In illud Ne timueritis

ON THE SAYING OF THE PROPHET DAVID, which says, "Do not fear when a man grows rich, or when the glory of his house is multiplied," and concerning hospitality. 1. Pleasant is it for the farmer to drag the plow for the cleansing of the field, and to cut the furrow, and to pull up the thorns, and thus to cast the seeds, when there is no thorn to spoil the seed; but far more pleasant is it for the speaker, when he casts the divine thoughts into a hearing that has no turmoil. For this very reason we take up the discourse with pleasure, because we see this field cleansed. For even if we do not see your mind, yet your opened eyes and your hearing already raised up give me signs of the inner calm. For I cannot enter into your conscience; but your eyes, standing fixed and raised aloft, utter a voice, that there is no turmoil within, but rather you cry out with eagerness: Cast the seeds; we receive whatever you may cast, because of the hope of the fruit; for we have driven out every worldly care from our mind. And for this reason I always take up deeper thoughts, trusting in the nobility of the field.

For the Scripture seeks not only a wise teacher, but also an understanding hearer. Therefore I call you blessed, and I call myself blessed as well. For blessed, it says, is the one who speaks into the ears of those who hear; and, Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. Therefore let us lay down our thoughts for you who have come with eagerness. For all others are now being rotted away in marketplaces and in the cares of life, but you, becoming higher than the earth, receive thoughts that are spiritual; and those men serve the slave, caring for the flesh, but you, adorning the noble and free soul, keep it. For where are you spending your time now, O man? In the marketplace. Why do you gather? Mire and mud. Come, receive myrrh from me. Why do you gather perishing wealth, the tyrant love of money, perishing offices, an abundance of worldly cares, which is now and tomorrow will not be? Why do you pluck the flowers and leave the fruit? Why do you run after the shadow and not grasp the truth? Why do you pursue things that perish and not seek things that remain? Because All flesh is grass, and all the glory of man is as the flower of grass. The grass has dried up, and the flower has fallen off; but the word of the Lord remains forever. Have you become rich in money? And what is that to the soul? Richer in money, and poorer in soul, you exult in the leaves and are poor in the fruit. What is the benefit? Tell me. You have received money, which you are about to leave behind here; you have received office, from which plots are born. Come, enjoy philosophical words.

Spend your sins, exhaust your transgressions, make your conscience clean, make your reasoning lofty; become angel and man. Leave behind the nature of the flesh, and take up the light wing of life; release yourself from things visible, and hang yourself upon things invisible. Ascend into the heavens, dance with the angels, stand at the tribunal above, the high one; leave behind the smoke, and the shadow, and the grass, and the spider's web; for I know no name worthy to set upon such worthlessness. And these things I say, and saying them I shall not cease. Come, and become a man, so that the appellation of your nature may not lie against you. Have you understood what was said to you? He is a man, it says, but often the name is man, while the mind is not man. For when I see you living unreasonably, how shall I call you a man, and not an ox? When I see you seizing plunder, how shall I call you a man, and not a wolf? When I see you fornicating, how shall I call you a man, and not a pig? When I see you deceitful, how shall I call you a man, and not a serpent? When I see you having venom, how shall I call you a man, and not an asp? When I see you senseless, how shall I call you a man, and not a donkey? When I see you committing adultery, how shall I call you a man, and not a mare in heat? When I see you disobedient and unintelligent, how shall I call you a man, and not a stone? You received nobility from God; why do you betray the virtue of your nature? What are you doing? Tell me. Other men have an art, irrational creatures, as far as is possible, to transfer to the nobility of men;

They train parrots to utter the human voice, and by art they force nature; they make lions tame, dragging them through the marketplace. Do you make the lion a tame creature, untamed beast though it is, and make yourself wilder than a wolf? And what is more difficult, that each of the irrational beasts has one defect—the wolf toward rapacity, the serpent toward deceit, the asp toward venom—but in the case of a wicked man this is not so. For man does not often possess one defect, but he becomes rapacious, and deceitful, and venomous, and gathers the vices of the irrational beasts into his own soul. How then shall I call you a man, who do not have the token of the kingdom, do not have the diadem, do not have the purple? Let us make, he says, man in our image and likeness. Consider after whose image you were made, O man, and do not be dragged down to the cheapness of the irrational beasts. If you see a king casting off the purple and the diadem and herding together with the soldiers, and betraying his own rule, how would you call such a one a king? And you are a man. Do not show me, then, that you have the soul of a man, but whether you are a man in your mind. Are you a ruler of the irrational beasts, and have you become a slave of the irrational passions within you?

2. And how shall I become a man? he says. If you rule the thoughts of the flesh, those irrational ones, if you have cast out fornication, if you have cast out the untimely desire for money, if you have cast out that wicked tyrant, if you have made your own place clean. But how do you become a man? If you come here, where men are created. If I take you as a horse, I make you a man; if I take you as a wolf, I make you a man; if I take you as a serpent, I make you a man, not changing your nature, but transferring your choice. But what does he say? I have children, I preside over a household, I care for a wife, I am held by poverty, I hasten to necessary food. These are pretexts and excuses. For if I had kept you here the whole time, and had not allowed you to give yourself out to outside affairs even for a small turn of time, you would have had a defense to make to me and to say, "I have children, and I preside over a household"; and you would have said this well—or rather, you ought not to say this even then. For God is sufficient for you, while you are occupied here, to fashion all your affairs with greater abundance. But now I compel you to none of these things, nor do I say, "Devote yourself every day," but the second day of the week. What is burdensome, what is oppressive? Not the whole day, but for a small turn of time come to the church; receive spiritual thoughts, so that you may not receive wounds; not so that you may cast others down, but so that you may make the marketplace a church. Come, take up a weapon, so that in the weapon you may not receive a harmful blow.

