this kind, there would be a time for such a defense on our part; but if what lies before us now is an examination of conduct, and a display of obedience, and an estrangement from evils, what relation would these things have to that? For Christ does not simply give the prizes to those who worked signs, but to those who have done his commandments. For he says, Come, you who are blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world—not because you worked wonders, but because I was hungry, and you gave me to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave me to drink; I was a stranger, and you took me in. So that even if grace has now curtailed those things, this will be able to do us no harm, nor even to plead in our defense, when we render an account of what we have done. For a right conduct of life will receive the crowns even without signs; but a lawless life will not be able to escape punishment even with signs. Let us therefore pursue such virtues as are able, together with our own salvation, to benefit our neighbors as well. Such is almsgiving; from it both prayer and fasting and every other virtue have their sinews. For even if you fast, without almsgiving the thing is not reckoned as fasting, but is worse than one who gorges and gets drunk, inasmuch as the cruelty of luxury is harsher. And why do I speak of fasting? For even if you are chaste, even if you are a virgin, you stand outside the bridal chamber if you do not have almsgiving. And yet what is equal to virginity?

This was not even under the Law in the New Covenant, [coming] by necessity because of its surpassing excellence. But if virgins are cast out because they do not possess this with the abundance that is fitting, who will be able to obtain forgiveness without it? There is no one, there is no one; rather, the one who does not have it must utterly perish. For if in worldly affairs no one lives for himself, but the craftsman and the soldier and the farmer and the merchant all contribute to the common good and the benefit of their neighbor, much more must this be done in spiritual matters; for this is especially what it means to live. For the one who lives for himself alone and looks down on everyone is superfluous, and not even a human being, nor of our race. Therefore let the one who wishes to become rich become poor, so that he may become rich; let him spend, so that he may gather; let him scatter, so that he may collect. But if these things are strange and paradoxical, look at the sower and consider that he too will not be able otherwise to gather more, unless he scatters what he has and lets go of what is ready at hand. For why do you not give to those in need? "A chorus of children stands around me," he says, "and I desire to leave them wealthy." Why, then, do you make them poor? For if you leave them everything, you have again entrusted all your goods to unsafe keeping; but if you leave God to them as co-heir and guardian, you have left them a treasure of ten thousand. If, then, you wish to leave your children great wealth, leave them the providence of God.

For he who, when you had done nothing, both gave you a soul and formed your body and granted you life—when he sees you displaying such generosity, how will he not open to them all his wealth? For if Elijah, fed on a little flour, because he saw that woman preferring him to her children, showed threshing floors and winepresses upon the widow's roof—consider how great a kindness the Master of Elijah will display. If you wish to leave your children rich, leave God as their debtor; for if they themselves receive the money, they do not even know where they will give it; but if you take it beforehand and lend it to God, the treasure remains thenceforth secure, and the repayment will be with great ease. For God both gives thanks and owes and repays us, and he looks more kindly on his lenders than on those who have not lent; and those to whom he owes most, these he loves most. So if you wish to have him as a friend, make him a debtor. For a lender does not so rejoice in having debtors as God rejoices in having lenders; and those to whom he owes nothing, these also

He escapes them; but those to whom he owes, he runs after them. Why then do you entrust your deposits to men? Christ stands ready to receive them and to keep them—not only to keep them, but also to increase them, and to give them back to you with a great addition. No one snatches from his hand. And he does not only keep them, but also on his own account he frees you from your dangers. For in the case of men, those who receive deposits think they have done us a favor by guarding what they received; but in the case of Christ it is the opposite: for he does not acknowledge that he has done a favor, but that he has received one, when he receives them from you. And the one who receives deposits also demands wages from you; but Christ rather even gives you a wage for this. For it is for this reason that God commanded you to give your money to another, so that you might have it. For as long as you keep it alone, you do not even have it yourself; but when you give it to another, then you too have received it. For just as if someone were to give a small child silver and command him to hold it tightly, or even give it to a servant to guard tightly, so that it might not be possible for anyone who wished to snatch it, so also God does: Give to the one in need, he says, so that no one may snatch it from you—such as a sycophant, or the devil, or a thief, or, after all these, death. For as long as you keep these things yourself, you do not keep them safely; but if you give them to me through the poor, I guard them all for you with exactness. For I do not take them in order to take them away, but in order to make them more, in order to guard them more exactly, in order to preserve them for you until that time when there is no one who lends, nor one who shows mercy.

Why do you labor in vain, O rich man, hiding the possessions of the poor in your own treasuries? Why are you indignant when asked for them by them, as though you were spending from your own house? They want what belongs to the Father, not what is yours; what was entrusted to you on their account, not what was born with you. Give what you received, and gain the use of it; it is enough for you that you were appointed to give, not to receive. Why do you hand the treasure over to the earth? Give it to my hand, he says. Does it not seem to you that the Master of the earth is more trustworthy than the earth? I have given, he says. But one must not cease doing these things; for only then will you be excused, when you no longer have, when you possess nothing; but as long as you have, even if you have given ten thousand times, and others are still hungry, you have no excuse. Therefore let neither the rich man be proud because he gives much, nor the poor man be cast down because he provides little; for often the latter has given more than the former. For the much and the less are not judged by the measure of what is given, but by the capacity of the substance of those who provide. But you, feeding parasites and flatterers, spending as from fountains, thus you rejoice; but if you see a poor man, then the fear of poverty attacks you. Give to the one in need and do not give to the one who dances, lest along with your money you also destroy that man's soul; for you are the cause of that man's destruction through your untimely generosity. For if those on the stage had known that their occupation was going to be unprofitable for them, they would long ago have ceased practicing these things. A blind man knows how to be led by the hand into the kingdom of heaven, though he stumbles against walls and slips into pits; this man becomes a road-maker of the ascent into heaven.

For when you do it not for the display of men, even if the whole world knows, no one knows, since you did not do it in that way. For he did not say, Do not do it, simply, before men, but he added, To be seen by them. O how great is the dignity of poverty! It becomes the mask of God; God is hidden in poverty, and the poor man is the one who stretches out his hand, but God is the one who receives. When something painful happens to you, give alms at once; give thanks that it happened, and you will see how great a joy enters in. For the spiritual gain, even if it is small, is so great as to hide every bodily loss. And if you do not believe, test it, and you will see the glory of God. But O the laziness! O the ingratitude! that we live always in sins and wickedness; but if ever we do some small good, like ungrateful servants, we examine it with much haggling and reckon precisely about the recompense, whether what is done has any reward. And yet the reward is greater if you do it not in hope of rewards; for one must do all things for Christ, and not for the hope of reward. For if God, when he made us from the beginning, with no good previously done by us, straightway bestowed such great things on us, what will he not bestow on those who have labored so much and struggled and endured for his sake? And we scarcely despise a little gold for our own sakes, but he gave even his own Son for us. And for the friendship of men we often choose even to face dangers; but for the love of God for mankind do we not even part with money?

And how is it not terrible that Christ both laid down his soul for us and poured out his precious blood for us, who had become neither well-disposed nor good; but we do not even pour out money for him, but overlook him naked and a stranger, the one who died for us? And who will rescue us from the coming punishment? For if God does not punish us, but we punish ourselves, would we not have brought the verdict against ourselves? Would we not have condemned ourselves to the fire of Gehenna, overlooking the one who laid down his soul for us wasting away with hunger? And why do I speak of money? For if we had ten thousand souls, ought we not to lay down all of them for him? If any one of us were being led to death, and then all our possessions were set before us to be cast away and be released, he would consider the matter a favor; but now, when we are being led on the road to Gehenna, though it is possible to give half and be set free, we choose both to be punished and to keep our own possessions in vain—so as to cast away our own possessions? And what defense shall we have, what pardon, depriving ourselves of both the things here and the things there, when it is possible to reap both with security? If for the sake of a worldly dignity someone has often given up his entire substance, a dignity that is to remain here, and not even here remaining for a long time—for many have stripped off this office long before their death, and others have often lost even their very life because of it—but nevertheless, knowing all these things, they set everything in motion for its sake;

If, then, they do such great things for this, what could be more wretched than we, for that which remains and cannot be taken away—we who do not even give a little, nor provide these things which a short time later we shall leave behind here unwillingly? Of what madness, then, would it not be, that what we lose unwillingly, we are unwilling to give willingly while we can, and to take with ourselves? But we put golden collars on servants and mules and horses; yet the Master goes about naked and sleeps at the door and stretches out his hand, and we overlook him, and often look at him with a harsh eye. What could be worse than this madness? For when God sends the poor to us, commanding them to be given from what is his, and we, besides not giving, send them away insulted, consider how many thunderbolts, how many lightning-bolts such a deed deserves. For if your servant, commanded by you to go to another servant and receive your money, returned not only with empty hands but even insulted—what would you not have done to the one who insulted him? What penalty would you not have exacted, since you yourself were the one insulted? And if this is so among men, how much more so with the Master of both men and all things? If you do not wish to give anything to the poor man who asks, why do you also strike his soul with reproaches? For if he had expected to hear such things, would he have come to you? But he is shameless, he says, and runs about and shouts. What are you saying? How often, when the table was set, having called the servant who attends you so that he might walk more leisurely, have you overturned everything for the sake of only a little delay—

And yet, though you know full well that, even if not immediately, yet a little later he will enjoy the pleasure—and you do not call yourself shameless, though you rage like a beast over nothing; but the poor man, who fears and trembles over greater things (for all his fear is not about delay, but about famine)—him you call forward and shameless? And how is this not the utmost shamelessness? If you, seeing a little drop of water come down from the roof, call in servants and craftsmen and overturn the whole house—how do you overlook the poor man lying in rags and straw and mud, enduring all the cold? What beast would not be broken down by these things? Who is so cruel and inhuman as not to become gentle at these things? But indeed there are some who have come to such a pitch of savagery that they not only do not pity and weep and help dissolve their misfortunes, but often even insult them and say that they suffer deservedly. Tell me, for what reason do they suffer deservedly—because they wish to be fed and not to starve? No, he says, but because they are idle. And do you not idle in luxury? Do you not often practice a trade more grievous than all idleness, snatching and using force and grasping for more? It would be better if you too were idle with such idleness; for to be idle in this way is far better than to grasp and snatch. When, then, you see a poor man and say, "I am suffocated that a young man, so healthy, with nothing, wishes to be fed while idle"—say these very things you have said to yourself.

Rather, give him the chance to speak to you boldly: "I am suffocating because you are healthy and idle, and you do nothing of what God has commanded." And you accuse him of idleness, while he accuses you of wicked deeds—that you rob and defraud and overturn other people's households. But he lies and fabricates much? Yet even for this he deserves pity, because he has fallen into such necessity as to be shameless in such ways. But we not only do not pity him, we even add those cruel words, saying, "Did he not receive once and twice?" What then? Should he not be fed again, because he was fed once? Why do you not lay down these same laws for your own stomach, and say to it, "You were filled yesterday, do not seek now"? But that one you burst even beyond measure, while this one, asking even for moderate things, you turn away? And how do you yourself wish to be heard when you entreat? For the one who overlooks the oppressed and does not give from his own means—how will he seek to receive from what is not his own? Are these things not worthy of accusation, that when we feed parasites and flatterers, we do not consider the matter a loss; but if we see a poor man approaching, racked by hunger and cold, we not only overlook him but immediately trample on him as well? "For what does he not work?" he says. "Why is he fed while idle?" But do you, who work, have what you have? Did you not receive a paternal inheritance? And even if you do work, is that why you reproach another? "But he is an impostor." What are you saying? For the sake of a piece of bread and a garment you call him an impostor? "But he sells it immediately," he says. And do you manage all your own affairs well? What then—are all the poor so from idleness? Is no one so from shipwreck?

