Eclogae ex diversis homiliis

We shudder—consider what the devil will suffer when he sees the weapon by which Christ loosed all his power and cut off the head of the dragon. Do not, then, be ashamed of so great a good, so that Christ may not be ashamed of you when he comes with his glory, and the sign appears shining before him brighter than the sun's ray. For the cross will then appear, uttering a voice through its appearance, and making defense before the whole inhabited world on behalf of the Master, and showing that nothing was lacking of what pertained to them. This sign also opened closed doors for our forefathers; this sign quenched deadly poisons, this sign dissolved the power of hemlock, this sign healed the bites of venomous beasts. For if it opened the gates of Hades, and threw wide the vaults of heaven, and renewed the entrance to paradise, and cut out the sinews of the devil, what wonder if it prevails over deadly drugs and beasts and other such things? Engrave this, then, upon your mind, and embrace the salvation of our souls. For this cross turned the inhabited world around, drove out error, brought back the truth, made earth heaven, made men angels. Through this, demons are no longer fearsome but contemptible, nor is death death but sleep; through this all things have been cast to the ground, and the things that war against us have been trampled underfoot. If, then, someone says to you, "Do you worship the crucified one?" say with a bright voice and a glad face: "I do worship him, and I will never cease worshiping him"; and even if he laughs at you, weep for him, because he is mad.

Give thanks to the Master, because he has bestowed such benefits on us as no one is able even to learn without revelation from above. For this is also why this man laughs, because his natural man does not accept the things of the Spirit. Since even children suffer this, when they see something great and wonderful; and even if you lead a child into the mysteries, he will laugh. The Greeks resemble these children, or rather they are even more imperfect than they; and therefore more wretched, because it is not at an untimely age, but in full maturity, that they suffer the things of children; hence they are not even worthy of pardon. But let us, with a bright voice and a great and lofty cry, shout and say—even if all the Greeks are present, let us speak with greater boldness—that our boast is the cross, and the sum of all good things, and our boldness and our whole crown. I wished I could say with Paul, "The world has been crucified to me, and I to the world," but I cannot, being held by various passions. Therefore I exhort both you and, before you, myself to be crucified to the world, and to have nothing in common with the earth, but to long for the homeland above, and the glory from there, and the eternal good things. For we are soldiers of the heavenly King and have put on spiritual armor. Why, then, do we pursue the life of hucksters and peddlers, or rather of worms? For where the king is, there the soldier must also be. For we have become soldiers, not of those far off, but of those near. For the king on earth would not endure that all be in the palace, nor beside his own side—

But the God of the heavens wills that all be near the royal throne. And how, he says, is it possible for those who are here to stand by that throne? Because Paul too, while on earth, was where the Seraphim were, where the Cherubim were, and he was nearer to Christ than those shield-bearers of the king. For they often turn their eyes in many directions, but nothing dazzled him or dragged him about, but he kept his whole mind stretched toward the King and Lord. So that if we are willing, this is possible for us too. For if he were separated by place, you would rightly be at a loss; but if he is present everywhere, he is near to the one who is earnest and intent. This is why the prophet also said, I shall not fear evils, because you are with me. And again God himself: I am a God who is near, and not far off. Just as sins therefore separate us from him, so also righteous deeds draw us together to him. For while you are still speaking, he says, I will say, Behold, I am present. What father would ever listen so readily to his descendants? What mother is so prepared and standing continually, lest her children ever call her? There is no one, neither father nor mother, but God stands continually waiting, in case one of his servants should ever call upon him, and he has never disregarded us when we called as we ought. This is why he says, While you are still speaking. I do not wait for you to finish, and I will answer immediately. Let us therefore call upon him as he wishes to be called. And how does he wish it? Loose, he says, every bond of unrighteousness, untie the knots of violent contracts, tear up every unjust document.

Break your bread to the hungry, and bring the poor who are without shelter into your house. If you see the naked, clothe him, and do not overlook the kin of your own seed. Then your light shall break forth early, and your healings shall quickly spring up, and your righteousness shall go before you, and the glory of God shall wrap you around. Then call upon me, and I will hear you; while you are still speaking, I will say, Behold, I am present. And who, he says, is able to do all these things? But who is not able, tell me? For what among the things said is difficult? What is laborious? What is not easy? For it is so, not only possible, but even easy, since many have even surpassed the measure of the things said, not only tearing up unjust documents, but also stripping off all their possessions; not receiving the poor with a roof and a table, but even laboring with the sweat of the body, so as to feed them; benefiting not only relatives, but even enemies. And what at all is difficult among the things said? For he did not say, Cross over the mountain, pass through the sea, dig through so many and so many acres of land, remain fasting, put on sackcloth; but share your house, share your bread, tear up the documents that lie unjustly. What is easier than these, tell me? But if you think them even difficult, look with me also at the prizes, and all things will be easy for you. For just as kings in the hippodromes place crowns and garments and prizes before the contestants, so indeed Christ places the prizes in the middle of the stadium, extending them as if with many hands through the words of the prophet.

And indeed kings, even if they are kings ten thousand times over, since they are human beings and have wealth that is spent and generosity that is exhausted, are eager to display the few as many; and so, entrusting each single item to each of their servants, they bring them forward in this way. But our King does the opposite: gathering all things together at once, since He is exceedingly rich and does nothing for display, He sets before us in this way the things which, when spread out, will be infinite and will need many hands to contain them. And so that you may learn this, examine each of them with precision. Then, it says, your light shall break forth early. Does it not seem to you to be one gift? But it is not one; for it contains many things within it, both crowns and prizes and other rewards. And, if you wish, let us unloose and show all the wealth, as far as it is possible for us to show it; only do not grow weary. And first let us learn what "shall break forth" means. It reveals to us both the swiftness and the abundance, and how greatly He desires our salvation, and how He labors to bring forth these good things and hastens, and nothing will hinder that ineffable rush; through all of which He demonstrates their abundance and the infinity of His riches. And what is "early"? That is, not after we have come into temptations, nor after the assault of evils, but it comes beforehand. For just as in the case of fruits we call "early" that which appears before its season, so here too, again revealing the swiftness, He spoke thus; just as above He said, While you are still speaking, I will say, Behold, I am present. And what light does He mean, and what ever is this light?

Not this perceptible one, but another far better, which shows us heaven, the angels, the archangels, the Cherubim, the Seraphim, the thrones, the dominions, the principalities, the powers, the whole army, the royal cities, the tents. For if you are deemed worthy of that light, you will see these things too and be delivered from Gehenna and the venomous worm, and the gnashing of teeth, and the painful bonds, and the constriction and the affliction and the lightless darkness, and being cut in two, and the rivers of fire, and the curse, and the places of pain, and you will depart where pain and grief have fled, where there is great joy and peace and love and luxury and gladness; where is eternal life, and glory unspeakable, and beauty inexpressible; where are eternal tents, and the unutterable glory of the King, and those good things which eye has not seen, and ear has not heard, and which have not entered into the heart of man; where is the spiritual bridegroom, and the bridal chambers of the heavens, and the virgins holding their bright lamps, and those who have the wedding garment; where are the palaces of the Master, and the royal treasuries. Do you see how great the prizes are, and how many things he displayed through a single saying, and how he gathered them all together? In this way, unfolding each of the following sayings as well, we shall find great abundance and a vast sea. Let us not, then, delay, nor shrink from showing mercy to those in need; do not, I beg you—

But even if it is necessary to throw away everything, even if to be cast into fire, even if to dare the sword, even if to leap upon knives, even if to suffer anything whatsoever, let us bear all things readily, so as to be able to have the Holy Spirit with us. But let us also honor with great reverence the one entrusted with the ministry of the divine mysteries; for great is the dignity of priests. Whose sins you forgive, he says, they are forgiven. Therefore Paul also said: Obey those who lead you and submit, and esteem them exceedingly in honor. For you care for your own affairs; and even if you arrange these well, no account will be required of you for others; but the priest, even if he manages his own life well, yet does not carefully attend to yours, will depart with the wicked into Gehenna, and often, though not betrayed by his own, he is destroyed by yours, even if he does not perfectly accomplish all that comes to him. Knowing, then, the greatness of the danger, render him great goodwill; which Paul also hinted at when he said, that They keep watch over your souls, as those who will give account. Therefore they ought to enjoy great reverence. But if you too, along with others, set upon them, not even your own affairs will be well ordered. For as long as the pilot lives in good cheer, the passengers' affairs will also be in safety; but if those men revile him and are hostile toward him, he cannot endure hardship or keep watch in the same way, nor preserve his skill, and against his will he will plunge them into countless evils. So also the priest, if he enjoys the reverence shown by you, will be able to order your affairs well.

But if you cast them into discouragement and loosen their hands, you will make them easy for the waves to capture along with you, even if they are very brave. Consider what Christ says about the Jews: "The scribes and the Pharisees have sat on Moses' seat; therefore do all things whatsoever they tell you to do." But now it is not possible to say, "The priests have sat on Moses' seat," but rather, "On Christ's seat"; for they have succeeded to his teaching. Therefore Paul also says: "We are ambassadors for Christ, as though God were entreating through us." Do you not see that in the case of external rulers all submit to them, even when they are often better by birth and in life and in understanding than those who judge them? But nevertheless, because of the one who gave the office, they consider none of these things, but they respect the verdict of the king, whoever he may be who has received the office. Then, if a man ordains, such is the fear; but when Christ ordains, do we both despise the one ordained and revile him and wash him with countless reproaches? And having been forbidden to judge our brothers, do we sharpen our tongue against the priests? And where are these things worthy of defense, when we do not notice the beam in our own eye, but bitterly busy ourselves with the speck in another's? Do you not know,

that by judging in this way you make the judgment seat harder for yourself? And I say this, not approving those who administer the priesthood unworthily, but pitying them and weeping. Yet I do not say for this reason that they are to be judged by those under their rule, even if their life is thoroughly discredited. But if you attend to yourself, you will suffer no harm in the things entrusted to him by God. For if he caused speech to be given through a donkey, and through a diviner he granted spiritual blessings, and worked in the irrational mouth and unclean tongue of Balaam for the sake of the offending Jews, how much more will he accomplish all his own works through you who are grateful, even if the priests are exceedingly worthless, and will send the Holy Spirit. For the clean man does not draw it from his own purity, but it is grace that accomplishes everything. For all things, he says, are for your sake, whether Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas. For the things entrusted to the priest are for God alone to bestow; and wherever human philosophy reaches, it will appear less than that grace. And I say this, not so that we may manage our own life carelessly, but so that, when some of those who preside are careless, you who are under their rule may not often heap up evils for yourselves. And why do I speak of the priests? Neither an angel nor an archangel can accomplish anything in the things given by God, but the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit administer all things; the priest lends his own tongue and offers his own hand. For it was not even right that, because of another's wickedness, those who approach the symbols of our salvation in faith should be harmed.

Knowing all these things, therefore, let us both fear God and hold his priests in honor, rendering them all honor, so that both for our own right actions and for our care toward them we may receive a great reward from God, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory unto the ages of ages. Amen. Homily 39. On the fact that God has given us many ways to avoid sinning, if we are willing; and that the one who is to attain the kingdom of heaven must keep all the commandments; but that the one who succeeds in some and transgresses in others will know the difference from the others in Gehenna. Again I am compelled, beloved, to accuse the present state of affairs. And what am I to suffer? I did not wish it, but I am compelled. For if, by falling silent and saying nothing about what has happened, I could make what is happening disappear through silence, it would be necessary to be silent; but if the opposite happens (for not only does it not disappear when we are silent, but it even becomes worse), it is necessary to speak. For the one who accuses those who sin, even if nothing else, does not allow them to proceed further. For there is no soul so shameless and bold that, on continually hearing certain people rebuking it, does not feel shame nor slacken from its great wickedness. For there is, there is even in the shameless a small measure of shame; for God implanted shame in our nature. For since fear was not sufficient to discipline us, he also prepared many other ways of not sinning.

For instance, for a man to be accused, to fear the laws that are established, to love glory, to lay claim to friendship; for all these are ways of not sinning. For often what was not done for God's sake was done for fear of men. For this is what is sought: first to learn not to sin, and then later we shall succeed in doing this for God's sake. For why does Paul urge those who are about to overcome their enemies not from the fear of God, but from awaiting vengeance? For by doing this, he says, you will heap coals of fire on his head. For in the meantime this is what he wills, that virtue be accomplished. What then I was saying, there is something shameful in us. We have many natural goods toward virtue; for instance, we are all moved by nature to show mercy, and there is nothing else in our nature so good as this. Whence one might reasonably examine why this especially has been implanted in our nature, to be broken down by tears, to be bent, to be ready. No one is by nature idle, no one is by nature free from vainglory, no one is by nature superior to jealousy, but to show mercy is implanted in all by nature, even if someone be savage, even if harsh. And what is wonderful? We show mercy to wild beasts; so abundantly is mercy implanted in us. And if we see a lion's cub, we feel something; and for one of our own kind, much more. See how many are maimed; and this is sufficient to lead us to mercy. Nothing so gladdens God as almsgiving. Therefore priests were anointed with this, and kings and prophets; for the oil was a symbol of God's love for humanity.

Again I learned that the ruler ought to have more of mercy; he showed that the Spirit too is about to come upon man through mercy. Since God has mercy on men and loves mankind, for this reason they were anointed with oil. For he made the priesthood out of mercy; and kings were anointed with oil. For you have mercy on all, he says, because you are able to do all things. And if one praises a ruler, he will say nothing so fitting to him as mercy; for this is proper to rule, to show mercy. Consider that through mercy the world was established, and imitate the Master. The mercy of a man is upon his neighbor, but the mercy of the Lord is upon all flesh. And whether you speak of sinners or of righteous men, we all need the mercy of God, we all enjoy it, whether it be Paul himself, or Peter, or John. And hear them saying: our own words are nothing. For what does this blessed man say? But I was shown mercy, because I did it ignorantly. What then? Did he not need mercy after these things? Hear what he says: I labored more abundantly than they all; yet not I, but the grace of God which was with me. And concerning Epaphroditus he says: For indeed he was sick near to death; but God had mercy on him, and not on him only, but on me also, so that I should not have sorrow upon sorrow; and again, We were burdened, he says, beyond our strength, so that we despaired even of living. But we had the sentence of death in ourselves, so that we should not trust in ourselves, but in God, who delivered us from so great deaths, and will deliver us; and again, I was delivered out of the mouth of the lion; and the Lord will deliver me. And everywhere we shall find him boasting of this, that by mercy he was saved.

And Peter too was such a man because of having been shown mercy; for hear Christ saying to him, "Satan desired to sift you like wheat, and I prayed for you, that your faith might not fail." And John was such a man in mercy; and indeed all of them simply. For hear Christ saying, "You did not choose me, but I chose you." For we all need the mercy of God; for "the mercy of God," it says, "is upon all flesh." But if these needed the mercy of God, what might one say about the rest? For from where, tell me, does he cause the sun to rise on the evil and the good? And what if he had withheld the rain for only a year—would he not have destroyed everything? What if he had brought a flood? What if he had rained excessively? What if he had sent flies? But why do I speak of this? If he had done as he once did, would not all have perished? What is man, that you are mindful of him? It is timely to say now: "If he but threaten the earth, all become one grave." "As a drop of water from a bucket," it says, "so are the nations before him; they shall be reckoned as spittle, as a turning of the scales." As it is easy for us to move the balance, so it is for him to destroy all things and to make them again. He, then, who has such authority over us, and sees us sinning each day, and does not punish—does he not bear with us in mercy? Since even the cattle are by mercy: "For you save humans and cattle, Lord." He looked upon the earth and filled it with living creatures. Why? For your sake. And why did he make you? Because of his goodness. Nothing is better than oil; it is the cause of light, and there too it is the cause of light. And "your light shall rise," says the prophet, "early, if you show mercy to your neighbor.