Stand in the battle line, armed only; stand in the holy place, having only your eyes pure; enter the harbor, steering the ship only with precision. These things you can learn here; and you do not wish to, but you go out into a worldly battle line naked of the commandments of God. Consider how great a thing it is to go out from the church despising all human things, and trampling on grievous things, and becoming higher than good things, neither exalted in those nor pressed down in these—such as Job was, neither sunk by poverty nor exalted by wealth, but in the unevenness of circumstances preserving his own mind equal. Come, take a weapon from me. And what weapon? The one that often guarantees your salvation. You go out, and you see a man exalted on a horse with a golden bridle, and many guards around him; again some cheap and cast-off man. Then envy enters you because of the rich man; the evil eye of the poor man holds you. David comes to you, stands beside you and says: Do not fear when a man grows rich. Go out with the prophet, and do not fear. Go where I tell you with the prophet, with the teacher, with the staff, with the herald. Do not fear when a man grows rich. But you will say: This is the part of one who advises and counsels, and declares what is necessary; tell me also the manner by which I ought not to fear the man. Because the nature of wealth imitates the nature of man. And how, I say. What is man? A cheap living thing, perishable, short-lived. Such also is wealth.

Rather, it is not even like that, but even weaker. For it does not often die with the man, but it even dies before the man. And you know countless examples in this city of the death of untimely wealth, and you have learned that the possessor lives, but the possession perished; for the death of wealth is a change to poverty. Consider, then, how short-lived the possession is. For the possessor lives, but the possession perished—and would that it perished only, and did not destroy the possessor along with it. Therefore you would not err if you called wealth a senseless servant, a blood-drinking and man-slaying servant, a servant that repays its master with slaughter. And what is even worse, it does not surround him with dangers only when it leaves him, but even before it leaves him, it throws him into turmoil and confuses him. For do not look at the man clothed in silk garments, breathing myrrh, and attended from without; but unfold his conscience, strip bare his mind while he is still rich, and you will see within tumults and disturbances. And when you see another falling in that man's fall, understand your own misfortune.

3. For what is more unstable than human affairs? As I have often said, they imitate the nature of river currents: they appear and rush past at the same moment; they are grasped and leap away at the same moment. Do not fear when a man becomes rich. Take this saying, this spiritual song. For when envy enters, and the verse enters with it, the saying drives out the passion. Do not fear when a man becomes rich. These are my medicines, needing not money but heaven. For I do not treat a body but heal a soul—and I speak not only of your soul but of my own as well. For even if I am a teacher, I am still a man, subject to the common nature, offering a teaching that is common. Do not fear when a man becomes rich. Take this verse as a treasure and a foundation; take the verse as a root of wealth and abundance. For it is not being rich, but not wishing to be rich—this is wealth. Have you understood what was said to you? The one who wishes to be rich has need of possessions and money; but the one who does not wish to be rich is always in abundance. Do not fear when a man becomes rich, or when the glory of his house is multiplied. Do not fear, tell me—why? Since the rich are fearful, the prophet discloses their life: Why do you fear a man who is adorned with leaves but stripped of fruit? Why do you fear a man who walks toward bitterness? Why do you fear a man who always trembles? Why do you fear a man who lives with continual fear? For your slave does not fear you when you are absent, but that man carries his master within him. Wherever he goes, the love of money follows him.

and close relations, and servants, and friends, and the envious, and benefactors—he has them all as enemies at once. For wealth stirs up great envy. The poor man lives fearing no one, since he is rich only in philosophy and endurance; but the rich man, since he lives with greed, is hated by all, and goes about in public gatherings as an enemy, flattered with the face but hated in the mind. That these things are so—when the wind comes and strips the leaves, when a change of circumstances occurs, then the counterfeit friends are found out, then the masks of the flatterers are recognized, then the chorus of hypocrites is exposed, and the pretext of the drama. The mouths of all are opened, saying: "The vile man, the wicked man, the utterly wicked man." What are you saying? Did you not flatter him yesterday? Did you not kiss his hands? Those things were a mask. The time came, and they removed the mask, and I declared my mind. Why then, tell me, do you fear the man accused by so many? And what of it? Would that he did not accuse himself. I say these things not slandering wealth—I have said it ten thousand times—but those who use a good thing badly. For riches together with deeds are good. How are they good? If they relieve poverty, if they correct destitution. Hear how Job says: "I was an eye to the blind, and a foot to the lame; I was a father to the helpless." Behold wealth, and it was not sin, but love of the poor. "My house was open to everyone who came." This is the service of wealth—wealth not in name but in deed. This wealth is the servant of that wealth:

For the one is a name stripped of realities, while the other has the truth of both name and reality. Which one? The one of virtues, the one of almsgiving. How so? I will tell you. There is a rich man who seizes the possessions of all, and there is a rich man who gives his own to the poor. The one is rich in gathering, the other in spending; and the one sows the earth, the other cultivates heaven. As much as heaven is better than earth, so much is that man's abundance weaker than this man's. The latter has countless lovers, the former all as accusers. And what is truly wonderful, in the case of the robber and the covetous man, not only those who have been wronged, but even those who have suffered no evil, hate him, sympathizing with those who have been badly treated; whereas in the case of the merciful man, not only those who have received mercy, but even those who have not received mercy, love him. For virtue is better than vice, brothers. Vice has as enemies even those who have not been wronged; but almsgiving has as lovers even those who have not been benefited. For all say: God will deal well with him! For how were you benefited? Not I, but my brother; not I, but my member. For I reckon the good deed done to him as done to myself. Do you see how great virtue is? How desirable? How lovely? How beautiful? The merciful man is the common harbor, the father of all, the staff of the aged. And in the case of the merciful man, if he suffers anything unpleasant, all pray: May God have mercy on him, may he deal well with him, may his good things remain with him! But if you come to the robber, you will hear them saying: The foul one, the wicked one, the profane one. What wrong have you suffered? I, indeed, nothing, but my brother.