No one from the courts? No one from theft? No one from sickness? No one from dangers? No one from any other circumstance? But if we hear someone lamenting such things, and crying out loudly, and looking up to heaven naked, we immediately call him an impostor, a deceiver, a dissembler. Are you not ashamed to call someone an impostor? Give nothing, but do not accuse the poor man. But he has means, he says, and he is putting on an act. This is an accusation against you, not against him. He knows that he is dealing with harsh men, with beasts rather than with human beings, and that even if he utters a pitiable word, he attracts no one; and for this reason he is compelled to put on himself a more pitiable appearance, so that he might soften your soul. Oh, the cruelty! Oh, the harshness! Oh, the inhumanity! If we see a poor man approaching in the dress of a free man, This man is an impostor, he says, and he comes this way so that he may seem to be of noble birth; if we see a naked man or one clad in rags, we also abuse this one. Oh, this shameless bestiality! If you wish, give; but if you do not wish, send him away. Why are you wretched and miserable? Why do you not show mercy yourself, and why do you turn away those who wish to? For when a certain person hears from you that this one is a deceiver, that one a hypocrite, he gives neither to these nor to those; for he will suspect that all are such. And for what reason, he says, do they expose their mutilated limbs? Because of you. If we were merciful, they would not need these tricks; if they had persuaded us at the first approach, they would not have devised so many schemes. For who is so wretched as to wish

To lament publicly with his wife stripped bare and his children? What poverty are these things not worse than? And not only are they not pitied, but they are even accused by us as shameless. And you, who plunder, are not shameless, but that man who begs for bread is shameless? Give to everyone who asks of you, and do not turn away the one who wants to borrow from you. For how is it not absurd that you, gorging and fattening yourself, dragging out your drinking into deep evening, and burying your life in soft couches, continue thus—while you overlook the poor man, naked and shivering and starving? And why do I speak of nakedness and shivering, when some have even been compelled to maim their own children, who were of tender age, so that they might touch our insensitivity? For since, though seen and going about naked, they drew no pity from the merciless, neither by reason of their age nor by reason of their misfortune, they added to such great evils another harsher tragedy, so that they might loosen hunger—thinking it lighter to be deprived of this common light and the beam given to all, than to wrestle with ceaseless hunger and endure the most pitiable death. Truly great is a man, and precious is a merciful man. For almsgiving is when it is done with eagerness, when with abundance, when you do not think you are giving but receiving, when as one being benefited, when as one gaining and not losing—since otherwise it is not even a favor; for the one who shows mercy to another ought to rejoice, not to be vexed. For how is it not absurd, if when you are loosening another's despondency, you yourself are despondent?

For if you are disheartened because you have relieved another of disheartenment, you are displaying a proof of the utmost cruelty and inhumanity; for it is better not to relieve than to relieve in this way. And why, then, are you disheartened at all, O man? Is it so that your gold may not become less for you? In short, if you have such a disposition, do not even give; if you do not trust that it will be multiplied for you in the heavens, do not provide it. But are you seeking the repayment here? Why? Let almsgiving be almsgiving, and not a trade. Many, indeed, have received back even here, but they did not receive in such a way as to have more by this than those who did not receive; but those who seek and receive here diminish their reward there. Let us not, then, say that such a one is wicked and not worthy to be well treated, that such a one is worthless, that such a one is cast out. Do not look to the worthiness of the one who needs the care, but only to the need; for even if he is worthless and cast out, even if he is contemptible, Christ reckons the reward to you as though he himself had been well treated through him. Peter and John once went up to the temple to pray, and behold, a man lame from his mother's womb, being carried, lay at the door of the temple; and seeing them entering, he gave heed to them, seeking to receive alms from them. What then does Peter say? Look at us—the proof of poverty is sufficient from the appearance; there is no need of words or of an answer; the clothing shows you the man without possessions. What then? Was this whole success of the apostleship directed toward the poor man so that you might not correct his poverty, so that you might say to him, I have no gold and silver? Wait a little, and you will see greater wealth.

Silver and gold," he says, "I do not have; but what I have, this I give you: in the name of Jesus Christ, rise and walk." Did you see poverty of money and wealth of gifts? Now observe his gentleness as well: "Look at us," he says. He did not insult, he did not revile, he did not drive them away—which we often do to those who approach us, demanding an account of them, sending them off to work, accusing them of sleeping. Were you not taught this, man? Were you not commanded to reproach idleness, nor to accuse wickedness, nor to upbraid sluggishness, but to correct poverty, and to heal misfortune, and to extend a hand to those who lie fallen? Do not, then, busy yourself with lives and deeds when you are about to give alms; for this is the height of vulgarity, to scrutinize an entire life for the sake of a single loaf of bread. For if he is a murderer, if he is a robber, if the beggar is anything at all, does he not seem to you worthy of bread and a little silver? But your Master makes even the sun rise for him; and do you judge him unworthy even of daily food? Do you not know that Abraham is especially admired for this very reason—that, not even knowing who those who had come were, when he saw them he sprang up, and ran to meet them, and bowed to the ground, and said: "Lord, if I have found favor before you, do not pass by your servant." Do not, then, busy yourself either; for you receive them for the sake of Christ. For if you are always going to scrutinize, you will often pass by even a worthy man, and you will lose the reward that comes from it.

Let us not take thought for our own people only in matters of faith and neglect others, but if we see someone suffering badly, let us not busy ourselves with anything else; for the very fact of his suffering badly gives him the right to our help. But I do not know from where this custom has prevailed: if we see a worldly man in distress, we do not reach out a hand; but toward those who sit only in the mountains we are zealous. Whether you see a Greek, a Jew, or anyone else in distress, you must do good. For by seeking out only the monks, and wishing to do good to them alone, and again busying yourself over them—if he is not worthy, if he is not righteous, if he is not performing signs—and not reaching out a hand, you have taken away the greater part of almsgiving; and this very thing in time you will destroy again. For if you see a donkey being strangled and you raise it up, and do not busy yourself over whose it is, how much more ought one not to busy himself over whose a man is? He is God's, whether he be a Greek or a Jew, but he needs help. For if you saw him prospering or held in good repute, you would say these things rightly; but if you see him suffering badly, do not say that he is wicked and worthless; for this is a proof of cruelty and inhumanity and the greatest arrogance. It is called almsgiving for this reason, that we may give both to the worthy and to the unworthy. For if we busy ourselves over the unworthy and meddle, not even the worthy will ever easily fall into our hands; but if we give even to the unworthy, certainly the worthy and those worthy of all those will come into our hands.

For if we should see fit to demand what is due from our fellow servants and to scrutinize them closely, God will do the same to us; and while we exact accounts from our fellow servants, we ourselves will fall from the loving-kindness that comes from above. For the one who shows kindness ought not to demand an account of his life, but to remedy his poverty and supply his need. Therefore, when you see a poor man, do not pass him by, but immediately consider who you would be if you were that man; consider that he is free, equal to you, and shares the same fellowship with you, and possesses all things in common with you—and yet often you do not treat him as equal even to your dogs. For they are fed to the full, while he has often gone to bed hungry, and the free man has become more dishonored than your slaves. But, you say, those slaves supply your needs and serve you well? I will show that this man too supplies you a need far greater than they do; for he will stand by you on the day of judgment and will rescue you from the fire. What can your slaves do like that? When Tabitha died, who raised her up? Slaves standing around her, or the poor? Yet you are not even willing to treat the free man as equal to your slaves—the man who by his very dress and appearance alone is enough to bend you toward mercy. And how do you expect God to deliver you when you are in calamity, if you overlook the man who has done nothing wrong against you, who is suffering and beaten down and tormented by hunger and cold? How will he leave you, who have sinned against him, unpunished? For he who stops his ears, it says, so as not to hear the poor, his petition God will not hear.

Let us, then, be such toward our fellow servants as we wish the Master to be toward us. Almsgiving is a greater sacrifice than prayer and fasting and many other things, provided only that it comes from just gain and from labors of that kind, and is pure from all greed and robbery and violence. For God accepts such offerings as these, but the others he turns away from and hates. For he does not wish to be honored out of others' misfortunes; for such a sacrifice is unclean and profane, and would provoke God rather than propitiate him. For almsgiving is called this so that we may show mercy, not so that we may punish our fellow servants. But he who takes what belongs to others and gives it to another has not shown mercy, but has rather punished, and has committed no ordinary injustice. He who wishes to be rich has need of money; he who does not wish to be rich is always in abundance. For it is not being rich, but not wishing to be rich—this is wealth. Let me put it somewhat like this: there is a rich man who seizes everything; and there is a rich man who gives his own possessions to the poor; the one is rich in gathering, the other in spending; and the one sows the earth, the other cultivates heaven. But by as much as heaven is better than earth, by so much is the fertility of the latter weaker than that of the former. And what is truly marvelous is that in the case of the robber, not only those who have been wronged, but even those who have suffered no evil at all, hate him, grieving together with those who have been badly treated. And if he also falls, there are countless cries from all: "The vile man, the wicked man, the utterly wicked man!" And all trample upon him.

In the case of the merciful man, not only those who have received mercy but also those who have not love him, reckoning the benefit done to those others as done to themselves. And if he suffers any unpleasant thing, all pray, "May God have mercy on him; may He deal well with him; may his good things remain with him." Do you see how wickedness has as enemies even those who have not been wronged, while almsgiving has as lovers even those who have not received alms? First, then, rid yourself of grasping, and then display your almsgiving; stop your hands from covetousness, and so lead them to almsgiving. But if with the same hands we strip the poor, even if with what is given from them we clothe them, not even so shall we escape punishment; for the basis of the propitiation becomes a basis for every transgression; for to refrain from showing mercy in this way is better than to show mercy thus. For if Cain provoked God by offering the lesser, how shall he not provoke Him who gives even what belongs to others? Almsgiving is a kind of art, the best, and a patroness of those who practice it; for it is dear to God, provided it is not wronged by us; and it is wronged when we practice it from plunder; but if it is pure, it gives great boldness to those who send it up, and it intercedes even for those who have offended. For such is its strength; it breaks bonds, it looses darkness, it quenches fire, and it makes those who practice it like God. For, it says, be merciful, as your Father in heaven is merciful. Let us not, then, betray the opportunity of the present life, but let us cling fervently to our own salvation. For it is possible, it is possible even at the last breath to please God.