And just as this oil sustains the light, so almsgiving grants us there a great and wonderful light. Paul spoke much about this mercy; for hear him saying, "Only that we should remember the poor"; and at another time, "If it is worthy that I myself should also go." And everywhere, up and down, you see him caring about this. And again: "And let our people also learn to maintain good works"; and again, "For these things are good and profitable to men." But hear also another saying: "Almsgiving delivers from death." And if you take away mercy, O Lord, who shall stand? And if you enter, he says, into judgment with your servant. A great thing is a man, and precious is a merciful man. For this is a merciful man; or rather, this is God's own—to show mercy. Do you see how great is the strength of God's mercy? This made all things, this fashioned the world through goodness alone; for this he also threatened hell, that we might obtain the kingdom; and we obtain the kingdom through mercy. For why, being alone, did he make so many? Was it not through goodness? Was it not through love of humanity? If you ask, "Why this and why that?" everywhere you will find goodness. Let us show mercy to our neighbors, that we ourselves may be shown mercy; we gather this mercy not so much for them as for ourselves on that day, when the flame of the fire is fierce; this mercy is able to quench the fire, and for us it is the cause of light; thus through it we shall be delivered from the fire of hell; since from where will he have compassion and show mercy? Mercy comes from love. Nothing so provokes God as to be unmerciful.

Just as we have five senses, and all must be used as needed, so too with all the virtues. If someone is temperate but unmerciful, or is merciful but greedy for gain, or abstains from what belongs to others but does not share his own, everything has been in vain. For one virtue alone is not enough to present us with boldness at the judgment seat of Christ, but there is need of many and varied and manifold and every virtue. For hear him saying to his own disciples: "Go, make disciples of all the nations, teaching them to observe all that I commanded you"; and again, "Whoever loosens one of these least commandments shall be called least in the kingdom of heaven"—that is, in the resurrection. For he will certainly not enter the kingdom; for he knows how to call even the time of the resurrection a kingdom. "If he loosens one," he says, "he shall be called least"; so we need all of them. And see how it is not possible to enter without almsgiving, but even if this alone is lacking, we shall go away into the fire. For he says, "Depart, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels." For what reason and why? "Because I was hungry, and you did not give me to eat; I was thirsty, and you did not give me to drink." Do you see how, though nothing else was charged against them, for this alone they perished? And the virgins for this alone were cast out of the bridal chamber, although they had chastity. "Pursue peace with all," he says, "and the sanctification without which no one shall see the Lord." Consider, then, that without chastity it is not possible to see the Lord.

But it is not altogether possible to see this with temperance, for often one thing has hindered another. Again, if we set everything right but benefit our neighbor in nothing, not even so shall we enter the kingdom. How is this clear? From the servants who were entrusted with the talents; for there every virtue was intact, and nothing was lacking, but since he became sluggish concerning the work, he was rightly cast out. It is also possible to fall into Gehenna from reviling alone; for he who says, it says, to his brother, "Fool," shall be liable to the Gehenna of fire. And even if someone sets all things right, but is insolent, he shall not enter. And let no one condemn God of cruelty, if he casts out of the kingdom of heaven those who have stumbled in this. For if among men, even if someone does any one of the unlawful things, he falls from the sight of the king, even if he transgresses one law of those established; even if he slanders in accusing, he has lost his office; even if he commits adultery and is caught, he has become unworthy; even if he has set ten thousand things right, he is ruined; even if he commits murder and

be shown, and this alone is enough to corrupt him—if the laws of men enjoy such great guard. How much more the laws of God. But he is good, it says. Until when shall we utter this foolish word? I called it foolish, not because he is not good, but because we think his goodness is useful to us for these things, although we have often discoursed countless times about this. For hear the Scripture saying: Do not say, His great compassion will atone for the multitude of my sins. It does not forbid us to say, His compassion is great; it does not advise this, but wishes us also to say this continually, and for this reason Paul moves everything—but because of what follows: do not, it says, marvel at God's love for humanity on this account, on the account of sinning and saying, The multitude of my sins will be atoned for. For on this account we discourse so much about goodness, not so that trusting in it we may do everything, since goodness would then be for the ruin of our salvation, but so that we may not despair in our sins, but may repent. For the kindness of God leads you to repentance, not to greater wickedness. But if you become wicked because of kindness, you rather slander it among men (for I see many accusing the longsuffering of God), so that you will pay the penalty, having used it not as one ought. God is loving toward humanity, but also a just judge; forgiving sins, but rendering to each according to his works; passing over injustices, removing lawlessnesses, but also making examination. How then are these not contrary? They are not contrary, if we divide them by their times.

Here he removes lawlessness both through washing and through repentance; there he makes an examination of what has been done through fire and torments. If, then, he says, even though I have worked countless evils, and for one of them I am cast out and fall from the kingdom, for what reason should I not work all the evils? The argument is that of a senseless servant, but nevertheless we will also resolve this argument. Do not work evils, so that you may benefit yourself. For we shall all alike fall from the kingdom, but in Gehenna we shall not all pay the same penalty, but one greater, another milder. For if you and that man both showed contempt, both the one with many and the one with few, you will alike fall from the kingdom; but if you did not show contempt alike, but one greater, the other less, in Gehenna you will perceive the difference. Why then, he says, does he threaten those who have not given alms that they will depart into the fire, and not simply into the fire, but into that prepared for the devil and his angels? For what reason and why? Nothing so provokes God, but he sets this before all terrors. For if one must love enemies, the man who destroys even friends, and is in this respect worse than the Greeks, of what punishment will he not be worthy? So that here the greatness of the sin made him depart with the devil. For woe to the one who does not do alms. But if this was so under the Old Covenant, much more under the New; if where the possession and enjoyment and care of money was permitted, such great provision was made for helping the poor, how much more where we are commanded to throw away all things? For what did those men not do?

Tithes, and again tithes, they provided; they assisted orphans, widows, and strangers. But someone, admiring a certain person, said, "So-and-so gives tithes." How much shame is this full of, if what was not a matter of admiration among the Jews has become admirable among Christians? If then there was danger in abandoning tithes, consider how great it is now. Drunkenness again does not inherit the kingdom. But what is the argument of the many? Therefore, if both I and that man are in the same circumstances, it is no small consolation. What then? In the first place, you and that man will certainly not enjoy the same punishment; but otherwise, neither is this a consolation. For the sharing of sufferings has consolation then, when the terrors are proportionate; but when they exceed and put us in a state of distraction, it no longer allows us to receive consolation. For tell the man who is being mangled and has stepped into the pyre, "So-and-so also suffers this"; but he will not even perceive the consolation. Did not all the Israelites perish together? What consolation did this bring them? Did it not rather grieve them all the more? Therefore they also said, "We have perished, we are utterly undone, we are consumed." What consolation, then, is this? In vain we console ourselves with these hopes; there is only one consolation, not to fall into that unquenchable fire; but for those who have fallen in, it is not possible to obtain consolation, where there is the gnashing of teeth, where there is weeping, where the worm is unending, where the fire is unquenchable. For will you think of any consolation at all, tell me, when you are in affliction and distress? For from then on you will be by yourself.

I beg and entreat you, let us not deceive ourselves in vain, nor console ourselves with these words, but let us do those things which can save us. It is set before us to sit together with Christ, and do you quibble over these matters? For if there were no other sin, for these words alone how great a punishment ought you to undergo, because we are so sluggish, because we are so wretched and careless, that, with so great an honor set before us, we say such things? And when you consider those who have succeeded, do you not melt all the more? When you see men from slaves and from low birth who have labored a little here, and there share the royal throne, will these things not be worse for you than punishment? For if now, seeing them prospering, though you suffer no evil, you are corrupted by this alone worse than any punishment, and you mourn for yourself and weep, and judge yourself worthy of ten thousand deaths, what will you then endure? For if there were no Gehenna, would not the very thought of the kingdom be enough to destroy and corrupt you? And that this will be so, it is enough to learn from the experience of things. Let us not, then, in vain entertain ourselves with such words; but let us attend to and take thought for our own salvation, and let us care for virtue, and rouse ourselves to the working of good things, that we may be deemed worthy to obtain so great a glory, in Christ Jesus our Lord, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be power, glory, honor, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

Homily 40. On the fact that we must do everything and take every pains for the salvation of our brethren; and that it is a great good to forgive the sins of those who trespass against us; and that this is greater than almsgiving. Nothing, brethren, is more blessed than those who attain the kingdom of heaven, just as nothing is more wretched than those who fail to attain it. For if a man banished from his homeland is pitied by all, and one who has lost an inheritance seems to all to be worthy of pity, he who falls away from heaven and from the good things laid up there—with how many tears ought he to be wept for? Or rather, ought he not even to be wept for? For one is wept for when he suffers something for which he is not himself responsible. But when a man of his own choice pierces himself with wickedness, he will be worthy not merely of tears but of lamentation; or rather, even then, of mourning. Since our Lord Jesus Christ also mourned and wept over Jerusalem, godless though it was. Truly we are worthy of countless wailings, countless lamentations, even if the whole inhabited world, taking a voice—stones and wood and trees and beasts and birds and fish, and simply the whole world, if it took a voice—should bewail us who have fallen away from those good things, it would bewail and lament nothing according to our deserts. For what speech will be able to set forth, what mind conceive, that blessedness, and that virtue, the pleasure, the glory, the gladness, the splendor? Things which eye has not seen, and ear has not heard, and which have not entered into the heart of man? He did not say that it simply surpasses them, but that no one has ever even conceived them—the things which God has prepared for those who love him.

For if God is the one who prepares and makes ready good things, what must those things be? For if, when he had made us, immediately, before we had done anything at all, he granted us so many things—paradise, converse with him, immortality he promised, a blessed life free from cares—what will he not grant to those who have labored so much and struggled and endured for his sake? He did not spare the Only-Begotten for our sake; he gave his genuine Son over to death for our sake, when we were enemies. Of what will he not deem worthy those who have become friends? Of what will he not give a share, having reconciled them to himself? And he is exceedingly rich and boundless, and he desires and is eager to obtain our friendship; but we are not so eager, beloved, to obtain it. And why do I say, we are not eager? We do not wish to obtain his good things as much as he himself wishes. And that he wishes it more, he has shown by what he did. For we scarcely bring ourselves to despise a little gold for our own sake; but he gave even his own Son for our sake. Let us use the love of God as we ought; let us enjoy his friendship. For you are my friends, he says, if you do what I tell you. Well then! Those who were enemies, who were infinitely separated from him, compared to whom he excelled in all things by incomparable excess—these he calls his friends. What, then, is not worth suffering for this friendship? For the friendship of men we often run risks; but for the friendship of God do we not even spend money? Our condition is truly worthy of mourning, of mourning and tears and lamentation and great wailing and beating of breasts. We have fallen from our hope, we have been brought low from our height, we have appeared unworthy of the honor of God.

We have become senseless and ungrateful even after his benefactions; the devil has stripped us of all good things. We who were deemed worthy to be sons and brothers and co-heirs have differed in nothing from his enemies who insult him. What consolation will there be for us henceforth? He himself called us to heaven, but we pushed ourselves toward Gehenna. Indeed, falsehood and theft and adultery have been poured out upon the earth; some mingle blood with blood, others do things worse than bloodshed; many of the wronged, many of the defrauded, pray for countless deaths or to suffer these things; and, if they had not feared the fear of God, they would even have laid hands on themselves, so murderous are they against themselves. Are these things, then, not worse than bloodshed? Woe to my soul, for the devout one has perished from the earth, and the one who sets things right among men does not exist. Now let us also cry out first on our own behalf. But join with me in lamentation. Perhaps some even take omens and laugh. For this very reason the lamentation must be intensified, because we are so mad and deranged, because we do not even know that we are mad, but we laugh at the things over which we ought to groan. It is revealed, O man, wrath from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men. God will come openly. Fire will go before him, and a violent storm round about him; fire will be kindled before him, and it will set his enemies round about in flames. The day of the Lord is like a burning oven. And no one takes these things to heart, but these dreadful and fearful doctrines are despised more than myths, and trampled upon, and there is no one who listens, but all are laughing and mocking.

What resource will there be for us? From where will we find salvation? We are lost, we have been squandered, we have become a laughingstock to our enemies, and a mockery to the Greeks and the demons. The devil is now proud, he exults and rejoices; all the angels entrusted with us are in shame and dejection; there is no one to turn us back, everything has been spent by us in vain, and do we seem to you to be babbling? It is timely now also to call heaven, because there is no one who hears, to testify to the elements: Hear, O heaven, and give ear, O earth, for the Lord has spoken; give your hand, you who have not yet been baptized, reach out to those destroyed by drunkenness, you who are healthy to the sick, you who are sober to the mad and to those carried about. Let no one, then, for the sake of a friend's salvation prefer it; and let insult and rebuke look to one thing only, his own benefit. When a fever seizes him, slaves also take hold of their masters. For when that man is burning up, confounding his soul, and a swarm of slaves stands by, he yields to no one, nor does he recognize the master's law in the harm of the master. Let us gather ourselves together, I beseech you. Daily wars, drownings, countless destructions all around, and on every side the wrath of God encircles us; but we, as though we were well-pleasing, are thus in security; we all make ready our hands for greed, no one for help; all for plunder, no one for protection. Each has hastened to make his possessions more, no one to help the one in need; each has great concern how to add to his wealth, no one how to save his own soul.

One fear possesses everyone—lest we become poor, it says; lest we fall into Gehenna—and no one agonizes or trembles. These things are worthy of lamentations, worthy of accusation, worthy of condemnation. But I did not wish to say these things; I am compelled by grief. Forgive me, I am forced by mourning; I utter many things even that I do not wish. I see the wound as grievous, the calamity as unconsolable, the terrors that have overtaken us as greater than comfort; we are lost. Who will give water to my head, and springs of tears to my eyes, that I may lament? Let us weep, beloved, let us weep; let us groan. Perhaps there are some here saying, He speaks nothing to us but lamentations, nothing but tears. I did not wish it, believe me, I did not wish it, but to go through encomia and praises; but now is not the time for these things. It is not lamenting, beloved, that is grievous, but doing things worthy of lamentations; it is not bewailing that is abominable, but doing things worthy of bewailings. Do not be punished, and I do not mourn; do not die, and I do not weep. But if the body lies dead, you urge everyone to grieve with you, and you consider those who do not mourn to be without compassion; but when the soul is perishing, do you say that one should not mourn? But I cannot; I am a father, and I weep; I am a loving father. Hear what Paul cries out: My little children, for whom I am again in travail. What mother in labor utters such bitter cries as he? If only it were possible to see the fire of his mind, and you would see that I burn more than any woman or girl who has endured untimely widowhood; not so does she mourn her husband, nor a father his son, as I mourn this multitude that is with us. I see no progress; all things are for condemnations and accusations.

