Homilies on Colossians 7.1–7.5

[Homily 7] “Let no one, then, judge you in food or in drink, or in respect of a feast or a new moon or sabbaths, which are a shadow of the things to come, but the body is Christ's. Let no one defraud you of the prize, delighting in humility and the worship of angels, intruding into things he has not seen, vainly puffed up by the mind of his flesh, and not holding fast the head, from whom the whole body, supplied and knit together through the joints and ligaments, grows with the growth of God.” Having first said darkly, “Beware lest there be anyone who makes spoil of you … according to the tradition of men,” and again further above, “This I say …,” and having thus taken hold of their soul beforehand and made it anxious, then inserting the benefits, and … to sin? That is why he said, “that he is a debtor to keep the whole law”; and again, “Is Christ found a minister of sin?”, which he said when writing to the Galatians. When, then, he had filled them with indignation by saying, “Let no one defraud you of the prize” … “delighting,” he says, “in humility and the worship of angels, intruding into things he has not seen, vainly puffed up by the mind of his flesh.” How “in humility”? Or how “puffed up”? He shows … What is meant? There were some who said that we must not be brought near through Christ but through the angels, for that was too great a thing for us. That is why he turns over and over the things said about Christ: that we were reconciled through the blood of his cross, that he suffered for us, that … having done this, he then brings in the refutation afterwards … he loved us. And in this very thing they were elated; and he says, “Let no one, then, judge you in food or in drink, or in respect of a feast or a new moon or sabbaths.” Do you see how he pulls these things down? If you have obtained such things, he says, why do you make yourselves answerable in petty matters? And he belittles them, saying, “or in respect of a feast”; for in fact they did not keep all the former rules. “Or a new moon or sabbaths.” He did not say, “Do not keep them, then,” but “Let no one judge you.” He showed that they were transgressing and breaking these observances, but he laid the charge on others. Do not put up with those who judge you, he says. Yet not even this: he only argues with those men, all but stopping their mouths, saying, You ought not to judge. But he would not have touched on these … He did not say, “in clean and unclean,” nor did he say, “in Tabernacles and Unleavened Bread and Pentecost,” but “in respect of a feast”; for they did not dare to keep the whole; and if they kept it, it was not so as to celebrate the feast. “In respect of,” he says, showing that the greater part has been abolished. For even if they kept the sabbath, it was not exactly. “Which are a shadow of the things to come,” that is, of the New Covenant. “But the body is Christ's.” Some punctuate this, “But the body is Christ's,” meaning that the truth has come in Christ; others, “Let no one defraud you of the body of Christ”: one is defrauded of the prize when the victory is with one and the prize goes to another, when someone is wronged after winning. You stood above the devil and sin; why do you again subject yourself to them? And he did not say “access through” angels, but “worship” of angels. “Intruding into things he has not seen.” For he has not seen angels, and yet he is disposed as though he had seen them. That is why he says, “vainly puffed up by the mind of his flesh.” For it is not upon any true reality, but upon the doctrine; as if he said, of a fleshly mind, not a spiritual one: the reasoning is human. “And not holding fast the head,” he says, “from whom the whole body.” That is, from there it has its being and its well-being. Why then, letting go of the head, do you cling to the members? If you fall away from there, you are lost. “From whom the whole body.” Whoever it is, he says, has from there not only his life but also his being joined together. The whole church grows as long as it holds the head; otherwise it is no longer growth but a passion of arrogance and vainglory, an invention of human thinking. See, the “from whom” is said of the Son. “Through the joints and ligaments,” he says, “supplied and knit together, it grows with the growth of God,” the growth that is according to God, he says, which comes from the best way of life. “If then you died with Christ.” He sets that in the middle, and the stronger on either side. “If you died with Christ from the elements of the world,” he says, “why, as though living in the world, do you subject yourselves to ordinances?” It does not follow; for he ought to have said, “How, as though living, are you subject to the elements?” But leaving this, what does he say? “Do not handle, do not taste, do not touch, things which all perish in the using, according to the commandments and teachings of men.” … And why at all …

You are not in the world, he says; how then are you subject to the elements? How to the observances of the world? And see how he mocks them: “Do not touch, do not handle, do not taste,” as if they were abstaining from great things. “Which all perish in the using.” He pulled down the arrogance of the many, and added, “according to the commandments and teachings of men.” What do you say? Even if you mean the law, it is now a teaching of men, after its time. Either he said this because they were perverting it, or he hints at the customs of the Greeks. The whole doctrine is human, he says. “Which have indeed a word of wisdom in self-chosen worship and humility and severity to the body, not in any honour, to the satisfying of the flesh.” “A word,” he says, not power; so not truth. So even if it has a word of wisdom, let us turn away from it. For such a man seems to be reverent and moderate and to despise the body; but he is not. “Not in any honour to the satisfying of the flesh.” For God gave honour, but they do not use it in honour. So, when it is a matter of doctrine, he knows how to call this honour. They dishonour the flesh, he says, by depriving it and taking away its freedom, not allowing it control of its own will; but God honoured the flesh. “If then you were raised with Christ.” He now gathers them up above, having established that he died. That is why he says, “If then you were raised with Christ, seek the