It is possible to be approved also by means of a will, not in the same way as by [giving] during one's lifetime, but it is possible nonetheless. How and in what manner? If you inscribe God together with your own heirs, and allot to him also a share of the whole inheritance. Did you not feed him while he was alive? Then even when you have departed, when you are no longer master, give him a share of what is yours. For feeding him while you are alive is [a work] of greater longing and of greater reward; but if you have not done this for him, at least come to the second option; and if you shrink from this too, consider that his Father has made you a co-heir with him, and put an end to your inhumanity. For what forgiveness will you obtain, when, in addition to not having fed him while alive, not even when you are about to depart to him do you wish to grant him some small thing from these possessions, of which you are no longer master, but you are so hostilely and inimically disposed as not even to share with him the things that have become useless to you? Do you not see how many people have not even been deemed worthy of this end, but have been snatched away and departed? But God has made you master both to visit those who are related to you, and to speak about your possessions, and to arrange all the affairs of your household. What defense, then, will you have, when, having received even this favor from him, you betray the beneficence, and not even under compulsion choose to become humane? For the better course, one that provides great confidence, is to correct poverty while alive; but if you do not wish that, then at least at the end do something noble; for it is not [a work] of great love, but it is possible nonetheless. If

For if you will not have the first place with the lambs, still it is no small thing to be at least among them, and not to stand with the goats. But if you do not even do this, what word will deliver you thereafter? For when you were alive, you clung to your possessions as though you were immortal; but now, since you have learned that you have become mortal, even now break the decree, and as a mortal take counsel concerning your own affairs. For even if what is about to be said is burdensome and full of horror, nevertheless it must be said: number the Master among your slaves. Do you set your slaves free? Set Christ free from hunger and need and prisons and nakedness. Did you shudder at hearing this? Then it is more horrifying when you do not even do this very thing. And here the word has made you grow numb; but when you depart to that place, and hear things far more grievous than these, and see the torments that cannot be endured, what will you say? To whom will you flee? Whom will you call as ally and helper? Abraham? But he will not hear. But the father? But the grandfather? But not even of these will any be master to loose that sentence, even if he be exceedingly holy. But are you inhuman and cruel and merciless? Be ashamed of the dignity of the one who asks. But does his dignity not move you? Be bent by his misfortune. But neither does the nature of his misfortune bend you to pity? Give because of the ease of the request. But if neither the dignity, nor the necessity of the need, nor the ease of the giving is able to persuade you, then because of the greatness of the good things promised, provide for the one in need. For what excuse will there be for those who, after so great an exhortation, overlook those in need? Let those who have been initiated hear.

He himself, when you need feeding, does not spare his own flesh; when you need drink, he does not spare his blood; and will you not share even bread or a cup? What excuse will you have, receiving such things and yet sparing your cheap possessions? For even if you do not give your money for Christ's sake, you will not depart still possessing it; and even if you do not die for Christ's sake, you will not be immortal. He demands from you these things which you would give even if he did not demand them, because you are mortal; he wants you to do by your own choice what you must do by necessity. What you must in any case suffer, choose to suffer for my sake; let this alone be set before you, and I have obedience sufficient. Are these things then bearable—that God handed over even his Son for you, and you do not share even bread with him who was handed over for your sake, who was slain for your sake? The Father did not spare him for your sake, and that though he was his true Son; and you look on while he is consumed by hunger, and that too while he is to be fed from his own members, and fed for your sake? And what could be worse than this lawlessness? He was handed over for you, he was slain for you, he goes about hungry for you, you give from his own, so that you yourself may benefit, and even so you do not give? And what stones would you not be more insensible than, when so many things draw you, if you remain in this diabolical cruelty? For if you do not repay me, he says, as one who has suffered something for your sake, have mercy for the sake of poverty; but if you do not wish to show mercy for the sake of poverty, be moved for the sake of sickness, be softened for the sake of prison; and if not even these make you humane, consent for the sake of the smallness of the request.

For he asks nothing costly, but bread and a roof and the comfort of words. And if even after this you remain savage, become better at least for the sake of the kingdom. But do you have no regard even for that? Then be softened at least by nature itself, seeing him naked, and remember that nakedness of mine, in which I was stripped naked on the cross for your sake. And if you do not wish to remember that, then at least this nakedness, in which I am stripped naked through the poor. I do not say, Release my poverty, nor, Grant me wealth, but I ask for bread and a garment and a little relief from hunger. And if I fall into prison, I do not compel you to loose my bonds and bring me out, but I seek only one thing, that you see me bound for your sake, and I have received sufficient favor. For I am able to crown you even without these things, but I wish to be your debtor as well, so that the crown may bear some fruit and boldness for you. For this reason, though I am able to feed myself, I go about begging, and standing at your doors I stretch out my hand, desiring to be fed by you; and I take pride in this, so that when the theater of the whole world is present I may then proclaim you, and with all listening I may point out my feeder. And yet when you are fed by someone, you are ashamed of this and cover it over; but I, since I love you exceedingly, even if you are silent, proclaim what has been done with many praises, and I am not ashamed to say that you clothed me when I was naked, and fed me when I was hungry, but I take pride in these things all the more, so that you may be shown forth as heirs of the kingdom of the heavens.

Thinking these things, then, beloved, let us cling earnestly to salvation, so that we may also obtain the eternal good things, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be the glory forever and ever. Amen. Homily 24. On sin and confession. Has any one of you, beloved, ever visited Palestine? I at least think so. What then? Bear witness, you who have seen those places. There is there a large and fertile country—or rather, there was, for now it is not. This land, then, so flourishing and rivaling all other lands, which in its abundance surpassed even the paradise of God, is more desolate than all deserts. And trees stand there even now, and it has fruit, but the fruit is a reminder of the wrath of God. For pomegranate trees stand there—I mean the tree—and the fruit has a bright appearance and offers many hopes to one who does not know; but if they are taken in hand, when broken open they show no fruit, but much dust and ash in place of what is stored within. Such is all that land; and the trees and the stones and the air and the waters have shared in such a calamity. For one may see land, but it has nothing of land; trees and fruits, but nothing of trees and fruits, but all is ash; air and water, but nothing of air and water; for these too have been reduced to ash by the power of him who did these things. For just as when a body has been burned, the shape remains and the form in the appearance of the fire, but the power no longer, so indeed are those things. Are these mere threats of words? Are these mere sounds of words?

But these things are burdensome; those things are not burdensome, when you say that there is no hell? You force me to say these things, you who disbelieve; you have drawn me out into these words. For if you had believed the words of Christ, I would not have been compelled to bring forward the knowledge that comes from facts. But will he who poured out so great anger for one sin, and was not moved to pity by the supplication of Abraham, nor by that of Lot, spare us, when our sins are so many? These things are truly laughter and nonsense and diabolical error and deceit. But if you wish to see also from among those who believe and attend to God, but whose life is not upright, that they are punished, hear Paul saying: Let us not commit fornication, as some committed fornication, and fell in one day twenty-three thousand. But if fornication had such power, what will our sins not accomplish? But if you are not punished now, do not marvel. For those men did not know hell, and therefore they were chastised with punishments at hand; but you, whatever you sin, even if you suffer no punishment here, will pay it all there. For even if we sin the same sins as they, we are worthy of a greater punishment than they. Why? Because we have enjoyed greater grace. And when we stumble in more and greater sins than they, what punishment will we not undergo? For if, sinning and remaining unpunished, we did not become worse, God would have remitted the punishment for us; but he knows this clearly, that being unpunished while sinning harms us no less than the sins themselves. Therefore he imposes the punishment, not only exacting the penalty for things past, but also correcting us for the things to come.

And that this is true, hear what he says to Moses: Let me alone, and being angered I will destroy them. Let me alone, he said, not because Moses was restraining him—for he had said nothing to him, but stood by in silence—but because he wished to give him a pretext for interceding on their behalf. This we also often do: when servants have done wrong deserving punishment, wishing neither to punish them nor to free them from the fear of punishment, we command friends to snatch them from our hands, so that both the fear may remain blazing in them and they may escape the blows from us. One can see something like this happening also in the case of Jonah. For the word of the Lord came, it says, to Jonah the prophet, saying: Arise and go to Nineveh the great city, and preach in it: Yet three days, and Nineveh shall be destroyed. But when Jonah heard, he went down to Joppa to flee to Tarshish from the face of the Lord. Where are you fleeing, man? Are you fleeing the Master, tell me? Wait a little, then, and through the very events you will learn that you will not be able to escape even the hands of the servant sea. For no sooner had he boarded the ship than it stirred up the waves and was raised to a great height. And just like a well-disposed maidservant who, having found a fellow servant who is a runaway and has stolen something of the master's possessions, does not desist before she takes him and departs, causing countless troubles to those who received him—

Thus also the sea, having found and recognized its own fellow-servant, gives the sailors countless troubles, agitating, crying out, not dragging him to a court of law, but threatening to sink the ship with all its crew, unless they hand over to it its fellow-servant. When these things were happening, they made, it says, a casting out of the cargo; but the ship was not lightened; for the whole freight remained inside still—the body of the prophet, that heavy burden, not by the nature of the body, but by the weight of sin. For nothing is so heavy and hard to bear as sin and disobedience. And just as in a court of law, when accusers are present and witnesses stand by and proofs are being made, those who condemn do not bring forth the verdict before the condemned man himself becomes the accuser of his own sin; so also in the case of the sailors and the prophet it is possible to see. For they cast, it says, a lot; and the lot thereupon delivered the guilty man over to the verdict. But they, not even so, having taken him, sank him, but with so great a tumult and disturbance pressing upon them, and the sea not permitting them even to breathe, but raging and crying out and rousing the waves continually—as though enjoying great calm, they sat as a court of law in the ship, and gave him a hearing, and deemed him worthy of a defense, and examined everything with precision, as though about to give an account for whatever they might vote; and not even when the sea cried out, nor when the lot testified against him, nor when he himself confessed his sin, do they bring the verdict. From where, then, did such great forethought come?

From God's providence. For God permitted these things to happen, training the prophet through them to be humane and gentle, and all but crying out to him and saying, Imitate the sailors, barbarous and foolish men though they are; for they do not despise even a single soul, nor do they spare even one body—yours; but you have handed over an entire city, possessing so many tens of thousands, as far as lies in your power; and these men, having found the one responsible for the evils that had befallen them, do not even so rush to a condemning vote; but you, having nothing to charge against the Ninevites, have sunk them and destroyed them. But most people become advocates of their own sins and accusers of others'. And many often say that the affairs of the state are in a bad condition, and they say the cause comes from the folly of those in power; but I say that it is not the folly of those in power, but our own sin, that has turned things upside down, that has introduced all terrible things; it is not from anywhere else that the swarm of grievous troubles has poured over us. So even if the ruler be an Abraham, or a Moses, or a David, or

Solomon, the wisest of men, even if he was more sinful than all men, has an impartial account of the cause of evils. For the fact that we receive rulers according to our hearts is nothing other than that we had sinned beforehand, and for this reason we obtained such a leader. But even if he is exceedingly just, and so just as to have reached the virtue of Moses, his righteousness alone will not be able to conceal the immeasurable transgressions of his subjects. Rather, if you wish, I will show you how the sin of one man often outruns the boldness of those who live well. Joshua the son of Nun once attacked Jericho, and while conducting that strange siege, when the walls were already about to fall, he says to the people: This city is anathema, and all that is in it, to the Lord Sabaoth. Guard yourselves therefore from the anathema, lest when you think of it you take from it, and God destroys us. What then after this? The walls fell, and the city came into the hands of the besiegers. Therefore, while all the people kept this command, the transgression of one man kindled the anger of God against the whole multitude. For the sons of Israel, it says, committed a great transgression. And yet the one who transgressed was Achar; how then did the sons of Israel transgress? And the Lord, it says, was angry with the sons of Israel. And Joshua sent men from Jericho to Gai. And about three thousand men went up, and they fled from before the men of Gai, and they killed thirty-six men of them.

