Homilies on 1 Thessalonians 9.1–9.5

“But concerning the times and the seasons, brothers, you have no need to have anything written to you. For you yourselves know accurately that the day of the Lord comes like a thief in the night.” Nothing, it seems, is so curious and greedy for learning hidden and veiled things as human nature. And this usually happens to it when it has a mind that is imperfect and not yet complete. For the simpler of children too [weary] their tutors and fathers with the frequency of their questions, in which there is nothing else but “When will this be?” and “When will that be?” And this comes both from being spoiled and from having nothing to do. Our mind, then, is eager to learn and grasp many things already, but above all the time of the consummation. And what wonder if we suffer this? For those holy apostles themselves suffered it most of all; before the passion they came and said to Christ, “Tell us, when will these things be, and what is the sign of your coming and of the consummation of the age?” And after the passion and the resurrection from the dead they said to him, “Tell us, will you at this time restore the kingdom to Israel?” and they asked him nothing before this. But after these things it was not so. For when they had been counted worthy of the Holy Spirit, not only do they not ask, nor are they vexed at their ignorance, but they even [restrain] those sick with this untimely [curiosity]; as now the blessed Paul says, “But concerning the times and the seasons, brothers, you have no need to have anything written to you.” Why did he not say, “No one knows”? Why did he not say, “It has not been revealed,” but “you have no need to have anything written to you”? Because in that way he would have grieved them more; but by saying this he comforted them. For by “you have no need” he did not let them search, as being both superfluous and unprofitable. For what, tell me, is the gain? Let us suppose the consummation is after twenty years, after thirty, after a hundred: what is that to us? Is not the end of each one’s life the consummation for him? Why are you curious and in travail about the common end? But what we suffer in other things, we suffer in this too. For just as in other things we leave our own affairs and take thought for the common ones, saying, “So-and-so is a fornicator, so-and-so an adulterer, that man robbed, another did wrong,” but no one takes any account of his own, but cares for everyone’s rather than his own; so here too, each leaving off care for his own end, we wish to learn the common dissolution. For what have you to do with that? If you arrange this end well, you will suffer nothing terrible from that one. Let it be far off, let it be near: this is nothing to us. Therefore Christ did not tell it, since it was not expedient. “And how was it not expedient?” someone says. The one who hid it knows why it was not expedient; for hear him saying to the apostles, “It is not for you to know times or seasons which the Father has fixed by his own authority.” Why then are you curious? Those around Peter, the chief, heard this, as seeking to learn things greater than themselves. “Yes,” someone says, “but it would have been possible so to stop the mouths of the Greeks.” How, tell me? “Since they,” he says, “say that this world is God; but if we knew the time of its dissolution, we would have stopped their mouths.” Very well: is it this that stops their mouths, learning that it will one day be dissolved, or learning when it will be dissolved? If you wish to stop their mouths, say this to them, that it will have an end; if they are not persuaded by this, neither will they be persuaded by that. Hear Paul saying, “For you yourselves know accurately that the day of the Lord comes like a thief in the night”: not the common day only, but also each one’s own; for this imitates that, since it is like it and akin to it. For what that does all at once, this does in part; and the time of the consummation took its beginning from Adam, and the end of each one’s life is an image of the consummation, and one would not be wrong to call it a consummation. For when ten thousand die every day, and all await that day, and no one rises before it, is it not that day’s work? And if you wish to learn why it has been hidden, and why it comes like a thief in the night, I will tell you as it seems to me to be right. No one would ever have cared for virtue throughout his whole life, if it had been plain and not hidden; but, knowing his last day, he would have done ten thousand terrible things, and then approached the bath [of baptism], and so departed. For if now, when fear of the uncertainty shakes the souls of all, all spend the whole of their former life in wickedness and give themselves to baptism at their last breath, if they had been fully persuaded about this, who would ever have cared for virtue? For if, even with fear pressing on them, many have departed without illumination, and not even this fear taught them while living to care for what pleases God, if this fear too had been taken away, who would ever have become self-controlled, who