Homilies on Hebrews 28.7–29.4

Perhaps you hear what is said with annoyance, and are indignant, saying, “He provokes the husbands still more against their wives.” I do not say these things to provoke the husbands, but wishing these things to be done by you willingly, for your sake, not for theirs; not to free them from envy, but to free you from worldly fancy. Do you want to appear beautiful? I too want this; but with the beauty that God seeks, the beauty the King desires. Which lover do you want to have, God or men? If you are beautiful with that beauty, God will desire your beauty; but if you have this without that, he will loathe you, and your lovers will be foul men; for no one who loves a married woman is good. Reckon this in the case of outward adornment too. For that adornment, I mean that of the soul, draws God; but this, again, foul men. Do you see that I care for you, that I am concerned for you, so that you may be beautiful, truly beautiful, truly glorious, so that instead of foul men you may have God, the Master of all, as your lover? And she who has him as her lover, whom will she be like? She dances with the angels. For if a woman loved by a king is called blessed above all, what will she be worth who is loved by God with great love? Even if you set the world against it, nothing is worthy of that beauty. Let us practice this beauty, then, let us be adorned with this adornment, so that we may go to heaven, to the spiritual bridal chambers, to the pure marriage chamber. For this beauty is caught by all, and even when it lasts well, and neither disease nor care troubles it, which is impossible, it does not last twenty years; but that beauty always blooms, always is in its prime; there one need not fear change; old age does not come and bring wrinkles, disease does not [waste it], but it is above all these things. This one departs before it has appeared, and when it appears it does not have many admirers; for the modest do not admire it, and those who admire it admire with licentiousness. Let us not, then, practice this, but that; let us hold to that, so that we may depart with bright lamps into the bridal chamber. For this is promised not to virgins only, but to souls that are virgin; since, if this were simply for virgins, the five would not have been shut out. It belongs, then, to all who are virgins in soul, all who are freed from worldly thoughts; for these thoughts corrupt souls. If, then, [we remain] pure, … “For I betrothed you,” he says, “to one husband, to present you as a pure virgin to Christ.” He did not say this to the virgins, but to the fullness of the whole church. For the soul that is uncorrupted is a virgin, even if it has a husband; it is a virgin with true and wonderful virginity; for that of the body is a consequence and shadow of it, but this is the true virginity. Let us practice this, and so we shall be able to see the bridegroom with a bright face, to enter with bright lamps, if the oil does not fail us, if, melting down our gold, we make such oil as makes the lamps bright; and that oil is love for humankind. If we share our goods with others, if we make them oil, then it will stand by us, and we shall not say at that time, “Give us oil, because our lamps are going out”; nor shall we need others, nor, having gone to those who sell, be shut out, nor hear, as we knock at the doors, that fearful and dreadful voice, “I do not know you”; but he will recognize us, and we shall enter with the bridegroom, and having entered the spiritual bridal chamber, we shall enjoy countless good things. For if here the bridal chamber is so bright, [and draws all who] look at it, how much more there? Heaven is the chamber, and the bridal chamber is better than heaven; there we shall enter. And if the bridal chamber is so beautiful, what then will the bridegroom be? And why do I say, let us lay aside our gold and give it to the needy? Even if we had to sell ourselves, even if we had to become slaves instead of free, so as to be able to be with that bridegroom, to enjoy that beauty, only to look on that face, ought we not to accept everything eagerly? And to see an earthly king only, we often throw away even what is in our hands, even necessary things; but for the King and Bridegroom in heaven, who is both, so as not only to be counted worthy to see him, but also to go before him with lamps, and to be near him, and to be with him continually, what ought we not to do? What not to practice? What not to endure? Therefore I beg you, let us conceive some longing for those good things, let us long for that bridegroom, let us be virgins with the true virginity; for it is the virginity of the soul that the Master seeks. With this let us enter heaven, having no spot or wrinkle or anything of the kind, so that we may also obtain the good things promised to us; may we all share in them, by the grace and love for humankind [of our Lord Jesus Christ] …