Countless outcries every day. If he falls, all trample on him. Is this life? Is this wealth? Is this not worse than a condemned man? The condemned man is bound in body, but this man in soul. Do you see him a prisoner, and do you not pity him? This is why I hate him, because he is bound, not by necessity, but by choice; because he has dragged the chain upon himself. Again you against the rich? they will say to me. Again you against the poor? Again you against those who seize? Again you against those who are seized? You are not satisfied eating and devouring the poor, and I am not satisfied correcting you. Are you always glued to these? Are you always glued to the poor man? Depart from my sheep, depart from my flock; do not ravage it. But if you ravage my flock, do you accuse me because I pursue you? If I were a shepherd of sheep, you would accuse me because I do not pursue the wolf when it comes against the flock. I am a shepherd of rational creatures; I do not pursue with a stone, but with a word; or rather, I do not even pursue you, but I call you: become a sheep, come, become of my herd. Why do you ravage the flock, you who ought to increase the herd? I do not pursue you, but I pursue the wolf; if you are not a wolf, I do not pursue you. But if you have become a wolf, blame yourself. I am not against the rich, but on behalf of the rich. For in saying these things, I speak on your behalf, even if you do not perceive it. How do you speak on my behalf? Because I rid you of sin, I free you from seizure, I make you a friend to all, longed for by all. I say to you always: Have you seized? Have you taken advantage? Come, and I will change you, I will change enmity into friendship, danger into safety.

These things are here, and there I give you again the kingdom of heaven, so that you may not depart into endless punishments, so that you may receive the good things which eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor has it entered into the heart of man. These things, then, are the work of one who pursues, or of one who counsels? Is it the work of one who loves you, or of one who hates you? But you hate me. Yet I love you. I have the command of my Master: Love your enemies. I do not withdraw from you as I heal you. Our Master was being crucified, and he said: Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing. Am I pursuing you? It is your passion I am driving out. Am I warring against you? It is against your wickedness. And do you not consider me a benefactor? Do you not consider me a guardian? Do you not consider me a protector more than all others? Who else will speak to you about these things? The ruler? Nothing of the sort—but about accusations, about charges. But your wife? About adornments, about gold. But your child? About inheritance, about a will, about a lot. But your servant? About service, about slavery, about freedom. But the parasites? About banquets, about dinners, about lunches. But those in the theater? About shameful laughter, about licentious desire. But the man in the courts? About wills, about inheritance, about freedom—the things he does. Where can you hear these things, if not from me? All fear you, but I despise you; as long as you are as you are, I despise you, I look down on you, I despise your passion. I cut, and you cry out; but I do not fear your voice, yet I long for your salvation; for I am a physician.

If you had a wound and called for a physician, and saw him sharpening the iron, would you not say, "Cut me, even though I am in pain, since I await the healing that comes from the cutting"? Yet you flee from me, who do not cut but purify your mind by the word. And after all, what does the physician do? He often cuts and makes the wound worse; but I do not make it worse, but better. For there the perplexed nature and the weakness of medicines are at work; here it is the power of words. A physician does not guarantee your healing, but I guarantee your healing; hear me. For this reason the only-begotten Son of God came down, to lead us up and to make us higher than the heavens. I fear one thing only, sin; let all other things be gone, whether wealth, whether poverty, whether power, whether anything at all. These things I say, and saying them I will not cease; for I wish no one of my flock to perish. What then? Is it possible for a rich man to be saved? Yes, indeed. Job was rich, Abraham was rich. Did you see his wealth? Look also at his hospitality. Did you see his table? Look also at his kindness. What then of Abraham? He was rich. Did I not contend with you? Was Abraham rich? Yes, he was rich. Did you see his wealth? Look also at his manner of life. And at midday the Lord appeared to him as he sat by the oak of Mamre; and behold, three men. And he rose up (for he did not think that the one present was God; for how could he?) and bowed down, and said, "If you have judged me worthy, let them enter into the tent of my servants." Did you see what the old man was doing at midday?

Not sitting under a roof, but drawing in strangers and travelers known from nowhere, the rich and noble man rose up and did reverence. The one who had taken away his money left house, wife, children, servants—though he had three hundred and eighteen—leaving them all, he went out to fish; he spread the net of hospitality, lest perhaps a traveler, lest perhaps a stranger, pass by the house. See what the old man does. He does not entrust it to a servant, though he had three hundred and eighteen; for he knew that the race of servants is slack; lest perhaps the servant doze off, and the stranger pass by, and he lose the catch. Look at Abraham, look at the rich man. Do you think yourself worthy even to see a poor man? Even to answer him? Even to converse with him? But even if you ever give, it is through a servant. But the righteous man was not like this; rather he sat receiving the hot ray, dripping dew in the heat; his desire for hospitality was his shade; he sat gathering the fruit of hospitality, and this while rich. Compare me with the rich men of today. At midday, where do they sit? In Hades. Where do they sit? In the death of drunkenness. Where do they sit? In the public square, sprawled out, drunk, hardened in heart, more irrational than irrational beasts. But the righteous man was not like this. 5. Do you wish to imitate Abraham? Imitate him in this way; I do not forbid it, but I even advise it; although greater things than Abraham are required of us. For unless, he says, your righteousness abound more than that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven. For now, at least, you—overtake Abraham. And what did Abraham have?

