Sermons to the People 277.3–277.18

So the martyrs of Christ wisely did not despise their bodies. Perverse and worldly is the philosophy of those who do not believe in the resurrection of bodies. For they seem to themselves great despisers of the body, because they think they hold these bodies as prisons, into which they suppose souls have been thrust because they sinned before elsewhere. But our God made both body and spirit; he is the creator of both and the re-creator of both; the founder of both, the restorer of both too. So the martyrs neither despised the flesh nor persecuted it as an enemy. “For no one ever hated his own flesh.” They rather took care of it when they seemed to neglect it: when, persevering faithfully in it, they endured temporal torments, they were gaining eternal glory even for the flesh itself. But what the glory of this flesh will be in the resurrection, who can explain in words? None of us has yet experienced it by having it. Now we carry a burdensome flesh, because needy, because weak, because mortal, because corruptible. “For the body which is corrupted weighs down the soul.” But do not fear this in the resurrection. “This corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal put on immortality.” What is now a burden will be an honor; what is now a load, then a relief. For it will have no weight, so that you feel you have a body. See, dearly beloved: when our body is healthy, even this frail and mortal one, when it is balanced by the right mixture of its parts, when nothing in it quarrels with anything else; heat does not overcome and press the cold, nor is warmth extinguished by an abundance of cold, and afflict while it struggles; dryness does not swallow moisture, nor does moisture flood and oppress; but all things of which it consists are balanced by a harmonious joining among themselves, which is called health. And health of body, to put it briefly, is the concord of the things of which it consists. This health, then, that is, the concord of members and humors, in a corruptible thing, in a needy and frail thing, in a thing that can still hunger and thirst, be tired by standing, be refreshed by sitting, again be tired by sitting, fail by hungering, be refreshed by eating; not relieving past failings except by starting others (for whatever else you take, tired, for refreshment is the beginning of another tiredness, since in the very thing you took to relieve yourself, if you persist, you will be tired from that too): in this weak and corruptible body, then, what is health itself, of whatever sort? For this which is called health in mortal and corruptible flesh is in no way to be compared with the health of the angels, equality with whom is promised us in the resurrection. Yet this health, as I said, of whatever sort, what delight it has, what a desirable good it is to all! What a great thing a poor man has when he has this alone; what a great thing a rich man does not have when he alone lacks this! Why does the wealthy man boast? Fever does not dread a silver bed; it does not fear the pomp of the rich, it does not fear the javelins of the warrior.

What, then, is this very health, which the martyrs rightly despised because in that same flesh they hoped for another? Yet since we have not yet experienced that one, let us conjecture it somehow from this one which we know. What is health? If you say to me, “What is seeing?” as far as the body is concerned, I shall perhaps answer you: perceiving shapes and colors. If you say to me, “What is hearing?” I shall answer: perceiving sounds. If you say, “What is smelling?” I shall answer: perceiving odors. What is touching? Perceiving hard or soft, hot or cold, rough and smooth, heavy or light. What is health? Perceiving nothing. But even these senses in us now grow cheap by comparison with others. You see sharply: perhaps an eagle sees more sharply than you. You hear sharply: there are little animals that hear more sharply. You smell sharply: you do not beat a keen-scented dog. You discern flavors sharply by tasting: there are animals that distinguish untried plants and do not touch what is harmful. For you, however sharply you discern food, rush unwittingly into poison. You perceive sharply by touch: how many birds sense summer coming beforehand and change places; sense winter threatening and migrate to warmer places? What you perceive when it has come, they sense before it comes. And this very thing which I praised in health, to perceive nothing: a stone perceives nothing, a tree nothing, a corpse nothing.

For did that governor Dacian feel nothing in his heart when he raged against a corpse that felt nothing? For what could he do now to one who felt nothing, who could be overcome even by one who felt? Yet he did whatever he could; he did it in anger. But he who now suffered nothing openly was being crowned in secret. For he held to the sentence of his Lord, who, wishing to make us secure about those who kill the body, said: “Do not fear those who kill the body, and afterward have nothing they can do.” How do they afterward have nothing they can do, when that madman did so much to Vincent’s body? But what did he do to Vincent, who did nothing even to him when he could feel? So health is not to feel nothing as a stone does not feel, as a tree does not feel, as a corpse does not feel; but to live in the body and to feel nothing of its burden: this is to be healthy. And yet however healthy a man is in this life, he feels the weight even of a healthy body. Even a healthy body “which is corrupted,” that is, corruptible, “weighs down the soul.” It weighs down the soul, that is, it does not obey the soul at the nod of every wish. It obeys in many things: it moves the hands to work, the feet to walk, the tongue to speak, the eyes to see; it directs the hearing to perceive voices: in all these the body complies. The desire to change place feels the burden, feels the weight: the body is not moved with such ease to arrive where it desires. Someone set in the body desires to see a friend set in the body; he knows he is far away, many stages lie between: in mind he has already gone ahead; when he arrives in the body, then he feels what a burden he carries. The weight of the flesh could not obey the will with the speed it presumed; it could not be carried off with the speed it wished, with which the mind carries it. It is slow and burdensome.