“You have not yet resisted to the point of blood, [striving against sin; and you have forgotten the exhortation] of [the] calling, which addresses you as sons: ‘[My son], do not make light of the Lord's discipline, nor faint when you are reproved by him. For the Lord disciplines the one he loves, and scourges every son whom he receives.’ If you endure discipline, God is dealing with you as with sons; for what son is there whom a father does not discipline?” There are [two] kinds [of encouragement] that seem to be opposed to each other, but contribute great strength to one another; and he has set both here. The one is when we say that some have suffered much; for the soul is refreshed when it has many witnesses of its own sufferings; which he set down above, saying, “Remember the former days, in which [after you were enlightened, you endured a great contest of suffer]ings.” The other is when we say, “You have suffered nothing great”; … and we all become more eager to suffer. And the one refreshes the worn-out soul and makes it breathe again; the other turns back the soul that has grown careless and lax, and brings down its pride. So that pride may not, then, be born in them from that testimony, see what he does: “You have not yet,” he says, “resisted to the point of blood, striving against sin.” And he did not at once add what follows, but having shown them all those who stood firm to the point of blood, and then having brought in the boast, Christ's sufferings, then he easily ran down [to this]. This is what he says writing to the Corinthians too: “No trial has overtaken you except what is human,” that is, small. For this is enough to rouse and set upright a soul, when it considers that it has not gone up to the whole, and persuades itself from what has gone before. What he means is this: you have not yet undergone death; your loss has gone as far as money, as far as reputation, as far as being driven out; but Christ shed his blood for you, while you have not shed it even for yourselves; he contended for the truth to the point of death, fighting for you; but you have not yet [gone into] dangers … “[and you have forgotten] the exhortation,” that is, you have let your hands drop, you have grown faint. “You have not yet,” he says, “resisted to the point of blood, striving against sin.” Here he shows both that sin is blowing hard and that it is armed; for “resisted” is said of those who stand in battle. “[And you have forgotten the exhortation] which,” he says, “addresses you as sons: ‘My son, do not make light of the Lord's discipline, nor faint when you are reproved by him.’” He made the encouragement from the facts; more than enough, he adds that from words too, from this testimony: “Do not faint,” he says, “when you are reproved by him.” So these things are God's. And this too is no small encouragement, when we learn that it is God's work that such things can be done, by his permission; as Paul also says, “Three times I entreated the Lord about this, and he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you; for my power is made perfect in weakness.’” So it is he who permits. “For the Lord disciplines the one he loves, and scourges every son whom he receives.” You cannot say, he says, that there is any righteous man without affliction; for even if it seems so, we do not know his other afflictions; so every righteous man must come through affliction. For it is Christ's sentence that the broad and spacious way leads to destruction, but the narrow and hard pressed one to life. If, then, it is possible to come to life by that way and not by another, then all who have gone to life have entered by the narrow way. “If you endure discipline,” he says, “God is dealing with you as with sons; for what son is there whom a father does not discipline?” If he disciplines, it is for correction, not for punishment, nor for vengeance, nor for suffering ill. See: from the very things by which they thought they had been abandoned, from these he tells them to believe that they are not abandoned. As if he said: since you have suffered so many evils, do you think that God has let you go and hates you? If you had not suffered, then you ought to suspect this; for if he scourges every son whom he receives, the one who is not scourged is perhaps not a son. “What then,” someone says, “do the wicked not suffer ill?” They do; how could they not? But he did not say, “Everyone who is scourged is a son,” but, “Every son is scourged.” But you could not say [the converse]; for there are many who are scourged who are also wicked, such as murderers, robbers, sorcerers, grave robbers. But they pay the penalty for their own wickedness, and they are not scourged as sons, but punished as evil; but you as sons. Do you see how he moves arguments from every side: from facts in Scripture, from words, from notions of their own, from examples in life? Then again from common custom too: “But if you are without discipline, of which all have become partakers, then you are bastards and not sons.”