He was hospitable, and he rose and did reverence, not even knowing who the passersby were. For if he had known, he was doing nothing wonderful, because he was serving God; but the ignorance of those who came shows his eagerness for hospitality to be greater. And he sat and received them. And how? Lavishly: he slaughtered a calf, and he calls Sarah too, and makes his wife a partner in the hospitality, and not hidden in an inner chamber, but standing under the oak. For that table thereafter opened her womb and corrected the barrenness of her nature. He slaughtered a calf, and he received Isaac; he kneaded flour, and he received her seed, as the stars of heaven and as the sand of the sea. But you will surely say: Give me also the fruit of so many legitimate sons. Wretched and miserable and most worthless man, do you seek the things on earth? I give you heaven, the chorus with angels, enjoyment through eternity—and do you seek a corruptible death? I give you life that has no end. Greater is the reward, more abundant the recompense. Pay close attention to what I say, so that you may see the reversal of things. For when it was necessary to show hospitality, what does Abraham say to his wife Sarah? Hurry, and knead three measures of fine flour. Let women hear what is said. Hurry, and knead three measures of fine flour. For the theater is common to us, and the school is set before both natures. Let women hear what is said; let men also hear, and imitate. Hurry, he says, and knead three measures of fine flour; and he himself ran to the herd of cattle.

They divide the labor, so that they may also divide the crown. The things of marriage are common; let the things of virtue also be common. I took you as a helper; become a helper to me also in the higher matters. Hurry, hurry. He presses the woman, and so that the delay may not cast the guests into discouragement: Hurry, and knead three measures of fine flour. The command is laborious, the order burdensome: Knead three measures of fine flour. She did not say: What is this? Was it for these hopes that I was married to you, so that you might make me a miller and a baker, a woman who has so much wealth? You have three hundred and eighteen slaves, and you did not choose to command them, but you press me into this service? She said nothing of the sort, she did not think it; but since she was the wife of Abraham, not only by union of body but also by partnership in virtue, for this reason he says, Hurry; and she snatches the command with eagerness; for she knew the fruit of hospitality abounding. Hurry, knead. For he knew the woman's diligence. Where are the women of today? Let us compare them with Sarah. Do they receive such commands? Such works? Bring out for me the hand of the woman who loves adornment, and you see her gilded on the outside, but possessing a siege within. How many poor people's greed, tell me, does your hand carry? Bring out your hand for me, show it; what is it clothed in? Greed. Bring out the hand of Sarah. What is it clothed in? Hospitality, almsgiving, love, love of the poor. O beautiful right hand! Look at a right hand and a right hand. But the form of a right hand is one, yet the difference is great. There, fountains of tears; here, crowns and prizes.

I say these things so that women may not seek such things from their husbands, nor husbands endure their wives demanding such things. Look at Sarah; look at the wealthy woman who kneaded three measures of fine flour. How great was her toil? But she did not feel the toil because of the hope of the fruit and the gain. Hurry, knead three measures of fine flour. What are you doing? Are you adorning yourself, woman? To please whom? Your husband? It is a bad practice, if you intend thus to please your husband, if you are so eager to please your husband. How then shall I please? By chastity. But how shall I please? By gentleness, by philosophy, by meekness and love, by concord and harmony. These are your ornaments, woman. These virtues of yours produce concord; those ornaments do not make you pleasing, but rather make you burdensome even to your husband. For when you say, "Snatch it up and bring it to me," for a little while you are pleasing, but afterward you have an enemy. And so that you may learn that you are not pleasing your husband: you put these things away at home, and you put them on in the church. If you were pleasing your husband, you would wear them at home. But, as I said, you enter the church with your hands and neck covered in gold. If Paul comes—that fearful and beloved man, fearful to sinners and beloved to the pious—he cries out and says likewise: Women should adorn themselves, not with gold, not with pearls, not with costly clothing. Then if the Greek enters and sees that those women above are wearing these things, while Paul below is saying these things, will he not say that these things are a stage-play and a myth? Our affairs are not a stage-play, even if these things are done so. But the Greek is harmed, and says:

I entered a church of the Christians, and I heard Paul saying, "Not with gold, nor with pearls," but showing the opposite by works. What benefit is gold to you, woman? So that you may appear beautiful and fair? But this contributes nothing to the beauty of your soul. Become beautiful in soul, and you will also be desirable in body. A person's wisdom will illuminate his face—and indeed it is the wisdom of his soul. Nothing creates longing and love like affection. For if your husband loves you, even if you are ugly, you appear desirable to him; but if he hates you, even if you are beautiful, he does not wish to look at you. For the hatred of the soul does not allow the beauty of the face to appear. For when you are about to demand ornaments and gold from him, then he too will come to hate and flee from you, as from a tax collector appearing in the marketplace. But him he can flee; you he cannot, since you are inside continually and demanding services that have no reason. Let not only your ear hear these things, woman, but let your mind also be changed. My words are medicines that bite—biting for a time, and gladdening continually. I am a physician; I probe the wounds, so that, having grown older, they may not cause a worse spread. For I heal, granting health through the word; but the things of the present life show themselves timely and precarious and contemptible. But what I was saying about Abraham (for I will not forget the promise)—"Hurry, and knead"—let each woman write this in her mind, let each man keep this in his conscience.

Why do you bring me silken garments, and horses with golden bridles, and mules adorned with beauty? The mule is adorned below, the gold is kept in the stable; irrational mules carry the money, having golden bridles; irrational mules are adorned, while the poor man, wasting away with hunger, sits at your door, and Christ wastes away with hunger. O the utmost folly! What defense? What excuse, when Christ stands before your doors in the form of a poor man, and you do not bend down at all? Who will rescue you from the punishment there? I have given, he says, mercy. But do not give only as much as that one wishes, but as much as you are able. What then will you say, tell me, when the unbearable punishments, when those torments, and the threats, and the fearful powers, when the river of fire seethes, when the fearful judgment seat, when the impartial tribunal, when the nature without beginning, when the desolation of human things, when neither father, nor mother, nor neighbor, nor king, nor passerby, nor stranger is able to help you, but man stands alone with his works, being condemned for them, or also being crowned for them? What then will you say? Then you will remember my words. But what is the benefit to you? None; since that rich man also remembered and sought a time of repentance, but there was no profit to him. Nevertheless he said, Send Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his finger in water, and cool my tongue, for I am in great agony.