Observe the exacting of the penalty for one sin; observe the unconsolable blow: one man transgressed, and upon the entire people death and cowardice fell. What then is this, O loving-good Master? You alone are just, and your judgments are upright; you apportion judgment to each according to his own works; you said, O lover of mankind, that each shall die in his own sin, and that one shall not be punished in another's stead. What then is this just verdict of yours? All your works are good, Lord, and exceedingly good, and are ordered for our benefit. Why then for the sin of one did you bring punishment upon others? Sin, it says, is a pestilence; let it be made a public example through punishment for all, so that it may not utterly destroy all. Do you see how the sin of one brought punishment beforehand upon the whole people? Observe now also his shameful and destructive death. And Joshua, it says, brought him up into the valley of Achor, and his sons, and his daughters, and his calves, and his beasts of burden, and his sheep, and his tent, and all that he had, and all Israel stoned them with stones. Let us not, then, because God bears insults with long-suffering, therefore take courage, but for this very reason let us rather be pricked. For if among men, when someone struck on the right cheek offers also the left, he takes a greater vengeance than if he had given ten thousand blows; and when reviled, if he not only does not revile in return but even blesses, he has struck harder than if he had washed him with ten thousand reproaches—how much more, in the case of God, must those who sin continually and suffer nothing terrible be afraid.

For the unutterable penalty is being stored up for them to the harm of their own head. For it is not being punished that is evil for the offender, but being in such a state and not being punished—just as it is for the sick not to be healed. For when our good deeds are small and paltry, and the mass of our sins is great, and then here we enjoy prosperity and suffer nothing terrible, we shall all depart destitute and stripped even of the recompense of good things, having received everything here; just as, on the other hand, when our good deeds are great and many, but our sins small and paltry, and then we suffer something terrible, having here laid aside even those small sins, we receive there the clean and complete recompense of good things. Let us not think, then, that being punished is hard, but rather that sinning and not being punished is. For even if God did not punish us, we ought ourselves to exact the penalty from ourselves, having become so senseless toward the Benefactor. Shall I say something paradoxical and wonderful? Greater is the consolation for one who is punished after provoking the One so loving toward man—if he has understanding and loves the Master as one ought to love—than for one who is not punished. For he who has wronged his dearest one is then most especially at rest, when he has exacted the penalty from himself and suffered ill. Do you not see those who have lost their legitimate children, that for this very reason they beat themselves and tear their hair, since self-punishment on behalf of those they love brings consolation?

But if, when we ourselves have done nothing terrible to our dearest ones, the fact of suffering badly on behalf of those whom they have wronged brings us consolation, then when we ourselves are the ones who have provoked and outraged them, will not paying the penalty far more relieve us, and the not being punished itself be a punishment? This is clear to everyone, surely. For to those who love anything at all, it is not the suffering of some harm on behalf of those whom they have provoked—the beloved—that is distressing, but before all else the very act of provoking the one who is loved. And if he, though angered, does not punish, he torments the lover all the more; but if he exacts the penalty, he has rather consoled him. If anyone loves Christ as one ought to love him, he will not endure to go unpunished even if Christ himself permits it; for the greatest punishment is suffered by the one who has provoked him. For there is no one, no one—be it father, be it mother, be it friend, be it anyone at all—who has loved us as God who made us has loved us. But if you tell me of griefs and pains and the evils of life, consider how often you offend him each day, and you will no longer be amazed, even if more evils than these come upon you; rather, if you enjoy some good thing, then you will be amazed and astonished. But as it is, we see the calamities that come upon us, but we do not see the offenses that we commit each day; and it is for this reason that we are distressed—whereas if we had reckoned our sins with precision for even a single day, then we would have known well how many evils we are liable for. But it is for this reason that the greater sins come in, because the lesser ones do not receive the correction they should; for this reason the swiftest changes and reversals—

This is why deaths are continuous and untimely: because we are disposed in our mindset as though we had already reached heaven itself; and as though we would never die, we seize things greedily; and as though we would never give an account, we take advantage; and neither the word of God nor the things themselves teach us, but everything is in vain, and nothing penetrates our hardness. No one despises the things on earth, no one looks toward heaven; but just as pigs bend downward, stooping toward the belly, wallowing in the mire, so too the many among men, defiling themselves with the most grievous mire, do not perceive it. For it is better to be defiled with unclean mud than with sins. For the one defiled by that washes it off in a short time, and becomes like one who never fell into that swamp in the first place; but the one who falls into the abyss of sin receives a defilement that is not cleansed with water, but requires much time and exact repentance, and tears and beating of the breast, and greater and warmer lamentation than we show over our dearest ones when they die. For just as there is no benefit for a king who is clothed in purple and has weapons, but has no subject, but lies exposed to all who wish to leap upon him and insult him; so too there will be no profit for a Christian who has faith and the gift from baptism, but lies exposed as a plaything to all the passions; but just as that king will gain nothing from this robe for his own honor, but will even insult it through his own shame—

So too the faithful man who lives a corrupt life will not only be unworthy of respect on this account, but will be even more greatly ridiculed. Let us not, then, put our life to shame, nor live a life worthy of ridicule; nor let us defile the body with fornication. For how will you be able to enter the church after your intercourse with prostitutes? How will you raise your hands to heaven, the hands with which you embraced the prostitute? How will you move your tongue and pray with the mouth with which you kissed the prostitute? With what eyes will you look upon the more respectable of your friends who see you in this state? And why do I speak of friends? For even if no one is aware of it, you will be compelled before all to blush and be ashamed, and more than all to loathe your own body. For if this were not so, for what reason do you run to the bath after that sin? Is it not because you consider yourself more unclean than any mire? What verdict, then, do you expect God to bring, when you who have transgressed hold such an opinion about what has happened? If, then, the filth were bodily, you would reasonably cleanse yourself with the purifications of the baths; but since you have defiled your soul and made it wholly unclean, seek such a purification as will be able to wipe away its stain; for if we do not do this, even if we pass through all the springs of the rivers, we will not be able to remove even a small part of this sin. If a servant were to place in a chest where his master's garments were kept a slave's garment full of filth and many lice, would you have borne the insult gently, tell me?

But what if someone who was accustomed always to keep myrrh in a golden vessel should put dung and filth into it—would you not inflict blows on the one who did this wrong? Then do we take such great care for chests and vessels and garments, but consider our soul to be more worthless than all these? And where the spiritual myrrh has been poured out, shall we cast in devilish processions, and Satanic sounds and songs full of fornication? And how will God bear these things, tell me? For when you have been softened by the sight of that woman, and have become an enemy of all chastity, and having returned you see your wife, you will see her as altogether more unpleasant, whatever she may be; for having been captured by the licentious sight, you dishonor, you insult, you surround with countless reproaches the modest and orderly woman and the partner of your whole life; but gaping after that foul and unclean desire, from which you received the wound, and having the echo of her voice dwelling in your soul, and the form and the look and the movements, and all the images of fornication, you no longer see anything in your house with pleasure. For just as those possessed by drunkenness and intoxication are carried about simply and at random, and whether a pit or a precipice or anything at all lies beneath, they fall down unguarded; so too those who rush toward sin, possessed as if by a terrible drunkenness by the desire of sin, do not know what they are doing, nor do they foresee anything of the present or of the future. For such is sin: after it has been committed and completely accomplished, then it stirs up the pangs of childbirth in the soul that gave it birth, contrary to the laws of our own birth.

For we, as soon as we are born, bring the pangs to an end, but she, as soon as she is born, tears apart with pangs the very thoughts that gave her birth. For while we are committing sin, drunk with pleasure, we do not perceive it so; but when it has come to pass and reached its end, then especially, when all pleasure has been quenched, the bitter sting of repentance steals in; and in the very doing of sin, both before it happens and after it has happened, our conscience stands over us as a vehement accuser. Such is the habit of those who sin: they suspect everything, they tremble at shadows, they fear every sound, and they think that everyone is walking toward them; for often they have seen many running on some other errand, and supposed that they were coming for them. And when others are conversing with one another about various matters, those who are conscious of sin in themselves think that they are talking about them. For such is sin: with no one exposing it, it betrays; with no one accusing, it condemns, and it makes the one who has sinned fearful of noise and cowardly—just as righteousness, on the contrary, does the opposite. Hear the cowardice of the latter and the boldness of the righteous man: The ungodly man flees, it says, when no one is pursuing. How, when no one is pursuing

Does he flee? He has the driver within him, the accuser of conscience, and he carries this everywhere; and just as he could not flee from himself, so neither could he flee from the one who drives him from within. But the righteous man is not like this, but how? The righteous man is confident as a lion. Such was Elijah; he saw the king coming toward him, and when that man said, "Why do you pervert Israel?" he says, "It is not I who pervert, but you and your father's house." Truly the righteous man is confident as a lion. For just as a lion against some worthless little dog, so he rose up against the king. And yet that man had a purple robe; but this man had a sheepskin more venerable than that purple robe. For that purple robe gave birth to the grievous famine; but this sheepskin loosed the terrors, this split the Jordan, this made Elisha a double Elijah. That those who wallow in fornication consider themselves unclean, I praise and accept exceedingly; but that they do not come to the proper manner of purifications, for this I accuse and blame them. The better course, then, is not even to experience this abominable sin; but if anyone ever is tripped up, let him apply such medicines first, promising no longer to fall into the same things, as are able to wash away the nature of sin; since, if while sinning we condemn what has already happened, but again attempt the same things, there will be no benefit to us from the purifications.

For the one who washes himself and then rolls again in the same mire, and the one who tears down again what he built, and builds again in order to tear it down, gains nothing more than to labor and toil in vain. For if we sin every day and strike our own soul, yet never perceive it, just as those who receive continual wounds and then disregard them draw upon themselves fevers and death, so too let us, from this continual insensibility, draw upon ourselves inexorable punishment. For nothing destroys a man so much as to fall away from the fear of God, just as nothing saves him as much as to keep that fear continually before his eyes. For if, having a man before our eyes, we often become more sluggish in our sins, and, ashamed before servants, we do nothing improper, consider how great a security we shall enjoy when we have God before our eyes. The better course, then, is not to sin at all; but next after that, to perceive when we sin and to correct it. But if we do not have this, how shall we entreat God and ask forgiveness of sins, we who make no account of them? For when you yourself who have transgressed do not even wish to know this very thing, that you have sinned, for what transgressions will you entreat God? For those you do not know? And how will you know the greatness of the benefit? For it is a terrible thing to do shameful deeds, but for one who does them to be ashamed is only half as terrible; but when someone even takes pride in this, it is an excess of insensibility. For the one who, after transgressing, condemns his sin, will at some time be able to recover.

But the one who praises wickedness has deprived himself of the healing that comes from repentance. Just as not only those who do evil things, but also those who praise them, share in the same—or even a harsher—punishment as they do, so those who praise and admire the good are partakers of the crowns laid up for them. Do not, then, because you feel no pain when you sin, despise your sin, but for this very reason above all groan, because you do not perceive the pain of your transgressions. For this does not happen because sin does not bite, but because the soul that transgresses is insensible. For if the one who feels no pain over the sins of others is worthy of accusation, the one who is indifferent and careless about his own sins—of what forgiveness would he be worthy? If Paul disregarded his own advantage in order to find that of others, of how much punishment would we not be worthy, who do not even choose to depart from our own harm for the sake of finding the advantage of others, but gladly destroy others along with ourselves, when it is possible to save both others and ourselves. This is why sparrows have wings, so that they may escape the snare; this is why human beings have reason, so that they may flee from sins. But you say you do not know your sins? And how could this be reasonable? For if in the sins of others you write laws and define penalties and are an exact judge, what defense could you have in the sins you yourself commit, saying that you do not know what ought to be done? You committed adultery, and so did he; for what reason, then, do you punish him but deem yourself worthy of forgiveness?