decent? No one at all. And again another thing, a great one: now the fear of death holds men, and the love of life; but if each knew that he would certainly die tomorrow, he would not have refused to dare anything before that day, but would have slaughtered whom he wished, and done ten thousand terrible things, avenging himself on his enemies. For a vile man who has despaired of life here takes no account even of the one who wears the purple. The man, then, who is persuaded that he must certainly depart would both avenge himself on his enemy and, having first satisfied his soul, so receive death. Shall I mention a third thing too? Those who love life and long greatly for the things here would have been destroyed by dejection and grief. For if one of the young knew that he would receive death before old age, just as the sluggish beasts, when caught, become more so as they expect death, so would he too be disposed. Not even the noble men themselves would have had a reward. For if they had known that they must certainly depart after three years, and could not before that, what reward would they have had for daring terrible things? For someone would have said to them: Since you are confident about the three years, you therefore give yourselves up to dangers, knowing that otherwise it is not possible for you to depart. For the one who expects to die from each danger, and knows that he will live if he does not give way, but will die if he dares such things, has given the greatest proof of his zeal and of his contempt for the life here. I will make this plain to you by an example. Tell me, if the patriarch Abraham had led up his son knowing beforehand that he would not slay him, would he have had any reward? And what if Paul, knowing beforehand that he would not die, had despised the dangers, where would he be admirable? For so even the most sluggish would have stepped into fire, if he found a trustworthy guarantor of his safety. But the three youths were not such; but what? Hear them saying, “King, there is a God in heaven who will deliver us out of your hands and out of this furnace; and if not, be it known to you that we do not serve your gods, and we do not worship the golden image that you have set up.” Do you see how many gains there are, and more than these, from not knowing one’s end? For the present it is enough to learn these. Therefore it comes like a thief in the night: so that we may not lead ourselves into wickedness, nor into carelessness, so that it may not cut short our reward. “For you yourselves know accurately,” he says. Why then are you curious, if you are persuaded? That the future is uncertain, learn from what Christ said; and that he said it for this reason, hear what he says: “Watch therefore, for you do not know at what hour the thief comes.” Therefore Paul too said, “When they say, Peace and security, then sudden destruction comes upon them, as labour pains upon a woman with child, and they will by no means escape.” Here he hinted at what he said also in the second letter. For since these were in afflictions, and those who warred against them were at ease and in luxury, and then he comforted the present terrible things with the doctrine of the resurrection, while those men [mocked] and said, “When will it be?” (which the prophets too said: “Woe to those who say, Let what God will do draw near quickly, that we may see; and let the counsel of the Holy One of Israel come, that we may know”; and again, “Woe to those who desire the day of the Lord” (he does not mean those who simply desire it, but those who desire it out of unbelief); and, “The day of the Lord is darkness,” it says, “and not light”), therefore he spoke so. And see how he comforts them, as if he said: Let them not make their being in comfort a proof that the judgment is not coming; for so indeed it will come. And it is worth asking this too: if the Antichrist is coming, and Elijah is coming, how is it that “when they say, Peace and security, then sudden destruction comes upon them”? For these things do not allow the day to be unknown, being signs of its coming. But he is not hinting at that time, I mean the Antichrist’s, nor does he say of that day that there will be a sign of Christ’s coming, but that Christ will have no sign, but will come suddenly and unexpectedly. “And yet labour does not come upon a pregnant woman unknown,” someone says, “for she knows that after nine months the birth will be.” Indeed very much unknown; for both the day and the hour of the birth are uncertain. It is with reference to this, then, that Paul says these things. And the image is exact; for there are not many signs of labour; many at least have given birth so, even on roads and outside the house, not knowing beforehand. And he hinted here not only at the uncertainty, but also at the bitterness of the pain. For just as she, seized by unspeakable pains, is torn by the pangs, so too those souls, when that day comes. “And they will by no means escape.” Then, showing that he does not say these things about them, he added, “But you, brothers, are not in darkness, for that day to overtake you like a thief.”