But he did not send Lazarus, not because a single drop would bring loss to the great fountain of paradise, but because the drop of almsgiving has no fellowship with cruelty. For since he was despised in the time of the contest, in the time of the crown he was deemed worthy of no consolation. 7. I say these things so that neither the poor man may weep because of his poverty, nor the rich man rejoice because of his wealth. Are you well-off? Wealth is lost if you do not bring the wealth that is fitting into the midst. Hurry, and knead three measures of fine flour. Then he himself ran to the herd, and sacrificed a calf. The old man became a runner; for the tension of his flesh was not slackened, but the mind of his philosophy was made sinewy; his zeal conquered nature. The master of three hundred and eighteen servants, carrying a calf, was not weighed down by the burden, but was lightened in mind by his zeal. The run lay before the old man, and much service, and toil and labor for the woman. For not only by generosity with money and abundance of table, but also by ministry and much service did they welcome the strangers, serving not through servants, but through their own hands and limbs. Then the woman stood by, having taken the form of a maidservant, and the strangers reclined at table, men unknown; for I will not cease saying this. For they thought them

that there are poor people; but they did not attend to this, but to the fact that they received strangers. And both stood by in that season, gathering the cluster of hospitality with their mind, their philosophy, their service, their welcome, their labor, their ministry, their love, their stewardship, their exactness, their leaving nothing undone. And the woman stood by the tree, using the tree in place of a chamber, and having the shadow of the leaves for a roof, and she was not ashamed to be publicly seen. For she stood displaying her own modesty, and gathering the fruit of her ministry. What then did the one who came say? At this season I will come, and Sarah shall have a son. What fruit the table sprouted! How beautiful! How swift! How ripe! How the cluster was darkening and complete! For that word entered the womb and fashioned the child. Such are the fruits of hospitality. Attend to what I am about to say. After these things, when the child had grown, the one born from the table, when the fruit of hospitality had become a man (for that womb did not beget him as the table begat him, and before all the word of God), when he had grown and become a man, and it was now the hour of marriage (attend carefully to what I say), the blessed Abraham, that patriarch, the old man, was now about to die; and since he dwelt as a sojourner among corrupted women and a most wicked nation, calling his own servant, he says: The women of the Canaanites here are wicked. What then do you want? Go to the land from which I was born, and bring a wife from there for my son. New and strange matters.

You know this, and you know it very well. For when a man wishes to take a wife for his son, both the father and the mother negotiate, and they go to other people's houses, and they flatter this one and court that one, and there are many matchmakers and many wedding-brokers, and promises of money, and every effort on the part of the father and the mother to speak with them personally, and they are not ashamed, nor do they blush, nor do they give orders to servants. But when a stranger comes, it is "You, go; bring him down; receive him." Abraham, however, did the opposite: when he had to do something lofty and philosophical, he did it himself; he did not entrust hospitality to a servant, but to his wife and himself. But when a woman and a marriage were being arranged, he says to the servant, "Go." Here the women do the opposite. If they wish to speak with a goldsmith, they are not ashamed, but they go out themselves in person and sit beside him, so that the gold may not be stolen, and their desire for money makes them despise propriety and dignity. But Abraham was not like this; rather, when he wished to receive strangers, it was through himself and his wife; but when it was a marriage, it was through the servant.

Why, then, do you call Abraham to mind? Because he was rich. Consider these things also in the case of Abraham, and you will never despise anyone. But from where did I come to say these things? Taking the prophet and that staff, "Do not fear when a man becomes rich." For that verse gave birth to all these things. And behold, we have found a treasure full of gold. "Do not fear when a man becomes rich." Take this staff, which is able to raise up bodies that have cowered in fear. For a staff is not by nature so able to raise up the cowering bodies of the old and aged, as this verse raises up the mind that cowers in fear—of the young and of the aged who are besieged by desire and by sin. "Do not fear when a man becomes rich." Why do you fear a man, who is not a man but a wolf? Why do you fear a man full of impieties, and besieged by gold? Why do you fear a man who has betrayed his own possessions through injustice, and often has the enemy within? But the prophet declared to me, saying: "Do not

Do not fear when a man becomes rich. Tell me further also the reason why I ought not to fear the rich man. Or when the glory of his house is multiplied. Oh the nobility of the expression! How in narrative and teaching he introduced philosophy: Do not fear when a man becomes rich, or when the glory of his house is multiplied! He did not say, And when his glory is multiplied, but, The glory of his house. For when you enter the house of some rich man, and you see in his house columns surpassing in size, and golden capitals, and marbles fastened to the wall, and fountains flowing, and springs and walks, and trees bent by the wind, and everything full of mosaics, and a herd of eunuchs wearing gold, and a multitude of servants, and carpets lying on the floor, and a table gleaming with gold, and adorned bedchambers—all these are the glory of a house, not the glory of a man. For the glory of a man is piety, equanimity, almsgiving, gentleness, humility, peace, righteousness, love unfeigned toward all. All these are the glory of a man. Why do you fear the rich man? Therefore fear his house rather. For that is what is rich, not the one who dwells in it. But I do not fear it, he says. Why? Because gold is lifeless matter. But do you fear the man? Yes. Why? Is the wealth not his? The splendor belongs to the house. The wall has marbles. What then has this to do with the dweller? The ceiling is golden. What then has this to do with the possessor? The capitals of the columns are golden. What then has this to do with that head of his, defiled with sins? But the floor is clean? But the conscience is unclean.

