Homilies on 2 Corinthians 7.2–7.6

[… was glorious,] and he explains more clearly what “the letter kills” is, saying what we said before, that the Law revealed sin but did not produce it. “Much more does the ministry of righteousness abound in glory.” For those tablets showed up sinners and punished them; but this ministry not only did not punish sinners but even made them righteous; for this baptism bestowed. “For indeed what was glorified has not been glorified in this respect, because of the glory that surpasses it.” In the earlier words he showed that this ministry too is in glory, and not simply in glory, but that it abounds; for he did not say, “How will the ministry of the Spirit not be in glory?” but “abounds in glory,” having the proof from the reasonings already given. Here he shows how great the superiority is too, saying, “If I compare this with that, the glory of the Old is not even glory”; not establishing simply that it is not glory, but by way of comparison. That is why he added, “in this respect,” that is, by way of comparison. This does not disparage the Old, but rather strongly commends it; for comparisons are usually made between things of the same kind. Then he raises another argument that proves the superiority from another side too. Which? That from time, saying, “For if what was being brought to an end came with glory, much more what remains is in glory.” For the one ceased, but the other remains forever.

“Since, then, we have such a hope, we use great boldness.” Since the hearer, having heard so many and such great things about the New, was seeking to see this glory with his own eyes, see where he throws him: to the age to come. That is why he set hope in the midst, saying, “Since, then, we have such a hope.” Such—what kind? “That we have been counted worthy of greater things than Moses, not we apostles only, but all the faithful.” “We use great boldness.” Toward whom, tell me? Toward God, or toward the disciples? “Toward you, the disciples,” he says; that is, “We speak everywhere with freedom, not keeping anything back, but speaking plainly; and we are not afraid that we will strike your eyes, as Moses did those of the Jews.” For that he hinted at this, hear what follows; or rather, it is necessary first to tell the story, for he himself turns it round continually. What then is the story? When Moses came down the second time with the tablets, a glory leaping out from his face shone so brightly that the Jews could not come near him and talk with him, until he put a veil over his face. It is written thus in Exodus: “When he came down from the mountain, the two tablets were in his hands. And Moses did not know that the appearance of the skin of his face had been glorified; and they were afraid to come near him. And Moses called them and spoke to them. And when Moses had finished speaking to them, he put a veil over his face. But whenever he went in before the Lord to speak, he took off the veil until he came out.” Having recalled this story, then, he says, “And not as Moses put a veil over his face, so that the children of Israel might not gaze at the end of what was being brought to an end.” What he means is this: “We have no need to veil ourselves as Moses did; for you are able to see this glory with which we are clothed, though it is far greater and brighter than that.” Do you see their progress? He who in the first letter said, “I fed you with milk, not solid food,” here says, “We use great boldness”; and he brings Moses into the midst, advancing his discourse by comparison and so raising the hearer up. And meanwhile he sets them above the Jews, saying, “We do not need a veil, as he did with those he ruled”; but what follows raises them to the very dignity of the lawgiver, or even far higher.

Meanwhile let us hear what follows: “But their minds were hardened. For until this very day the same veil remains at the reading of the Old Covenant, not being lifted, because it is brought to an end in Christ.” See what he establishes by this. What happened once then in the case of Moses happens continually in the case of the Law. So what is said is not a slander on the Law, just as Moses’ being veiled then was not, but on the unfeeling Jews; for the Law has its own glory, but they were unable to see it. “Why, then, are you perplexed,” he says, “if they cannot see this glory, the glory of grace, when they did not see the lesser glory of Moses, nor were able to gaze at his face? Why are you troubled if the Jews do not believe Christ, when they do not even believe the Law? For this is why they were ignorant of grace too, because they did not see even the Old Covenant, nor the glory in it; for the glory of the Law is to lead toward Christ.” [3.] Do you see how from this too he pulls down the inflated pride of the Jews? From the very thing in which they thought they had the advantage—that Moses’ face flashed like lightning—he shows their dullness and groveling. So let them not pride themselves on this; for what is this to Jews who did not enjoy it? That is why he turns it round continually, now saying, “The same veil remains at the reading of the Old Covenant, not being lifted, because it is brought to an end in Christ”; now, “Until this day, whenever Moses is read, the same veil lies upon their heart,” showing that it lies both on the reading and on their heart; and above, “so that the children of Israel could not gaze at the face of Moses because of the glory of his face, which was being brought to an end.” What could be meaner than this, when they cannot become spectators even of a glory that was being brought to an end, or rather of one that is not even glory by comparison, but it is veiled from them, “so that they might not gaze at the end of what was being brought to an end,” that is, of the Law, which has an end?