For if you knew that adultery is evil, you ought not to have punished another either; but if you punish another, and you think you will escape punishment, how can that be reasonable—that for the same sins the same penalties are not exacted? For from the sentence, it says, which you pass against another, from that same sentence God will judge you. And hear Paul saying: Do you think this, O man, who judges those who do evil and does the same things, that you will escape the judgment of God? You have not escaped your own judgment, and will you escape God's? And how can this be reasonable? For it is not the same thing simply to sin, and for one who has sinned and then punished another to fall again into the same sins. For if you punish the lesser sinner, though you are about to put yourself to shame, how will God not condemn and judge you more severely when you have committed the greater offense—and that though he is not about to put himself to shame—since you have already been condemned by your own reasonings? But if you say, I know that I am worthy of punishment, but because of his longsuffering you despise him, and because he does not give judgment on the spot you are confident—then for this very reason you ought to fear and tremble. For the delay in giving judgment will result not in your not being punished, but in your being punished more severely, if you remain uncorrected. For even if someone commits a great sin, but does it secretly and scandalizes no one, he will receive a lesser penalty than one who has sinned in lesser matters but with boldness and has scandalized the many. For the lowly and outcast man, even if he is tripped up and falls, brings no such great harm to the community;

But he, standing as if on a height, on the very summit of virtue, with great splendor, and being known and manifest to all, and admired by all, when he is assailed and falls, makes his fall and loss great—not only because he has fallen from a height, but because he has also made many of those who look to him more careless. And just as in a body, when one of the other members is corrupted, the harm is not great; but when the eyes are blinded, or the head is injured, the whole body becomes useless—so indeed it is also with those who have accomplished many things: when they are extinguished, when they contract some stain, they bring a harm that is complete and unbearable to the rest of the body. Do not, then, fear the plot of a judge, but fear the power of sin. A man does you no harm, unless you harm yourself. And if you have no sin, even if ten thousand swords are set against you, God will deliver you; if you have sin, even if you are in paradise, you fall. Adam was in paradise, and he fell; Job was on a dung heap, and he was crowned. What did paradise profit that one? What did the dung heap harm this one? No one plotted against that one, and he was tripped up; the devil plotted against this one, and he was crowned. Did he not take his wealth? But he did not plunder his piety. Did he not snatch away his children? But he did not shake his faith. Did he not tear his body? But he did not find the treasure. Keep this law for me, I beseech you, and I touch your knees—if not with my hand, yet with my intent—and I pour out tears: keep this law for me, and no one will ever be able to wrong you.

Did you see the prophet and king—I mean David—warring, falling, rising, and conquering? Did you see sin lying upon him, and slain through repentance? Do you see him even after the grace of the Spirit, after his boldness toward God, after a multitude of right actions, after so many trophies, proclaiming and saying: Have mercy on me, O God, according to your great mercy. You said "great"; say how great—for I know it is great, but I cannot measure or comprehend it. I have stretched myself out upon the sea of my Master's love for humanity. And what are you saying? Tell me. You heard the prophet saying, And the Lord has taken away your sin. What more do you seek? It is not only this that I seek, he says, but I seek my beauty, I seek my boldness: Wash me more thoroughly from my lawlessness. Do you see what he seeks? And he seeks still a greater radiance and a greater purity. And what do you give, O David, that you seek these things? What do I give? That I know my lawlessness. Is this what you give? And who is the man who does not know his own sin? Yes, he says, how many are there who sin and are bold, how many who oppress their neighbors and do not mourn? But I know my lawlessness, and my sin is before me continually. O nobility of soul! He did not hand over the memory of his sin to forgetfulness, but even when it was forgiven he wrote it down as in an image on his conscience; and see what happens. If you remember it, God does not remember it; but if you forget it, God remembers it. Have you done something evil? Remember it, so that your Master may forget it. Have you done something good?

Keep it hidden, so that your Master may say it himself; for you do not speak your own good deeds as he does. And how? Listen: If you give to a poor man, when asked you say, "I saw a poor man hungry, and I fed him"; but your Master does not speak so, but how? "I was hungry and you fed me." Therefore, whenever you sin, do not wait for another's accusation, but before you are accused, condemn what has been done; for if another reproves you, the achievement is no longer of your own confession, but the correction is of that one's accusation. For it is not this that is to confess—to accuse oneself after reproofs—but to accuse oneself first, and not to wait for reproofs from others. For indeed Peter too, after that grievous denial, since he quickly reminded himself of his sin, and with no one accusing him, both spoke of his transgression and wept bitterly, and so washed away the denial, so as even to become first of the apostles and to be entrusted with the whole inhabited world. For if the priest has received authority to loose sins against God, much more will he be able to abolish and wipe out those committed against man. He too is a ruler, and a ruler more august than the king. For the sacred laws, bearing the royal head itself in his hands, have subjected it to him; and whenever something good must come from above, the king is accustomed to flee to the priest, not the priest to the king.

For this reason God did not bring down angels from the heavens and make them teachers of human nature, lest, because of the superiority of their nature and their freedom from human weakness, they should make their rebukes against us more relentlessly through ignorance; but he gave mortal men as teachers and priests, men clothed with weakness, so that this very fact—that both the speaker and the hearers are liable to the same things—might become a bridle on the speaker's tongue, not permitting him to make accusations beyond measure. And for what reason have I said these things? So that you may not say, "You, being pure from sins and free from the pain that comes with rebuke, bring a heavier incision upon us with great authority." For I am the first to feel the pain, since I too am liable to sins; for we are all under rebuke, and no one will boast that he has a pure heart. So it is not by philosophizing over others' evils, nor out of any inhumanity, but out of great care that I make these reproofs. For in the case of those who heal bodies, the one who inflicts the blow receives no sensation of the blow, and the one being cut is the only one torn apart by pains; but in the case of those who heal souls it is not so—unless perhaps I am mistaken, judging the affairs of others from my own—but the speaker himself feels pain first, whenever to others

he rebukes. For we are not so pained when we are reproved by others as when we reprove others for sins of which we ourselves are guilty. Do you wish to learn how great a virtue it is to remember one's own sins? In the matter of spending money, as soon as we rise from bed, before we go out into the marketplace or take up any private or public business, we call our steward and demand an account of what has been spent, so that we may see what has been spent badly and what properly, and how much remains; and if we see that little remains, we devise in every way sources of income, so that we may not be ruined by hunger without noticing it. Let us do this, then, also with our own actions: having disciplined our conscience, let us make it give an account of our words, our deeds, our thoughts; let us examine what has been spent properly and what to our own harm; what speech has been spent badly, on insults, on foul language, on outrages; what thought has stirred the eye to licentiousness; what word has been carried into action to our own harm, whether through the hands, or through the tongue, or through the eyes themselves; and let us strive to abstain from unseasonable expenditure, and instead of what has once been spent badly, to lay up another source of income—instead of words uttered in vain, prayers; instead of licentious looks, almsgiving and fastings. For if we are going to spend unseasonably and lay up nothing and store up no good for ourselves, having been brought down to the utmost poverty, we shall without noticing it send ourselves on to the immortal punishment of fire.

How much better, then, is it to exchange a temporary compunction and lamentation for immortal blessings and a pleasure that has no end, than to laugh briefly and temporarily in this life here and depart to be punished there immortally? For if Paul, so great and so eminent, who ran through the whole inhabited world as if on wings, and had become superior to bodily necessities, and was deemed worthy to hear those ineffable words which until today no other has heard, wrote saying, "I buffet my body and bring it into subjection, lest after preaching to others I myself should become disqualified"—what should we say, who are weighed down with burdens of sins and, besides this, display great negligence? For does this war have no respite? It is necessary always to be sober and watchful, and never to be at ease, since there is no fixed time for the attack of the one who wars against us. Homily 25. On the coming judgment. Many of the people among us, nailed to the flesh and enslaved to present things, think that the things after these are nothing, and putting forward the philanthropy of God, they say that there is no punishment or retribution. If, then, God is philanthropic, as indeed he is, he would also be entirely just; and if he is just, how would it not be just that the one who from the beginning has enjoyed countless good things, then has done things worthy of punishment, and has become better neither by threat nor by beneficence, be punished? For if you examine what is just, from the beginning and immediately we ought to have perished according to the reasoning of justice rather than—for it also had philanthropy—if we had suffered this that did not happen.

For whenever someone insults a person who has done no wrong, by the principle of justice he certainly pays the penalty; but when someone not only insults his benefactor—one who has suffered no evil at his hands but has done countless good things and alone became the cause of his very existence—but also grieves him every day by what he does, of what forgiveness will such a man be worthy? Tell me, how is it that you are not afraid, speaking reckless words, when you say, "God is a lover of mankind and does not punish"? But if he does punish, will he be found, according to you, no longer a lover of mankind? For why, tell me, do you not think it right that a sinner be punished? Did he not foretell everything to you? Did he not threaten? Did he not help? Did he not do countless things for your salvation? If, then, the wicked are not punished, someone else will perhaps say again that neither are the good crowned; and where is the love of mankind and the righteous judgment of God? Do not, then, deceive yourselves, O men, by obeying the devil; for these thoughts are his. For if judges and masters and teachers honor the good but punish the wicked, how could it make sense for the opposite to happen with God, and for the good and the wicked to be deemed worthy of the same things? And when will the wicked ever be freed from their wickedness? For if, even while expecting punishment, they do not depart from wickedness, if they also thrust aside this fear, and not only do they not fall into Gehenna but even attain the kingdom, when will they stop doing evil? I have heard some who love sin saying that God threatened Gehenna for the fear of men; God forbid that he, being merciful, would punish anyone, and especially those who have known him.

Tell me, then, you who declare God to be a liar: who flooded the whole inhabited world in the time of Noah, and wrought that dreadful shipwreck, and brought about the utter destruction of our entire race? Who sent those thunderbolts and fiery blasts upon the land of Sodom? Who drowned all of Egypt? Who consumed the six hundred thousand in the wilderness? Who burned up the assembly of Abiram? Who commanded the earth to open its mouth and swallow Korah and Dathan and their company? Who brought down the seventy thousand in a single moment of time in the days of David? Who put to death the one hundred and eighty-five thousand in one night in the time of the prophecy of Isaiah? And do you not see how many daily calamities we bear because we sin? How could it be reasonable that some are punished and others are not? For if God is not unjust—as indeed he is not unjust—then you too will certainly pay the penalty for your sins; but if, because God is a lover of mankind, he does not punish, then neither should those others have been punished. But as it is, for these very reasons God punishes many even here, so that, when you do not believe the threat in words, you may at least believe the punishment in deeds. Do we then persuade those who contradict, that the account concerning Gehenna is not a myth? For it is so true that not only we, but also poets and philosophers and storytellers have philosophized about the future recompense, and have said that the wicked are punished in Hades.