But are his garments silk? But his soul is full of rags. The house is rich, but the owner of the house is poor. When the glory of his house is multiplied. And so that you may learn that the glory belongs to the house, and not to the man, I convict you from your own words. Entering often into someone's house when it is beautiful, as you leave, what do you say? "I saw beautiful marbles." Do you not say, "I saw a beautiful man"? "The columns are wonderful, the windows are beautiful." Do you not say, "The dweller is wonderful"? "There is much gold on the ceiling." Do you not say, "His almsgiving is great"? "There are many fountains, and great abundance." Do you not say, "Great is the abundance of that owner"? Everywhere you talk about the walls, everywhere about the marbles, everywhere about the fountains, everywhere about the springs. Again you see a horse with a golden bridle, and you say, "The bridle is beautiful." So the praise belongs to the goldsmith. "The garment is wonderful." So the commendation belongs to the weaver. "The servants are beautiful." So the praise belongs to the seller. And he remains uncrowned, while the things around him enjoy the praises. But when you see a beautiful man, you say, "A beautiful man, handsome, gentle, wonderful, merciful, kind, contrite, always attentive in prayers, always persisting in fasts, always devoted in the church, always inseparable from divine teaching." These are praises concerning him, these are crowns. Learn, then, what is the wealth of a man, and what is the wealth of a house, and do not fear. For if you learn to divide wealth well, you will no longer fear. And do you see that the one considered rich by you is poor and destitute? Do not fear when a man becomes rich.

And so that you may learn that this is indeed the case, if here he deceives you, look at him at the time of his death. Does he take anything from all these things there, and depart? Then he died and lies naked, the man who was clothed in silk garments. He lies naked upon the bier, and the servants come and go, and no one cares for him; for they were not his servants. He has departed, and nothing of his remains. The wife is cut to the heart, she tears her hair; all entreat her, but she does not listen; the children are in orphanhood, the wife in widowhood; all are brought low—cupbearers, mixing bowls, parasites, flatterers, eunuchs. To take something from those vessels and depart he cannot; but what? He is carried away alone. They shower him with praises. And what does that do for him again? But does vainglory praise him? Why? For can he receive anything from it? Nothing of them can stand by him on that day. He who seized everything departs to the tomb, is buried in three cubits, and nothing more; and earth is upon his face, and the covering of the coffin. And the wife withdraws. Where is the wealth? Where are the servants? Where is the pomp? Where is the great and exceedingly beautiful house? They leave him behind; the wife too abandons him, even if she does not wish to; for the stench drives her away, the fountains of worms pursue her. Is this all? Yes; for he departed having nothing of his own. And so that you may learn that he departed having nothing of his own, the blessed martyrs, since they receive their own things, we do not withdraw from their tombs. And here not even a wife endures to remain;

There the king casts down his diadem and remains at the tomb of the martyr, entreating and beseeching that release from his troubles be granted to him, and victory over his enemies. Do not be afraid, then, when a man grows rich. Taking up this verse, let us sing to the Lord, giving thanks to him for all these things, to the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, because to him belong the glory and the might unto the ages of ages. Amen. By the same author, another discourse, delivered in Constantinople in the great church, when few had assembled, on "Do not be afraid when a man grows rich," and concerning almsgiving. 1. Brief is the fruit of one who has spoken well, but it is ripe; thin is the string, but great is its sound; few are the words, but precious are the thoughts. For he roused a whole congregation with his praises, and made them more zealous by his commendations, and he made known the cause of the cultivation, composing hymns to him and giving thanks according to the apostolic law, and he ended his discourse in doxology. And if he quickly drew in his table, it was not from poverty but from humility. For it was not because he lacked more to say that he shut his discourse in silence, but because he was yielding the teaching to us. Come then, let us too, having been released from the storm of the tumults that have already occurred, wash our hearing, as it were with river waters, by the reading of the Scriptures. So also do sailors;

When they have run through a storm and crossed a great sea and come to a calm harbor, they slacken the sails and lay aside the oar and disembark from the ship, and having restored the body with baths and food and drink and sleep and rest, they make it more vigorous for the rest of the voyage. Let us imitate these men too: having been released from the turmoil that arose yesterday, and the uproar, and the waves, let us moor our soul, as in some sheltered harbor, in the reading of the Scriptures. For a harbor unshaken by waves, and an unbroken wall, and an unshaken tower, and glory that cannot be taken away, and a weapon that cannot be wounded, and undying cheerfulness, and continual pleasure, and all the good things one might name—such is the company of the divine Scriptures. This both drives away despondency and preserves cheerfulness, and makes the poor man richer than the wealthy, and wraps the rich in security, and makes the sinner righteous, and establishes the righteous in safe keeping, and uproots the evils that are and plants the good things that are not, drives out wickedness, leads back to virtue—and not only leads back, but also roots it, and makes it remain continually, being a spiritual medicine, a certain divine and ineffable incantation, destructive of the passions. For it uproots the thorns of sins, and makes the field clean, and casts in the seeds of piety, and brings the fruit to maturity.