Do we think the body itself has anything by which the swiftness of the body may be proved? Shall we say the feet? What is slower? They are the ones that arrive, and they barely follow the desires, and arrive by laboring with effort. But suppose someone as swift as certain animals, with whose swiftness ours is not to be compared; suppose someone as swift as birds: he does not arrive at a stroke, as he wished. Birds fly a long time when migrating, and sometimes, tired, settle on the masts of ships. So even if we could fly like birds, we would be slow compared with our desire to arrive. But when the body has become spiritual, of which it was said, “It is sown an animal body, it will rise a spiritual body,” how great an ease there, how great a speed, how great an obedience to the one who wills! In nothing weight, in nothing want, in nothing weariness, in nothing resistance and struggle from another part.

What kind of body was that which the Lord brought through closed doors? Pay attention, I beg you, whether with the Lord’s help I can, in words of whatever kind, either satisfy your expectation or not fall far short of it. An occasion has arisen for us to discuss something about the spiritual body from the passion of the Martyr, by whom we have seen, and marveled, how the body was despised amid torments. For we said that by not sparing the body he was taking care of that same body: lest by fleeing temporal punishments and denying Christ he should destine that same body to everlasting punishments and most dreadful torments. From this, then, wishing to exhort you, and myself, to despise present things and hope for future ones (for “in this dwelling we groan, being burdened,” and yet we do not want to die, and we dread being stripped of the weight; “for we do not want to be unclothed, but to be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life”): on this occasion, then, I have undertaken to say something to you about the spiritual body, and I thought I should first commend this very health of this frail and corruptible body, so that we might find something great from it. We found that in health itself one feels nothing. For we have many things inside in our inward parts: which of us would know them, unless he saw them in mangled bodies? Our organs, our insides, which are called intestines, how do we know them? And it is well with us then, when we do not feel them. For when we do not feel them, then we are healthy. You say to someone, “Look after your stomach.” He answers you, “What is the stomach?” Happy ignorance: he does not know where he has what he always has healthy. If he did not have it healthy, he would feel it; if he felt it, he would know it to his own harm. [9] But though we have praised the health of the body, we come to swiftness of movement and find ourselves somehow made of lead. How great is the swiftness of heavenly bodies? Do you want to know how great? Look at the sun, and it seems to you as if it does not move, and yet it moves. Perhaps you say: “It moves, but rather slowly.” Do you want to know with how great a speed it moves? Do you want to gather by reason what you do not perceive by sight? If someone ran on post-horses by a straight road from east to west on this earth, in how many days would he arrive? With whatever speed of horses he were carried, how many stages would he make? The sun, which seems to you to stand still, completes the distance of the journey from the beginning of the east to the end of the west in one day, and in one night returns to its rising. I do not want to say, because it is obscure and hard to persuade, or perhaps uncertain, how much wider the heavenly spaces are than the earthly. Since, then, we see so great a speed of heavenly bodies, which seem to us, when we watch them, not to move, to what speed can we compare the angelic body? They have been present too, and when they wished they offered themselves to be seen and touched. Abraham washed the angels’ feet. He not only washed those bodies but also handled them. They appeared as they wished, when they wished, to whom they wished. They feel nothing of difficulty, nothing at all of slowness. But we do not see them running, we do not see them moving from place to place, so as to know them departing from men’s eyes: when they wished, they arrived. So there is nothing even from these from which we may offer a most evident example of this swiftness. Let us leave aside unknown things, and dare to presume nothing rashly about things not experienced.