“But their minds were hardened.” “And what has this to do with the veil then?” someone says. That it foreshadowed what was to come. For they did not see then only, but they do not see the Law now either. And the cause lies with them; for hardening belongs to an unfeeling and perverse mind. “So it is we who know the Law; but for them not only grace but the Law too has been overshadowed.” “For until this very day the same veil remains at the reading of the Old Covenant,” he says, “not being lifted, because it is brought to an end in Christ.” What he means is this: “They cannot perceive this very thing, that the Law has ceased, because they do not believe in Christ. For if it has ceased through Christ—as indeed it has, and the Law itself said this beforehand—how will those who do not receive Christ, who brought the Law to an end, be able to see that the Law has been brought to an end? And not being able to see this, it is plain that they are ignorant of the force of the Law itself, which says these things, and of all its glory.” “And where did it say,” someone asks, “that it is brought to an end in Christ?” Not only did it say so, but it also showed it through events: first by shutting up the sacrifices and all the worship in one place, the temple, and then later pulling it down. For if God had not wished the sacrifices to cease, and the whole law concerning them, he would have done one of two things: either he would not have pulled down the temple, or, having pulled it down, he would not have forbidden sacrifice elsewhere. But as it is, he made the whole world, and Jerusalem itself, closed to such rites; he left the temple alone open to them and assigned it to them, and then later pulled it down too, and so showed completely by the events themselves that the things of the Law have ceased through Christ; for Christ pulled down the temple. And if you wish to see from words too how it is brought to an end through Christ, hear the lawgiver himself saying thus: “The Lord will raise up for you a prophet from among your brothers, like me; you shall listen to him in everything that he commands you. And it shall be that every soul that does not listen to that prophet shall be utterly destroyed.” Do you see how the Law showed that it ceases in Christ? For this prophet, that is, Christ according to the flesh, to whom Moses bade them listen, brought to an end the Sabbath and circumcision and all the rest. And David too, showing the same thing, said of Christ, “You are a priest forever after the order of Melchizedek,” not after the order of Aaron. That is why Paul, interpreting it clearly, says, “For when the priesthood is changed, there is necessarily a change of the law too.” And elsewhere again he says, “Sacrifice and offering you did not want; in whole burnt offerings and sin offerings you took no pleasure; then I said, ‘Behold, I have come.’” And many more testimonies than these could be brought from the Old Testament, showing how the Law is brought to an end through Christ.

So when you depart from the Law, then you will see the Law rightly; but as long as you hold on to it and do not believe in Christ, you do not know even the Law itself. That is why he added, more clearly, “But until this day, whenever Moses is read, a veil lies upon their heart.” For since he had said that the veil remains at the reading of the Old Covenant, so that no one might think what was said came from the obscurity of the Law, he had shown it by other words earlier too (for by saying, “Their minds were hardened,” he shows that the charge is theirs), and he shows it again in this very statement. For he did not say, “The veil remains on the letters,” but “at the reading”; and reading is the activity of those who read. And he showed the same thing by the next phrase, saying openly, “A veil lies upon their heart.” For in Moses’ face too it lay there not because of Moses, but because of their dullness and fleshly mind.