Let us not neglect such great blessings, nor forsake the assemblies, but let us run here continually, so that we may be healed without ceasing, and let no one be struck by envy at seeing another rich, nor be oppressed by poverty; but having learned well the true nature of things, let him run past the shadows and hold fast to the truth. For a shadow, even if it seems greater than the body, is nevertheless a shadow; and in fact it is not even greater, but only seems so, and it seems so only when we are farther from the ray of light. Thus, when at steady noon the ray stands overhead and is driven together from every side and contracts and becomes shorter—this very thing can also be seen in human affairs. For as long as a person places himself farther from virtue, the things of the present life appear great; but when he places himself in the very brightest light of the divine Scriptures, then he sees the cheapness and brevity and worthlessness of these perishable things, and learns clearly that these are no better off than river waters, appearing and passing away at the same time. For this reason the prophet, philosophizing, correcting the small-souled and wretched and those dragged along the ground and gaping at the fantasy of wealth, and those who fear and tremble before those who pride themselves on these things, and leading us away from such agony, and persuading us to despise them as being nothing, said: Do not fear when a man becomes rich, or when the glory of his house is multiplied. For he will not take all of it with him when he dies. Did you see the precision of the wording and the clearest distinction?

For he did not say, "When his glory is multiplied," but "The glory of his house," showing that the glory of a man is one thing, and the glory of a house another. What, then, is the glory of a man, and what is the glory of a house? For these things must be known clearly, so as not to embrace dreams before the truth. The glory of a house, then, is porticoes, colonnades, a gilded ceiling, a floor adorned with mosaics, meadows, parks, herds of slaves, costly furnishings—none of which has anything to do with the man. The glory of a man is right faith, zeal according to God, love, gentleness, forbearance, perseverance in prayers, the philosophy of almsgiving, chastity, orderliness, and all the other members of virtue. And so that you may learn that these things are so, the one who possesses those other things does not reap the glory that comes from them, nor would anyone be called beautiful because he has a beautiful house, or a park, or a meadow, or a multitude of slaves, or costly garments. For all that is admirable stands with the possession, not passing over to the one who possesses it. For we admire the house, and the park, and the meadow, and the beauty of the garments—things that are the praise of the craftsman's art, not of the virtue of those who possess them; indeed, quite the opposite, they are all a proof of vice.

2. At any rate, the nature of these possessions is so far from surrounding those who have them with glory that it even ruins it beyond measure. For all men mock those who display their abundance in these things as savage, inhuman, vulgar, and strangers to philosophy; for these things are not a man's glory, as I said, but his house's. But those who live in chastity, orderliness, gentleness, and equity, and who are devoted to God with exactness—these we admire, praise, and proclaim, since this is especially the glory of a man. Knowing these things, then, do not consider anyone an object of emulation among those clothed in those things that have nothing in common with him. And if you see someone sitting on a carriage, raising his eyebrows, stretching himself up, touching the very clouds—not by the nature of the thing (for that is not possible), but by the madness of his soul, or rather by his folly—do not consider this man glorious, nor lofty and great. For it is not mules pulling that make a man lofty, but the summit of virtue leading him up to the vaults of the heavens. And if you behold another sitting on a horse, having many rod-bearers and making a commotion in the marketplace, do not count this man blessed because of these things, but unfold his soul, and then judge concerning him those things that the sight of it suggests. For the things now seen are ridiculous. Why do you make a commotion in the marketplace? Tell me, why do you drive away and put to flight those who meet you—a man, a man? What is this vanity? What is this madness? Have you become a wolf, or a lion, so as to turn everyone to flight when you enter a city?

Rather, a wolf would never drive off a wolf, nor a lion a lion, but they herd together, respecting the kinship of nature. But you—who along with nature have many other claims to gentleness, humility, and equity—why do you become more savage than the beasts, and through your irrationality despise those who are rational? And your Master brought man up to heaven, but you do not even grant him a share of the marketplace? But why do I speak of heaven? He seated him on a royal throne, but you drive him even out of the city? And what do you want the golden bridle to be for you, the one that adorns the horse? Of what defense or what pardon will you obtain, adorning the irrational beast—which does not even perceive the honor—beyond its need (for gold and lead are the same to it), while you see Christ wasting away with hunger and do not even let him enjoy the necessary food? And why do you not endure, being a man, to mix with men, but seek solitude in the midst of cities, and do not consider that your Master also ate with tax collectors, and conversed with a prostitute, and was crucified with robbers, and mingled with men? But, tyrannized by arrogance and folly, you destroy even your being a man? From this comes our great contempt for almsgiving, from this the love of greed, from this cruelty and inhumanity.

For when you put a golden bridle on your horse, and a golden collar on your servant, and golden plates on your stone, and golden hides in your house, and golden garments, and a golden belt, and shoes, and when you put upon yourself so many compulsions to this wickedness, wishing to satisfy your insatiable desire and to provide food for the most savage of all beasts—I mean the love of money—then you strip orphans bare, and you strip widows naked, and you go about as a common enemy to all, unrolling a vain toil and a course that has no good end. For what does it mean to you that your barbarian servant wears gold? What is the profit? What benefit to the soul? What advantage to the body? What revenue to the household? Quite the opposite of everything: untimely expense, expenditure full of irrationality, a pretext for licentiousness, a school of vice, an occasion for a vulgar and dissipated life, corruption of the soul, a road leading to countless evils. And the couches bound with silver, the ones embroidered with gold, and the footstools, and the cauldrons fashioned from this, and the great laughter—what can they do to set your life straight? Or what made you better, or your wife, or anyone else in the household? Is it not from this that many robbers and housebreakers come? Is it not from this that servants run away? For when, seeing silver gleaming everywhere, they behold it, it is nourished in

the disease of theft in them. For if silver shining in the marketplace draws you, a free man and one who prides himself greatly on noble birth, toward desire, how much more so a slave. And I say these things not to absolve runaway slaves and those who perpetrate such villainies of blame, but to urge you not to set before them the nourishment of such diseases. But where, he says, shall we store these things up? Shall we bury them in the earth? Away with the thought! But if you wish to endure my counsel, I will tell you a way by which you will be able to make the runaway slave well-disposed. 3. For wealth is a runaway, leaping today to this one, tomorrow to another; and not only a runaway, but a maker of runaways, often making fugitives of those who guard it. How then might this runaway be held fast? In the opposite way from other runaways. For other runaways stay when they are guarded, but this one flees when it is guarded, and stays when it is scattered. And if what has been said seems strange to you, learn this from the farmers. For they, if they shut grain up in a house and bury it, have destroyed it by handing it over to moth and worm; but if they scatter it into the fields, they not only keep it, but also produce more. So too wealth, while it remains in chests and is behind doors and bolts, and is buried in the earth, runs away quickly; but if, as the farmer does with the grain into the field, you scatter it into the stomachs of the poor, it not only does not run away, but becomes even more from there.