In this very body which we carry I find something whose ineffable swiftness I marvel at. What is this? The ray of our eye, by which we touch whatever we see. For what you see, you touch with the ray of your eye. If you want to see farther, and some body is in between, the ray rushes against the body in the way and is not allowed to pass through to what you desire to see; and you say to the one hindering you, “Move away, you are blocking me.” You want to see a column; a man standing in the middle hinders your gaze. Your ray has been sent out, but it reaches as far as the man; it is not allowed to reach as far as the column: it runs into something else; it is not permitted. See, the one who was blocking you has moved out of the way; the gaze reaches where it wanted. Now examine, and, if you can, find out and answer whether this gaze, this ray of your eye, reaches what is near more quickly and what is far more slowly. You saw a man standing near; in as much time as you saw him, in as much time as you stretched the ray of your eye to him, in as much time as you reached him with the ray of your eye, in that much time you reach that column too which you wanted to see and could not because the man was in between: not more quickly to him and more slowly to it; and see, he was near, and it farther away. If you wanted to walk, you would reach the man more quickly than the column; because you wanted to see, you reached the man as quickly as the column. This is nothing, about the column and the man. Cast your eyes further: you see a wall far off; send them farther, you reach the sun. How great is the distance between you and the sun? Who could measure those intervals? Who by any sharpness of thought could estimate how far the sun is from you? And yet as soon as you have opened your eye, see, you are here, your ray is there. As soon as you wanted to see, by seeing you arrived. You did not look for machines to strain with, ladders to climb, ropes to be lifted by, wings to fly with. To have opened the eye, this is to have arrived.

What, then, is this swiftness? How great is it? What does it mean? It belongs to our body; it is sent out from our flesh. We have rays, and we do not marvel. We use them by seeing; we are amazed by considering. You find nothing to compare with this swiftness, as far as bodily swiftness is concerned. Rightly the apostle Paul compared the ease of the resurrection to this swiftness, saying: “In the twinkling of an eye.” The twinkling of an eye is not in closing and opening the eyelids; for that is done more slowly than seeing. You raise the eyelid more slowly than you direct the ray. Your ray reaches heaven more quickly than the raised eyelid reaches the eyebrow. You see what the twinkling of an eye is; you see what ease the Apostle gave to the resurrection of bodies. How slowly these bodies were created and formed! Let us recall the delays of conception, and the seeds of little ones growing together in their mothers’ wombs; the members formed through a number of times, on fixed days, over many months, until what has been created and formed within is brought forth into the light. Then with how much delay it grows, with how much delay adolescence succeeds childhood, youth adolescence, old age youth, death all of them. Another delay is added too: the corpse is seen whole and fresh, it dissolves into decay; and for that dissolution times are needed, until it flows away into corruption and dries into ash. And from the first beginnings of the womb to the last ash of the tomb, how much delay lies between? How many days? What spans of time? It comes to rise again: in the twinkling of an eye it is restored.

Attend, then, brothers, and compare what is to be compared with the things with which it is to be compared. This flesh moves more quickly in walking than it was formed, than it was nourished, than it grew, than it reached the state of youth and attained its full age and stature: it moves more quickly in walking than this comes about in it. But further, the resurrection will take place in the twinkling of an eye: how great will the swiftness of moving be, if that of rising could be so great? Bodies have been torn by the cruel; though the members of the dead are scattered through the whole world and their ashes dispersed over the whole earth, from so great a lap all that has been scattered is restored in the twinkling of an eye. We marvel at the exceedingly great swiftness of our rays which pour out from our eyes, unbelievable if we did not experience it: more wonderful will be the ease in the spiritual body that is to be. It will indeed rise in the twinkling of an eye. But our Lord did what the ray of our eye cannot: he brought a body even through closed doors. After the resurrection, when his disciples were gathered in one place, he suddenly appeared with the doors shut. Where we cannot see through, he could even enter. Let no one say, “He could do this indeed, but it was the Lord’s body; will mine be able to as well?” From here too receive full security from the Spirit who spoke through the Apostle. For of the Lord himself it was said: “Who will transform the body of our lowliness, conformed to the body of his glory.”