No one makes it their business to please God; but, it says, let us speak ill of this man and that man; this man is unworthy of the clerical office, that man lives indecently. Owing to mourn our own sins, do we judge others harshly? Not even when we are clean of sins ought we to do this. For who is it, it says, that distinguishes you, and what do you have that you did not receive? But if you did receive it, why do you boast as though you had not received it? But why do you judge your brother, yourself full of countless evils? When you say, This man is wicked and a destroyer and depraved, consider yourself and examine your own affairs closely, and you will repent of what was said. If, then, anyone in the church, as in just balances, attempts to weigh our words, among ten thousand talents of worldly words he will scarcely find a hundred denarii of spiritual utterances, or rather not even ten obols. If, then, God will observe these things, who will endure it? Bearing these things in mind, let us be merciful, forgiving toward those who sin against us. A hundred denarii here are the sins committed against us; but the sins committed by us against God are ten thousand talents. For you know that sins are also judged by the quality of the persons involved; what I mean is this: he who insults a private citizen has sinned, but not in the same way as he who insults a ruler, and more greatly than this he who insults a greater ruler, but not in the same way as he who insults a lesser one; but he who insults the king, far more; and the insult is the same, but by the preeminence of the person it becomes greater. If, then, he who insults the king has an unbearable punishment because of the dignity of the person, of how many talents will he be liable who insults God?

So even if we sin against God in the same ways as against men, not even so is it equal; but as great as the distance between God and men, so great is the difference between those sins and these. But now I find that our sins are even greater, not becoming great through the superiority of the person, but by their very nature. And the statement is shudder-inducing and truly terrifying, yet it must be spoken, so that it may shake and unsettle our mind, showing that we fear men far more than God, and honor men more than God. Consider: the adulterer knows that God sees him, and he despises Him; but if a man sees him, he restrains his desire. Does he not prefer men? Does he not insult God? And what is far worse, fearing those men, he despises Him. For if he sees them, he restrains the flame of desire. But what sort of flame? It is no longer a flame, but insolence. For if it were not permitted to have intercourse with a woman, the matter would reasonably be a flame; but as it is, it is insolence and wantonness. For if he sees men, he stops his madness; but for God's patience he cares less. Again, another, the thief, knows that he is stealing, and he tries to deceive men, and makes a defense against those who accuse him, and puts a shape upon his defense; but God, since he cannot persuade Him, he does not care for, nor respect, nor honor. And if the king commands us to abstain from another's property—or rather even to give our own—we all readily contribute; but when God commands us not to steal, nor to take what belongs to others, we do not endure it. Do you see that we prefer men to God?

The word is burdensome and offensive; but show that it is burdensome, and flee the deed. But if you do not fear the deed, how can I believe you when you say, "We fear the words, and they are heavy upon us"? You make yourselves heavy by the deed, and no one says a word; but if I speak the words of which you do the deeds, are you indignant? And how is this not absurd? May what comes from me prove to be false; I myself wish to receive the reputation of abuse on that day, as having abused you idly and in vain, rather than to see you accused of such things. And not only do you yourselves prefer men to God, but you also compel others. Many have compelled many servants and children: some have dragged them unwilling into marriage, others to serve in shameful ministries and vile lust and robberies and acts of greed and violence; so that the charge is double, and they find no pardon even from the necessity. For if you yourself do wicked things unwillingly, and because of the ruler's command—in the first place, not even so is the defense sufficient, but the sin becomes more grievous when you also compel those others to fall into the same things. What pardon, then, could there be for such a one hereafter? I have said these things, not wishing to condemn you, but to show how many debts we owe to God. For if, even when we honor a man equally with God, we insult God, how much more when we prefer men? If even these sins committed against men are shown to be much greater against God, how much more when the sin itself is greater and more grievous in its quality?

Let each person examine himself, and he will see that he does everything for the sake of men. We would be exceedingly blessed if we did for God as much as we do for men—for the glory that comes from men, and fear, and honor. If, then, we are liable for so much, we ought with all eagerness to forgive those who wrong us and take advantage of us, and not to bear grudges. For it is a way of release from sins that needs no toil, no expenditure of money, no anything else—but simply a choice. There is no need to set out on a journey, nor to go into a foreign land, nor to undergo dangers and labors—only to will it. Tell me, what excuse shall we have in matters that seem difficult, when a thing that has such great profit and such great benefit, and no toil at all, we do not do? You cannot despise money? You cannot spend what you have on those in need? Can you not will something good? Can you not forgive the one who has wronged you? For if you were not liable for so much, and God had merely commanded you to forgive, ought you not to do it? But now, being liable for so much, do you not forgive? And these things he demands from what you have. If, then, we come to one who is our debtor, he, knowing this, attends to it

And he receives and honors him, and shows every kindness with generosity, and this, not discharging the debt from what was lent, but wishing to make us gentle in the matter of exacting repayment. But you, owing so much to God and being commanded to forgive, do you not forgive again so that you may receive? Why ever, I ask? Alas, how great is the love for humanity we enjoy? How great is the wickedness we display? How great the toil? How great the sluggishness? How easy is virtue? Here there is no need of bodily strength, nor of wealth of money, nor of power, nor of friendship, nor of anything else; but it suffices only to will, and the whole matter is accomplished, having great benefit. So-and-so grieved you, and insulted and mocked you? Consider that you too do many such things to others, and to the Master himself; let it go and forgive. Consider that you say: Forgive us our debts, as we also forgive. Consider that if you do not forgive, you will not be able to say this with boldness; but if you forgive, you exact the matter as a debt, not because of the nature of the matter, but because of the love for humanity of the one who gave. And where is it equal, for one who forgives offenses against fellow servants to receive forgiveness of sins against the Master? But nevertheless we obtain such love for humanity, since he is rich in mercy and compassion. But to show you that even without these things and without the forgiveness, from the mere act of forgiving you reap the gain: consider how many friends such a person has, how everywhere all recount the praises of such a person. A good man is easily reconciled, he does not know how to bear a grudge; at once he was struck and at once he was healed.

Who would not show mercy to such a man when he has fallen into some calamity? Who would not forgive him when he sins? Who would not grant him favor when he pleads on behalf of others? Who would not wish to be a friend and servant of so good a soul? Yes, I beseech you, let us do everything on his behalf—not only toward friends and relatives, but also toward household servants. For, he says, relaxing the threat, knowing that your Lord also is in heaven. If we forgive our neighbors their trespasses, if we give alms, if we are humble (for this too takes away sins; for if the tax collector, merely by saying, Be merciful to me, a sinner, went down justified, much more shall we, if we are humble and contrite, be able to obtain great loving-kindness); if we confess our own sins and condemn ourselves, we shall wipe away the greater part of the filth. For many are the paths that purify. Therefore let us wage war against the devil from every side. I have said nothing difficult, nothing troublesome. Forgive the one who has grieved you, show mercy to the one in need, humble your soul; and even if you are a very great sinner, you will be able to attain the kingdom, cleansing away your sins by these things and wiping off the stain. May it come to pass that we all, having here purged away all the filth of our sins through confession, may there obtain the promised good things, by the grace and loving-kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ; with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, power, honor, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

HOMILY 41. On the fact that we ought to imitate even our own servants in whatever they do because of fear of us, so that we too may do the same things because of the fear of God; and on the indescribable good things prepared for the saints. If Paul, beloved, writing to Timothy, commanded servants to show great obedience to their masters, consider how we ought to be disposed toward the Master who brought us from non-being into being, who feeds us, who clothes us. If in no other way, then, let us serve him at least as our own servants do. Did those servants not devote their whole life to this end—to giving rest to their masters—and is this not their work, and this their life, to care for their masters' concerns? Do they not care for their master's affairs the whole day, and for their own often only a small part of the evening? But we do the opposite: our own affairs all the time, but the Master's not even a small part—and this, though he has no need of our affairs, as masters need slaves, but even these very things redound again to our own gain. For there the servant's service benefits the master; but here the servant's service benefits the Master not at all, but again the servant himself. For he says, You have no need of my good things. Tell me, for what gain to God is it if I am righteous? Or what harm if I am unrighteous? Is not that nature pure? Is it not inviolable? Is it not above every passion? Servants have nothing of their own, but all things belong to their masters, even if they be ten thousand times rich; but we have many things of our own.

It is not without reason that we enjoy such great honor from the God of all. What master gave his own son for a servant? No one; but everyone would choose to give their servants for their children. Here, however, the opposite happened: he did not spare his own son, but delivered him up for us all, for all his enemies who hated him. Servants, even if they are ordered to do something burdensome, are not so resentful, especially if they are well-disposed; but we complain about countless things. No one promises servants such things as God promises us. But what? Freedom, he says, the freedom here, which is often harsher than slavery; for often famine has overtaken it, and this freedom has become more bitter than slavery; and this gift is the greatest. But with God nothing is perishable, nothing corruptible; but what? I no longer call you servants, he says; you are my friends. Let us be ashamed, beloved, let us fear; even as servants serve us, let us serve the Master; or rather, we do not demonstrate service even to the smallest fraction. They practice philosophy out of necessity, having only covering and food; but we are insolent in luxury. If from nowhere else, at least let us receive the rules of philosophy from them. For Scripture knows how to send people not only to servants, but even to irrational creatures; for example, when it commands us to imitate the bee, when it commands us to imitate the ants. But I even urge you to imitate servants: whatever they do because of fear of us, let us do the same amount because of the fear of God; for we will not find you doing so.

Those men, because of the fear they have of us, are insulted ten thousand times, and they stand silent more than any philosopher; they are insulted both justly and unjustly, and they do not talk back, but they plead, often doing no wrong; taking nothing beyond what is needed, and often even less, they are content; and sleeping on a pallet, and filling themselves with bread alone, and having all the rest of their way of life cheap, they do not complain or resent it. Those men, because of the fear they have of us, when entrusted with money, return it all (for do not tell me of the wicked among servants, but of those not exceedingly bad); if we threaten, they immediately shrink back. Are these things not philosophy? For do not say that it happens by necessity, because necessity of Gehenna lies upon you too, and not even so are you temperate, nor do you render to God as much honor as you enjoy from your servants. Each of the servants has the dwelling appointed by law, and does not trespass on his neighbor's, nor does he plunder it in his desire for more. And one may see these things guarded among servants because of the fear of their masters; and rarely would you see a servant snatching or plundering what belongs to a servant. But among free men the opposite of these things happens: we bite and devour one another, we do not fear the Master; we snatch, steal, and strike what belongs to our fellow servants, while he looks on. But a servant would not do this, but even if he strikes, it is when the master does not see; even if he insults, it is when he does not hear; but we, while God sees and

We dare to do this while he listens. The fear of the master is always before those men's eyes; but never before ours. This is why everything has been turned upside down, everything is confounded and corrupted, and we ourselves never take our own sins into account; but when our servants sin, we examine everything with precision, even the smallest matters. I say this, not wishing to make servants slack, but to turn our own slackness around, to rouse our indifference; so that even in this way we may serve God as our servants serve us, and serve the One who made us as those of the same nature serve us, and have nothing of that kind from us. These too are free by nature; let them rule the fish, and this has been said to them. This servitude is not of nature, but of worth and circumstance; yet even so they show us great honor. But we set ourselves upon them with all precision for the sake of our own service; yet to God we do not render even a small fraction, and even this benefit returns again to us. For the more earnestly we serve God, the more we shall benefit ourselves, and the more we ourselves shall gain. Let us not then deprive ourselves of so great a benefit. For God is self-sufficient and in need of nothing; but the recompense and the gain run back again to us. And if we must philosophize also about the good things laid up for the saints, truly that is the rest that is real, where pain and sorrow and groaning have fled away; where there are no cares, no toils, no agony, no fear that strikes and shakes the soul, but only the fear of God, which is full of pleasure.

There is no "In the sweat of your face you shall eat your bread," nor thorns and thistles; there is no "In sorrow you shall bring forth children, and your turning shall be to your husband, and he shall rule over you"; all is joy, peace, gladness, pleasure, goodness, gentleness, love. There is no jealousy there, nor envy, not this death of the body, nor that death of the soul; there is no darkness, nor night; all is day, all is light, all is radiant. There is no toiling, no taking of satiety; we shall always continue in desire for good things. Do you wish me to give you some image also of the state there? It is not possible; yet nevertheless, as far as possible, I shall attempt to give you some image. Let us look up to heaven, when, with no cloud troubling it, it shows its own crown; then, having spent much time on the beauty of its appearance, let us consider that we shall also have a floor, not such as this is, but becoming as much fairer as the golden is than roofs of clay; and again the one after that, the higher roof, then the angels, the archangels, the countless hosts of the incorporeal powers, the very kingdom of God, the paternal throne. But the word is not able, as I said, to present the whole; there is need of experience and of knowledge through experience. How do you think, tell me, that Adam was in paradise? This way of life is much better than that, as much as heaven is than earth. Yet nevertheless let us seek also another image.

If it should happen that the one now reigning over the whole inhabited world held power, and then were troubled neither by wars nor by anxieties, but were only honored and lived in luxury, and had many guards, and gold flowed in upon him from every side, and he were the object of admiration—what kind of soul do you think he would have, if he saw the wars throughout the whole earth brought to an end? Something like this it will be; but not even yet have I attained that image. Therefore it is necessary to seek another as well. Consider it for me. For just as a royal child, while he is in his mother's womb, perceives nothing; but if it should happen that, having suddenly come forth from there, he ascended the royal throne, not gradually but all at once receiving everything—so is this state and that one; or if someone a prisoner, having suffered countless evils, were suddenly snatched up to the royal throne. But not even in this way have I attained the image precisely. For here, whatever good things one might obtain—even if you mention kingship itself—on the first day the desire is at its peak, and on the second and

A third, and as time goes on, it remains in pleasure, but not so great; for it always ceases through habit, whatever it may be; but there it not only does not diminish, but even increases. Consider how great it is for a soul that has departed there no longer to expect an end to those good things, nor a change, but increase, and a life that has no end, and a life freed from every danger, every despondency and anxiety, full of cheerfulness and countless good things. For if, going out into a plain where we see the tents of soldiers pitched from curtains, and spears and helmets and the bosses of shields gleaming, we are lifted up in wonder; but if it should also happen that we see the king running in the midst, or even driving a horse with golden armor, we think we have everything; what do you think, when you see the eternal tents of the saints pitched in heaven? For they will receive you, it says, into their eternal tents; when you see each of them shining brighter than the rays of the sun, not from bronze and iron, but from that glory whose gleams a human eye cannot see? And these things indeed concerning men. But what could one say of the thousands of angels, of archangels, of Cherubim, of Seraphim, of Thrones, of Dominions, of Principalities, of Powers, whose beauty is beyond contrivance, surpassing every mind? But to what point shall I not stop pursuing things unattainable? For neither has eye seen, it says, nor ear heard, nor has it entered into the heart of man, what God has prepared for those who love him. Therefore nothing is more pitiable than those who fail, nor more blessed than those who succeed.