Having accused them sufficiently, he shows also the manner of their correction. What is it? “But whenever one turns to the Lord”—which is to depart from the Law—“the veil is taken away.” Do you see that that veil was not on Moses’ face but on the Jews’ sight? For it was done not so that Moses’ glory might be hidden, but so that they might not see; for they could not bear it. So the defect was theirs; for it did not make him ignorant of anything, but them. And he did not say, “whenever he leaves the Law,” but he hinted at it: “For whenever he turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away.” He kept to the story to the end. For when Moses spoke to the Jews, he covered his face; but when he turned to God, it was uncovered. This was a type of what was to come: that when we turn to the Lord, then we shall see the glory of the Law and the face of the lawgiver bare; or rather not this only, but then we shall be in the rank of Moses too. Do you see how he calls the Jew to faith, showing that by coming to grace he can not only see Moses but even come into the very rank of the lawgiver? “For you will not only see the glory which you did not see then,” he says, “but you yourself will be in the same glory, or rather in a far greater one, so great that that glory does not seem glory when compared with this.” How and in what way? “Because, having turned to the Lord and come to be in grace, you will enjoy that glory compared with which the glory of Moses is so much less that it is not even glory. Yet even though it is small and falls far short of that, as a Jew you did not see it then and do not now; but having become a believer you will be counted worthy to behold the far greater one too.” And when he was speaking to the faithful, he said that “what was glorified has not been glorified”; but here he does not speak so, but how? “Whenever he turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away”: leading him up little by little, first setting him in the rank of Moses, and then making him a sharer in the greater things. “For when you see Moses in glory, then you will turn to God too, and enjoy a greater glory than this.”

See, then, from the beginning, how many things he has set down that make the difference and show the superiority of the New over the Old, not its conflict or opposition. “That one is letter,” he says, “and stone, and a ministry of death, and is being brought to an end; and yet the Jews were not counted worthy even of this glory. This one is a tablet of flesh, and Spirit, and righteousness, and it remains; and we are all counted worthy of it, not one man only, as Moses was then of the lesser.” “For we all,” he says, “with unveiled face behold the glory of the Lord,” not that of Moses. But since some say that “whenever one turns to the Lord” was spoken of the Son, [let us first set] … from things that are fully agreed that from which they seem to establish it. What is this? “As it says, ‘God is Spirit,’ so here too, ‘the Lord is Spirit.’” But he did not say, “The Lord is Spirit,” but, “The Lord is the Spirit.” And the difference between this construction and that is great. For when he wants to speak as you say, he does not add the article to the predicate. Besides, let us look at everything he said from the beginning, and of whom he spoke: for instance, when he said, “The letter kills,” [and, “written not with] ink but with the Spirit of the living God”—was it about the Son, or about the Spirit? Plainly about the Spirit; for it was to the Spirit that he called them from the letter. For so that no one, hearing “Spirit,” and then reasoning that Moses turned to the Lord but he himself to the Spirit, might think he had less, correcting such a suspicion he says, “Now the Lord is the Spirit.” “This too is Lord,” he says. And so that you may learn that the word concerns the Paraclete, he added, “And where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” For surely you would not say that he means, “Where the Lord of the Lord is.” He spoke of freedom in contrast with the former slavery.

Then, so that you may not think that he speaks of the time to come, he says, “But we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord”—not the glory that ceases, but the one that remains—“are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, as [from the Lord, the Spirit].” Do you see how again he places the Spirit in the rank of God, and raises them to the rank of the apostles? For he said earlier, “You are a letter of Christ,” and here, “But we all with unveiled face.” And yet they came bearing the law according to Moses. “But as we,” he says, “needed no veil, so neither do you who have received it. And yet this glory is much greater; for it is not the glory of our face, but of the Spirit; yet you can gaze at it just as we can. For they could not do so even through a mediator; but you can behold the greater glory even without a mediator. They could not look at the glory of Moses; you can look even at that of the Spirit.” He would not have set these things down as greater than those if the Spirit were inferior.