For even if they were unable to speak these things with truth as they really are, since they were moved by their own reasonings and by reports from among us, nevertheless they received a certain image of judgment. For they speak of certain Cocytuses and Pyriphlegethon rivers and the water of Styx and Tartarus, as far distant from the earth as the earth is from heaven, and many modes of punishment; and again the Elysian plain, and the islands of the blessed, and meadows in full bloom, and abundant fragrance, and a gentle breeze; and choruses spending their time there, and clothed in white robes, and singing certain hymns; and in general a recompense laid up for both the good and the wicked after the departure from here. Let us not, then, disbelieve in Gehenna, so that we may not fall into it; for the one who disbelieves becomes more slack; and the one who is slack will certainly depart into it; but let us also believe without hesitation, and let us converse continually about it, and we will not quickly sin. For the remembrance of such words, like some bitter medicine, will be able to wipe away all wickedness, settling continually in our soul. If you are harsh and unmerciful, remember those virgins who, when their lamps had gone out because they had no oil, fell out from the bridal chamber, and you will quickly become humane. If you wish to seize by force, hear the judge saying, Bind his hands and feet, and cast him into the outer darkness; and you will cast out this desire. If you desire to get drunk and live in luxury, hear the rich man saying, Send Lazarus, that he may cool with the tip of his finger my tongue which is being roasted; and he does not obtain his request; and you will quickly depart from the passion. If

If you have the fire of evil desire, think of that fire of punishment, and this fire will be quenched and depart. Consider, even if there were no fire, how great a punishment it is to stand apart from God and to withdraw in dishonor; believe me, it is not possible to set forth that suffering in words, it is not possible. For if those who do not behold the light of the sun endure a life more bitter than any death, what is it likely that we shall suffer when we are deprived of that light? And why do we live and breathe and exist at all, if we fail to attain that vision? If no one then permits us to behold our Master? If someone of noble upbringing is thrown into a prison here, the stench alone, and lying in darkness, and being bound with murderers, seems more grievous than any death; consider what it will be when we are burned there with the murderers of the whole world, neither seeing nor being seen, but in so great a multitude thinking that we are alone. For the darkness and the absence of light does not allow us even to recognize those near us, but each one will be in such a state as though he alone were suffering this. For even if it is called fire, it is dark and has no light. And this is what most disturbs and troubles us, that though it burns fiercely it is neither quenched nor has light. But if darkness alone so oppresses and troubles our souls by itself, what will it be when along with the darkness there are such pains and burnings? For do not, because Gehenna is called fire, suppose that the fire is like this; for this fire, whatever it takes hold of, it consumes and releases;

But that fire burns those once seized by it continually and never stops. For this reason it is also called unquenchable; for he wishes those who have sinned to put on incorruption—not for honor, but so that they may have an enduring provision for that punishment. But these things are in Gehenna, and things more bitter than these; but the loss of good things has such pain, such affliction and distress, that even if no punishment were laid up for those who sin here, this alone by itself would suffice to bite and agitate our souls more bitterly than the torments in Gehenna. But if, when we enter a prison and see some squalid, some bound with iron chains, some shut up in darkness, we are broken down, we shudder, we do everything so as not to fall into such necessity and affliction—when we ourselves are led away bound to the very torments of Gehenna, what will we be? What will we do? For those bonds are not of iron, but are from fire that is never quenched; nor are those who stand over us of equal rank with us, whom one can often appease, but fearful and pitiless angels, whom it is not even possible to look in the face, fiercely angry on account of the things in which we insulted the Master. It is not possible, as here, to see some bringing money, some food, some persuasive words, and to obtain consolation, but all things there are unforgivable; and even if it be Noah, even if it be Job, even if it be Daniel, and they see their own being punished, they do not dare to stand by and extend a hand; for it happens then that natural compassion is taken away.

For since righteous men are found to be fathers of sinful children, and good children of wicked parents, yet their joy must be pure, and they must not be broken down by the compulsion of fellow-feeling while they enjoy those good things—I say that this too is quenched, and that they themselves grieve together with the Master against their own affections. Therefore let no one hope for good things without having done anything good, even if he has ten thousand righteous ancestors. For when we have spent the time given to us on nothing needful, we shall all depart there, paying the final penalty for the unseasonable expenditure. For if the man who received money to trade with, and then devoured it, will be called to account by the one who entrusted it to him and will pay the penalty, how much more the man who has spent this life in vain? And just as we examine our own servants, rendering an account not only of the outgoing of money but also of the incoming—from where, and how much, and from whom, and how they received the money—so indeed God also demands the reckoning both of the expenditure and of the acquisition, from both rich and poor: from the rich, whether he gathered his wealth from righteous sources or from robbery and greed; whether he spent the money on fornication or on the poor; whether on luxury and debauchery and drunkenness, or on help for those who are wronged; and from the poor man, whether he bore his poverty nobly and thankfully, whether he did not resent it, whether he did not chafe at it, whether he did not accuse the providence of God, seeing himself in want while another lives in luxury and does not lack according to his substance.

Not only the rich and the poor, but also rulers and judges are examined with great strictness—whether they have corrupted justice, whether they have voted out of favor or out of hatred toward those on trial, whether, flattered, they have cast their vote contrary to what is right. For the higher each man has climbed to the lofty bulk of authority, the greater the account he will be required to give. And the shameful pleasures of life differ in no way from shadows and dreams; for before the things of sin are completed, the things of pleasure are extinguished; but the punishments for these have no end; and the sweet lasts but a little while, the painful is eternal. For this very reason God speaks to us continually about Gehenna, so that we may gain much from the threat and the fear. For if, when about to cast sinners into it, he had not spoken this threat, many would have fallen into it. For if now, when fear shakes our souls, there are some who sin so easily as though it did not exist—if none of these things had been said or threatened, what terrible thing would we not have done? So the matter is not of cruelty, but rather of mercy and love for mankind. For indeed, if destruction had not been threatened against Jonah, the destruction would not have been prevented; if he had not said that Nineveh would be destroyed, Nineveh would not have stood; and if Gehenna had not been threatened, we would all have fallen into Gehenna. For if God cared nothing about our sinning or our doing right, perhaps there would be some reason to say that there is no punishment.

If he takes such care that we should not sin, and works so hard that we should keep the commandments aright, it is manifest that he also punishes those who sin and crowns those who keep them aright. But observe for me the inconsistency of the many. For here they accuse God because he is often long-suffering and overlooks many who are vile, licentious, and greedy, who do not pay the penalty; there again, if he threatens to punish them, they are vehement and severe in their accusations. And yet, if this grieves them, they ought to accept and admire that other. But, O the folly, O the sin-loving and pleasure-loving soul, that despising the threat that comes from words, they will undergo the punishment that comes from deeds. For no one of those here who have not dissolved their sins will be able, having departed there, to escape the reckoning for them; but just as those who are led from these prisons with their chains to the court, so also those who depart from here, wearing around them the varied chains of their sins, are led to the dread tribunal. Whenever, then, you are in a bathhouse heated more fiercely than is fitting, then think for me of the fire of Gehenna; and whenever again you are scorched by a grievous fever, transfer your mind to that flame, and then you will be able to rise up well. For if a bathhouse and a fever so disturb and distress us, when we fall into that river of fire, which is drawn along before the fearful tribunal, how then shall we be disposed?

And the one who departs thither with many works, both good and evil, will have some consolation in that punishment and those torments; but the one who is destitute of these, and brings only those, it is not even possible to say what he will suffer as he is sent away to the immortal punishment. For there will be there a confrontation of evil deeds and of deeds that are not such; and if these drag down the balance, they have saved their worker no little; and so great was the harm of the working of evil deeds, as to drag him down from the first place; but if those prevail, they lead him away to the fire of Gehenna, because the multitude of his good deeds is not so great as to be able to stand against that violent thrust. For no good thing at all, even if it be small, will be overlooked there by the judge. For if we are going to pay the penalty for sins and words and thoughts, much more will good deeds, whether great or small, be taken into account. It is not enough, then, to be rid of wickedness, but there is need also of much working of good. For in order that we may be rid of Gehenna, we must abstain from evil; but in order that we may attain the kingdom, we must cling to virtue. For indeed it is the custom in the case of outsiders, not to crown the one who has done nothing evil—for this alone suffices for him so as not to give satisfaction—but the one who has shown great benefactions. But indeed, while I was reckoning in the midst, that for not falling into Gehenna our withdrawal from evils suffices, a certain fearful threat crept in, not bringing punishment upon those who have dared some evil, but punishing those who have fallen short in some good.

What, then, is this? "Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire; for I was hungry, and you did not give me to eat." For we believe that those who did not share with the needy from what they themselves had are punished not only with the deprivation of good things, but are also sent away to the fire of Gehenna. Let us be instructed, then, that those who have done good things will enjoy the good things in the heavens; but those who, though they have nothing evil to be charged with, have yet fallen short of some good thing, will be led away with those who have done evil into the fire of Gehenna. For if, among the rulers on earth, the one who transgresses the laws undergoes inexorable punishment, much more will the one who sets aside the commandments of the heavenly Master be handed over to unbearable torments. I know that speaking about Gehenna appears burdensome to you, and produces much pain; but as much as it stings the conscience, so much does it also benefit the mind of those who are stung. For if these things were being said to us there, as to the rich man in the case of Lazarus, we would truly need to lament and wail and mourn, because no time for repentance would any longer be left to us; but since, while we are here, we hear these things, where it is possible both to rouse ourselves and to wash away our sins, and to acquire much boldness, and, having been frightened by the evils that have befallen others, to change our ways, let us give thanks to the loving God, who through the punishment of others has stirred up our sluggishness and awakens us while we sleep. And for what reason are some punished here, and others there, and not all here? Because, if this were so, we would all perish; for we are all under correction.

Again, if no one were punished here, the majority would become more careless, and many would say that there is no providence. For if now, seeing many of the wicked being punished, they blaspheme in many such ways, if nothing of the sort existed, what would they not say? And to what madness would they not come? For this reason God punishes some here, and does not punish others. For he punishes some, cutting off their wickedness and making their punishment there lighter, or even releasing them completely, and making those who live in wickedness more temperate by their punishment; but again he does not punish others, so that, if they attend to themselves and repent, and, reverencing the longsuffering of God, they may be delivered both from the punishment here and from the torment there; but if they persist, profiting nothing from the forbearance of God, they may undergo a greater punishment because of their excessive contempt. For when we sin and are punished by God, instead of what we owed to be punished for, this very thing will be able most especially to cast us more greatly into the fire. For if one who enjoys longsuffering only, if he does not use it as he ought, has a harsher punishment, when along with longsuffering he also has the greatest honors, and then persists in wickedness, who will rescue him from the punishment? And just as not to pay the penalty here for their

of sins, he makes the punishment there more severe; thus for those who sin to enjoy great ease and prosperity becomes a provision for those who sin and an occasion of greater punishment. If the one who calls his brother a fool is worthy of the last punishment, how much fire of Gehenna will the one who accuses him as a malefactor, and a slanderer, and countless other such things, heap up for himself? For "fool" is much lighter than the things said, in terms of insult. Therefore, passing over those things, Christ set this down, so that you may learn that if the more bearable word draws Gehenna against the one who says it, much more will the heaviest and most unbearable things do this. But if some, condemning the hyperbole of the statement, think that this threat was spoken only to frighten, it is time for them to release both adulterers and idolaters from the punishment mentioned. For if he threatened slanderers for the sake of fear, it is clear that he did so to those also; for having gathered all together, he then brought in the exclusion from the kingdom. What then, he says, will the slanderer lie with the adulterer and the effeminate? Whether he will give them the same penalty is a question for another time; but that that one will fall from the kingdom likewise, I am persuaded by Paul saying, or rather by Christ working in him, that neither these nor those will inherit the kingdom of God. If some hidden deed of ours were brought into the open today in the church alone, would he not be undone and pray that the earth would rather open for him, than to have so many witnesses of his wickedness?