Let us also become blessed, so that we may obtain the eternal good things in Christ Jesus our Lord, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, power, honor, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen. Homily 42. On the fact that one must not be disturbed when we see the good faring badly and the wicked in abundance; and that the one who lives in sins differs in no way from a stinking corpse. Let no one, beloved, be disturbed when he sees the wicked prospering; for here is not the recompense, neither of wickedness nor of virtue. And if in some place there is a recompense of both wickedness and virtue, it is not according to worth, but simply, as it were a taste of the judgment, so that those who disbelieve in the resurrection may be brought to their senses even by the things here. When, then, we see a wicked man rich, let us not fall; when we see a good man suffering badly, let us not be disturbed; for there are the crowns, there the punishments. And besides, it is not possible for a bad man to be entirely bad, but he has some good things too; nor for a good man to be entirely good, but he has some sins too. When, then, the wicked man prospers, it is to the harm of his own head; for in order that, having received here the repayment of those few good things, he may be punished there completely, for this reason he receives them here. And that one is especially blessed, who is punished here, so that, having laid aside all his sins, he may depart approved and pure and blameless. And teaching us this, Paul says: For this cause many among you are weak and sickly, and many sleep; and again, I delivered such a one to Satan.

And the prophet says, "He has received from the hand of the Lord double for his sins"; and again David, "See my enemies, that they have multiplied beyond the hairs of my head, and with unjust hatred they have hated me"; and, "Forgive all my sins"; and again another, "Lord, give us peace, for you have repaid all things to us." But these things show that those who are good receive here the just penalties for their sins; but where do the wicked receive good things here, and there be punished completely? Hear Abraham saying to the rich man: "You received your good things, and Lazarus his evil things." What good things? For here the word "you received," not "you took," shows that both suffered according to debt, the one coming into prosperity, the other into adversity; and he says, "Therefore he is comforted here; for you see him clean of sins; and you are in pain." Let us not, then, be distressed when we see sinners faring well here, but when we ourselves suffer ill, let us rejoice; for the matter is a payment of sins. Let us not seek relief; for Christ promised affliction to his disciples. And Paul says: "All who wish to live piously in Christ will be persecuted." No noble athlete in the arena seeks baths and a table full of food and wine; this is not the part of an athlete, but of a soft fellow. For the athlete struggles with dust, with oil, with the heat of the sun, with much sweat, with affliction and distress. This is the time for contest and for boxing; and therefore also for receiving wounds and bleeding and suffering pain. Hear what the blessed Paul says:

Thus I box, not beating the air. Let us consider the whole of life to be a contest, and let us never seek relaxation, and let us never, when afflicted, be faint-hearted; since not even a boxer, when he is in the contest, is faint-hearted. Another time is that of relaxation. We must be made perfect through affliction. Even if there is no persecution, nor affliction, yet there are other afflictions that fall upon us each day; and if we do not bear these, we would scarcely bear those. No temptation has taken you, he says, except what is human. Let us therefore pray to God not to enter into temptation; but having entered, let us bear it nobly. For that is the part of prudent men, not to throw themselves into dangers, but this is the part of brave and philosophic men. Therefore let us neither throw ourselves in rashly, for that is audacity; nor, when led and when circumstances call, let us give in, for that is cowardice; but if the proclamation calls, let us not refuse; but simply, when there is no cause nor need, nor necessity calling according to godliness, let us not rush in; for the thing is a display, and superfluous ambition; but if any of the things that harm piety should occur, even if it be necessary to endure ten thousand deaths, let us refuse nothing. Do not summon temptations, when the things according to piety go well for you, as you desire. Why do you draw upon yourself superfluous dangers that have no profit? I say these things, wishing you to keep the laws of Christ, who commands us to pray not to enter into temptation, and who commands us, having taken up the cross, to follow him. For these things are not contrary, but are in very great harmony.

For you have been equipped in this way, as a noble soldier in arms; be continually sober, awake, always expecting the enemy. But do not breed wars; for this is not the part of a soldier, but of a seditious man. But if the trumpet of piety calls, go out at once, and despise your life, and enter with great eagerness into the contests; break the line of the adversaries, crush the face of the devil, set up the trophy. But if piety is not harmed at all, nor does anyone plunder our doctrines—I mean with respect to the soul—nor compel us to do anything of the things that do not seem good to God, do not be superfluous. The life of a Christian must be full of blood—of blood, not in pouring out the blood of others, but in being ready to pour out one's own. With as much eagerness, then, let us pour out our own blood, when it is for Christ, as one would pour out water; for blood is water flowing through the body; and with as much ease let us strip off the body as one would also a garment. And this will be so, if we are not bound to money, if not to houses, if not to attachment, if we are not dependent on all things. For if those who live this military life renounce all things, and wherever the war calls, there they go and travel, and endure all things with eagerness, much more must we, the soldiers of Christ, be prepared in this way and arrayed for the war of the passions. There is no persecution now, nor may there ever be; but another

There is a war—the war of the desire for money, the war of envy, the war of the passions. Describing this war, Paul says: Our wrestling is not against blood and flesh. This war is always upon us; therefore he wants us always to stand armed. Stand therefore, he says, having girded yourselves—which is itself a matter of the present time; and he has shown that we must always be arming ourselves. For great is the war through the tongue, great through the eyes; let us therefore restrain it; great is the war of the desires. For this reason he begins from there to arm the soldier of Christ: Stand therefore, he says, having girded your loins, and he added, In truth. Why, In truth? For desire is mockery and falsehood; therefore the prophet says: My reins were filled with mockeries. The thing is not pleasure, but the shadow of pleasure. Having girded, he says, your loins in truth. That is, with the true pleasure, with chastity, with decency. For this reason he gives these exhortations, knowing the absurdity of sin, and wishing all our members to be fenced about; for unjust anger, he says, shall not be acquitted; and he wants us to wear a breastplate and a shield. For anger is a wild beast that easily leaps in, and we shall need countless fences and barriers in order to overcome and restrain it. And for this reason God built this part for us especially, as it were out of certain stones, from the bones, placing a support around it, so that it should never burst through or cut through and easily destroy the whole living creature. For it is fire, he says, and a great tempest; and no other member could endure this violence.

The physicians' sons also say that for this reason the lung has been spread out beneath the heart, so that the heart, being soft, leaping as it were into a sponge, might find rest, and not be damaged by the force of its leaps against the resistant and hard breastbone. We need, then, a strong breastplate, so as always to keep this beast in quietness; and we need a helmet too. For since the reasoning faculty is there, and from it one can either be saved, when the things that ought to be are done, or be lost, for this reason he says, And a helmet of salvation. For the brain is by nature soft; therefore it too, as if by some shell, is covered from above by the skull; and it becomes the cause for us of all good things and of evils, whether it knows what ought to be or what is not so. And the feet and the hands need weapons for us—not these hands, nor these feet, but again those of the soul: the hands to practice what ought to be, the feet so that they may walk where it is necessary. All things, then, beloved, let us do for the sake of that future life; looking to it in all things, let us work. Evil is darkness, beloved, it is death, it is night; we see nothing of what ought to be, we do nothing of what is fitting. Just as the dead are ugly and foul-smelling, so also the souls of those in evil are full of great uncleanness; their eyes are closed, their mouth is shut fast, they remain motionless on the bed of evil—or rather they are more pitiable than those who have suffered these things. For the latter are dead to both alike; but the former are insensible to virtue, yet alive to evil.

If someone strikes a dead body, it does not feel it, nor does it defend itself, but it is like dry wood; so too the soul that has cast away life is truly dry: it receives countless wounds each day, and does not feel them, but is utterly insensible to everything. One would not err in comparing such people to the insane, to the drunk, to the delirious. All these things vice possesses, and it is harsher than all of them. The madman has much forgiveness from those who see him; for the disease is not of choice, but of nature alone; but the one who lives in vice—how shall he be forgiven? Where then does vice come from? Where do the majority of the wicked come from? Tell me, where does the vice of diseases come from, where does frenzy come from? Where does heavy sleep come from? Is it not from carelessness? If natural diseases have their beginning from choice, then chosen diseases much more so. Where does drunkenness come from? Is it not from the soul's lack of self-control? Is frenzy not from an excess of fever? And is fever not from the elements that abound in us? And is the excess of the elements in us not from carelessness? For whenever we bring one of the things in us to immoderation, either by deficiency or by excess, we kindle that fire. Again, if, once the flame has been kindled, we persist in despising it, we are working for ourselves a pyre that we cannot even extinguish. So it also happens with vice: when we do not check it once it has begun, nor stop it, we are no longer able to reach its end, but it becomes greater than our strength. Therefore, I beseech you, let us do everything so as never to nod off. Do you not see the guards, that often, having given themselves a little to sleep, they gained nothing from their long watch?

For through that small one they destroyed everything, giving great license to the one who wished to steal. For just as we do not see thieves as they see us, so too the devil stands over us and lies in wait more than all others and gnashes his teeth. Let us not therefore nod off; let us not say, "Nothing from this, nothing from that." Often we have been plundered from where we did not expect it. So too with vice: from where we did not expect it, we have perished. Let us examine everything carefully. Let us not get drunk, and we shall not sleep; let us not live in luxury, and we shall not slumber; let us not be frantic about outward things, and we shall remain sober; let us regulate ourselves from every side. And just as it is not possible for those walking on a stretched rope to be careless even a little—for the little works a great evil; for once turned aside, one is immediately carried down and destroyed—so neither is it possible for us to be careless. We walk a narrow road, hemmed in by precipices on both sides, not admitting two feet at once. Do you see how much exactness we need? Do you not see those who travel such roads, how they secure not only their feet but also their eyes? For if one seems to look elsewhere, even if the foot stands firmly, the eye, growing dizzy from the depth, has brought everything down. But one must attend to oneself and to one's walking; this is why it says, neither to the right nor to the left. Great is the abyss of vice, great are the precipices, great is the darkness below. Let us attend to the narrow way with fear, let us walk with trembling. No one traveling such a road carries anything superfluous; for it is enough, being lightly equipped, to be able to run through.

No one hobbles his own feet, but he leaves them free; yet we, binding ourselves with countless cares and carrying countless worldly burdens, gaping and sprawling, how do we expect to walk the narrow road? He did not say simply that it is narrow, but with astonishment, "How narrow is the road!" That is, exceedingly narrow. This is what we too do in the case of things greatly admired. And straitened, he says, is the road that leads to life. And well did he say "narrow"; for when we must give account of words and thoughts and deeds and all things, it is truly narrow. But we make it narrower, widening and broadening ourselves and sprawling our feet. For the narrow road is difficult for everyone, but especially for the one who is fattened; whereas he who wastes himself away will not even perceive the constriction; so that the one who has trained himself to be pressed will not even be vexed at being squeezed. Let no one, then, expect with ease to see heaven; for it is not possible. Let no one hope to walk the narrow road with luxury; for it is not possible. Let no one walking the broad road hope for life. When, therefore, you see so-and-so luxuriating in baths, in a costly table, or in other bodyguardings, do not count yourself wretched as not sharing in these things, but groan for him, because he is walking the road that perishes. For what is the profit of this road, when it ends in affliction? And what harm is there from that constriction, when it comes to rest? Tell me, if someone invited to the palace were to walk through narrow, cramped, and steep places, while another being led to death were dragged through the middle of the marketplace—

Whom, tell me, shall we call blessed? Whom shall we lament? Is it not the one who walks the broad road? So now let us not call the luxurious blessed, but those who do not live in luxury; these hasten toward heaven, those toward Gehenna. And perhaps many of them will laugh at what we say; but I mourn and lament them especially for this reason, that they do not even know what they ought to laugh at and what they ought most of all to grieve over, but they confuse and disturb and throw everything into turmoil. For this I lament them. What do you say, man? When you are about to rise again and to give an account of what you have done and to undergo the final judgment, do you take no account of these things, but practice gorging yourself and getting drunk, and besides this you laugh? But I lament you, knowing the evils that await you, the punishment that will succeed you; and I lament you especially for this, that you laugh. Grieve with me, lament with me your own evils. Tell me, if one of your household departs in Christ, do you not turn away from those who laugh at the death and consider them enemies, while you love those who weep and grieve with you? Then, when your wife lies dead before you, you turn away laughter; but when your soul is dead, do you turn away the one who weeps, and do you yourself laugh? Do you see how the devil has arranged it so that we are enemies and foes to ourselves? Let us come to our senses at last, let us see clearly, let us be watchful, let us lay hold of eternal life, let us shake off our great sleep. There is a judgment, there is a resurrection, an examination of what has been done; the Lord comes on the clouds; fire shall be kindled before him and round about him a violent tempest.

A river of fire is drawn along before him, an unending worm, an unquenchable fire, outer darkness, the gnashing of teeth. And even if you are vexed at these things ten thousand times, I will not cease speaking. For if the prophets, though being stoned, did not keep silent, much more must we bear hatred and not speak to please you, lest, having deceived you, we ourselves be cut in two. There is punishment there—deathless, without consolation, with no one to stand before it. Who, it says, will pity a charmer bitten by a snake? When we do not pity ourselves, who will pity us, tell me? If you see someone driving a sword through himself, could you ever spare him? By no means. Much more, when it is possible to set things right and we do not set them right, who will spare us? No one. Let us pity ourselves. When we pray to God saying, Have mercy on me, Lord, let us say this also to ourselves, and pity ourselves. We are masters of God having mercy on us; he has granted this to us; if we do things worthy of mercy, if we do things worthy of his love for humanity, God will have mercy on us; but if we do not pity ourselves, who will spare us? Pity your neighbor, and you will be pitied by God. How many each day come forward saying, Have mercy on me, and you do not even turn toward them? How many are naked, how many crippled, and we do not bend down, but we dismiss their supplications? How then do you think yourself worthy to be pitied, when you yourself do nothing worthy of pity?

Let us become merciful, let us become compassionate, so that we may thus be well-pleasing to God and obtain the good things promised to those who love him, by the grace and love for humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, honor, and power, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen. Homily 43. Concerning the fact that the one who despises present things has mastery over both; and that greed is worse than any mire and uncleanness. Since some great grace was from the beginning about to be given to human beings, beloved, God, wishing not to do this by grace but to provide it as a debt, first prepares a man, his own Son, to give himself up for the commandment of God, so that he might not seem to do anything great by giving up his own Son, if indeed a man did this before him; so that this might not be thought to be done by grace alone, but also as a debt. For those whom we love, we also wish to grant them this favor—to seem to have first received something small from them, and thus to give them everything, and we boast more over the receiving than over the giving, and we do not say, "We gave this to him," but, "We received this from him." Whence, he says, he also received him in a parable, that is, as in a riddle (for the ram of Isaac was, as it were, a parable), or as in a type. For since the sacrifice was completed and Isaac was slain in intention, for this reason he grants him to the patriarch. Do you see that what I always say is now also demonstrated?

