In decem virgines

On the Parable of the Ten Virgins, and on Almsgiving. On Holy and Great Wednesday. 1. When I consider the easily spent nature of life, and the declining cycle of the year, and the much-troubled conduct of men, and the vicissitudes of life, and the fleeting nature of the present age, and the shadow of things, the transience of glory, the easily dissolved nature of power, the illusion of prosperity, and the dream of wealth; then I contemplate the day of the end, and that inevitable swiftness of the consummation, and the time of the reckoning, and the unflattering judge, and the state full of terror, how the judge arrives flashing from the heavens, how the powers rush forth in turmoil, how the fearful throne is prepared, how the heaven is rolled up like a scroll, how the elements are scorched, dissolving in fear, how the ground is shaken, receiving the judge's step, how the trumpets sound terribly, how the tombs are opened, how the graves are shaken out, how the dead leap forth as from sleep, how the dust returns to its proper order in the blink of an eye, how the souls run back to the bodies, how the righteous run to meet him, how the bridegroom arrives at midnight, how the righteous are deemed worthy of entry, how the door of the bridal chamber is closed to the negligent.

When I ponder all these things in my soul, I count those wise virgins blessed, whom the book of the Gospels has just now brought before us, because they overcame the sleep of passion, because they loathed the slippery and passionate nature of this perishable life and worthily took thought for the pure and divine life, because they observed the inexorable nature of time, kept the hour of the presence, and considered the fear of that incorruptible bridegroom’s visitation, and having tested the darkness of night, they carefully tended their lamps. Nothing prevents us from going through the very divine syllables of the Gospel. For the kingdom of heaven, it says, was likened to ten virgins, who, taking their lamps, went out to meet the bridegroom. When did they go out? Was it when the appointed term of life overtook them? When the command arrived? When the sentence of death came upon them? When the urgent angels of the end were sent? Did they go out then to meet the bridegroom? Not at all. But when did they go out? When they renounced worldly distractions, when they chose to walk the narrow and afflicted path, when they loved voluntary austerity, when they did not submit to the laws of marriage, when they despised the pleasures of life, when they chose the good portion of incorruption, when they loved the manner of joy, when they loathed the filth of sin, when they agreed to the terms of chastity, when they fell in love with the pure bridegroom, when they desired the beauty of the kingdom, when they stripped off every worldly care—then they went out to meet the bridegroom.

There were, it says, five wise and five foolish virgins. And what is the distinguishing mark of the wise? That they joined mercy to chastity, adorned virginity with beneficence, knew that faith without works is dead, understood that one single virtue is not sufficient for salvation; for with one wing an eagle cannot reach the heights. They remembered the voice of the bridegroom saying, "I desire mercy, not sacrifice"; and again, that "mercy boasts over judgment." Deliberating well on these things, they filled their vessels with oil. What vessels, then? The bellies of the hungry. For they procured the poor as mediators of the spiritual marriage, they prepared the supplies of compassion with themselves; the hungry were fed, and the lamps were brightened; the poor gave thanks, and the bridegroom rejoiced; mercy was sown, and the expected reward was prepared. And the wise cried out the words of David: "We are prepared, and we were not disturbed." But the foolish, holding their lamps without oil, were seen from afar by the bridegroom. How did they cling to one single virtue? How did they acquire chastity but reject philanthropy? How did they procure impassibility for the body but show no compassion for those in need? How did they love temperance but turn away from hospitality?

What then is the outcome? While the bridegroom tarried, it says, all grew drowsy and slept. But those who had previously stored up the oil had the security that their lamps would not be extinguished; the foolish ones awaited the time of necessity. What then shall I say concisely? The hour arrived, the time came, the knocks began, the trumpets sounded, the elements were shaken, the man was agitated, the heaven inclined, the firmament trembled, stars were loosened, the powers were troubled, angels ran ahead, lightnings preceded, the creation was in great uproar. For the judge does not come by day, but at midnight. Then what? A cry arises summoning to the meeting: "Behold, the bridegroom is coming, go out to meet him." What then happens? All the virgins rose up, shook off sleep, seized their lamps; but some were burning, others gave no light. Those of the prudent were watered by the oil of beneficence, those of the foolish were extinguished. Truly it was a pitiable thing. Inescapable necessity surrounded the women; the failure had no ground for consolation. Then they approached the prudent and sought what they could not obtain. "Give us some of your oil," they said, "for our lamps are going out." They ought to have imitated them long ago, and not now to entreat; for they ought to have bought the oil from those who sold it. "Give us oil," they say. You entreat the prudent in vain, O slothful ones; the festival of life has been dissolved, the theater of life has passed; this is no longer a time for transactions; now the display of works is demanded.

They ought to have foreseen the danger of the present life; they ought to have taken thought for this encounter; they ought to have considered that lamps cannot give light without oil. You say, "Give us some of your oil." No one takes pride in another's works; each reaps what he has sown. "Give us oil, you." What then do the wise say to them? "Lest it not suffice for us and for you; rather go to those who sell, and buy." Even if a small hour remains, run, labor; the bridegroom has not yet arrived; hasten before the doors are closed, go to those who sell. And who, O wise ones, are the sellers? Tell them; for these women, not having acquired familiarity with such a transaction, are ignorant. Who are the sellers? The poor who sit at the doors of the churches, the rational swallows, who herald the rational spring of souls, the venerable mediators with the Master, the invincible advocates on the day of judgment. And as they went to buy the oil, the bridegroom came, and the doors were closed. O the harmful negligence! O the incurable pain! O the irremediable loss! O the inconsolable grief. As they went to buy, the bridegroom came. The awaited joy came, the boast of the righteous came, the light came at midnight. The wise women met him, they entered with the bridegroom, and the doors were closed.