What then shall we suffer at that time, when all things are brought into the open before the whole inhabited world, in so bright and conspicuous a theater, with all things scrutinized by those known and unknown to us? Whose shall we be, when we are bound and led away into the outer darkness? Or rather, what shall we do—which is the most fearful thing of all—when we have offended God? For if anyone has perception and understanding, he has already endured hell itself, when he has come to the sight of God. For indeed it was necessary to grieve, not when we are punished, but when we sin; for to offend God is harder to bear than to be punished. But now we are so wretchedly disposed that, were there no fear of hell, we would not even readily choose to do anything good. Therefore, even if for no other reason, at least for this reason we would be worthy of hell, in that we fear hell more than God. For those who sin greatly and are not punished ought to fear and dread; for their punishment is increased through their impunity and through the longsuffering of God. When, then, you see someone unjustly rich and prospering, do not call him blessed, but weep for such a one; for this wealth is an addition of punishment to him. For just as those who have sinned greatly and do not wish to repent store up for themselves a treasure of wrath, so those who, along with not being punished, also enjoy prosperity will undergo a greater punishment. For the punishments of sins are not all the same, but many and various, differing in times, in persons, in dignities, and in understanding.

For even if two men are wicked, and here they did not enjoy the same things, but one lived in wealth and the other in poverty, they will not be punished equally there, but the wealthier more severely. For this is why God does not exact punishment from all here, lest you despair of the resurrection and give up hope of the judgment, thinking that all give account here; nor does he let all go unpunished, lest you again suppose that all things are without providence. Surely many now do the same things as those who were punished long ago for their sins? Indeed. For when you destroy a spiritual brother, not a fleshly one, as Cain did, have you not done the same? For what does it matter if not with a sword, but in another way? Did no one then envy his own brother? Did no one surround him with dangers? But here they did not pay the penalty. Yet they will pay it. For if the man who neither heard written laws nor prophets, nor beheld great signs, gives such great punishment, will the man who later did the same things, and was not brought to his senses even by so many examples, go unpunished? And where is God's justice?

But the sons of Eli, because they ate before the incense offering, paid a most severe penalty along with their father. Was there ever a father careless about his children, or children wicked? But no one paid a penalty. When, then, will they pay it, unless there is a hell? What about Ananias and Sapphira, who, because they stole from what they had dedicated, were punished on the spot? Did no one from that time do this? How is it, then, that they did not pay the same penalty? Are we convincing you that there is a hell, or will we need more examples? I myself would wish that there were no punishment, and I more than all others. For what reason? Because each of you fears for his own soul, but I also submit to an accounting for this oversight. So it is especially impossible for me, more than all others, to escape this. Therefore God is good and loving toward mankind not only when he benefits but also when he punishes. For his punishments and penalties are a very great part of his beneficence; since a physician is a physician equally not only when he leads the sick man out into parks and meadows, nor only into baths and pools of water, but also when he orders him to remain without food, when he cuts, when he applies bitter medicines, and then he displays his love for mankind even more. So when you see someone cultivating virtue and enduring countless trials, call him blessed, be zealous, since all his sins are being dissolved here, and many rewards for his endurance are being prepared there. For of men, some are punished only here; but others suffer nothing of the kind here, and receive the whole punishment there.

But those who are punished both here and there. Whom, then, do you count blessed out of these three? First, I well know, those who are punished here and lay aside their sins; and second after them, whom? You perhaps would say those who suffer nothing here, but endure the whole punishment there; but I do not say these, but those who are punished both here and there. For the one who has paid the penalty here will feel the punishment there more lightly; but the one compelled to endure the whole punishment there will have a judgment that admits no pardon. For why does God foretell the terrors he is about to bring? So that he may not bring what he foretells. This is why he also threatened Gehenna: so that he might not lead us away into Gehenna. For let the words, he says, frighten you, and let not the realities grieve you. Your promises are good, Master; your kingdom that is awaited is good, and Gehenna again threatened; for the kingdom exhorts well, and Gehenna frightens usefully. For God threatens Gehenna, not so that he may cast us into Gehenna, but so that he may deliver us from Gehenna; for if he wished to punish, he would not have threatened beforehand, so that we, taking heed, might escape the things threatened. He threatens the punishment so that we may flee the experience of the punishment; he frightens by word, so that he may not punish by deed. For the one who does not expect to rise again, nor to give an account of what he has done here, but thinks that our affairs stand only as far as the present life, and that there is nothing more beyond it, will neither take care for virtue nor abstain from vice, but giving himself over to shameful desires, he will pursue every form of wickedness.

But the man who has convinced himself about the coming judgment, and keeps that fearful tribunal before his eyes, along with the inexorable accounts and the verdict that admits no evasion, will try in every way to hold fast to chastity and gentleness and the rest of virtue, and to flee from licentiousness and recklessness and all the rest of wickedness. For a word will not accomplish as much as fear accomplishes; for the fear of Gehenna will win for us the crown of the kingdom. I know that many have shuddered at Gehenna alone; but I say that the loss of the glory of the heavens is a punishment far more bitter than Gehenna. And if it cannot be set before us in words, that is no wonder; for we do not even know the blessedness of those good things, so that we might also clearly see the wretchedness that comes from being deprived of them; since Paul, who knew these things clearly, knows that to fall from the glory of Christ is harder than all things. And we shall know this then, when we have fallen into the very experience of it. But may we never suffer this, O only-begotten Son of God, nor ever have any experience of this incurable punishment; for Gehenna and that punishment are unbearable; yet even if you set forth ten thousand Gehennas, you will say nothing like this—to fall from that blessed glory, to be hated by Christ, to hear, I do not know you, to be accused that when he was hungry we did not feed him. For it is better to endure ten thousand thunderbolts than to see that gentle face turned away from us, and that sweet eye not enduring to look upon us.

For if he himself so pursued me, though I was an enemy and hated him and turned away from him, that he did not spare even himself, but delivered himself up to death, when after all those things I do not deem him worthy of bread while he hungers, with what kind of eyes shall I look upon him thereafter? Tell me, then, if someone promised you, grown old and living in poverty, that he would suddenly make you young, and bring you to the very prime of life, and make you exceedingly strong and more beautiful than all, and give you the kingdom of the whole earth for a thousand years, what would you not choose to do and to suffer for this prospect? But Christ promises not these things, but things far greater than these, which he has prepared for those who love him—how much money is it not worth surrendering? Or rather, how many souls is it not worth surrendering? But since it is not possible to see these things with bodily eyes, ascend in your reasoning, and standing above this heaven, look up to that heaven which is higher than this one, to the boundless height, to the unapproachable light, to the assemblies of the angels, and again take hold of the image among us, having come down from above, and describe to me the things concerning the king on earth—such as men wearing gold, and a pair of white mules adorned with gold, and a chariot inlaid with gold and the plates shaken around it, and dragons fashioned on silk garments, and shields having golden eyes, and horses wearing gold, and golden bridles; and having gathered these things carefully, from them transfer your reasoning again to the things above, and think upon that fearful day on which Christ comes.

For you will not see then a pair of mules, nor golden chariots, nor dragons and cobras, but the whole heaven opened, and the only-begotten Son of God descending, not with twenty or a hundred spear-bearers attending him, but with thousands and tens of thousands of angels and archangels; and all things will be full of fear and trembling, as all the men who have ever existed, from the time Adam came to be until that day, rise from the earth and are caught up; and he himself appears with such glory that the sun and the moon hide all their light, outshone by that radiance, and he renders to each according to his works. But many of those who are more unreasonably disposed think that being punished in Gehenna along with everyone else brings them some consolation; for this saying is exceedingly cold: "that everyone, and I too." Consider for me those afflicted with gout, who, when they are racked by sharp pain, even if you point out ten thousand suffering worse things, do not take it to heart at all. For the intensity of the pain does not allow the reasoning mind any leisure to consider others and find consolation. Let us not, then, feed on these cold hopes. For to receive consolation from the misfortunes of one's neighbor happens in moderate sufferings; but when the torment exceeds all bounds and all things within are full of tempest, and the soul can no longer even know itself, from where will it harvest consolation?

If someone led you into a theater where all were seated clothed in golden robes, and in the midst of the crowd he pointed out another man whose garments and the crown on his head were made of stones and pearls alone, and then promised to enroll you among that people, would you not have done everything to obtain this promise? But now, not from such things, but from things that cannot even be interpreted, is the theater in the heavens composed for us (for concerning the King it is not even possible to speak), so that we should not labor for a little time and deprive ourselves of so many good things? For if it were necessary to endure ten thousand deaths each day—even if it were for the sake of seeing Christ coming in his glory and being counted among the choir of the saints—was it not necessary to endure all those things? But most of those who are more unreasonably disposed set it down as desirable merely to be delivered from Gehenna; but I say that it is a much harsher punishment than Gehenna not to be in the glory of Christ, and I think that one who has fallen from there ought not so much to mourn the evils in Gehenna as the falling away from the Master; for this alone is harsher than all things in the matter of punishment. If we loved Christ as we ought to love him, we would have known something harsher than Gehenna—to offend the one who is loved; but since we do not love him, we do not know the magnitude of this punishment; and this is what I especially lament and bewail. For if it were a man who so loved, and a king who was so loved, would he not have been ashamed at the greatness of the love? Most certainly.

But when the opposite is the case, and the beauty and glory and wealth of the one who loves us are beyond words, while our own worthlessness is great, how are we not worthy of countless punishments—we who are so worthless and cast away, yet are loved with every excess by one so great and wonderful, and who despise his love, though he values nothing above us? For he had one only-begotten and true Son, and he did not spare even him for our sake; but we prefer the commands of Satan to him. Is it not then with good reason that Gehenna and punishment exist, even if they were double and triple and ten thousand times as great? Do not condemn my lamentation; for it is not lamenting, beloved, that is grievous, but doing things worthy of lamentation; nor is mourning abominable, but doing things that cause mourning. Do not be punished, and I do not mourn; do not be cast into Gehenna, and I do not wail. For it is better for us to be stung by these things now than to be punished in that time. But you—if your body is weak, you beg everyone to grieve with you, and you consider those who do not grieve with you to be without sympathy; but when your soul is perishing, do you tell me not to mourn? But I cannot; for I am a father, and a loving father. Would that it were possible for you to see the fire of my mind, and you would know that I am burned more than any woman who has endured untimely widowhood. Not so does a woman mourn her own husband, nor a father his son, as I mourn this multitude among us, when I see no progress in you. But all is spent on slander and accusation, and all our time is consumed in accusing. Have you ever seen those being led away to death?