things above.” There is no observance there. “Seek the things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God.” Ah, to what height he has led our mind! How he filled them with great thoughts! It was not enough to say “the things above,” nor “where Christ is,” but he adds, “seated at the right hand of God.” From there he was now preparing them not to look at the earth. “Set your mind on the things above, not on the things on earth. For you died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, your life, is manifested, then you too will be manifested with him in glory.” This is not your life, he says; your life is another. Already he strains to transfer them, and strives to show them both seated above and dead, establishing from both that they should not seek the things here. For whether you are dead, you ought not to seek them, or whether you are above, you ought not to seek them. Does Christ not appear? Then neither does your life. It is above, in God. What then? When shall we live? “When Christ, your life, is manifested”: then seek glory, then life, then luxury. These things prepare the way for leading them away from luxury and ease. Such is his custom: while establishing one thing he leaps to another; as when, speaking of those who went ahead of one another at the supper, he fell suddenly upon the observance of the mysteries. For a reproof has great force when it comes unsuspected. “It is hidden,” he says, from you. “Then you too will be manifested with him”; so now you are not manifest. See how he transferred them to heaven itself. For, as I said, he always strives to show them having the same things as Christ; and through all his letters this is his aim, to show them sharing with him in everything. That is why he speaks of head and body, and does everything to establish this. If then we are manifested then, let us not grieve when we do not enjoy honour; if this life is not life but is hidden, we ought to live this life as dead men. “Then you too,” he says, “will be manifested with him in glory.” He said “in glory,” not simply; for the pearl too is hidden as long as it is in the oyster. So whether we are insulted, let us not grieve, or whatever we suffer; for this life is not our life; for we are strangers and sojourners. “For you died,” he says. Who is so foolish as to buy servants for a dead and buried body, or build houses, or prepare costly clothes? No one. Let not us either; but just as we seek only one thing for it, that it be not naked, so here too let us seek only one thing. Our first man was buried; buried not in earth but in water; not with death destroying him, but with him who destroyed death burying him, not by the law of nature but by the command of his sovereignty, which is stronger than nature. For what is made by nature one might undo; but what is made by his command, no longer. Nothing is more blessed than this burial, at which all rejoice, angels and men and the Master of the angels; for this burial there is no need of grave clothes, nor coffin, nor any other such thing. Do you want to see its symbol? I will show you a pool in which one was buried and the other rose: in the Red Sea the Egyptians were drowned and the Israelites came up; and the same thing buries the one and gives birth to the other.

Do not marvel if birth and destruction take place in baptism; for tell me, is not dissolving the opposite of joining together? It is clear to everyone. Fire does this: it dissolves and destroys wax, but joins together the ore-bearing earth and makes gold. So here too, the power of the fire, having made the wax statue vanish, showed a golden one in its place; for we were truly of clay before the bath, and golden after it. How is this clear? Hear him saying, “The first man is from the earth, earthy; the second man is heavenly, from heaven.” I spoke of the difference between clay and gold, but I found a greater difference between heavenly and earthly: the difference between clay and gold is not so great as between earthly things and heavenly. We were of wax and of clay; for the flame of desire melted us much more than fire melts wax, and any chance temptation broke us much more than a stone breaks clay vessels. And, if you like, let us describe the former life, whether it was not all earth and water, with everything easily blown about, the dust, the unstable and flowing. And, if you like, let us examine not the former things but the present ones, whether we will not find them all dust and water. For what do you want to mention? Offices and powers? For nothing seems more enviable than these in the present life. But one would sooner find dust standing still in the air than these, especially now. For to whom are they not subject? To those who love them, to eunuchs, to those who do everything for money, to the anger of the populace, to the wrath of the more powerful. He who yesterday was lofty on the tribunal, who had heralds shouting with brilliant voices, and many running before him and scaring people off in the marketplace, today is cheap and lowly and bereft and stripped of all those things, like dust blown up, like a stream that has passed by. And just as dust is raised from our feet, so offices are born from those who busy themselves with money and hold the rank of feet in all of life; and just as dust, when it is raised, occupies much of the air, though it is itself little, so too office; and just as dust blinds the eyes, so the vanity of office maims the eyes of the mind. But what? Do you want us to examine the much-prayed-for thing, wealth? Come, let us examine it part by part. It has luxury, it has honours, it has power. First, then, if you like, let us examine luxury: is it not dust? Or rather it passes by even faster than dust; for the pleasure of luxury lasts as far as the tongue, and when the belly is full, not even as far as the tongue. “But honours,” he says, “are a pleasant thing.” And what is more unpleasant than that honour, when it comes about because of the need of money? When it is not from choice nor from any goodwill, it is not you who reap the honour but your wealth. So this very thing makes the rich man the most dishonoured of all. For tell me, if, because you had a friend, everyone honoured you, but confessed that you yourself were worth nothing and that they were compelled to honour you for his sake, could they have dishonoured