Do you see that, as I said before, it is not possible to be a son without being disciplined? For just as in households fathers neglect their bastards, even if they learn nothing, even if they do not become distinguished, but fear for their true sons lest they become careless, so too in the present case. If, then, not to be disciplined belongs to bastards, we must rejoice in discipline, if it is the mark of true sonship. “God is dealing with you as with sons”; he says this for this very reason. “Furthermore, we had the fathers of our flesh as disciplinarians, and we respected them; shall we not much more be subject to the Father of spirits and live?” Again the exhortation is from their own sufferings, from what they themselves suffered. For just as there he says, “Remember the former days,” so here too: “God,” he says, “is dealing with you as with sons,” and you could not say, “We cannot bear it,” and [he treats you] as beloved sons. And if they respect their fleshly fathers, how will you not respect the heavenly Father? And yet the difference is not only from this and from the persons, but also from the very cause and from the thing; for he and they do not discipline for the same reasons. That is why he adds, “For they disciplined us for a few days as seemed good to them”; that is, often fulfilling their own pleasure, and not everywhere looking to what was profitable. But here this cannot be said; for he does not do this for any interest of his own, but for you and for your benefit alone; they, so that you might be useful to them too, and often even without reason; but here there is nothing of the kind. Do you see that this too brings encouragement? For we are drawn most of all to those whom we see commanding or advising not for any interest of their own, but whose whole zeal is for our good. For this is sincere love, and truly love, when, being of no use to the one who loves [us, we are loved]; … not to receive, but to give; he disciplines, does everything, is eager in everything, so that we may become receptive of his good things. “For they,” he says, “disciplined us for a few days as seemed good to them; but he for our profit, that we may share in his holiness.” What is “his holiness”? That is, his purity, so that we may become worthy of him as far as we are able. He is eager that you should receive, and does everything to give to you; but you are not eager to receive. “I said to the Lord,” it says, “You are my Lord, because you have no need of my goods.” “Furthermore,” he says, “we had the fathers of our flesh to discipline us, and we respected them; shall we not much more be subject to the Father of spirits and live?” “The Father of spirits”: he means either of spiritual gifts, or of prayers, or of the bodiless powers. If we die in this way, then we shall live. And he spoke well: “For they disciplined us for a few days as seemed good to them”; for what seems good is not everywhere profitable; “but he for our profit.” So discipline is profitable; so discipline is a sharing in holiness. Very much so; for when it casts out sloth, when it casts out evil desire, when it casts out love of worldly things, when it gathers the soul together, when it makes one condemn all things here (for such is affliction), does it not become holy? Does it not draw the grace of the Spirit? Let us, then, always consider the righteous, and see from where they all shone, and before all Abel and Noah: was it not from affliction? For it is not possible for one who was alone in so great a multitude of evils not to be afflicted. For Noah, being alone perfect in his generation, pleased God. Consider: if now, when we have countless people whose virtue we may emulate, and fathers and teachers, we are so afflicted, what was it likely that he suffered, alone among so many? Or shall I speak of that strange and extraordinary rain? Or shall I speak of Abraham, and what it befell him to suffer: the successive journeys, the carrying off of his wife, the dangers, the wars, the trials? Or of Jacob, how many terrible things he suffered, driven out on every side, toiling in vain and laboring for others? For it is not necessary to list all his trials, but it is reasonable to bring forward his testimony, which he himself gave when he said, speaking to Pharaoh, “Few and evil are my days, and they have not attained to the days of my fathers.” Or shall I speak of Joseph? Of Moses? Of Joshua? Of David? Of Samuel? Of Elijah? Of Daniel? Of all the prophets? You will find that all of these became illustrious through afflictions. Tell me, then: do you want to become illustrious from ease and luxury? But you could not. Or shall I speak of the apostles? But these too surpassed all in sufferings. Why do I say these things? Christ too says this: “In the world you will have tribulation”; and again, “You will weep and lament, but the world will rejoice.” And that narrow and hard pressed is the way that leads to life. The Lord of the way said that it is narrow and hard pressed; and you seek the broad one? And how is this not absurd? That is why you will not attain life, walking another way, but destruction; for you have chosen the one that leads there. Do you want me to speak of and bring forward those who live in luxury? Let us go up from the last to the first. The rich man burning in the furnace; the Jews who lived for the belly, “whose god is the belly”; those in the desert always seeking ease: why did they perish? Like those in Noah's time too: was it not because they chose this soft and dissolute life? And those in Sodom because of gluttony: “For in fullness of bread,” it says, “they lived wantonly.” This was said about those in Sodom. And if fullness of bread worked so great an evil, what shall we say about the other delicacies? Was not Esau in ease? And what of those who saw the daughters of [men, the sons] of God, and were driven down the precipice? And what of those maddened with lust for males? And all the kings of the nations, of the Babylonians, of the Egyptians, did they not end their life wretchedly? Are they not in punishment? And are things not the same now, tell me? Hear Christ saying, “Those who wear soft clothing are in kings' houses”; but those who do not wear such things are in heaven. For soft clothing loosens even an austere soul, and breaks it and dissipates it; and even if it gets a rough and hard body, through such pampering it quickly makes it soft and weak. For from where else, do you think, tell me, are women so weak? From nature alone? Not at all, but also from their way of life and upbringing; for the sheltered life, the idleness, the baths, the perfumes, the multitude of spices, the softness of the bedding make them such. And so that you may learn, attend to what I say. Take a plant from the trees that stand in the desert and are beaten by the winds, tell me, and set it in a moist and shady place [in a garden]; and you will find it much inferior to the one from which you took it at first. And that this is true: the women raised in the country are stronger than the men of the city, and they could throw many such men in wrestling. And when the body has become softer, the soul too must share in the damage; for in most things its activities are disposed along with the body's condition. For in sicknesses we are different because of the weakness, and when healthy, different again. For just as with a string, when the notes are soft and slack and [the strings] are not well stretched, the excellence of the art is cut short, being forced to serve the slackness of the strings, so too with the body: the soul receives much harm from it, many constraints. For when it needs much care, the soul endures a bitter slavery. Therefore, I beg you, let us make it strong and not nurse it as an invalid. My word is not only to men but also to women. For why, woman, do you continually loosen it with luxury and make it faded? Why do you spoil its strength with fat? Fat is flabbiness to it, not strength. But if you leave these things and lead yourself differently, then even bodily beauty advances as you wish, when strength and good condition are present; but if you besiege it with countless diseases, there will be neither bloom of color nor any good condition; for you will always be in dejection.