When we present our mind fully equipped and show that we disdain earthly things, then he grants us earthly things as well, but not before—lest our receiving them, while we are still bound, bind us further. Loose yourself, he says, from slavery, and then receive, so that you no longer receive as a slave but as a master. Despise wealth, and you will be rich; despise glory, and you will be glorious; despise the punishment of your enemies, and then you will attain it; despise ease, and then you will receive it—so that when you receive, you receive not as a prisoner nor as a slave, but as a free man. For just as with small children, when the child desires childish toys, we hide those things with great care—a ball, for instance, and all such things—so that he is not hindered from what is necessary; but when he has come to despise them and no longer desires them, we freely give them over to him, knowing that no harm comes to him from them any longer, since that desire no longer has the strength to lead him away from what is necessary—so also God, when he sees that we no longer desire the things here below, permits us to use them; for we possess them as free men and adults, not as children. For that if you despise the punishment of your enemies, then you will attain it, hear what he says: If your enemy is hungry, feed him; and if he is thirsty, give him drink; and he added: For in doing this you will heap coals of fire upon his head. And again, that if you despise wealth, then you will attain it, hear Christ saying:

There is no one who has left father, or mother, or houses, or brothers, who will not receive a hundredfold and inherit eternal life. And that, if you despise glory, then you will attain it, hear again Christ himself saying: Whoever wishes to be first among you, let him be your servant; and again, For whoever humbles himself, this one will be exalted. What are you saying? If I give drink to my enemy, then do I punish him? If I give up my possessions, then do I have them? If I humble myself, then will I be exalted? Yes, he says; for such is my power, to provide opposites through opposites. I am resourceful and inventive; do not fear. By my will the nature of things follows, I do not follow nature; I work all things, I am not led by them; therefore I wish to reshape and refashion them. And why do you marvel at these things? For you will find the same in all the others as well. If you do wrong, you have been wronged; if you are wronged, then you have not been wronged. If you defend yourself, then I have not defended you, but you have defended yourself; for he who loves injustice, he says, hates his own soul. Do you see that you have not been wronged, but you do wrong? Therefore Paul also says: Why do you not rather suffer wrong? Do you see that this is not being wronged? When you insult, then you have been insulted; and many know this in part, as when they say to one another, let us go from here, do not insult yourself. Why? Because there is a great difference between you and that one; for whatever insults you heap up, he considers it glory. Let us reflect on this in all things, and let us become higher than insults. How, I say.

If we have a fight against the man himself who wears the purple, we consider that in insulting him we are insulting ourselves; for we consider that we deserve to be washed. What do you say, tell me? You, a citizen of the heavens and possessing the philosophy from above, do you wash yourself alongside the one who thinks earthly things? For even if he possesses countless riches, even if he is in power, he does not yet know your beauty. Do not insult yourself by insulting him; spare yourself, not him; honor yourself, not him. Is there not a proverb of this sort: the one who honors honors himself? And reasonably so; for he does not honor him, but himself. Hear a certain wise man saying: Do honor to your soul according to its worth. According to its worth—what is that? If he has taken advantage, he says, do not take advantage; if he has insulted, do not insult. Tell me, I beg you, if some poor man took mud thrown from your courtyard, would you have convened a court for this? By no means. Why? So that you do not insult yourself, so that all may not condemn you. This is what happens now too. For the rich man is poor, and the more he is rich, the more he becomes poor with true poverty. Gold is mud thrown in the courtyard, not laid up in your house; for your house is heaven. For this, then, will you convene a court? And will the citizens above not condemn you? Will they not cast you out of their own homeland—you who are so lowly, so worthless, as to choose to fight over a little mud? For if the world were yours, and then someone took it, ought you to have turned back?

Do you not know that if you set the inhabited world down ten times, and a hundred times, and ten thousand times, and twice as much again, it is not even a fraction of the good things in the heavens? Therefore the one who admires the things here has insulted those things, if indeed by as much as he considers these worthy of earnest effort, by so much does he fall short of those—or rather, he will not even be able to admire those; for how could he, when he is frantic over these? Let us cut through the ropes and the nets; for these are earthly affairs. Until when shall we stoop downward? Until when shall we plot against one another, like wild beasts, like fish? Or rather, wild beasts do not plot against one another, but against those of another kind; for example, a bear does not quickly kill a bear, nor does a snake kill a snake, respecting its own kind. But you, with one of your own kind, though you have countless claims of justice—kinship, reason, the knowledge of God, countless other things besides, the strength of nature—do you kill this kinsman who shares in nature with you, and surround him with countless evils? For what if you do not thrust the sword and plunge your right hand into his throat? You do other things more grievous than that, surrounding him with ceaseless griefs. For if you had done that, you would have released him from care; but now you surround him with slavery to hunger, with despair, with many sins. These things I say, and in saying them I will not cease—not to make you murderers, nor urging you to come to a lesser evil than that, but so that you may not be confident as though you were not going to give account. For, he says, the one who takes away a man's livelihood is a murderer of his neighbor. Let us at some point restrain our hands from ourselves.

Rather, let us not hold them back, but stretch them out well—not for greed, but for almsgiving. Let us not keep the hand unfruitful, nor dry; for the hand that does not give alms is dry, and the hand that grasps for more is foul and unclean. Let no one eat with such hands, for this is an insult to the guests. For tell me, if someone had us recline on carpets and soft bedding and gold-embroidered linen in a bright and great house, and stationed a great multitude of servants, and then prepared a platter of silver and gold, and filled it with many delicacies, costly and of every kind, and compelled us to eat—if only we would endure his hands smearing us with mire or even human dung, and him reclining with us thus—would anyone have endured this torment, and not rather have considered the matter an insult? I at least think so, and would have leapt away at once. But now you see not only the hands filled with mire—the true mire—but the very dishes themselves, and you do not leap away? Do you not flee? Do you not rebuke it? But if he is in power, you make the matter a great thing, and you destroy your own soul by eating such things? For greed is worse than any mire; for it defiles the soul, not the body, and makes it hard to wash clean. You, then, seeing the one who reclines at table stained with this mire—both his hands and his face—and the house and the table filled with it (for those dishes are more unclean and more foul than bulbs and even worse things than these)—do you behave as though you were honored, and as though you were about to feast? And have you no fear of Paul, who, to a table of Greeks, if

Would we wish that he allow them to depart without hindrance, but not even wish to permit them to go to the houses of the greedy? For if anyone who is called a brother, he says, is a fornicator—calling "brother" here simply every believer, not the monk. For what is it that makes brotherhood? The bath of regeneration, the ability to call God Father. So that the one who is a monk, if he is a catechumen, is not a brother; but the believer, even if he be a worldly man, is a brother. If anyone, he says, who is called a brother. For not even a trace of a monk existed then, but this blessed man conversed with all in reference to worldly men. If anyone, he says, who is called a brother is a fornicator, or greedy, or a drunkard, with such a one do not even eat. But it is not so in the case of the Greeks; rather, If any of the unbelievers invites you—calling the Greeks unbelievers—and you wish to go, eat everything set before you. But if anyone who is called a brother, he says, is a drunkard. Alas, how great is the strictness! But we not only do not flee the drunkards, but even go to them, to partake of what they provide. Therefore everything has been turned upside down, everything is confounded and overturned and ruined. For tell me, if one of such men invites you to a banquet—you who are considered poor and worthless—and then hears from you that, since the things set before us come from greed, I will not endure to defile my own soul, would he not be ashamed? Would he not be put to shame? Would he not be disgraced? This alone was sufficient to correct him, and to make him weigh himself in the balance on account of his wealth, and to marvel at you on account of your poverty, if indeed he saw himself despised by you with such great zeal.

But we have become slaves of men, I know not whence, though Paul cries aloud up and down, Do not become slaves of men. Whence, then, have we become slaves, tell me? Because we first became slaves of the belly and of money and of reputation and of all other things; we betrayed the freedom which Christ bestowed on us. What, then, awaits the one who has become a slave, tell me? Hear Christ saying: The slave does not remain in the house forever. You have an absolute verdict, that he never enters the kingdom. For the house is this. In the house of my Father, he says, there are many mansions. The slave, then, does not remain in the house forever; he calls that one a slave, the slave of sin. But the one who does not remain in the house forever remains in Gehenna forever, having consolation from nowhere. But indeed matters have come to such a depth of wickedness that they even make alms from these things and receive many. For this reason our boldness has been cut off, and we are not even able to rebuke anyone. Nevertheless, even if from now on we flee the harm that comes from this, do you also who roll about in this mire cease from such defilement. For just as a dead body is useful for no sensation, but even grieves those who come near it, so too sin immediately strikes the reasoning faculty, and does not allow even the thought itself to be at rest, but throws it into confusion and disturbs it. And a plague is said, when it is bred, to destroy bodies. Such is sin also; it differs in nothing from a plague, not corrupting the air first and then the bodies, but leaping straightway into the soul.

Do you not see the diseased, how they are inflamed, how they toss about, how they are filled with foulness, how shameful their appearance is, how wholly unclean they are? Such are those who sin, even if they do not see it. For tell me: is not the man who is caught by the desire for money, or for bodies, worse than any man in a fever? Is he not more unclean than all these, doing and suffering every shameless thing? For what is more shameful than a man in love with money? Whatever the women who prostitute themselves, whatever the women on the stage do not refuse to do, so much neither does this man; or rather, it is more likely that those women would refuse than this man. And he endures slavish things, flattering those whom he ought not, everywhere uneven: often he sits beside wicked men and old men who have been corrupted, men far poorer and more worthless than himself, flattering them, and insulting and browbeating others who are good and virtuous in every way. Did you see the disgrace on both sides? The shamelessness? He is both humble beyond measure and a braggart. But the prostitutes stand at a brothel; and this is the charge, that they sell their body for money. But poverty, he says, and hunger compel them. Even if that is so, not even this is sufficient for a defense; for it was possible for them to support themselves by working. Here, however, the greedy man stands, not at a brothel, but in the middle of the city; not selling his body, but betraying his soul to the devil, so as both to consort with him and to enter in to him, as though truly to a prostitute, and having fulfilled all his desire, he goes out; and the whole city sees, not two men or three.

And this is also characteristic of prostitutes, that they are available to the one who gives the gold; whether he is a slave, or a monk, or anyone at all, if he holds out the payment, they receive him; but free men, even if they are nobler than all, they do not admit without the silver. This is what these people do here as well: sound reasonings, when they have no silver, they turn away from; but with the foul and truly God-fighting thoughts they consort because of the gold, and they consort shamefully, and they destroy the beauty of the soul. For just as those women are by nature hideous and dark and rustic and shapeless and ill-formed, and in every way shameful, so too the souls of these people become, unable even by outward cosmetics to conceal their shapelessness. For when the ugliness is extreme, whatever they devise, they cannot even counterfeit it. For that shamelessness makes prostitutes, hear the prophet saying: You have acted shamelessly toward all; the face of a prostitute has become yours. This can also be said to the greedy: You have acted shamelessly toward all—not toward these and those, but toward all. How? Such a man reverences neither father, nor son, nor wife, nor friend, nor brother, nor benefactor, nor anyone at all. And why do I say friend and brother and father? He does not reverence God himself, but all things seem to him a myth, and he laughs, drunk with excessive desire, and does not even receive through hearing anything of the things able to profit him. But oh, the absurdity, and what things they utter: Woe to you, mammon, and to the one who does not have you. Here I weep from anger; for woe to those who say these things, even if they say them in laughter.

For tell me, did not God threaten such a threat, saying: "You cannot serve two masters"? And do you weaken the threat? Does not Paul say that this very thing is idolatry, and call the covetous man an idolater? And do you stand laughing like the women of the world, playing the jester like the people in the theater? This has overturned and cast down everything; our affairs have become laughter and refinement and wit; nothing is steadfast, nothing is serious. I say these things not only to men of the world, but I know whom I am hinting at; for the church has been filled with laughter; if so-and-so says something witty, laughter immediately arises among those sitting there. And the amazing thing is, at the very time of prayer many do not cease from laughter. Everywhere the devil dances, he has clothed himself in all, he rules over all; Christ has been dishonored, cast aside, the Church is in no one's regard. Do you not hear Paul saying: "Filthiness and foolish talking and jesting let it be removed from you"? Along with filthiness he places jesting, and do you laugh? What is foolish talking? Things that have nothing useful in them. And do you laugh at all and relax your face, you who are a monk, you who have been crucified, you who mourn? Do you laugh, tell me? Where did you hear of Christ doing this? Nowhere; but often he was downcast; for when he saw Jerusalem, he wept, and when he thought of the traitor, he was troubled, and when he was about to raise Lazarus, he wept; and do you laugh? If the one who does not grieve over the sins of others is worthy of accusation, the one who is unmoved by his own and laughs—of what forgiveness will he be worthy?

The time is one of mourning and affliction, of dejection and servitude, of struggles and sweat; and do you laugh? Do you not see how Sarah was rebuked? Do you not hear Christ saying, "Woe to you who laugh, for you shall weep"? You sing these things every day. For what do you say, tell me? That I laughed? By no means; but what? "I was weary in my groaning." But perhaps some are so relaxed and frivolous as even to laugh at this rebuke, because we are discoursing about laughter. For such is derangement, such is madness: it does not even perceive the rebuke. The priest of God stands offering up the prayer of all, and do you laugh, fearing nothing? And he offers up prayers on your behalf, and do you despise them? Do you not hear the Scripture saying, "Woe to the despisers"? Do you not shudder? Do you not restrain yourself? When you enter a palace, you adorn yourself in bearing and look and gait and all other respects; but here, where the true palaces are, and such as are heavenly, do you laugh? I know indeed that you do not see; but hear that angels are present everywhere, and especially stand by the King in the house of God, and all things are filled with those bodiless powers. This is my word also to the women, who do not dare to do this readily in the presence of their husbands; and even if they do, not always, but only at the time of relaxation; but here they do so always. Tell me, do you cover your head, and do you laugh, O woman, as you sit in the church?

You have come to confess your sins, to fall down before God, to entreat and supplicate on behalf of the wrongs you have committed against yourself, and do you do this with laughter? How then will you be able to propitiate him? And what evil, someone says, is laughter? Laughter is not evil, but what is beyond measure is evil, what is untimely. Laughter is implanted in us so that, when we see friends after a long time, we do this; when we see certain people overwhelmed and afraid, we may relieve them with a smile, not so that we may guffaw and laugh continually. Laughter is implanted in our soul so that the soul may be relieved at times, not so that it may be dissolved in mirth; since indeed desire for bodies is also implanted in us, and it is not altogether necessary, because it is implanted, either to use it or to use it without measure; but we also master it, and we do not say, "Since it is implanted, let us use it." Serve God with tears, so that you may be able to wash away your sins. I know that many mock us, saying, "Tears at once!" For this reason it is a time for tears. I know that those who say, "Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die," also take omens from it. Vanity of vanities, all things are vanity. It is not I who say this, but the very one who gained experience of all things says it. I built myself houses, I planted vineyards, reservoirs of waters, I made for myself cupbearers and maidservants; and what then after all these things? Vanity of vanities, all things are vanity. Let us mourn, then, beloved, let us mourn, so that we may truly laugh, so that we may truly rejoice in the time of joy that is sincere. For with this joy grief is altogether mingled, and it is never possible to find it pure.