you in any other way more? So wealth is a cause of dishonour to us, since it is more honoured than its very owners, and a token of weakness rather than of power. How then is it not absurd that we should not be thought worthy of honour ourselves, but should be honoured because of earth and ashes (for that is what gold is)? Rightly so for them; but not so for one who despises wealth; for it is better not to be honoured than to be honoured thus. For tell me, if someone said to you, “I think you worthy of no honour, but I honour you because of your servants,” could anything be worse than this dishonour? And if to be honoured because of servants, who share the same soul and nature with us, is shameful, much more is it shameful to be honoured because of these things, which are cheaper — walls of houses, I mean, and courtyards and golden vessels and garments. Truly these things are a laughingstock and a shame; it is better to die than to be honoured thus. For tell me, if, when you were in danger in this pride of yours, some cheap and despicable person wanted to rescue you from the danger, what would be worse than this? What you say to one another about our city, I want to say to you. Our city once offended the ruler, and he ordered the whole of it to be utterly destroyed, with men and children and houses; for such is royal anger: they gratify their power as they wish; so great an evil is power. We were then in the utmost danger. And the neighbouring city, this one by the sea, came and entreated the emperor on our behalf; but those who lived in our city said that this was worse than the city being razed. So to be honoured thus is worse than being dishonoured. For see where honour has its root. The hands of cooks make us honoured, so that we owe them thanks; and swineherds, who provide a rich table …

Instead, then, of owing thanks to these people for honour, is it not better not to be honoured? And apart from this, I will try to show clearly that being rich is full of dishonour. It makes the soul ugly; and what is more dishonourable than this? For tell me, if your body were beautiful and surpassed all in beauty, and wealth came and promised to make it ugly, diseased instead of healthy; and instead of trim, filled all the limbs with dropsy and swelled the face and made it swollen all over, made the feet heavier than beams, swelled the belly and made it larger than any jar; and after this promised not even to allow those who wished to heal you (for this is what licence is), but to grant such freedom that if anyone came to take you away from what harms you, it would punish him; would there be anything crueller than this, tell me? How then could being rich be good, when it does these things to the soul? But the licence is more grievous than the disease itself; for not to obey even the rules of doctors when sick is more grievous than being sick; and this is what wealth has: it makes the soul inflamed on all sides and prevents the doctors from approaching. So let us not count these men blessed for their licence, but pity them. For neither, seeing a dropsical man lying down and no one preventing him from filling himself with as much drink as he wanted and with harmful meats, would I have called him blessed for his licence. For licence is not good everywhere, just as honours are not either; for these too fill men with great conceit. And if you would not choose to receive this disease in the body together with wealth, how do you overlook the soul, which suffers not only this but another punishment too … and inflammations, and that fever which no one can quench. For wealth does not allow it, having persuaded men that what are defects are advantages: for example, to put up with no one and to do everything at will. For one will not find another soul so full of desires, and such absurd ones, as the souls of those who want to be rich. What nonsense do they not picture to themselves? One would see them picturing more than those who fashion hippocentaurs and chimeras and serpent-footed giants and Scyllas and monsters. And if you want to picture one of their desires, neither Scylla nor chimera nor hippocentaur will seem anything beside that monstrosity, but you will find it having all the beasts together. And perhaps someone will think that I have lived in great wealth, since I speak so truly of what goes on. A certain man is said — for I will first confirm my word from what is told among the Greeks — a certain king among them is said to have wantoned so much in luxury as to make a golden plane tree, and a heaven above it, and so to sit; and this while campaigning against men who had learned to fight. Is not this desire one of hippocentaurs? Is it not Scylla's? Another again threw men into a wooden ox. Is this not Scylla? For the present, of the former ones, one made the king a woman instead of a man, … from a woman — what shall I say? — an irrational beast, and still worse than this. For beasts, if they are under trees, are content with nature and seek nothing more; but this man overshot even the nature of beasts. What could be more foolish than the rich? And this comes from the greed of their desires. Do not many admire him? Then they share in his ridicule. This showed not wealth but folly. How much better than that golden plane tree is the one that grows from the earth! For natural things are pleasanter than unnatural ones. And what did you want with the golden heaven, fool? Do you see how much wealth makes men mad, how it inflames them? I think that he did not even know the sea, and perhaps wanted to walk on it. Is this not a chimera? Is it not a hippocentaur? But there are even now some such people. For in what, tell me, do those who make golden jars and pots and alabaster boxes differ in folly from the golden plane tree? And what of the women (I am ashamed, but it is necessary to say it) who make silver chamber pots? You women who do these things ought to be ashamed. While Christ is starving, do you live in such luxury, or rather act so foolishly? What punishment will these women not pay? Do you still ask, then, why there are robbers, why murderers, why evils … silver; even this does not belong to a philosophic soul, but is wholly of luxury; but to make even unclean vessels of silver, is this luxury? I would not call it luxury, but folly; nor even this, but madness, or rather worse than madness.