Here he means the dark and unclean life. For just as the vile and wicked among men do everything at night, escaping everyone’s notice and shutting themselves in darkness. For tell me, does not the adulterer watch for the evening? And the thief for the night? Does not the grave robber do all his work at night? What then? Does it not overtake them like a thief? Does it not come upon them unawares? But do they know beforehand? How then does he say, “You have no need to have anything written to you”? Here he speaks not of the uncertainty but of the calamity; that is, it will not come to their harm. For it will come unawares on them too, yet it will surround them with nothing grievous. “For that day,” he says, “to overtake you like a thief.” For with those who are awake and in the light, even if a robber enters, he will be able to do no harm; so too with those who live rightly. But those who sleep he strips of everything and departs: those who trust in the things here. Then he adds another thing in their favour; for he adds, “For you are all sons of light and sons of day.” “And how is it possible,” someone says, “to be sons of day?” As sons of perdition, as sons of Gehenna. Therefore Christ too said to the Pharisees, “Woe to you, for you go about sea and land, and make him a son of Gehenna”; and Paul, “On account of which the wrath of God comes upon the sons of disobedience,” that is, those who do the things of Gehenna, the things of disobedience. Just as, then, those who do what pleases God are sons of God, so also those who do the things of the light are sons of day and sons of light. “We are not of the night nor of darkness. So then let us not sleep, as the others do, but let us keep awake and be sober. For those who sleep sleep at night; but we, being of the day, let us be sober.” He shows here that being in the day is in our power. And here, I mean in the case of this day and night, it is not in our power, but night comes even against our will, and sleep comes upon us when we do not wish it; but with that night and sleep it is no longer so, but it is possible to be awake always, it is possible to live in day always. For to close the eyes of the soul and to bring on the sleep of wickedness is not of nature, but of choice. “But let us keep awake,” he says, “and be sober.” For it is possible to be awake and to sleep, doing nothing good; therefore he added, “and be sober.” For even if one is awake by day but not sober, he will fall into ten thousand terrible things; so that sobriety is an intensifying of wakefulness. “For those who sleep,” he says, “sleep at night, and those who get drunk are drunk at night.” He speaks here of drunkenness not from wine only, but from all evils. For wealth too is drunkenness of the soul, and desire for money, and love of bodies, and anything you name is drunkenness of the soul. And why did he call wickedness sleep? Because first, such a one is not awake to virtue; then, because he imagines everything and sees nothing true, but is full of dreams, and often of perverse things; and if he sees anything good, he has nothing firm or fixed. Such is the present life: it is full of dreams and fancy. Wealth is a dream, glory, all such things. The sleeper does not see the things that are and truly exist, but imagines the things that are not as if they were. Such is wickedness, and the life in wickedness: it does not see the things that are, that is, the spiritual, the heavenly, the abiding things, but the things that flow away … But it is not enough to be awake and sober; one must also be fully armed. For even if one is awake and sober, but has no arms, the robbers quickly overpower him. When then we must both be awake and be sober and be fully armed, and we are unarmed and naked and asleep, who will stop him from planting his sword? Therefore, making this plain too, that we need arms, he added, “But we, being of the day, let us be sober, putting on the breastplate of faith and love, and as a helmet the hope of salvation.” “Of faith and love,” he says. Here he hints at a life together with right doctrines. See how he made plain what being awake and sober is: having the breastplate, he says, of faith and [love]. … He means not an ordinary [love], but the boiling, the sincere, which makes those who put it on invulnerable. Just as nothing would quickly cut through the breastplate, but it is an invisible wall for the chest, so you too put faith and love around your soul, and none of the fiery darts of the devil will be able to stick fast. For where the strength of the soul has been fortified beforehand with the armour of love, the plotters contrive everything in vain. For neither wickedness, nor enmity, nor envy, nor flattery, nor hypocrisy, nor anything else will be able to reach such a soul. And he did not say simply “love,” but he said to put it on like a strong breastplate. Then he adds thus: “and as a helmet the hope of salvation.” For just as the helmet saves the vital part in us, surrounding the head and covering it on all sides, so hope too does not let the reasoning fall, but keeps it upright like a head, letting none of the things outside fall upon it. As long as nothing is brought down upon it, it does not slip either; for the one fenced with these arms can never fall. “For there remain,” it says, “faith, hope, love, these three.” Then, having said “put on” and “put around,” he himself prepares the arms, and shows from where faith and hope and love might be born, and the arms become stronger, adding and saying, “For God has not destined us for wrath, but for obtaining salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us.” So