[4.] What is “beholding the glory of the Lord, we are being transformed into the same image”? This was shown more clearly when the gifts of signs were at work; yet even now it is not difficult to see it for one who has eyes of faith. For as soon as we are baptized, the soul shines brighter than the sun, cleansed by the Spirit; and we not only behold the glory of God, but also receive some radiance from it. As pure silver placed facing the sun’s rays would itself send out rays, not only from its own nature but from the sun’s brilliance, so too the soul, cleansed and made brighter than silver, receives a ray from the glory of the Spirit and sends it back. That is why he says, “Beholding, we are being transformed into the same image, from glory”—that of the Spirit—“to glory”—our own, which comes to be in us, and of such a kind as is likely—“as from the Lord, the Spirit.” See how here too he calls the Spirit Lord. And his lordship can be seen elsewhere too: “While they were ministering to the Lord and fasting,” it says, “the Spirit said, ‘Set apart for me Paul and Barnabas.’” For he said, “while they were ministering to the Lord,” and “Set apart for me,” to show the equality of honor. And again Christ says, “The slave does not know what his master is doing”; but the Spirit, as a man knows his own things, so knows the things of God, not by being taught; otherwise the image does not hold. And his working as he wills shows his authority and lordship. It is he who transforms, he who does not let us be conformed to this age, he who is creator of such a creation. As it says, “created in Christ Jesus,” so it says, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” Do you want me to show you this more tangibly from the apostles? Consider Paul, whose garments worked wonders; Peter, whose very shadow had power. They would not, unless they bore the King’s image and their radiance were unapproachable, have had garments and shadows that worked so powerfully; for a king’s garments are fearful even to robbers. Do you want to see it shining through the body too? “Gazing at the face of Stephen,” it says, “they saw it as the face of an angel.” But this is nothing compared with the glory flashing within. For what Moses had on his face, they carried about in their soul, or rather far more. For that of Moses was more perceptible to the senses, but this is incorporeal. And as fiery bodies, flowing from bright bodies onto what is near, impart their own brightness to them, so it happens with the faithful. That is why those who experience this are freed from earth and dream of the things in heaven. … for it is right here to groan bitterly too, that while enjoying such nobility we do not even know what is being said, because we quickly lose these things and are agitated about things of sense. For this unspeakable and awesome glory remains in us for one day or two, and then we quench it, bringing on the winter storm of worldly affairs and beating off the rays with the thickness of the clouds. For worldly affairs are a winter storm, and gloomier than a storm. For from them comes no frost or rain, nor do they make mud and deep mire, but what is harder than all these: they build up Gehenna and the evils of Gehenna. And as in severe frost all the limbs are frozen and dead, so too the soul, shivering in the winter storm of sins, does none of its own works, frozen as by the frost of conscience. For what cold is to the body, an evil conscience is to the soul; and from it comes cowardice too. For nothing is more cowardly than the man nailed to worldly affairs; such a man lives the life of Cain, trembling every day. And why do I speak of deaths and losses and offenses and flatteries and servilities? Even without these he fears countless changes. His storeroom is full of gold, but his soul is not freed from the fear of poverty; and quite rightly. For he is anchored on rotten and easily changing things; and even if he does not himself undergo the change, seeing it happen to others he is undone; great is his cowardice, great his unmanliness. For such a man is not only without daring before dangers, but before everything else too. If desire for money assails him, he does not beat off the attack like a free man, but does everything like a slave bought with silver, serving love of money as a harsh mistress. And if he sees a good-looking girl, he is at once captured and laid low, and follows like a mad dog, when he ought to do the opposite.