I know that many mock me for this, but I pay no attention; only let something more come of it. Truly being rich makes men foolish and mad. If their abundance were great enough, they would have wanted even the earth to be golden, and walls of gold, perhaps even the sky and the air of gold. What madness, what lawlessness, what fever! Another, who is made in the image of God, is perishing with cold, and do you make such things? O the vanity! What more could a madman have done? Do you so honour your excrement as to receive it in silver? I know that you are stunned at hearing it; but the women who do it ought to be stunned, and the husbands who minister to such diseases; for this is licentiousness and cruelty and inhumanity and brutality and wantonness. What Scylla, what chimera, what dragon, or rather what demon, what devil would have done these things? What profit is there in Christ, what in the faith, when one is put up with by Greeks, or rather not by Greeks but by demons? If one must not adorn the head with gold and pearls, what pardon will he get who uses silver for so unclean a service? Are the other things not enough — though even those are not tolerable — seats and footstools all of silver? Even these belong to folly. But everywhere excessive vanity, everywhere vainglory; nowhere what is needful, but everywhere the superfluous. I fear that, advancing in this madness, the female sex may take on the form of monsters; for it is likely that they will desire to have golden hair too. Or confess that you were not moved at what was said, and roused, and fell into desire, and that if shame had not restrained you, you would not have refused it. For if you dare things more absurd than these, much more, I think, will you desire to have this golden hair, and golden lips and eyebrows, and to melt gold over everything and smear yourselves with it. And if you do not believe it, and think I speak in jest, I will tell what I heard, or rather what exists now. The king of the Persians has a golden beard, those skilled in these things winding the gold leaf into his hair as into a woof; and he sits there like a monster. Glory to you, Christ: with how many good things you have filled us, how you have made us healthy! From how great monstrosity, how great irrationality you have freed us! See, I tell you beforehand: I no longer exhort, but command and charge: let whoever wishes hear, and whoever does not wish disobey: if you persist in doing these things, I will not endure it, nor receive you, nor allow you to cross these thresholds. For what need have I of a crowd of sick people? What then, if in training you I do not forbid the things that are not superfluous? And yet Paul forbade both gold and pearls. We are laughed at by the Greeks; our religion seems a fable. And I exhort the men too about these things: you come to a school … to learn spiritual philosophy? Take away that vanity. This I exhort both men and women; and if anyone does otherwise, I will no longer endure it. The disciples were twelve, and hear what Christ says to them: “Do you also want to go away?” When will we ever do any good? “But there are other heresies,” someone says, “and they go over to them.” This saying is cold: “Better is one who does the will of the Lord than ten thousand transgressors.” For what do you yourself want, tell me? To have ten thousand runaway and thieving servants, or one loyal one? See, I exhort and charge you both to break up the beautifying of your face and such vessels and to give to the poor, and not to be so mad. Whoever wishes, let him leap away; whoever wishes, let him accuse me; I will put up with no one. When I am to be judged at the judgment seat of Christ, you will stand far off, and your favour will count for nothing while I give account. These are the words that have ruined everything: “so that he does not go away,” someone says, “and go over to another heresy; he is weak, condescend to him.” How far? Until when? Once, twice, three times; not forever. See, I charge you again, and I testify in the words of blessed Paul, that if I come again I will not spare … But when you have succeeded, then you will know how great the gain, how great the benefit. Yes, I beg and entreat, and I would not refuse to clasp your knees and make supplication for this. What folly! What luxury! What insolence! This is not luxury but insolence. What folly! What madness! So many poor stand around the church, and the church, which has so many children, and so rich, cannot help a single poor man; but one hungers and the other is drunk; one relieves himself even into silver, and the other does not share even in bread. What madness! What brutality, so great! May we not come to the trial of proceeding against the disobedient, nor to the indignation of permitting these things; but may you willingly and patiently restrain all these things, so that we may live for the glory of God and be freed from the punishment there and obtain the good things promised to those who love him, by the grace and lovingkindness …