That joy is pure and guileless, having nothing deceitful in it, nor anything mixed in; let us rejoice in that joy, let us pursue that joy. Moreover, it is not possible to attain it except by choosing here not what is pleasant but what is profitable, and by being willingly afflicted a little, and by bearing all things with thanksgiving. For in this way we shall be able also to attain the kingdom of heaven; may it come to pass that we all be deemed worthy of it in Christ Jesus our Lord, with whom be glory to the Father together with the Holy Spirit, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen. Homily 44. On compunction and endurance and the desire for the good things to come; and on the second coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. I entreat you, brothers, to judge concerning God's providence not only from things present but also from things to come. For the present things are a contest and a wrestling-ground and a stadium; but the things to come are prizes and crowns and awards. Just as, then, the athlete in the wrestling-ground must struggle amid sweat and dust and great heat and toils and hardships, so also the righteous man here must endure many things and bear all things nobly, if he is to receive those radiant crowns there. For this reason Paul also continually stirs up for us the word concerning the resurrection, just as you heard him crying out and saying: For we believe that he who raised the Lord will raise us also through Jesus and will present us with you. Therefore, he says, we do not lose heart, having the greatest consolation in our struggles, the hope of things to come. And he did not say to them, "Therefore do not lose heart," but what?

Therefore we do not lose heart, showing that he himself is constantly in the struggles. But even if our outer man is being destroyed, yet the inner man is renewed day by day. How is he renewed? By faith, by hope, by eagerness, by boldly daring the terrible things. For to the extent that the body suffers countless things, to that extent the soul has better hopes and becomes more radiant, just as gold is more thoroughly refined by fire. And see how he brings down the sorrowful things of the present life. For the momentary lightness of affliction, he says, works out beyond measure unto an exceeding eternal weight of glory, since we do not look at the things seen but at the things not seen, having enclosed the matter in hope. And what he said elsewhere, that By hope we were saved; and, Hope that is seen is not hope; establishing this here too, he sets present things alongside future things, the momentary against the eternal, the light against the heavy, affliction against glory. And he is not content with these, but he adds another expression, doubling it, and saying, Beyond measure unto exceeding measure. Then he also shows the manner, having said how the affliction of such things is light. How then is it light? Since we do not look at the things seen but at the things not seen. Thus both this present thing is light and that future thing is great, if we lead ourselves away from the things seen. For the things seen are temporary; therefore the afflictions are also of this sort; but the things not seen are eternal; therefore the crowns are also of this sort.

And he did not say only, "The afflictions are such," but also, "all things that are seen," whether it be punishment or rest, so as neither to be puffed up from that quarter nor plunged from this. For this reason he did not say concerning the things to come, "an eternal kingdom," but "the things that are not seen are eternal," whether it be a kingdom or again a punishment, so as both to frighten from that quarter and to encourage from this. Since, then, the things that are seen are temporary, but the things that are not seen are eternal, let us look toward those things, the eternal things. For what defense would we have, choosing the temporary instead of the eternal? For even if the present is pleasant, yet it is not lasting; but its painful part is lasting and unforgivable. For what defense do those have who were deemed worthy of the Holy Spirit and enjoyed so great a gift, when they become earth-bound and fall down to the earth? For I hear many saying these ridiculous words: "Give me today, and take tomorrow." For if, he says, the things there are such as you also say, one thing has come in exchange for one; but if they are nothing at all, two things in exchange for nothing. What is more lawless than these words? What more foolish? We are discoursing about the heavens and those ineffable good things, and you bring before us the doings of the hippodromes, and are you not ashamed nor do you cover yourself, uttering such things as belong to the insane? Do you not blush, so nailed fast to the present things? Will you not cease raving and being beside yourself and babbling in your youth? And that Greeks should say such things is no wonder; but that faithful men should babble such things—what pardon could it have? For do you at all suspect those immortal hopes?

Do you altogether think these things doubtful? And where is there any excuse for this? But do you not see the things there? For you do not see God either; will you therefore refuse to believe that God exists, because you do not see God? Yes indeed, I believe, he says. If then someone asks you again, "And who came from heaven and announced these things?" what will you say? From where do you know that God exists? From the things that are seen, he says, from the order in all creation, from the fact that this is evident to all. In the same way, then, receive also the account concerning judgment. How? he says. I will ask you, and you answer me. Is God himself just, and does he distribute to each according to desert, or on the contrary, does he wish the unjust to prosper and live in luxury, while the good are in the opposite condition? By no means, he says; not even a human being would consent to that. Where then will those who have done well here enjoy good things? And where will the wicked enjoy the opposite, if there is not to be some life and recompense after this? Do you see that it is one thing in exchange for one, and not two in exchange for one? Or rather, there will be two in exchange for nothing for the righteous, but for sinners who also live in luxury here, the exact opposite of everything? For those who have lived in luxury here and then are punished there have received not even one in exchange for one; while those who live in virtue receive two in exchange for nothing. For who are at ease? Those who have made the most of the present life, or those who have lived as philosophers? You perhaps will say the former, but I will show it is the latter, calling as witnesses those very people who have enjoyed the present things, and they will not be ashamed at what I am about to say. For some have often cursed matchmakers, and the day on which the bridal chambers were entwined, and have called those who have not married blessed.

Many have declined for no other reason than the burdensomeness of the matter. And I say this not to slander marriage—for it is honorable—but because of those who use it badly. But if those who have had dealings with marriage have often considered life unlivable, what should we say about those who have been dragged down into the pits of fornication, and are disposed more slavishly and miserably than any captive? About those who have rotted away in luxury, and have wrapped countless diseases around the body? But to be held in esteem is pleasant. Nothing, then, is more bitter than this slavery. For the vainglorious man is more slavish than all slaves, wanting to please just anyone; but the one who has trampled this underfoot is higher than all, and alone free—the one who does not care about the esteem that comes from others. But to have money is desirable? But we have often shown that those who are rid of these things and have nothing are in greater wealth and ease. But to get drunk is pleasant? And who would say this? Therefore not being rich is pleasanter than being rich, and not marrying than marrying, and not being vainglorious than being vainglorious, and not living in luxury than living in luxury; and here those who are not nailed to present things have the greater share. And I do not yet say that the former, even if he is stretched out on countless tortures, has good hope carrying him through; but the latter, even if he enjoys countless luxuries, has the fear of what is to come disturbing and confounding his pleasure; for this too is no small form of punishment, just as the opposite is of luxury and ease. And there is a third form after this. What then is this?

That the things of worldly luxury are not even seen when they exist, being refuted by nature and time; but those things not only exist, but also remain immovable. Observe that we shall be able to be as nothing not only two instead of nothing, but also three, and five, and ten, and ten thousand. But so that you may learn this very thing also by an example, pay attention: The rich man and Lazarus, the one enjoyed the present things, the other the things to come. Does it then seem to you to be one and the same thing—to be punished at all times, and to suffer for a brief hour? To be sick in a corruptible body, and to be fried immortally in severe torment? To be crowned and to luxuriate immortally after that little weakness, and to be tormented endlessly after the brief enjoyment of present things? And who could say these things? For what do you wish us to speak of—the quantity? The quality? The judgment according to the worth of God concerning each? Until when do you utter the words of beetles forever wallowing in the mire? For not even of rational men is it to betray a soul so precious for nothing, when it is necessary to obtain the heavens by a little labor. Do you wish me to teach you from another place also, that there is a fearful judgment there? Open the doors of your conscience, and see the one in the

Consider the judge seated in your own conscience. If you condemn yourself—though you are self-loving and would not tolerate bearing an unjust judgment—will not God all the more exercise great providence over justice, and bring an impartial verdict concerning all things? Or will he simply allow everything to be carried along at random and without purpose? And who could say that? There is no one. Rather, both Greeks and barbarians, poets and philosophers, and every race of mankind agree with us in these matters, even if not in the same way, and they say that there are certain tribunals in Hades; so evident and acknowledged is the matter. And for what reason, someone says, are we not punished here immediately? So that he may display his own long-suffering, and provide us with salvation through repentance, and neither make our race something to be snatched away, nor snatch away before their salvation those who are able to be saved by a most excellent change. For if he punished immediately, right at the sins themselves, and destroyed, how would Paul have been saved? How would Peter, the foremost teachers of the world? How would David have reaped the salvation that comes from repentance? How the Galatians? How many others? For these reasons he does not require an account from all here, but from some out of all; nor from all there, but one here and another there, so that he may awaken even the very insensible by those whom he punishes, and make them expect what is to come by those whom he does not punish. Or do you not see many punished here—as those buried under the tower; as those whose blood Pilate mingled with the sacrifices; as those at Corinth who died an untimely death because they partook of the mysteries unworthily?

as when the people of the Jews were slaughtered by the barbarians; as many others both then and now continually. And others too, having sinned greatly, departed without paying the penalty here, as the rich man in the case of Lazarus, as many others. He does this both to awaken those who disbelieve in the things to come and to make those who believe more zealous, and to make the slothful more earnest. For God is a righteous judge and strong and long-suffering, and does not bring wrath every day. But if we use his long-suffering as an occasion for sloth, there will be a time when he will no longer be long-suffering even a little, but will straightway bring the penalty. Therefore, lest we enjoy one moment of luxury (for this present life is that), let us not draw upon ourselves the punishment of endless ages, but let us labor for a moment, that we may be crowned forever. Do you not see that in worldly affairs too most people act this way, and choose a little toil for the sake of long rest, even if the opposite turns out for them? For here there is an equal share of toils and gain, and often the reverse; but the kingdom is the opposite way: little is the painful part, but great and endless is the pleasant. Consider: the farmer toils the whole year through, and often at the very end of his hope falls short of the fruit of his many labors; the pilot again and the soldier until the last of their age in wars and toils, and often each of them has departed empty—the one of the wealth of his cargoes, the other falling short before victory and of life itself.

What defense, then, shall we have, tell me, when in worldly matters we prefer the painful things, so that we may rest a little—or not even a little, for the hope is uncertain—but in spiritual matters we do the opposite, and draw upon ourselves unspeakable punishment for the sake of a little ease? Therefore I exhort all of you, at least late, at some point, to recover from this madness. For no one will rescue us in that time—not brother, not father, not children, not friends, not neighbor, not anyone else; but if we are betrayed by our works, all will be gone and we shall utterly perish. How much did that rich man lament, and entreat the patriarch, and ask that Lazarus be sent? But hear what Abraham said to him: A great gulf is fixed between us and you, so that not even those who wish are able to cross over. How much did those virgins entreat their companions for a little oil, but hear also what those say: Lest there not be enough for us and for you; and no one was able to bring them into the bridal chamber. Considering these things, then, let us also take care of our own life. For however many toils you may mention, and whatever punishments you may bring forward, all these will be nothing compared to the good things to come. Set forth, then, if you wish, fire and iron and wild beasts, and anything harsher than these; yet even so these are not even a shadow compared to those torments. For when these are applied more violently, then especially are they light, bringing a swift release, since the body is not sufficient for both the violence and the length of the punishment.

But there it is not so; rather both things come together, both duration and excess, in things pleasant and in things painful. While, then, there is time, let us anticipate his face in confession, so that we may see it then gentle and calm, so that we may escape those threatening powers. Do you not see the soldiers here, those who serve the rulers, how they drag, how they bind, how they scourge, how they pierce the sides, how they bring torches to the tortures? But all these things are child's play and laughter compared with those punishments; for these chastisements are also temporary, but of those neither does the worm end, nor is the fire quenched; for the body that rises then will certainly be incorruptible. But may it never be that we learn these things by experience, but let the fearful things stand for us only at the word, and let us not be handed over to those torturers, but be disciplined from here. How many things shall we then say accusing ourselves, how many shall we lament? How many shall we wail? But there is no profit any longer. Since neither can sailors, once the ship has broken up and sunk, profit any longer, nor physicians, once the patient has departed; but they will often say that this and that ought to have been done, but all in vain and to no purpose. For while hopes remain from correction, one must both say and do everything; but when we are no longer masters of anything, everything having been ruined, everything is said and done in vain. For the Jews also will say then, Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, but they cannot benefit at all from this voice so as to escape the punishment.

For when it was necessary to speak, they did not speak. So that we too may not suffer this, let us change from here already, and let us be eager to enter into that rest, just as the Apostle said. For truly that is rest, where pain, grief, and groaning have fled away, where there are neither cares, nor labors, nor agony, nor fear that strikes and shakes the soul, but only the fear of God, being full of pleasure. There it is not by the sweat of the face that one eats bread, nor are there thorns and thistles; there it is not in sorrows that one bears children, nor is there "Your turning away shall be to your husband, and he shall rule over you"; all is peace, joy, gladness, pleasure, goodness, gentleness. There is no jealousy there, nor envy, nor sickness, nor death, neither this death of the body, nor that death of the soul; there is no darkness there, nor night; all is day, all is light, all is bright. There is no toiling, there is no taking of satiety; we shall always continue in desire for good things. Do you wish me to give you some image of the rest there? It is not possible; nevertheless, as far as possible, I shall try to give you some image. Let us look up to heaven, when, with no cloud troubling it, it shows its own crown; then, having spent much time on the beauty of its appearance, let us consider that we shall also have a floor, and let us see it becoming not only such, but as much more beautiful as the golden is than roofs of clay; and after that again the higher roof, then the angels, the archangels, the countless hosts of the incorporeal powers, the very kingdoms of God, the paternal throne.

But the word cannot, as I said before, make the whole thing clear; for experience is needed, and the knowledge that comes through experience. Tell me, how do you think it was for Adam to be in paradise? This way of life is far better than that, as much as heaven is better than earth. Nevertheless, let us seek another image as well. Suppose the one who is now king gained possession of the whole earth, and then were troubled neither by wars nor by anxieties, but were honored only, and lived in luxury, and had many tributes, and gold flowed in upon him from every side, and he were looked up to; what kind of soul do you think he would have, if he saw the wars everywhere on earth brought to an end? Something like this is what it is—or rather, I have not yet reached that image exactly; therefore I must seek another. Consider it with me. For just as a royal child, while he is in his mother's womb, has no perception of anything; but if it should happen that he suddenly comes out from there and ascends the royal throne, not gradually but all at once receiving everything—so is this rest and that. Or if a prisoner, having suffered countless evils, were suddenly snatched up to the royal throne. But not even so have I reached the image precisely. For here, whatever good things one attains—even if you name kingship itself—the desire is at its peak on the first day, and on the second and third, but as time goes on, it remains a pleasure, yet not so great; for it fades from familiarity, whatever it is. But there it not only does not diminish, but even increases.