he did not call us for this, to destroy us, but to save us. And how is it plain that he wishes this? He gave his Son for us, he says; so much does he desire us to be saved that he gave his Son, and not simply gave him, but to death. From these reasonings hope is born. For do not despair, man, when you come to God who did not spare even his Son for your sake; do not give up at the present evils. The one who gave his Only-begotten to save you and rescue you from Gehenna, what will he spare henceforth for your salvation? So we must hope for all good things. For not even if we were going to a judge who was to judge us, and [who had shown] such love for us … Let us hope, then, for good and great things; for we have received the chief of them, if we believe. For we have seen the example: let us love; for it is the height of folly not to love one so disposed toward us. “So that whether we wake or sleep,” he says, “we may live together with him. Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing.” And elsewhere again: “Whether we wake or sleep.” But he means one sleep there and another here; for here he signifies bodily death, but there carelessness about one’s life. What he signifies, then, is this: Do not fear dangers; even if we die, we shall live. Do not despair because you are in danger; you have a sure pledge: he would not have given his Son had he not burned greatly for us. So that even if you die, you will live; for he too died. Whether then we die or live, we shall live with him. I hold this indifferent; it is nothing to me whether I live or die; for we shall live with him. Let us then do everything for that life, let us work at everything looking to it. Wickedness is darkness, beloved; it is death, it is night; we see nothing of what we ought, we do nothing of what is fitting. Just as the dead are foul-smelling and rotting, so too the souls of those in wickedness are full of much uncleanness; their eyes are closed, their mouth is shut, they remain motionless on the bed of wickedness; or rather they are more pitiable than those who have suffered this. For those are dead to both; but these are insensible to virtue, yet alive to wickedness. If someone strikes a corpse, it does not feel nor defend itself; but just as a dry stick, so too the soul is truly dry, having cast off its life; it receives ten thousand wounds every day and feels none, but lies insensible to everything. One would not be wrong to compare them to madmen, to drunkards, to the deranged. Wickedness has all these things, and is more grievous than all. The madman has much forgiveness from those who see him; for the disease is not of choice, but of nature alone; but the one who lives in wickedness, how will he be forgiven? “Where then does wickedness come from? Why are most men wicked?” Where from, you ask? Tell me yourself, where does the worst of diseases come from? Where does frenzy come from? Where heavy sleep? Is it not from inattention? If the diseases of nature take their beginning from choice, much more those of choice. Where does drunkenness come from? Is it not from incontinence of soul? Does not frenzy come from an excess of fever? And the fever, does it not come from the elements in us being in excess? And the excess of the elements in us, is it not from inattention? For when by deficiency or excess we lead any of the things in us into disproportion, we kindle that fire. Again, if, when the flame has been lit, we continue to be careless, we make a pyre against ourselves which we cannot even quench. So too it happens with wickedness: when we do not restrain it at its beginning nor cut it off, we can no longer reach the end of it, but it becomes greater than our strength. Therefore, I beg you, let us do everything so as never to nod off. Do you not see the guards, how often, having given themselves a little to sleep, they gained nothing from their long watch? For through that little they ruined everything, giving the one who wished to steal great licence. For just as we do not see the thieves as they see us, so the devil above all stands over us and lies in wait … Let us not say, “There is nothing in this, nothing in that.” Where we did not expect it, we have often been struck. So too with wickedness: where we did not expect it [we have been overthrown] … Let us not get drunk, and we shall not slumber; let us not live in luxury, and we shall not sleep; let us not be mad after … from every side. And just as those walking on a stretched rope cannot be careless even a little (for the little does a great evil: turned over, one is at once carried down and perishes), so neither can we be careless. We walk a narrow road, cut off by precipices on either side, not admitting two feet together. Do you see how much care we need? Do you not see those travelling roads with precipices on both sides, how they secure not only their feet but also their eyes? For if a man seems to attend to something elsewhere, even if his foot stands firm, the eye, made dizzy by the depth, has brought down the whole. But one must attend to oneself and to one’s walking; therefore it says, “neither to the right nor to the left.” Great is the deep of wickedness, great the precipices, much darkness below, narrow the road; let us attend with fear, let us walk with trembling. No one travelling such a road dissolves into laughter, nor is weighed down with drunkenness; but he travels such a road in sobriety and attention. No one travelling such a road carries anything superfluous; for one must be content to run through it lightly girt. No one fetters his feet.