For when you see a beautiful woman, do not consider how to enjoy your desire, but how to be freed from the desire. “And how is this possible?” someone says. “For loving is not my doing.” Whose, then, tell me? “The work of the demon’s malice.” Do you really think that [love] is a demon? … “But I cannot,” he says. Come, then, let us first teach you this: that what happens is the result of your own carelessness, and that you at the beginning gave the demon entrance, and now, if you will, you will drive him off with great ease. For tell me, do adulterers commit adultery because they love, or simply because they desire dangers? Plainly because they love. Do they then obtain pardon? Not at all. Why? Because the sin is theirs. “But why do you weave syllogisms for me?” he says. “I know in myself that I want to beat off the passion, and I cannot; it stands over me and presses and pains me terribly.” You want to beat it off, man, but you do not do what those do who beat it off. You suffer like someone with a fever who gorges himself on cold springs and says, “How many things I devise, wishing to quench the fever, and I cannot, but rather kindle my flame!” Let us see, then, whether you too [do] what kindles it and think you are devising what quenches it. “No,” he says. Tell me, then, what have you ever tried to do to quench the passion? And what is it, in general, that increases the passion? For even if we are not all liable to these charges (we would find more people captured by love of money than by love of bodies), yet the remedy will lie open to all in common, both to these and to those. For that too is a monstrous love, and this; but this one is more piercing and sharper than that. When, then, we overcome the greater, it is plain that we shall easily conquer the lesser. “And how is it,” someone says, “if this one is more piercing, that not all are captured by this evil, but most are mad about money?” Because, first, that desire seems to be without danger; then, even if the desire for bodies is sharper, it is quenched more quickly; whereas if it remained, as that for money does, it would destroy its captive utterly.

Come, then, let us speak to you about this one, that for bodies, and see where the evil grows from; for so we shall know whether this charge is ours or not ours. And if it is ours, let us do everything to overcome it; but if it is not ours, why do we beat ourselves in vain? Why do we not pardon, but accuse, those who are captured? Where, then, is this love born? “From beauty of face,” someone says, “when the one who wounds is fair and good-looking.” You say this idly and in vain. For if attracting lovers belonged to beauty, such a girl would have all men as lovers; but if she does not have all, it is not from nature nor from beauty, but from licentious eyes. For when you have looked curiously, admired, and loved, you have received the arrow. “And who,” he says, “seeing a beautiful woman, could help praising the one he sees? So if admiring such things is not of our choice, love is not in our power.” Stop, man. Why do you [run] … not willing to see the root of the evil? For I see many admiring and praising, but not loving. “And how is it possible for those who admire not to love?” Do not be disturbed; for that is what I am coming to say. But wait, and you will hear Moses admiring Jacob’s son and saying, “And Joseph was beautiful in form and very handsome in appearance.” Was the one who said this in love, then? Not at all. “For he did not even see the one he praised,” someone says. But we are affected in some such way by beauties we hear of too, not only by those we see. So that you may not dispute with us about this: David was very handsome, ruddy, with beautiful eyes—which above all is the most tyrannical part of beauty, the beauty of the eyes. Did anyone fall in love with him? Not at all. So loving does not come along with admiring. And many have had mothers in the full bloom of bodily beauty. What then? Did their sons fall in love with them? Far from it; they admire what they see, but do not fall into shameful love. “Again, that is the achievement of nature,” he says. Of what nature, tell me? “That they are mothers,” he says. Then do you not hear that the Persians, with nothing compelling them, have intercourse with their own mothers, and not one or two but the whole nation? Besides this, it is plain from this too that this disease belongs not simply to bodily bloom nor to beauty, but to the careless and wandering soul. Many, at any rate, have often passed by countless comely women … from which it is plain that loving does not belong to beauty; otherwise those women would have [captured] these men before others. “What then is the cause?” he says. “For if loving does not come from beauty, where does it have its beginning and its root? From a wicked demon?” It has it from there too; but that is not still the question, but whether we too are not the cause. For the plotting is not theirs only, but along with them, ours first. For from nowhere else is this evil disease born so much as from familiarity, from flattering words, from leisure and idleness, and from having nothing to do.