For consider how great a thing it is for a soul that has departed there no longer to expect an end to those good things, nor any change, but progress and a life that has no end, and a life freed from every danger, from all despondency and care, full of cheerfulness and countless good things. For if, going out into a plain here, where we see the tents of soldiers pitched from curtains, and spears and helmets and the bosses of shields gleaming, we are lifted up in wonder; and if it should happen that we see the king also rushing into the midst with golden arms, we think we have everything; what do you think it will be when you see the eternal tents of the saints pitched in heaven? For they will receive you into the eternal tents, it says; when you see each of them shining brighter than the rays of the sun, not from bronze and iron, but from that glory whose flashes the human eye cannot see? And these things are among men. But what could one say of the thousands of angels, of archangels, of Cherubim, of Seraphim, of principalities, of powers, whose beauty is beyond reckoning, surpassing every mind? But to what end shall I not stop pursuing things that cannot be grasped? For eye has not seen, it says, nor ear heard, nor has it entered into the heart of man, what God has prepared for those who love him. What, then, is more blessed than those who attain that glory? What is more wretched than those who fail to attain it? For if anyone banished from his homeland is pitied by all, and he who has lost an inheritance seems to all to be pitiable;

He who falls even from heaven and from the good things laid up for us—with how many tears ought he to be drenched? For a person weeps when he suffers some unwished-for thing of which he is not himself the cause; but when from his own choice he plunges himself into wickedness, he is worthy not merely of tears but of lamentation, and indeed even then of mourning; since our Lord Jesus Christ also mourned and wept over Jerusalem, though it was impious. Truly we are worthy of countless wailings and countless lamentations. If the whole inhabited world, taking voice, and stones and wood and trees and beasts and birds and fish, were to bewail us who have fallen from those good things, it would bewail and lament nothing according to our desert. For what speech will be able to set forth, what mind, that blessedness, and that virtue, the glory, the gladness, the splendor, things which eye has not seen, and ear has not heard, and have not ascended into the heart of man? He did not say that it simply surpasses, but, nor has anyone ever even conceived, the things which God has prepared for those who love him. For when God is the preparer and provider of good things, of what sort is it likely that these things are? For if, having made us at once, with nothing beforehand done by us, he bestowed so many things—paradise, converse with himself, immortality, a blessed life and one freed from cares—for those who have toiled so much and striven and for his sake

For those who have endured, what will he not grant? He did not spare the Only-begotten for our sake; he gave his genuine Son to death for our sake, who were enemies. Of what will he not deem us worthy, once we have become friends? Of what will he not give us a share, having reconciled us to himself? And he is exceedingly, boundlessly rich, and he desires and earnestly seeks to obtain our friendship, but we do not earnestly seek it as we ought, beloved. And why do I say, we do not earnestly seek it? We do not wish to obtain his good things as he himself wishes. And that he wishes it more than we do, he has shown by what he did. For we scarcely bring ourselves to despise a little gold for our own sakes, but he gave even his own Son for our sake. Let us use the love of Christ as we ought; let us enjoy his friendship. For you are my friends, he says, if you do what I command you. Alas! Those who were enemies, who stood infinitely far from him, from whom he differed in all things by an incomparable excess—these he made friends, and he calls them friends. What then is not worth suffering for this friendship? For the friendship of men we often run risks; but for the love of Christ will we not surrender our money? Our condition is truly worthy of mourning, of mourning and lamentation and great wailing and beating of the breast. We have fallen from our hope, we have been brought low from our height, we have appeared unworthy of the honor of God, we have become senseless and ungrateful after his benefactions. The devil has stripped us of all good things. We who were deemed worthy to be sons, brothers, and heirs have differed in nothing from his enemies who insult him. What consolation, then, will there be for us?

He himself called us to heaven, but we pushed ourselves into Gehenna. Curse and lie and theft and adultery have been poured out upon the earth; some mingle blood with blood, others do deeds worse than bloodshed. For many of those who are wronged pray for countless deaths, or to suffer these things; and if they did not fear God, they would even have laid hands on themselves, so murderous are they against themselves. Are these things not worse than bloodshed? Woe is my soul, for the devout man has perished from the earth, and one who sets things right among men does not exist. Now let us too cry out first concerning ourselves. But join with me in my lament. Perhaps some even reproach and laugh at us. For this very reason the lament must be intensified, because we are so mad and deranged, and we do not even know that we are mad, but we laugh at the very things over which we ought to groan. Wrath from God is being revealed, O man, against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men. God will come openly; fire will go before him, and it will set his enemies ablaze all around; fire will burn before him, and a violent storm all around him. The day of the Lord is like a blazing furnace. And no one takes these things to heart, but these dreadful and fearful things are rather despised as myths; and there is no one who listens, but all are laughing and mocking. What way of escape is there for us? From where shall we find salvation? We are lost, we have been squandered, we have become a laughingstock to our enemies, and a mockery to the Greeks and to the demons. Now the devil is proud and exults and rejoices in our shame.

All the angels entrusted with our care are in dejection; there is no one who turns back; everything has been spent by us in vain, and we seem to you to be babbling. It is timely now to call heaven to witness, since there is no one who hears, and to adjure the elements: Hear, O heaven, and give ear, O earth, for the Lord has spoken. Stretch out a hand, you who have never been plunged under, to those destroyed by drunkenness; you who are healthy, to the sick; you who are sober, to the raving; you who are earnest and steadfast, to those who are carried about. Let no one, I beg, prefer the salvation of a friend to this; and let insult and rebuke look to one thing only, his benefit. When a fever seizes him, even slaves hold their master. For when that man is inflamed, confounding his soul, and a swarm of slaves stands by, he does not recognize the master's law in the master's harm. Let us gather ourselves together, I beg. Daily wars, drownings, countless destructions all around, and from every side the wrath of God encircles us. But we, as though pleasing him, are thus at ease; we all make ready our hands for greed, no one for help; all for plunder, no one for protection; each is eager to make his possessions more, but no one to help the one in need; each has great concern how he may add to his wealth, but no one how he may save his own soul. One fear holds all—lest we become poor, he says; but that we may not fall into Gehenna, no one struggles and trembles. These things are worthy of lamentation, worthy of accusation. But I did not wish to say these things, but I am compelled by my pain. Therefore forgive me;

For I am compelled by grief to utter many things that I do not wish. I see the blow is severe, the calamity without consolation, the terrors that have overtaken us greater than any comfort. We are undone. Who will give water to my head, and fountains of tears to my eyes? Let us weep, beloved, let us weep, let us groan. Perhaps there are some here saying, You always speak lamentations to us, always tears. I did not wish it—believe me—I did not wish it, but to set forth eulogies and praises; but now is the time for these things. It is not lamenting, beloved, that is grievous, but doing things worthy of lamentation; it is not wailing that is abominable, but doing things worthy of wailing. Do not be punished, and I do not mourn; do not die, and I do not weep. But if your body is in pain, 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 say there is no mourning? But I cannot—for I am a father, and a tender-hearted father. Hear what Paul cries out: My little children, for whom I am again in travail. For what mother with child utters such dreadful cries as he? If only it were possible now to see the fire of his very mind, you would see that I am burned more than any woman or maiden who has endured untimely widowhood. She does not mourn her own husband thus, nor a father his son, as I mourn this multitude that is among us. For I see no progress; all are given to slander and accusation, no one sets himself to do what pleases God, but, So-and-so, one says, let us speak ill of, and so-and-so; so-and-so is unworthy of the lot, so-and-so lives without shame. Owing it to mourn our own affairs, we condemn others.

Not even if we were pure of sins ought we to do this. For who distinguishes you? it says. What do you have that you did not receive? And if you did receive it, why do you boast as though you did not receive it? And why do you judge your brother, being full of countless evils? When you say, "Such a one is worthless and a destroyer and wicked," consider yourself, and examine your own affairs carefully, and you will regret what was said. For there is no, there is no such incentive to virtue as the remembrance of sins. If we turn these two things over within ourselves, we shall be able to obtain the promised good things, we shall be able to purify ourselves and wipe ourselves clean; only let us take thought at some time, let us give heed to the matter, beloved; let us grieve here in our reasoning, so that we may not grieve there in punishment, but so that we may enjoy the eternal good things, where pain and sorrow and groaning have fled away; so that we may obtain the good things that surpass the human mind, in Christ Jesus our Lord; for to him be the glory and the might, together with the Father and the Holy Spirit, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen. Homily 45. On not mourning excessively for the departed. Let us not mourn bitterly, beloved, for the departed and those who depart from here, but rather let us lament and weep for those who have ended their own life badly. For even a farmer, when he sees the wheat dissolving, does not mourn, but as long as he sees it remaining solid in the earth, he fears and trembles; but when he sees it dissolved, he rejoices; for the dissolution is the beginning of the coming sowing. So let us too rejoice then, when the corruptible house falls, when the man is sown.

And do not be amazed that he called burial a sowing; for this sowing is better. For that one is succeeded by deaths and toils and dangers and cares, but this one, if we live rightly, by crowns and prizes; and that one by corruption and death, but this one by incorruption and immortality and countless good things. In that sowing there are entanglements and pleasures and sleep, but in this one only a voice descending from the heavens, and all things are brought to completion at once; and the one who rises is no longer led thereafter into a life of much toil, but to where pain and sorrow and groaning have fled away. But if you also seek protection, and for this reason you lament the man, he has fled for refuge to God, the common protector and savior and benefactor of all, to the unassailable alliance, to the ready help, to the enduring shelter, which is present everywhere and walls us in from every side. But habit is longed for and deeply desired. I know it too; but if you entrust the passion to reason, and consider with yourself who it is that has taken him, and that by bearing it nobly you bring your resolve as a sacrifice to God, you will be able to run past this wave too; and what time does not accomplish, philosophy will do; but if you grow soft, the passion will cease with time, but it will bring you no reward. And along with these reasonings, gather examples as well, those in the present life and those in the divine Scriptures; consider that Abraham slaughtered his own son, and neither wept nor let fall a bitter word. But that was Abraham, it says. And yet you have been called to greater contests.

But Job grieved, yet only as much as is fitting for a father who loves his children and cares deeply for those who have departed; for the things we do now are the actions of enemies and foes. For if someone had been carried off into a palace and crowned, and you beat yourself and lamented, I would call you a friend of the one crowned—no, rather a bitter enemy and foe. But not even now, he says, do I lament for that one, but for myself. Yet not even this is the part of one who loves him—to wish that he should still be in contest because of you, and subject to the uncertainty of the future, when he might be crowned and come to anchor, or toss on the open sea, when he might be in the harbor. But I do not know where he has gone, he says. Why do you not know, tell me? For whether he lived rightly or otherwise, it is clear where he has gone. It is for this very reason, he says, that I am crushed—because he departed a sinner. These are pretexts and excuses. For if you lamented the departed for this reason, you ought to have molded and shaped him while he was alive; but you look everywhere to your own concerns, not to his. And if he departed a sinner, for this reason too one ought to rejoice that his sins were cut off, and he did not add to his wickedness, and to help him, as far as possible—not by weeping, but by prayers and supplications and almsgiving and offerings. For it is not without reason that these things have been devised, nor do we make remembrance of the departed at the divine mysteries at random, and come forward entreating the Lamb who lies slain, who took away the sin of the world, for them—but so that some consolation may come to them from this.

Not in vain does the one standing at the altar cry out, while the awe-inspiring mysteries are being celebrated, on behalf of all who have fallen asleep in Christ, and of those who perform the memorials for them. For if the memorials had not been made for them, these things would not have been said. For our affairs are not a stage—God forbid—for these things come to pass by the ordinance of the Spirit. Let us therefore help them, and perform memorials on their behalf. For if the sacrifice of the father cleansed the children of Job, why do you doubt that when we offer on behalf of those who have departed, some consolation comes to them? For God is accustomed to grant favors to others on behalf of others; and Paul showed this when he said: That in many persons the gift bestowed on us might be thanked by many on our behalf. Let us not then grow weary in helping those who have departed, and in offering complete prayers on their behalf. For the common cleansing of the world lies there. Therefore, being of good courage, we pray for the world then, and we call them together with the martyrs, with the confessors, with the priests. For we are all one body, even if some members are more illustrious than others; and it is possible to gather forgiveness for them from every side—from the prayers, from the gifts offered on their behalf, from those who are called together with them. Why then do you grieve, why do you lament, when it is possible to gather so great a forgiveness for the one who has departed? But because you

Have you become desolate, and lost your protector? But never say this; for you have not lost God either. So then, as long as you have him, he himself will be to you greater than a father, and a child, and a kinsman. For even while those were alive, it was he who did all things. Consider these things, then, and say with David: The Lord is my light and my savior; whom shall I fear? Say: You are the father of orphans and the judge of widows, and draw his help to yourself, and you will have him now providing for you more than before, inasmuch as you have come into greater distress. But have you lost a child? You have not lost him; do not say so. The matter is sleep, not death; a departure, not destruction; a journey from lesser things to better. Do not provoke God, then, but make him propitious. For if you bear it nobly, there will be from this a consolation both for the one who has departed and for you; but if you do the opposite, you rather kindle the wrath of God. For if, when a child was being scourged by his master, you standing by were indignant, you would have provoked the master against yourself all the more. Do not do this, then, but give thanks, so that in this way too the cloud of despondency may be scattered for you. Say with that blessed man: The Lord gave, the Lord has taken away. Consider how many who give thanks more than you did not even receive children at all in the beginning, nor were called fathers. For neither did I wish it, he says; for it was better not even to have experience than, after tasting the pleasure, to fall away from it. Do not, I beseech you, do not say these things; do not provoke the Master in this way either, but give thanks for what you have received, and glorify him for what you do not possess to the end.

Job did not say, "It was better not to have received," as you say so senselessly; but he gave thanks even for those things, saying, "The Lord gave"; and he blessed him for these things, saying, "The Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord forever." And in this way he silenced his wife, reasoning with her and uttering those wonderful words: "If we have received good things from the hand of the Lord, shall we not endure evil things?" And yet after this the trial became more severe; but even so he did not weaken, but bore it bravely in the same way, and glorified God. Do this also yourself, and consider within yourself that it was not a man who took away, but God who made you, who cares for you more than you do, and knows what is beneficial—not some enemy or plotter. Consider how many living children have made life unlivable for their parents. "Do you not see the brave ones?" he says. I see these too, but the circumstances of your child are safer even than theirs. For even if they are well esteemed, the outcome of their end is uncertain; but concerning that child you no longer fear or tremble, lest he suffer anything or undergo some change. Reason thus also concerning a good and domestic wife, and give thanks to God for all things; and even if you lose your wife, glorify him. Perhaps God wishes to lead you to self-control, and calls you to greater contests; he wished to free you from the bond. Tell me, if while we were sitting here the king sent someone to call us to the palace, should we weep and lament, tell me?

Angels are present, sent from the heavens, and having come from there, sent by the King himself to call their fellow servant, and do you weep, tell me? Do you not know what a mystery is being accomplished? How awe-inspiring and fearful and truly worthy of hymns and praises? Do you wish to learn, so that you may know that this is not a time for tears? For it is the greatest mystery of the wisdom of God. As if leaving some house, the soul goes forth hastening to its own Master; and do you mourn? Then you ought to have done this also when the child was being born; for this is a birth far better than that one; for it goes forth to another light, it is released as from some prison, it comes out as from a contest. Yes, he says; in the case of those of good repute you say these things well. What then is it to you, man, that you do not do this even in the case of those of good repute? For tell me, what could you have to condemn in the little child? For what reason do you mourn for him? What of the newly enlightened? For he too has come to the same state. For what reason do you mourn, tell me? For just as the sun rises pure, so also a soul [leaving] the body

Departing with a clear conscience, she shines brightly. It is not so magnificent a sight to see a king entering a city with such great silence as to see a soul leaving the body and departing with angels. Consider what the soul is, in what astonishment it then finds itself, in what wonder, in what pleasure. Why do you mourn, tell me? But do you do this only over sinners? Would that it were so, and I would not have forbidden mourning; would that such were the purpose; this mourning is apostolic, this mourning is the Lord's; for Jesus also wept over Jerusalem. I wish that mourning were distinguished by this law. But when you speak words of one being called back, and of habit, and of protection, it is not for this that you mourn, but you are making excuses. Mourn, groan for the sinner; and I too will shed tears, and I more than you, inasmuch as such a one is liable to greater punishment; I will lament with such a purpose. But it is not only you who ought to lament such a one, but also the whole city and all who meet him, as those being led away to death. For truly this is the evil death, the death of sinners. But things have been turned upside down. This mourning is both of philosophy and has much teaching, while that other is of small-mindedness. If we all mourned this mourning, we would have corrected them while they were alive. For just as, if you were able to apply medicines preventing that bodily death, you would have done so, so too now, if you mourned this death, you would have prevented this from happening both in your case and in his. But now what happens is a riddle: that those who are masters did not permit this to come upon them, but allowed it to happen, and when it has happened, they mourn it.