What do you think their soul is like, as they walk the road all the way to the gate? What is it not worse than countless deaths? What would they not choose to do and to suffer, so as to be released from that murk and cloud? I have heard many say—men who by the emperor's benevolence were called back after their deportation—that we did not even see men as men, the soul being thrown into confusion and astonishment and beside itself. If, then, a bodily death so frightens you, when the eternal one comes, what shall we do? When we see the earth torn apart, when we see the heaven drawn together, when the King of all himself comes, what then will our soul be? If, when others are being put to death—a death that differs in no way from sleep—those who have no share in it are so affected that their soul lies prostrate and enfeebled from fear and despondency, when we ourselves fall into greater things, being punished eternally, what will our condition be? It is not possible, believe me, to set the suffering before you in words; it is not possible. Yes, he says, but God is benevolent, and none of these things will be. Then was it written in vain? No, he says, but only as a threat, so that we may be chastened. If, then, we are not chastened,

But shall we remain wicked, and will he not bring on the punishment? Then neither will he repay the good their rewards. Yes, he says; for this is fitting, and to do good even beyond what is deserved. So then, are those things true and will they certainly come to pass, but the things of punishments not certainly, but only for the sake of threat and fear? What then? Have you not heard about the flood? Were those things too spoken only for the sake of a threat? Did they not come out and happen? Such things those men also kept saying, and while the ark was being built over a hundred years, and the righteous man was crying out, there was no one who believed; but since they did not believe the threat made through words, they underwent the punishment made through deeds. Let us strive with all our power to escape the experience of it, so that we may both pass through this present life with ease and attain the good things to come, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom be glory to the Father together with the Holy Spirit, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen. Homily 26. On virtue and vice. There are some here who take care for virtue, who, preferring withdrawal from the city, occupy the mountains; and if one asks the reason for their withdrawal, he finds a pretext that has no excuse: For, he says, so that I may not be ruined, nor become duller in virtue, I leap away. And how much better would it be for you to become duller and to gain others, than while remaining on a height to look on while your brothers perish? When, then, some neglect virtue, and those who take care for it are far from the battle line, how shall we take the enemies?

For if there were signs now, who would be persuaded, or who of those outside would pay attention to us, when wickedness is so prevalent? For indeed our upright life seems to most people to be more trustworthy. For signs from shameless and wicked men will even receive a wicked suspicion; but a pure life will be able to stop the very mouth of the devil with great abundance. If, then, being on the earth and not being on it comes about by manner and choice, and it is possible for the one who wishes not to be on the earth, as with those around Paul, let us remove ourselves from the earth and ascend to heaven. For nothing prevents us all from surpassing, if indeed we wish it. For if we master arts that surpass most people, how much more that which does not require so much labor? For tell me, what is harder than walking on a stretched rope as though on level ground, and walking above to put on and take off clothes, as though sitting on a bed? Or tell me, what is harder than taking a pole on the forehead, then placing a child on top, and doing countless things and entertaining the spectators? Does not the matter seem to us so fearful that we do not even wish to watch, but are afraid and tremble even at the very sight? But virtue is easier than all these things, if we wish even to ascend to heaven itself. And do not say to me, "I wish, but I cannot." For if, wishing to get inside some matter, we are not satisfied with wishing alone, but also lay hold of the matter, how much more, wishing to ascend to heaven, will we need practical virtue.

But if you wish to learn that virtue is not laborious, nor hard to accomplish, consider with me those who dwell at rest in the mountains: who leave behind houses and wives and children and all authority, and having made themselves outside the world, putting on sackcloth, spreading ashes beneath them, hanging a collar on their neck, shutting themselves up in a small cell, they do not stop even there, but strain themselves with fastings and continual hunger. And do not tell me that those men were able; for many who are much weaker than you and richer and more luxurious have undertaken that harsh and rugged life. But that contest is great and the peak is high and the summit is near to heaven, and you cannot reach the great? Therefore, at least hold to the lesser things, and aspire to the lower. You cannot empty out your wealth? At least do not seize the things of others; you cannot fast? At least do not lead yourself out into luxury. For since Christ suffered so much for us while we were enemies, what are we able to show of what we have suffered for his sake—nothing. From where, then, will our boldness be on that day? Do you not know that even the soldier, when he displays wounds and scars, then will be able to be illustrious before the king; but if he has no achievement to show, even if he has offended in nothing, he will be placed among the last? But it is not the time of war, he says. For if it were, tell me, who would have fought? Who would have leaped forward? Who would have broken through the line? Perhaps no one. For when I see that you do not despise wealth for the sake of Christ, how shall I believe you that you will despise blows?

He said, "Bring those who insult you, and bless them"; and this you do not do, but you disobey. What carries no danger, you do not do, and will you endure blows—tell me—where the pain and anguish are great? Let us not, then, deceive ourselves, saying, "For a little while let us enjoy the pleasures of life, and later, having labored for a short time, we shall receive the reward of all time." For if one scarcely sees an earthly king with boldness after enduring many dangers and accomplishing many wars, how will anyone be able to see the heavenly King, having lived and served as a soldier for another his whole life? You received nobility from God; why do you betray the virtue of your nature? What are you doing, tell me? Others have arts by which, as far as is possible, they transfer irrational creatures to the nobility of humans, training parrots and jays to utter human speech; and by art they constrain nature; they make lions tame by dragging them through the marketplace. You make the lion tame, and you make yourself wilder than wolves? And what is more grievous, that each of the irrational creatures has one defect, but in a wicked man this is not so; for a man does not often possess one defect, but gathers into his own soul the vices of many irrational creatures. Do not, then, show me that you have a human soul, but whether you are a man in your mind. You are a ruler of the irrational creatures, and have you become a slave of the irrational passions within you? How then shall I call you a man, who do not have the stamp of kingship? Consider after whose image you were made, and do not be dragged down to the cheapness of the irrational creatures.

For just as in the theaters those who practice walking up and down a rope stretched from below to above, if they look aside a little and turn aside, will be carried down and perish; so also those who travel the spiritual road, if they grow a little slack, are dashed down headlong. For this road is both narrower than that rope, and steeper and more uphill, and far higher; for it ends up at heaven itself; and then our steps will be more slippery when we are up high and near the very summit. For those who stand on a height have great trembling, and only one safety remains: not to stoop down nor to look at the ground; for from this comes the great and grievous dizziness. And just as on the lyre it is not enough to produce the melody from one string alone, but one must go through all of them with the proper rhythm, so also in the virtue of the soul one law is not enough for us for salvation, but we must keep them all with exactness. For what is the benefit, tell me, when someone prays earnestly but does not give alms generously? Or when he gives alms generously but is grasping and violent? Or when he is neither grasping nor violent, but does it for the display of men and the vainglory of those who see? Or when he gives alms with all exactness and according to what is pleasing to God, but is puffed up and proud on this very account? Or when he is humble and devoted to fasts, but is a lover of money and a trafficker and nailed to the earth, and brings into his soul the mother of evils, the love of money? For it is not possible, he says, to serve God and mammon.

For this reason also the loving-kindness of God so ordered it that all should be together in the same place, and that both the wicked and the good should be mingled together, so that both the wickedness of the wicked might be cut off, and the virtue of the good might be shown more brightly, and the slothful might gain the greatest things, if they are willing, from the company of the earnest. For just as the noble and good are worthy of double honor, because they have both become virtuous and have suffered no harm from the wicked; so also the base are worthy of double punishment, because they have both become wicked though they were able to become good, and because they gained nothing from the good. And just as the good are admired not only by the good but also by the wicked, so also the evil are hated not only by the virtuous but also by the base. But the many admire the wicked, as being able to do injustice and to harm, not knowing that they ought most of all to be pitied, because in thinking to harm others they thrust the sword against themselves; which is the height of folly, for one who strikes himself not even to know this very thing, but to think he is harming another when he is slaughtering himself. For it is not being wronged that is evil, but to do wrong and not to know how to bear being wronged. For how much was David wronged? And how much did Saul wrong? Who then became more wretched and pitiable? And who more radiant and blessed? Was it not he who was choked by despondency and the evil demon, while the other shone beyond the sun by his trophies and his goodwill toward God?

Was not one consumed by envy, while the other, bearing all things in silence, won them all and bound them to himself, since the one often attempted to destroy him, while the other, being pursued, took his enemy into his hands, and having taken him, spared him? Who is shown to be weaker, who more powerless? Was it not this man who did not even justly take vengeance? And very reasonably so. For the one had armed soldiers, but the other had righteousness, stronger than ten thousand camps, as his ally and helper. But when this very man, having been wronged and having grown strong, later did wrong, see how he becomes weaker. He wronged Uriah, and the order was reversed again; and weakness passed over to the one who did the wrong, and strength passed over to the one who was wronged, and though dead he was ravaging that man's house; and he himself, being king and alive, prevailed in nothing, while that man, being a soldier and slain, turned all his affairs upside down. When, therefore, you see someone living rightly and always looking to piety, even if he is encircled by ten thousand chains, and dwells in a prison continually, even if he serves the unworthy, even if he is poor, even if he is cast out, even if he is burned, even if his body is consumed little by little, even if he suffers any other terrible thing, call such a man blessed and consider him worthy of emulation; but when you see another living in licentiousness and wickedness and the worst evils, and enjoying great honor, ascending the royal throne itself, wearing a diadem and having purple, and ruling the whole inhabited world, weep because of this for such a man and count him wretched.

For truly nothing is more wretched than a soul so disposed, even if it holds the whole inhabited world in subjection. For what is the benefit of being rich in possessions, when in virtue one is poorer than all? And what is the gain of ruling over so many, when one cannot overcome oneself and one's own passions? For if our own virtue is not sufficient for our salvation, but we must also depart having [saved] others, when we save neither ourselves nor others, what will become of us? From where, then, shall we have hope of salvation? If to please God is what it means to be a human being, then one who does not even wish to hear how he might accomplish this—what else would he be but a beast? Consider, then, how great an evil it would be, when Christ wishes to make us equal to angels from being humans, for us to fall from humans into beasts. For to be a slave to the belly, and to be possessed by the desire for wealth, and to be angry and to bite and to kick, is not the mark of humans but of beasts. Just as, then, when we incline to laziness, we are harmed by whatever happens to come along; so, if we wish to be sober-minded, even if there are countless people dragging us toward vice, nothing will be able to damage our zeal. But if you wish to learn that

God established in nature the laws that distinguish what is good and what is evil; ask our very manner of life. How is it that all who do evil flee the name of their evils? The adulterer commits adultery, but when he hears himself called an adulterer, he is ashamed. Say to the man who is acknowledged as an adulterer, "Adulterer," and what he takes pleasure in doing, he is ashamed to hear. Say to the perjurer, "Perjurer," and he takes as an insult the name of his own deeds. If, then, you consider sin to be good, why do you flee the name? But say to the temperate man, "Temperate," and he is not ashamed even of the name of what he takes pleasure in doing; call the just man just, and he is crowned by the deed and honored by the name; for even if out of modesty he declines the word, yet in his soul he receives the praise. And again, no one will find any vice appearing from its own person unless it has borrowed the person of virtue. And hear how. The liar does not lie by admitting the lie, but by pretending the truth he deceives; the deceitful man does not show his deceit, but he counterfeits friendship and traffics in wickedness; the sycophant, when he enters the courtroom, does not enter admitting what he is, but having set a witness of truth before himself in his outward appearance, through the lie he displays the witness of his wickedness. But our soul too, even if it is steeped in evils, embraces the name of the good.