About such a body, then, about the great ease, swiftness, and health of this body, let human frailty dare to define nothing rashly and presumptuously. What we shall be, we shall know when we are. Before we are, let us not be rash, lest we fail to be it. Human curiosity sometimes asks, and says to itself: “Do you think we shall see God through that spiritual body?” It can indeed be answered quickly: God is not seen in a place, God is not seen through parts, God is not seen spread through spaces and separated by intervals. Though he fills heaven and earth, he is not therefore half in heaven and half on earth. For if this air fills heaven and earth, the part of it which is in heaven is not on earth. And whatever water fills, it fills the space in which it is contained; but half of it is in half the space, half in the other half, the whole in the whole. God is nothing of that kind. Do not doubt this at all, that God is not a body. To be spread through spaces, to be contained in places, to have parts, halves, thirds, quarters, wholes, is proper to bodies. God is nothing of the kind; for God is whole everywhere: not half in one place and set in another place with the other half, but whole everywhere. He fills heaven and earth: but he is whole in heaven, whole on earth. “In the beginning was the Word”: so that you may hear the same thing of the Son himself too, since the Son too is one God with the Father: equal not in bulk but in divinity. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him nothing was made.” And a little after: “And the light shines in the darkness.” This only-begotten, remaining whole with the Father, shines whole in the darkness, whole in heaven, whole on earth, whole in the Virgin, whole in the infant; not at alternate times, as if migrating from place to place. For you too are whole in your house and whole in the church: but when in the church, not in your house; when in your house, not in the church. He, then, is not whole in heaven, whole on earth, whole in the Virgin, whole in the infant (to mention nothing else) in that way, as if migrating from heaven to earth, from earth into the Virgin, from the Virgin into the infant; but he is whole everywhere at once. For he is not poured out like water, nor separated and carried across by effort like earth. When he is whole on earth, he does not abandon heaven; and when he fills heaven, he does not withdraw from the earth. “For he reaches from end to end mightily, and orders all things sweetly.”

If, then, bodily eyes will be able even then, when the body has become spiritual, to see a substance which is not seen in a place; if they will be able by some hidden power, some untried power, wholly unknown and grasped by no estimate: if they will be able, let them be able. For we see with our eyes; we do not begrudge our eyes. Only let us not try to bring God into a place, let us not try to shut God up in a place, let us not try to spread God through the spaces of places as if with some bulk; let us not dare this, let us not think it. Let the substance of the divinity remain in its own proper dignity. Let us, certainly, change ourselves for the better as far as we can, and not change God for the worse. Especially since we do not find, or have not yet found, anything defined about this in Scripture. For neither do I dare to presume that there is not in it something that could be found. Either it is not there, or it is hidden, or it is hidden from me. If anything on either side can be found by anyone, I gladly accept it, and if I do not give thanks for being instructed, not to the man speaking but to him who teaches through the man, I shall be ungrateful. But far be it that the giver of grace should allow me to be ungrateful. This only I say: eyes that see what they see through intervals of places, that is, so that there is a space between the one seeing and what is seen (for otherwise these eyes do not see: for if you move something very far away from them, they do not see because the rays do not reach things placed far off; but if you bring something closer to them, unless there is some interval between the eyes of the one seeing and the body seen, it cannot be seen at all; for if by bringing it nearer you touch the very eyes by which something is seen, with the space lost the sight is lost): this, then, I say, that such eyes, which see whatever they see only through intervals and spaces of places, neither can see God now nor will be able then, because he is not in a place. So either there will be something else they can see, something that cannot be seen in a place; or, if it remains in them that they cannot see except in a place, they will not see him who is not in a place.

But until this is more carefully inquired into concerning the spiritual body, so that it may either be understood or rightly believed, let us hold that the body will rise; let us hold that the form of our body, this one, will be, which Christ either showed or promised in secret. Let us hold that the body will be spiritual, not animal as it is now. For it is plainly expressed and cannot be contradicted: “It is sown an animal body, it will rise a spiritual body.” Let us hold that Father and Son and Holy Spirit, by their own nature, their own substance, are equally and alike invisible, since we believe them equally and alike immortal, we believe them equally and alike incorruptible. And the Apostle put these together in one place: “To the King of ages, immortal, invisible, incorruptible, the only God, be honor and glory for ages of ages. Amen.” God alone, Father and Son and Holy Spirit, immortal, invisible, incorruptible: not invisible now and visible afterward, since not incorruptible now and corruptible afterward. As he is always immortal, as always incorruptible, so also always invisible. If invisibility is changed, it is to be feared that immortality may be changed. I think the Apostle himself put “invisible” in the middle, between “immortal” and “incorruptible,” for this reason: what could be doubted, lest it be overturned, he fortified on both sides. Let us hold this unswerving confession. It is not the same to stumble about the creature and to stumble about the Creator. Let us certainly seek the qualities of creatures by discussion, and if we are mistaken in something, “to what we have attained, in that let us walk.” For then, “if in anything you think otherwise, God will reveal this too to you.” Hence yesterday we argued at greater length. “Blessed are the clean of heart, for they shall see God.” Let us press on in every way to cleanse our hearts, let us watch with every effort; let us obtain by every prayer, as much as we can, that we may cleanse the heart. And if we think about the things that are outside: “Cleanse,” he says, “what is inside, and what is outside will be clean.”