Knowing these things, then, do not hand him over to a household slave, but make him held fast by ten thousand hands—the hands of widows, the hands of orphans, the hands of those whose bodies are maimed, the hands of those who dwell in prison. For he would not be able to escape so many graspings, but he is held securely, and he grows greater. And what, he says, shall I leave to my little children? Above all, then, I do not compel you to empty everything; but even if you empty everything, in this way you will make your children more prosperous, leaving them God propitious instead of money, the prosperity that comes from almsgiving, ten thousand protectors and benefactors also among men. For just as we hate the greedy, even if we are not wronged by them, so we respect and long for those who know how to show mercy, even if we ourselves do not enjoy their generosity—and not only them, but also their children. Consider, then, what great an ornament it is for children to be seen to have ten thousand lovers, and for all to speak these words, if the wealth were spent on the nourishment of the needy: "the son of the humane man, the son of the merciful man." But you adorn the senseless one in vain and to no purpose—for the stone is senseless, even if you put ten thousand talents of gold around it—while the one who feels and is wasting away with hunger you do not even make to share in the necessary food. When, therefore, the fearful judgment seat appears, and the rivers of fire, and we are required to give account of what has been done, what will you say in defense of such great folly, of such great senselessness, and cruelty, and inhumanity? What reasonable excuse? For just as each of the others has some aim and reason—

And the farmer, if you demand an account of him, will say why he yoked oxen, and cut furrows, and drew the plow; and the merchant, why he launched the ship, and hired workers, and deposited money; and the builder, and the shoemaker, and the bronzesmith, and the baker, and each of those pursuing any craft whatsoever gives the reason and the cause. So too you, who cover your couch with silver, who gild your horse and your stone, who fashion such leather goods—if an account and a reckoning be demanded of you, what cause will you give? In what manner? Is sleep sweeter from such a couch? But you would not be able to say so; rather, if one must say something paradoxical, it is even less pleasant; for there is more worry and greater anxiety. But is the building safer because of the gold? Not that either. But is the horse better because of the bridle? Or the servant? The opposite in every respect, here too. For what reason, then, do you display such great vulgarity through all these things? You will certainly say that you are procuring for yourselves a more brilliant reputation. Then have you not heard, even in the preface of this discourse, that these things are not a man's glory, but the very opposite of all—dishonor and reproach, and accusation and ridicule? From these things are born envy and malice, and countless evils; and the more lasting the possessions, the more enduring the accusation; and these great and splendid houses stand uttering a voice, even after the death of those who acquired them, as the bitterest accusers.

And the body is handed over to the earth, but the sight of the buildings does not allow the memory of greed to be buried together with the flesh; but each one who passes by, looking at the height and size of the bright and great house, will say either to himself or to his neighbor: From how many tears was this house built! How many orphans were stripped bare! How many widows were wronged! How many were deprived of their wages! So the opposite happens to you: wishing to enjoy glory in life, not even after you have ended your life are you free from your accusers; but as if carrying your name on a bronze pillar, the house makes even those who never saw you while alive cast countless reproaches upon you. Since, then, this excessive ambition does not have even this gain, let us flee, beloved, let us flee the disease, and let us not become more beastly than the irrational animals. For them all things are common—earth, springs, pastures, mountains, and glens—and neither has more than the other; but you, being a man, the gentlest of living creatures, become harsher than a wild beast, shutting up the food of countless poor, and often of countless thousands, in a single house. And yet not only is nature common to us, but also many other things far greater than nature: heaven is common, and the sun, and the moon, and the chorus of the stars, and air, and sea, and fire, and water, and earth, and life, and death, and growth, and old age, and sickness, and health, and the need for food and clothing.

And the spiritual things too are common, and this sacred table, the Master's body, the precious blood, the promise of the kingdom, the bath of regeneration, the cleansing of sins, righteousness, sanctification, redemption, the ineffable goods which eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor have they entered into the heart of man. How is it not absurd that those who share with one another in so many things—by nature, by grace, by promises, by laws—should be so greedy in their possessions, and not preserve the same equality, but surpass the savagery of irrational beasts, and this when they are about to depart from them a little later, and not only to depart, but even to be in danger concerning the last things because of these? For death takes one away from enjoyment, and leads one thereafter to accounts and to immortal punishments. So that this may not happen, let us make abundant use of almsgiving. For this is the queen of the virtues, which will also stand with boldness there, and will rescue from condemnation and punishment, and no one will withstand the one who enters heaven with her. For her wing is light, and the excess of her boldness is great, and she ascends to the very

a royal throne, bringing her nurslings in with freedom. For your prayers, it says, and your alms have gone up as a memorial before God. Why then do we not also ascend to that height, having been released from this untimely greed and useless luxury and vainglory? Let us make the superfluous useful, casting forth that great wealth, and entrusting it to the right hand of the Judge, who will be able both to guard it with exactness, and on the day of judgment will be gentle and merciful from this; and even if we have transgressed ten thousand times, he will grant us forgiveness and a defense; may it be that we all obtain this, by the grace and love for mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might, unto the ages of ages. Amen.