But we, binding ourselves with ten thousand cares, and carrying ten thousand burdens of life, [sluggish] and dissolute, how do we expect to walk the narrow road? He did not simply say that it is narrow, but with wonder: “How narrow is the road!” that is, very narrow. We too do this in the case of things greatly admired. And again, “Hard pressed,” he says, “is the road that leads to life.” And rightly did he say “narrow.” For when we must give account for words and thoughts and deeds and everything, it is truly narrow. But we make it narrower, broadening and widening ourselves and spreading out our feet. For the narrow road is difficult for everyone, but above all for the one who fattens himself; whereas the one who wastes himself away will not even feel the narrowness. Let no one, then, expect to see heaven with ease; for it is not possible. Let no one hope to travel the narrow road with luxury; for it is not possible. Let no one walking the broad road hope for life. When then you see someone [delighting himself] in baths, at a costly table, [do not think yourself wretched] as having no share in these things, but groan for him, because he is travelling the road that leads to destruction. For what is the profit of this road, when it ends in affliction? And what is the harm of that narrowness, when it leads to ease? Tell me, if someone called to the palace were walking [a narrow lane], and another, led away to death, were dragged through the middle of the marketplace, whom shall we call blessed, whom shall we groan for? Not the one walking the broad road? So now too, let us not call blessed those who live in luxury, but those who do not; these hasten to heaven, those to Gehenna. And perhaps many of them will laugh at what we say; but I lament and mourn most of all for this, that they do not even know at what one should laugh, over what one should most of all mourn; but they confound and confuse and disturb everything. For these reasons I lament them. What do you say, man? You are going to rise, and to give account of what you have done, and to undergo the final penalty, and of these things you take no account, but you study to stuff your belly and to get drunk, and besides this you laugh? But I lament you, knowing the evils that await you, the punishment that will receive you; and I lament most of all for this, that you laugh. Mourn with me, lament with me your evils. Tell me, if one of your household dies, do you not turn away from those who laugh at the death and count them enemies, and love those who weep and mourn with you? Then, when your wife lies dead, you turn away from the one who laughs; but when your soul has been put to death, do you turn away from the one who weeps, and laugh yourself? Do you see how the devil has disposed us, to be enemies to ourselves …? [Let us not sleep, but let us keep awake and be sober]; let us lay hold of eternal life, let us shake off the long sleep. There is a judgment, there is punishment, there is a resurrection, a scrutiny of deeds. The Lord comes on clouds: “A fire will burn before him, and round about him a mighty tempest,” it says; “a river of fire flows before him”; [the worm that does not die … weeping and] gnashing of teeth. Even if you are vexed at these things ten thousand times, I will not stop saying them. For if the prophets did not keep silent when they were being stoned, much more must we bear hatred, and not speak to you so as to please you, lest, having deceived you, we ourselves be cut in two. There, there is immortal punishment, without comfort; there will be no one to stand by us. “Who will pity,” it says, “a snake charmer who is bitten?” When we do not pity ourselves, who will pity us, tell me? If you see someone driving a sword through himself, will you ever be able to spare him? Not at all; much more, when it is in our power to succeed and we do not, who will spare us? No one. Let us pity ourselves; when we pray to God saying, “Have mercy on me, Lord,” let us say it to ourselves too, and pity ourselves. We are masters of whether God has mercy on us; he himself granted us this. If we do things worthy of mercy, worthy of his loving-kindness, God will have mercy on us; but if we do not pity ourselves, who will spare us? Have mercy on your neighbour, and you will receive mercy from God himself. How many come every day saying, “Have mercy on me,” and you do not even turn round? How many naked, how many crippled, and [what] supplications! How then do you ask to receive mercy, when you yourself do nothing worthy of mercy? Let us become compassionate, let us become merciful, so that so we may please God and obtain the good things promised to those who love him, by the grace and loving-kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, might, honour, now and always and to the ages of ages. Amen.