And you know that just as a fine house, when the air smiles, appears brilliant, so too the cheerfulness of the soul, coming upon a beautiful face, makes it better; but if it is in dejection and pains, it becomes uglier. And diseases and pains cause dejection, and the body's becoming softer from much luxury causes diseases. So for this reason too you will flee luxury, if you obey me. “But luxury has pleasure,” someone says. But not as much as it has discomforts. Besides, the pleasure reaches as far as the throat, as far as the tongue; for when the table has been removed or the food swallowed, you will be like one who did not partake, or rather much worse, bearing from it heaviness and distension and headache and sleep like death, and often sleeplessness from surfeit, and wind in the belly, so that one must curse the excess. Let us not, then, fatten the body, but let us listen to Paul saying, “Make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.” Just as if someone took food and threw it into a sewer, so is the one who throws it into the belly; or rather not so, but much worse. For there he makes a sewer without evils of his own; but here it also breeds countless diseases. For what nourishes is sufficiency, what can also be digested; but what exceeds the need not only does not nourish, but even spoils that. But no one sees these things, being deceived by untimely pleasure and by the prejudice of habit. Do you want to nourish the body? Take away the excess, give what is sufficient, and as much as can be digested; do not weigh it down, so that you may not sink it. Sufficiency is both nourishment and pleasure; for nothing gives pleasure so much as food well digested; nothing gives health so much, nothing sharpness of the senses, nothing so drives away disease. So sufficiency is nourishment and pleasure and health, but excess is ruin and disgust and disease. For what famine does, surfeit does too, or rather worse; for famine carries a man off and frees him in a few days, but surfeit, gnawing and rotting the body, hands it over to a long disease, and then to a most painful death. But we think famine a thing to pray against, and run to surfeit, which is worse than it. From where comes this disease? From where this madness? I do not say, waste yourselves away, but eat so much as has the true pleasure, and can nourish the body, and make it well ordered and well fitted for you for the activities of the soul, … well and fitted together. But when it is waterlogged with food, [the flood], loosening the very bolts, as one might say, and the joints [which hold it together] … for the flood, coming upon it, dissolves and dissipates the whole. “Make no provision for the flesh,” he says, “to gratify its desires.” And he spoke well: “to gratify its desires”; for luxury is fuel for absurd desires; even if the one living in luxury is the most philosophical of all, he must suffer something from the wine, from the food; he must be dissipated; he must bear a greater flame. From this come acts of sexual immorality, from this acts of adultery; for a hungry belly cannot give birth to lust, nor even one using sufficiency; but the one that gives birth to absurd desires is the one that wantons in luxury. And just as soil that is very wet breeds worms, and dung that is soaked and has much moisture, while soil freed from that moisture bears much fruit, when it does not have excess (for if it is not cultivated it puts forth grass, but if it is cultivated, fruit), so it is with us too. Let us not, then, make the flesh useless or unprofitable or harmful, but let us plant in it useful fruits and fruit-bearing plants, and take care not to loosen them with luxury; for these too all put forth worms instead of fruits. So too the innate desire, if you soak it beyond measure, breeds absurd pleasures, and very absurd ones. Let us take away this ruin in every way, so that we may be able to obtain the promised good things, in Christ Jesus our Lord, and so on.