Truly they are worthy of lamentation, when they stand before the judgment seat of Christ, what words will they hear? What things will they suffer? These men lived in vain—or rather not in vain, but even to their own harm. And concerning them it is timely to say: it would have been better for them if they had not been born. For what profit is there, tell me, in spending so much time to the detriment of one's own head? For if it had been squandered merely in vain, would the loss not have been sufficient? Tell me, if a hired laborer spent twenty years toiling in vain, will he not weep and lament, and seem more pitiable than all? This man has spent his whole life toiling in vain, he lived not a single day for himself, but for luxury, for debauchery, for greed, for sin, for the devil. Will we not, then, lament for him, tell me? Will we not try to snatch him from the dangers? For it is possible, it is possible, if only we are willing, to make his punishment milder. Let us make continuous prayers on his behalf, let us give alms, and even if he is unworthy, God will be moved by our entreaties. For if Paul showed mercy to another, and for the sake of others spared another, how much more ought we to do this. From that man's possessions, from your own, from wherever you wish, help him, pour out oil—or rather, water. Has he no alms of his own to show? Then at least those of his relatives. Has he none that were done by him? Then at least those done on his behalf, so that the woman may then with boldness entreat for him, having laid down a ransom for him. The more sins he has become liable for, the greater the almsgiving he needs—not only for this reason, but because it does not now have equal strength, but much less. For it is not the same thing for a man to do something himself, and for another to do it on his behalf.

Since, then, it is a lesser thing, let us make it greatest also in abundance. Let us not busy ourselves about monuments or funeral rites; this is the greatest funeral rite: set widows around him, speak his name, bid them all make supplications and entreaties on his behalf; this will move God. Even if it has not been done by him, yet on his account another becomes the cause of almsgiving; and this too is a mark of God's love for humanity. Widows standing around and weeping know how to snatch him from death, not only of the present but also of the future. Many have benefited even from alms done by others on their behalf; for even if not completely, yet nonetheless they found some consolation. If this is not so, how are children saved? And yet there they contribute nothing, but the parents do everything. And to women children have often been pleasing, though they contributed nothing. God gives us many ways of being saved, only let us not be negligent. What then, he says, if he is poor? Again I will say, the greater part of almsgiving is judged not only in what is given but also in the intention; only do not give less than your ability, and you have paid the whole. What then, he says, if he is desolate and a stranger, and has no one? For why does he have no one, tell me? In this very thing you pay the penalty, because you have no friend so virtuous for yourself. This then comes about, so that, even if we ourselves are not virtuous, we may be eager to have virtuous companions and friends—both a wife, and a son, and a friend—so as to reap some benefit even through them, little indeed, but reaping nonetheless. If you are eager to marry not a wealthy but a devout woman, you will enjoy this consolation from her;

If you take care to leave behind a son who is not rich but devout, and a modest daughter, you will enjoy this consolation. If you take care of these things, you too will be such a person. And this is a part of virtue: to choose friends, a wife, and children of this sort. Not in vain are offerings made on behalf of the departed, not in vain supplications, not in vain alms; the Spirit ordained all these things, wishing us to be benefited through one another. Consider: that one is benefited through you, and you are benefited through him. Did you despise money and, moved by it, do something noble? Both you have become the cause of salvation for him, and he has become the cause of almsgiving for you. Do not doubt that he will reap some good; it is not simply the deacon who cries out, "For those who have fallen asleep in Christ, and for those who perform the memorials on their behalf." It is not the deacon who utters this cry, but the Holy Spirit—I mean the gift. What are you saying? The sacrifice is in our hands, and all things are set forth prepared, angels are present, archangels are present, the Son of God is present, all stand with such trembling, those present cry out while all are silent—and you think the words spoken are simply happening? Therefore also the other things are simply done—both the things offered for the Church and the things offered for the priests and the things for the fullness? May it not be so, but all things are done with faith. What do you think it means that the offering is made for the martyrs, that one is named in that hour? Whether they are martyrs, or whether it is on behalf of martyrs, it is a great honor to be named, when the Master is present, when that memorial is being performed, when the fearful sacrifice and the ineffable mysteries are present.

For just as when the king is seated, a person accomplishes whatever he wishes, but when he has risen, whatever he says he will say in vain; so too then, as long as the things of the mysteries are set forth, there is the greatest honor for all—to be deemed worthy of remembrance. For observe: then that awesome mystery is proclaimed, that God gave himself for the world; after that wonder, he opportunely reminds him of those who have sinned. For just as when triumphs of kings are celebrated, then those who shared in the victory are acclaimed, and those who are in chains are released because of the occasion; but when the occasion has passed, the one who did not obtain it no longer enjoys any of it; so indeed also here: this time is the triumph. For as often, he says, as you eat this bread, you proclaim the death of the Lord. Let us not approach casually, nor suppose that these things happen as it chances. Moreover, we remember the martyrs, and this is for faith, that the Lord has died; and this is a sign that death has been put to death, that he has become a corpse. Knowing these things, let us devise every consolation we can for those who have departed—instead of tears, instead of lamentations, instead of memorials, almsgiving, prayers, offerings—so that both they and we may obtain the promised good things, by the grace and love for humanity of the only-begotten Son, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, might, honor, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

Homily 46. That, even if we are guilty of all sins, we can be saved through confession; and that each of us who believe has a guardian angel; and concerning the priests. Of men, beloved, some are punished both here and there, some here only, some there only, and some neither here nor there. Here and there, as the crucifiers of Christ; for they both paid the penalty here, when they suffered those unbearable things at the capture of the city, and there they will undergo the most grievous punishment; as the citizens of Sodom, as many others. There only, as the rich man being scorched, and not even master of a drop. Here, as the one who committed fornication among the Corinthians. Neither here nor there, as the apostles, as the prophets, as blessed Job; for what they suffered was not indeed of punishment, but of contests and struggles. Let us therefore be zealous to be of their portion; and if not of these, at least of those who here put off their sins. For that tribunal is fearful, and the vengeance inexorable, and the punishment incurable. But if you wish not even here to pay the penalty, judge yourself, exact the accounts from yourself; hear Paul saying, that If we judged ourselves, we would not be judged. If you do this, advancing on the way, you will come even to the crown. And how, he says, shall we exact the penalty from ourselves? Mourn, groan bitterly, humble yourself, afflict yourself, recall your sins in kind; this is no small torment of the soul. If anyone has been in compunction, he knows that the soul is punished by this most of all; if anyone has been in remembrance of sins, he knows the pain that comes from it.

For this reason God sets righteousness as the prize for such repentance, saying: "Speak first of your sins, that you may be justified." For it is no small thing for correction that, having gathered together all one's sins, a person should turn them over continually in kind and reckon them up. For the one who does this will be so pricked to compunction that he will not think himself worthy even to live; and the one who thinks this will be softer than any wax. For do not tell me of fornication only, nor of those obvious sins, but one must also gather in the secret plots, and the slanders, and the evil speakings, and the vainglories, and envy, and all such things; for neither will these bring a small punishment. For the reviler also will fall into Gehenna, and the drunkard has nothing in common with the kingdom, and the one who does not love his neighbor so offends God that not even with his own testimony is he profited, and the one who neglects his own household has denied the faith, and the one who overlooks the poor is sent into the fire. Do not, then, think these things to be small, but gather them all together, and write them as in a book. For if you write them, God blots them out; just as, if you do not write them, God both records them and demands the penalty. Much better, then, that they be written by us and blotted out from above, than the opposite—that, while we forget, God brings them before our eyes on that day. In order, then, that this not happen, let us reckon up all things with exactness, and we shall find ourselves liable for many things. For who is clean of greed? For do not tell me of the measure, but even in the small we shall pay the same penalty.

Think on this, and repent. Who is free from insolence? Yet this casts one into Gehenna. Who has not slandered his neighbor in secret? Who has not played the fool? Yet this man is more unclean than all. Who has not looked at a woman with licentious eyes? Yet this man is a fully accomplished adulterer. Who has not been angry with his brother without cause? Yet this man is liable to the council. Who has not sworn? Yet this man belongs to the evil one. Who has not sworn falsely? Yet this man belongs to the evil one still more. Who has not served mammon? Yet this man has fallen away from the genuine servitude of Christ. I have also other things, more numerous than these, to say; but these suffice, and are enough to bring to compunction one who is not a stone nor altogether insensible. For if each one of them casts into Gehenna, what will not all of them together, coming at once, accomplish? See, he says, that you do not despise one of these little ones; for their angels always behold the face of my Father who is in heaven. For each believer has an angel. Since indeed from the beginning each man among the notable had an angel, just as

Jacob says: The angel who nourishes me, and who delivers me from my youth. If, then, we have angels, let us be sober, as though tutors were present with us. For a demon is also present; therefore we pray and say, asking for the angel of peace, and everywhere we ask for peace (for nothing is equal to it), peace in the churches, in the prayers, in the litanies, in the announcements; and once and twice and three times and many times the president of the Church gives it: Peace be to you. Why? Because this is the mother of all good things, this is the foundation of joy. Therefore Christ also commanded the apostles to say this immediately as they entered houses, as a kind of symbol of good things. For entering, he says, into the houses, say: Peace be to you. For without this, all things are superfluous. And Christ said to the disciples: Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. This prepares the way for love. And the president of the Church does not say simply, Peace be to you, but, Peace to all. For what if we have peace with this one, but war and battle with another? What is the gain? For not even in the body, if some of the elements are at rest but others are in dissension, is it possible for health ever to be established, but through the good order and concord and peace of all; and if not all are at rest and remain within their own bounds, all will be overturned. And in our mind too, if all the thoughts are not at rest, there will be no peace. So great a good is peace, that its makers and craftsmen are called sons of God. Reasonably.

Since the Son of God also came to earth for this purpose, to make peace both in the earth and in the heavens. And if the peacemakers are sons of God, the troublemakers are sons of the devil. What do you say? Do you stir up strife and quarrels? And who, he says, is so wretched? For there are many who rejoice in evils and tear apart the body of Christ more than the soldiers cut it with the spear, or the Jews broke it with the nails. That evil is less than this: those members, once cut apart, were joined together again; but these, once torn away, if they are not joined together here, will no longer be joined, but remain outside the fullness. When you wish to make war on your brother, consider that you are making war on the members of Christ, and cease from your madness. For what if he is cast out? What if he is of little worth? What if he is contemptible? Thus, he says, it is not the will before my Father who is in heaven that one of these little ones should perish; and again, Their angels always behold the face of my Father who is in heaven. God for his sake became both your servant and mine, and was slain; and do you think he is nothing? Therefore you fight even against God in this, casting votes contrary to him? When the leader of the Church enters, he immediately says, Peace be with you; when he speaks, Peace to all; when the sacrifice is completed, Peace to all; and in between again, Grace to you and peace. How then is it not absurd that, hearing so many times that we should have peace, we are at war with one another? Receiving and giving back, do we make war on the one who gives peace? You say, And with your spirit. And do you slander him outside?

Alas, that the solemn forms of the Church have become mere appearances of things, and not any truth! Alas, that the symbols of this army remain only as far as words! This is why you do not know why it is said, "Peace to all." But hear what follows. What does Christ say? "Into whatever city or village you enter, when you enter the house, greet it; and if the house is worthy, let your peace come upon it; but if it is not worthy, let your peace return to you." For this reason we do not know, because we think these things are a pattern of words, and we do not attend with our mind. Is it not I who give peace? Christ deigns to speak through us. Even if all the rest of the time we are empty of grace, yet not now, for your sake. For if the grace of God worked through a donkey and through a soothsayer by dispensation, and for the benefit of the Israelites, it is evident that he will not refuse to work even through us, but will endure even this for your sake. Let no one therefore say, "I am worthless and lowly and deserving of no account," and so pay attention to me—for I am such a one—but it is always God's custom, for the sake of the many, to set even such men over them. And so that you may learn: he deigned to speak to Cain for the sake of Abel, to the devil for the sake of Job, to Pharaoh for the sake of Joseph, to Nebuchadnezzar for the sake of Daniel, to Belshazzar for the sake of the same. And the magi obtained revelation, and Caiaphas prophesied, being a Christ-killer and unworthy, because of the dignity of the priesthood. It is also said that Aaron was not leprous for this reason. For why, tell me, when both had spoken against him, did only she undergo the penalty? Do not marvel.

For if in the case of secular dignities, even if someone is accused ten thousand times over, he is not brought before a court until he has laid down his office, so that that office may not be insulted along with him, how much more in the case of the spiritual office—whatever sort of man he may be—the grace of God is at work; since otherwise all would be lost. But when he has laid it down, whether by departing or even while still here, then, yes then, he will give a more severe account. Do not suppose that these things are said by us of ourselves; it is the grace of God that works even through an unworthy man, not for our sake but for yours. Hear, then, what Christ says: "If the house is worthy, let your peace come upon it." And how does it become worthy? "If they receive you," he says. "But if they do not receive you, nor listen to your words, truly I say to you, it will be more tolerable for the land of Sodom and Gomorrah on the day of judgment" than for that city. What benefit, then, is there in receiving us, if you do not listen to what we say? What gain is there in honoring us, if you do not attend to what is said to you? That is the honor we receive, that is the wonderful service that benefits both you and us—if you listen to us. Hear Paul also saying: "I did not know, brothers, that he was the high priest." Hear Christ also saying: "Whatever they tell you to observe, observe and do." You are not despising me, but the priesthood. If you see it stripped of worth, then despise it; then not even I endure to give commands. But as long as we sit upon this throne, as long as we hold the presidency, we also hold the dignity and the power, even if we are unworthy.

If the throne of Moses was so venerable that he was heard on account of it, how much more the throne of Christ. We have succeeded to that throne; from this we speak, from which Christ also appointed for us the ministry of reconciliation. Ambassadors, whatever sort they may be, enjoy great honor because of the dignity of their embassy. For observe: they go into the midst of a barbarian land alone, among so many enemies, and since the law of embassy is mighty, all honor them, all look to them, all send them forth in safety. We too, then, have received the word of an embassy, and we have come from God; for this is the dignity of the episcopate. We have come to you as ambassadors, asking you to put an end to the war; and we say on what terms: not promising to give cities, nor so many measures of grain, nor slaves, nor gold, but the kingdom of heaven, eternal life, fellowship with Christ, and the other good things which it is not possible for us to speak of while we are in this flesh and in the present life. We are ambassadors, then, and we wish to enjoy honor, not for our own sake—God forbid; for we know our own worthlessness—but for your sake, that you may hear what comes from us with zeal, that you may be benefited, that you may not hold on to what is said with indifference or inattention. Do you not see the ambassadors, how all attend to them? We are ambassadors of God to men. But if this is burdensome to you, it is not we, but the episcopate itself; not this man here, but the bishop. Let no one hear me, but the dignity.