I shudder, considering what happened; I tremble, recounting the misfortune that befell the women. They longed to see the bridal chamber, the fearsome one; for its sake they had renounced the pleasures of the world, despised luxury, disdained glory, kept to hard paths, mastered their passions, and conquered their desires. And because they had no oil, they found the gates of the kingdom barred. For when they came and knocked, saying, "Lord, Lord, open to us," the Judge cried out from within, terribly: "Truly, truly I say to you, I do not know you." Oh, the finality of that sentence! And not even through an angel, but through Himself He gave the painful answer, so that, hearing the voice but unable to see the face, they might endure greater torment. "Truly I say to you, I do not know you." "Do you not know us, Master? From the womb we cast ourselves upon You, we followed You from our youth, we preserved our chastity, we kept the body You fashioned for us incorrupt, we did not betray our limbs to the passions, we expected to receive crowns from Your right hand. And now You have closed the doors and say, 'I do not know you'?" "Yes, truly I do not know you." "Why, O Master?" The Master: "Why? Because I was hungry, and you did not give Me to eat; I was thirsty, and you did not give Me to drink; I was a stranger, and you did not take Me in; I was naked, and you did not clothe Me; I was sick and in prison, and you did not come to Me. I expressly commanded you, saying, 'Insofar as you did not do for one of these, My least and lowly brothers, you did not do for Me either.'" And they said—

Was it in vain, then, O Lord, that we endured the toil and misery of the flesh? Was it in vain that we wasted ourselves with vigils and fasts? Was it in vain that, having yearned for the heavenly bridegroom to the end, we preserved our virginity unwounded? Yes, he says, you are virgins, but you have no dowry; you are virgins, but you do not wear bridal adornment; you practiced chastity of the flesh, but you wounded chastity with inhumanity; your body is undefiled, but your manner is pitiless, not of nature, but of inhumanity. My bridal chamber is for those who have acquired the oil of beneficence. Therefore, those who are betrothed to me must wear a manner befitting the world. I cannot take a bride who fights against my chambers; I do not introduce war into peaceful bridal chambers. So depart from me, do not trouble my doors in vain; my kingdom is a dwelling place for the merciful. That one easily enters with me who has imitated my compassion for the poor, who has become poor in spirit, who has inclined his ear to those in need, who has made the sufferings of his neighbor his own, who has wept at others' misfortunes, who has filled the soul of the hungry with good things, who has warmed the shoulders of the naked, who has not ignored the voice of the sick, who has lent a word of encouragement to the faint-hearted, who has received the stranger under his roof, who has wiped away the tear of widows with the sponge of sympathy, who has lightened the burden of orphanhood by his protection. Knowing these things, brothers, do not admire with your tongue, but imitate with your deeds.

For the hand is the seal of the tongue, and the offering of the right hand interprets it, emulating the words. Let us make much of love for the poor; let us not spare scattering obols to the needy, I beseech you; let us hearken to the Lord's words; having learned the experience of fear, let us shun it; let us take thought for ourselves through the poor. For the virgins, having not honored philanthropy, are cast out of the bridal chamber. What hope, then, remains for sinners who have outraged by inhumanity? Saying these things to the multitude, I secure the conscience of the more negligent, harming none of the well-disposed, but rather making them more ardent toward piety. Therefore, scatter, brother, while the festival of life still holds together. Procure the materials for your defense; before the thrones are set, display a lament; anticipate the arrival of the bridegroom; run swifter than sin; forestall the appointed judgment; tend to the judge; do not consent to stand naked before the tribunal. Now

Scatter your wealth, so that you may then dissolve accusations; speak to the judge in private, so that he may not condemn you before all; take a mediator for his service, the poor man; through him bribe the judge; entrust such a mystery to him alone; through him sell justice to the condemned. The poor man receives, and the judge signs a pardon; he receives without writing, and offers written documents. For he who pities a poor man lends to God. Whatever you now place in the hand of the poor man, you will recognize in the palm of the judge. If, therefore, we are eager to escape judgment, let us even now appease the judge through the poor. And when you are making your last dispositions, write the departing soul of your life along with your relatives or friends; give it even small provisions for the necessity; let the letters of the will bear the name of the judge; let the paper not lack the memory of a poor man. Make death a cause of joy, and not worthy of lamentations; do not stand before the fearful tribunal without advocates; fill the bellies of those who must plead for you with their tongues before the Lord. Let us acquire through them the Creator as our debtor, so as not to pay the penalty on that day; let us purchase with money such advocates for this success. For you have, he says, the poor man as a witness of your friendship toward me; you know that I make the concerns of the poor my own. I cause grass to spring up for the cattle, and I supply food to all; and yet, when you perform almsgiving, I incline my hand together with the poor man and receive the obol. I spread out the light like a garment; if only you clothe the poor man, I perceive the warmth.

You know me sitting with the Father in heaven; and if you only set out to visit those in prison, you will find me sitting with them in their chains; and if you run to the sick, I do not leave the bedside. For I am everywhere, and I stand by those in need. Whatever you give to the poor man, you will see this multiplied by me. If you bring the homeless man into your house, and through him receive me in your house, I will provide you with these three things: I will increase your profit, I will guard your house, and I will prepare for you a dwelling in the heavens; in which pain and grief and groaning have fled, in God the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, to whom belong glory and power, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.