Perhaps someone will think that the testimony about the flesh is as clear as that about the heart, because it is written: “All flesh will see the salvation of God.” We have a most evident testimony about the heart: “Blessed are the clean of heart, for they shall see God.” We have one about the flesh too: “All flesh will see the salvation of God.” Now who would doubt that the vision of God has been promised to the flesh, if it did not trouble us what “the salvation of God” is? Rather, because it does not trouble us, we are not in doubt: the salvation of God is Christ the Lord. So if our Lord Jesus Christ were seen only in his divinity, no one would doubt that the flesh will see the substance of God, since “all flesh will see the salvation of God.” But since our Lord Jesus Christ can be seen by the eyes of the heart, clean, perfect, full of God, as far as his divinity is concerned, and was also seen in the body, according to what is written, “After this he was seen on earth and lived among men,” how do I know how it was said, “All flesh will see the salvation of God”? That it was said because it will see Christ, let no one doubt. But whether the Lord Christ in the body, or as he was in the beginning, the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God, about this there is doubt, this is the question. Do not press me with one testimony; I readily confess: “All flesh will see the salvation of God.” They say this means, “All flesh will see the Christ of God.” But Christ was seen in the flesh too, not indeed mortal flesh, if that spiritual change is still to be called flesh; for he himself after the resurrection said to those seeing and touching him: “Handle and see, for a spirit does not have flesh and bones, as you see that I have.” He will be seen so too: not only was he seen, but he will be seen. And perhaps then will be more perfectly fulfilled what was said, “all flesh.” For now flesh has seen him, but not all flesh: but then, at the judgment, coming with his angels to judge the living and the dead, when all who are in the tombs have heard his voice and have come forth, some to the resurrection of life, others to the resurrection of judgment, they will see the very form which he deigned to take on for us, not only the just but also the unrighteous, some on the right, others on the left; for those too who killed him “will look on him whom they pierced.” So all flesh will see the salvation of God. Body through body: for he will come in a true body to judge. But to those placed on the right and sent into the kingdom of heaven he will show himself in the way in which he was already seen in the body; and yet he said, “Whoever loves me will be loved by my Father, and I will love him and show myself to him.” This the ungodly Jew will not see. “For let the ungodly be taken away, so that he may not see the glory of God.”

Righteous Simeon saw him both with the heart, because he recognized the infant, and with the eyes, because he carried the infant. Seeing him in both ways, recognizing the Son of God and embracing the one born of the Virgin, he said: “Now you dismiss your servant, Lord, in peace, for my eyes have seen your salvation.” See what he said. For he was held back until he should see with his eyes too the one whom he discerned by faith. He received a little body, he embraced a body; seeing a body, that is, discerning the Lord in the flesh, he said, “My eyes have seen your salvation.” How do you know that all flesh will not see the salvation of God in this way? And so that we may not despair of his coming to the judgment in that form which he took for us, not in that in which he has always remained equal to the Father, let us hear the voice of the angels on this too. As he was being carried into heaven before the eyes of his disciples, and they were gazing, and were escorting with their sight the one desired by their heart, they heard from the angels: “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking into heaven? This Jesus who has been taken from you will come in the same way as you saw him going into heaven.” So, then, so he will come, as he departed into heaven. He will come visible to the judgment, because he departed visible into heaven. For if he departed visible and will come invisible, how will he come in the same way? But if he will come in the same way, then he will come visible; and all flesh will see the salvation of God.

I did not say this (remember as far as you can, so that we may learn, until we find them, the things we do not yet know; but what we know there is no need for us to learn, but, with the Lord’s help, to teach): I did not say this, then, because I denied that the flesh will see, but because clearer testimonies must be sought, if perhaps they can be found. For you see what kind of thing this one is that has been brought forward. For it makes rather for us, or for the truth itself, or for those who contend as if certainly that the flesh will not see God at all in any way, not even in the resurrection of the dead. We do not contend from this, but we remind the sharp, we impress it on the slow. Though we may be tedious to many, still we say it. God is not seen in a place, because he is not a body; because he is whole everywhere, because he is not less in one part and greater in another. Let us hold this most firmly. But if that flesh receives so great a change that through it can be seen what is not seen in a place, let it by all means be so. But we must seek where we may be taught it. And if it is not yet taught, let it not yet be denied, but certainly let it be doubted. Yet in such a way that it is not doubted that the flesh will rise, it is not doubted that the body will become spiritual from animal, it is not doubted that this corruptible and this mortal will put on immortality and incorruption: so that “to what we have attained, in that we may walk.” Certainly, if by inquiring too much we perhaps go astray in something, at least let us go astray about the creature, not about the Creator. Let each one beware, as far as he can, of turning the body into spirit, so long as he does not turn God into a body.